"What would you think," he wrote me, "of a person who would knock his head against a stone wall with the intention of overthrowing it? Such an idea might be the result of very beautiful feelings, but in realization it would be ridiculous and stupid. I believe that certain questions demand a general solution, and do not admit, today, of specific solutions, and that one who begins a course that has no issue, may do much harm. I believe, further, that justice is not of this world, and that the strongest system or rather the one best developed from the economic point of view will be that which will stand. A man may exhaust himself by work, and yet live, at best, miserably. This is a revolting fact, but it will not, because of that, cease. It will disappear probably because man is a kind of machine, and it is of economic advantage to make every machine work in its normal manner, without forcing it." He felt the same necessity for clarity and understanding in considering his own inner life as in examining a general problem. A great necessity of loyalty to himself and toward others made him suffer from the compromises imposed by life, even though he reduced them to a minimum. "We are all the slaves of our affections," he wrote, "slaves of the prejudices of those we love. Besides, we must make a living, and this forces us to become a wheel in the machine. The most painful are the concessions we are forced to make to the prejudices of the society in which we live. We must make more or fewer compromises according as we feel ourselves feebler or stronger. If one does not make enough concessions he is crushed; if he makes too many he is ignoble and despises himself. I find myself far from the principles I held ten years ago. At that time I believed it necessary to be excessive in everything, and to make no concessions whatsoever to one's environment. I believed it necessary to exaggerate one's faults as well as one's virtues." This was the _credo_ of the man who, without fortune himself, desired to share his life with that of a student also without fortune, whom he had met by chance. After my return from my vacation our friendship grew more and more precious to us; each realized that he or she could find no better life companion. We decided, therefore, to marry, and the ceremony took place in July, 1895. In conformity with our mutual wish it was the simplest service possible,--a civil ceremony, for Pierre Curie professed no religion, and I myself did not practice any. My husband's parents received me with great cordiality, and reciprocally my father and my sisters, who were present at our marriage, were happy in knowing the family to which I was to belong.