“But then in general, the university as you say was really a school for character with certain resemblances to the gymnasium and the gladiatorial arena.” “Of course, certain elements did pursue the acquisition of knowledge as their prime object,” I hastened to add, feeling that I had drawn too dark a picture, “and in later life they did rise to intellectual prominence and received recognition.” “In what way?” “By the conferring of honorary degrees and sometimes by the belated recognition of a class dinner--twenty years later.” “Let us pass to another subject,” said Manfreda, after a significant glance at Stella and Dulcina, who were manifestly depressed. “We are curious to know at first hand, something of the institution of marriage as practiced in its last phases.” “Ask and I will endeavor to answer.” “Is it true, Bogardus, that in your day when a man and a woman lived together under the institution which you called marriage, that they were compelled to promise to live together and remain faithful to each other for life?” I shifted from foot to foot before making a reply. “You are well informed, Manfreda. That is true.” “But if that is so, how was it possible for them to divorce later? For if I am right, divorce as an institution, began about this time to have equal popularity.” “The marriage ceremony,” I replied, after a moment’s deliberation, “was, of course, a survival of ancient times. It had a certain ceremonial picturesqueness. It was taken symbolically, like the account of the creation in the Old Testament.” “But this mutual promise was symbolic of what?” “Well,” I resumed, beginning to flounder, “for instance, the expression ‘Whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder’ was undoubtedly a relic of that time when the belief was that marriages were made in heaven.” “Did you believe that?” Looking backward, truth compelled me to answer: “No.” “Did many others believe that?” “A few--well, perhaps many. In my day, many politicians still believed in Jonah and the whale.” “I see. But if the promise was made, how could it be broken?” “Legally--as far as the state was concerned--for infidelity, for excessive cruelty, for failure to support. As a religious ceremony, to divorce and remain in the church was more difficult, but certain cases were recognized as permitting annulment.” “Then if the divorce was granted, how was the guilty party punished? A prison sentence, or social ostracism?” “I am bound to admit that with the exception of a certain annoying financial penalty called alimony, that there was no loss of standing.” “And the guilty party could remarry?” “Yes.” “And repeat the same promise?” “That is so.” “But why didn’t you change this obsolete ceremony to an agreement to live together until each desired to part?” interjected Candora.