“Is it really true, monsieur? Do you wish to marry our daughter?” she exclaimed, and then lifting her hands to heaven, she cried: “And she ran away from you!” This particular gesture, and in fact, her general attitude, flattered my vanity a little. But I knew that Mme. Mairieux was peculiarly alive to the social advantages of this union, even more to them than to the material benefits that would result from it. “Be seated, monsieur,” said the good woman; “I am going to scold Raymonde and bring her down to you.” “Wait,” ordered her husband. It was a command which conveyed a warning to her. Then he began to question me about the hasty scene at the chateau. His conclusion was that I should have talked to him before I spoke to his daughter. I was no longer addressing my superintendent, but the father of Raymonde, from whom I wished to take, without obtaining his consent, that which was most precious to him. A totally new view of life was opened to me, upon which I had never bestowed a thought. His reasoning overcame me, and though I was conquered by it for the moment, I was furious at my inability to withstand him. To submit without a protest to the categorical rebuke of this man whom I regarded as an inferior--was that not in itself a proof of my love? However, M. Mairieux went on with a calm determination, which overawed me despite myself, and which now, as I look back upon it, revealed truth and simplicity, a greatness of spirit which I did not then appreciate: “Marriage,” he began, “is a lifelong bond. It involves the whole of one’s life. For us, who are good Catholics, it implies a definite choice; it is indissoluble. Do you also consider it so? Is it in this way that you regard marriage? The point is essential.” Most assuredly, I did. When one is about to marry one believes that it will last forever, and very often, also, when one is in love. What useless questions! And there were more to come, together with some definitions. “The husband is the head of the family,” declared M. Mairieux, “but he owes his wife the protection of his love. You understand: you must protect her against others, against unhappiness, against herself, against you yourself, and the temptations that you will encounter more frequently in your world. Have you taken into account all these obligations, so foreign to your past life?” Hurt by these doubts, and convinced of my omniscience as to the care of a wife, I assured him that I was prepared to fulfill all my duties. Thereupon M. Mairieux softened. “Let me speak to you now of my little Raymonde,” he said; “she will come to her fiancé with a pure heart, and the treasure, yes, the treasure, of the rarest feeling. You will give her wealth and surroundings very different from her own. But she--how much more will she bring you! You are too young to understand all the perfection that is in her. You must watch over her, watch over yourself, if your union is to be blessed.”