FEMME RAFFINEE To expect from a woman too much is ridiculous. You are dancing so nicely and you are chic. People know your behaviour's rather ambiguous, no one cares for your husband, he's old and sick. Don't be pretending that you are mysterious, and don't make your life be like "le vin triste" -- this is rubbish. Your decency isn't quite serious, it is just a coquettish fig leaf, I insist. You've got a prominent latent potential, three-four bankruptcies render your record rich. You were brought up, however, a little bit strangely – all you needed was foxtrots as well as the beach! And I do understand you, I am so compassionate... that I nearly get torn in one hundred parts. It's another small death of the beautiful fashion plate, it's my eighteenth occasion to watch your arts. I have learned word for word what is said in your testament and I can reproduce it for you again: your Lu-Lu (fox terrier) should be sent to the best of men -- to your lover... a student... who lives in Spain. We'll dispense all your dresses and hats through the Colleges, your "dessous" will appear in the art-museum... And your husband, as usual, he warmly acknowledges my assistance in building your mausoleum. To expect from a woman too much is ridiculous. Where foolishness reigns, wit is nothing at all!
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