“Many men desire to have two editions of the same work, though it is in fact a proof of inferiority, when a man cannot make his mistress of his wife.”
Hortense is Wenceslas’s wife and Valerie is his mistress. Comparing Valerie with his wife, Wenceslas prefers the first woman. Hortense, as Valerie expresses her opinion in the conversation with Lisbeth, is only a “beautiful doll” for him, whereas in Mrs. Marneffe, the savor of vice is in her each movement. After three years of the joint life with Hortense, love is always accessible for Wenceslas. Mrs. Marneffe is a charm of novelty in the artfully neglected disregard. The search for variety in love is a sign of powerlessness. Constancy is a real genius of love, a sign of the mighty inner strength that is an essence of the poet! One must be able to find all women in one woman, just as the poets of the seventeenth century made their Manons figure as Iris and Chloe.
“To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few.”
This is a secret of long attachments, inexplicable for those women, who are deprived of this double and magnificent talent. Comparing this talent involves a kind of culinary art in love. A virtuous and worthy woman can be compared with a Homeric meal prepared without planning on hot coals. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a work of Careme with all sorts of spices and refined herbs. The Baroness Adeline cannot know how to present her white breasts on the luxurious lace dish, like Madame Marneffe. She knows nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. In short, she does not have her own art of deceiving. No matter how hard this noble woman tries, she is not able to impress the deceitful look of her husband in any way.
“It is impossible to tell how many absurdities are due to this retrospective jealousy... we know nothing of the follies due to the covert rivalry that urges men to copy the type they have set themselves…”
Have you ever noticed that in childhood or at the beginning of our public arena, we create a role model for ourselves, often not knowing about it? Crevel becomes deputy mayor, because his predecessor was; he becomes Major, because he is envious of Cesar Birotteau’s epaulettes. In the same way, amazed by the marvels, written by the architect Grindot, at the time when fortune has carried his master to the top of the wheel, Crevel “never looks at both sides of a crown-piece”, when he wants to do up his rooms. He goes with his opened purse and closed eyes to Grindot, who by this time is quite forgotten. It is impossible to guess how long an extinct reputation may survive, when such tardy admiration supports it.
