He regarded his wife as incapable of appreciating the moral
considerations which justified him in his own eyes for his singular
behavior to her, and believed himself quite innocent in hiding from
her thoughts she could not enter into, and peccadilloes outside the
jurisdiction of a _bourgeois_ conscience. Augustine wrapped herself in
sullen and silent grief. These unconfessed feelings placed a shroud
between the husband and wife which could not fail to grow thicker day
by day. Though her husband never failed in consideration for her,
Augustine could not help trembling as she saw that he kept for the
outer world those treasures of wit and grace that he formerly would
lay at her feet. She soon began to find sinister meaning in the
jocular speeches that are current in the world as to the inconstancy
of men. She made no complaints, but her demeanor conveyed reproach.
Three years after her marriage this pretty young woman, who dashed
past in her handsome carriage, and lived in a sphere of glory and
riches to the envy of heedless folk incapable of taking a just view of
the situations of life, was a prey to intense grief. She lost her
color; she reflected; she made comparisons; then sorrow unfolded to
her the first lessons of experience. She determined to restrict
herself bravely within the round of duty, hoping that by this generous
conduct she might sooner or later win back her husband's love. But it
was not so. When Sommervieux, fired with work, came in from his
studio, Augustine did not put away her work so quickly but that the
painter might find his wife mending the household linen, and his own,
with all the care of a good housewife.
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