Monsieur Lecoq, Volume II by Emile Gaboriau

It may be asked how it was that Martial had failed to discover or to suspect this singular state of affairs; but a moment's reflection will explain his ignorance. The head of a family, whether he dwells in an attic or in a palace, is always the last to know what is going on in his own home. He does not even suspect circumstances, with which every one else is fully acquainted; and, in Martial's case, the life he led was scarcely likely to lead him to the truth; for after all, he and his wife were virtually strangers to one another. His manner towards her was perfect, full of deference and chivalrous courtesy; but they had nothing in common except a name and certain interests. Each lived his own life. They met only at dinner, or at the entertainments they gave -- which were considered the most brilliant of Parisian society. The duchess had her own apartments, her private servants, carriages, horses, and table.

At five-and-twenty, Martial, the last descendant of the great house of Sairmeuse -- a man on whom destiny had apparently lavished every blessing -- who was young, who possessed unbounded wealth, and a brilliant intellect, found himself literally overburdened with _ennui_. Marie-Anne's death had destroyed all his hopes of happiness; and realizing the emptiness of his life, he sought to fill the void with bustle and excitement. He threw himself headlong into politics, striving to find some relief from his despondency in the pleasures of power and satisfied ambition.