For my part, I have formed the project of
dexterously leading my wife along, up to her fortieth year, without
letting her think of adultery, just as poor Musson used to amuse
himself in leading some simple fellow from the Rue Saint-Denis to
Pierrefitte without letting him think that he had left the shadows of
St. Lew's tower."
"How is it," I said, interrupting him, "that you have hit upon those
admirable methods of deception which I was intending to describe in a
Meditation entitled _The Act of Putting Death into Life!_ Alas! I
thought I was the first man to discover that science. The epigrammatic
title was suggested to me by an account which a young doctor gave me
of an excellent composition of Crabbe, as yet unpublished. In this
work, the English poet has introduced a fantastic being called _Life
in Death_. This personage crosses the oceans of the world in pursuit
of a living skeleton called _Death in Life_--I recollect at the time
very few people, among the guests of a certain elegant translator of
English poetry, understood the mystic meaning of a fable as true as it
was fanciful. Myself alone, perhaps, as I sat buried in silence,
thought of the whole generations which as they were hurried along by
life, passed on their way without living. Before my eyes rose faces of
women by the million, by the myriad, all dead, all disappointed and
shedding tears of despair, as they looked back upon the lost moments
of their ignorant youth.
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