His thoughts were elsewhere.
And the following day passed away with the same peculiar variations.
His wife was captivatingly amiable.

Like a seductive siren, she immeshed her husband in the magic charms of her caresses, was kindness, tenderness personified, loaded him with every little attention which one can look for from a gracious lady, right up to her bedroom door, which she again locked in his face.
Now this was the most exquisite torture conceivable to which a man can be submitted.

Compared with this little fairy, a Nero, a Caligula was a veritable philanthropist.
"But how long is this obstinacy to last ?" burst forth Rudolf one day, in spite of himself.
"Until you withdraw your disparaging opinion of women." Well, a single word would have been enough, but that single word was too precious for the pride of a husband to part with.

Such a word meant submission, unconditional surrender; only at the very last extremity could it be resorted to.
No, instead of that, he will compel his wife to surrender, and he had plenty of time in those lonely, sleepless nights to hatch a plan of action.

He would leave home for a week, and not tell his wife where he was going.