The National tribune., 1894-09-06

NsSRTSND Win HiiH why 10 HI
SNZANiS angry with me9 / cannot
NNTSNI understand ii. And l have
0A done everything in my
power to make him happy, everything. o.
course l won't say wouldn't have preferred
to marry an attorney or solicitor, or some one
with a nice, steady, respectable profession
but, such as be was, / really liked him.
thought he was little eccentric at times, to
be sure, but very nice and well-hred; then.
too. he had some little money and l hoped
that when we were once married, he wouldn't
let his poetry keep him from getting some
good position or other, and then we could
get along very nicely.
He used to find me quite to his taste, too
then When he came ont to the country, to
see me at Auntie's, he couldn't find words
enough to express his admiration for the
way we kept our little house and, indeed, it
was as tidy and neat as convent. How
amusing!D he used to say. He would
laugh, too, and call me by all SORTS of names
he got cut of the poems and novels he was
always reading. 1t used to shock me lit
tie, admit; / would rather he had been a
little more in earnest; but it was only when
we were married, and settled down in Paris,
that really saw the difference in our dis
positions.
l had planned such pretty little home,
nicely kept, and light and clean and he i'm
mediateiy began to fill the rooms with queer
old tapestries-oh, SO old and faded-and
with the most extraordinary furniture,
really useless, and quite out OF style, and alb
solutely spoiled with dust. II was just
the same with everything. IF you will
believe me, he made me store away into the
attic such a pretty Empire clock that my
aunt left me, and some beautifully framed
pictures that my friends at boarding-school
gave me. He said they were all "hideous." J"
Pm sure can't imagine why, for his study
is filled with smoky old canvases and statu-
cites that | am asha med 10 look at, and ugly
cd bric-a- brac that is really good for moth
ing: o,d candlesticks covered with verdigris,
and broken cups that don't match, and vases
that won't hold water. Right next to my
handsome new piano, too, he set up an ugly
little one, with the varnish all scaling off,
and half the keys missing, and so worn out
that you can hardly hear it. Really, be-
gan to think to myself, why, dear me, an
artist certainly must be little crazy. He
doesn't care for anything but such useless
things; he seems to despise everything use
ful.n
But it was great deal worse when i met
his friends and saw the society he moved in;
people with long hair and long, ill-kept
boards, and so badly dressed, too. They
used to smoke right before me, without even
q by your leave, and it made me i'll TO hear
them talk Their ideas were all 50 contrary
to mine, all high-sounding talk, you know;
nothing simple, nothing natural. And such
You might ask them to dinner
20 times in succession and they would never
cali or pay you the slightest attention, or
even send you card or bon-b0n at New
Year's-nothing.
Some of the men were married, and
brought their wives with them-and you
oug ht to have 81 en- The kinds Of people they
were. Such elegant gowns just for every
day, but not what you or | would ever put
On, OF course; and so queerly worn, too, with
out any attention or care. And then their
hair, and their long trains, and the brazen
manLer they had of showing eff their accom-
plishmeuts. Why, some of them could sing
like actresses and play like professionals,
and they chattered away on every subject,
inst like men. You don't think that ia
very nice, really now; do you? When
women are married, they ought to think of
their household cares, and not of other
things, oughtn't they? That's what tried
to make my husband see when he felt so
bad at my giving up my music.
Music" / said, " is all very well when
one is a little girl, and has nothing better
to do. But really, | should feel perfectly
ridiculous if | had TO sit down to the piano
every day."
Oh, / know-his great grievance against
me is that | have tried to get him out Of
that queer set whose influence was so bad
for him. He reproaches ne 10 this day for
keeping his friends at a distance. Well,
did do il, and | am glad Of it. Why, they
would have turned his head. Sometimes,
after being with them, he would spend the
whole night, versifying and walking up and
down the room, talking to himself AS if
he wasn't queer and eccentric enough with
out aDyone's making him any worse
Oh, The whims and fancies of that mans
I've had to put mp with Sometimes he
would burst into my room, suddenly in the
with Quick! put on your hat;
we're going TO the woods to-day" And l
had to leave everything, my sewing and my
and spend a lot of money in cabs
and railway fares when | knew very well
we ought to be saving and economical For
you know $4,000 francs a year doesn't go
very far when you're living in Paris, and
want to do something for your children.
At first he used. to laugh about it, and
tried to make me laugh, but when he saw
that it was my intention to live very quietly
and properly, he became angry at my sim
plicity and my domestic tastes. Is it my
fault if ] hate theaters and concerts and
those artists parties he was always wanting
TO drag me 10, where he wonld have been
sure TO meet his former friends, n parcel of
crack brain Bohemians and spendthrifts =?
l thought at one time he WAS coming to
his senses. had succeeded in making him
leave his own set, and had gathered about
us a number of NICE sensible, respectable
people, who might have been able 10 do
something for him--but no, indeed. 1t
bored him TO death. He was bored 30 death
from morning.tiil night. You should have
seen his face, and what temper he was in
at my little "at homes" though / am sure
always had whist and tea and everything