Madame du Guenic now entered a phase of suffering which is peculiar to
the aristocracy. Envious, poor, and miserable beings,--when you see on
the arms of such women golden serpents with diamond heads, necklaces
clasped around their necks, say to yourselves that those vipers sting,
those slender bonds burn to the quick through the delicate flesh. All
such luxury is dearly bought. In situations like that of Sabine, women
curse the pleasures of wealth; they look no longer at the gilding of
their salons; the silk of the divans is jute in their eyes, exotic
flowers are nettles, perfumes poison, the choicest cookery scrapes
their throat like barley-bread, and life becomes as bitter as the Dead
Sea.

Two or three examples may serve to show this reaction of luxury upon
happiness; so that all those women who have endured it may behold
their own experience.

Fully aware now of this terrible rivalry, Sabine studied her husband
when he left the house, that she might divine, if possible, the future
of his day. With what restrained fury does a woman fling herself upon
the red-hot spikes of that savage martyrdom! What delirious joy if she
could think he did not go to the rue de Chartres! Calyste returned,
and then the study of his forehead, his hair, his eyes, his
countenance, his demeanor, gave a horrible interest to mere nothings,
to observations pursued even to matters of toilet, in which a woman
loses her self-respect and dignity. These fatal investigations,
concealed in the depths of her heart, turn sour and rot the delicate
roots from which should spring to bloom the azure flowers of sacred
confidence, the golden petals of the One only love, with all the
perfumes of memory.