“No, no!” she exclaimed, with a smile, that smile of all resigned women which might melt a granite rock.  “Do not be astonished at my frank confidence; it shows you life as it is, not as your imagination pictures it.  We all have our defects and our good qualities.  If I had married a spendthrift he would have ruined me.  If I had given myself to an ardent and pleasure-loving young man, perhaps I could not have retained him; he might have left me, and I should have died of jealousy.  For I am jealous!” she said, in a tone of excitement, which was like the thunderclap of a passing storm.  “But Monsieur de Mortsauf loves me as much as he is capable of loving; all that his heart contains of affection he pours at my feet, like the Magdalen’s cup of ointment.  Believe me, a life of love is an exception to the laws of this earth; all flowers fade; great joys and emotions have a morrow of evil—­if a morrow at all.  Real life is a life of anguish; its image is in that nettle growing there at the foot of the wall,—­no sun can reach it and it keeps green.  Yet, here, as in parts of the North, there are smiles in the sky, few to be sure, but they compensate for many a grief.  Moreover, women who are naturally mothers live and love far more through sacrifices than through pleasures.  Here I draw upon myself the storms I fear may break upon my children or my people; and in doing so I feel a something I cannot explain, which gives me secret courage.  The resignation of the night carries me through the day that follows.  God does not leave me comfortless.  Time was when the condition of my children filled me with despair; to-day as they advance in life they grow healthier and stronger.  And then, after all, our home is improved and beautified, our means are improving also.  Who knows but Monsieur de Mortsauf’s old age may be a blessing to me?  Ah, believe me! those who stand before the Great Judge with palms in their hands, leading comforted to Him the beings who cursed their lives, they, they have turned their sorrows into joy.  If my sufferings bring about the happiness of my family, are they sufferings at all?”

“Yes,” I said, “they are; but they were necessary, as mine have been, to make us understand the true flavor of the fruit that has ripened on our rocks.  Now, surely, we shall taste it together; surely we may admire its wonders, the sweetness of affection it has poured into our souls, that inward sap which revives the searing leaves—­Good God! do you not understand me?” I cried, falling into the mystical language to which our religious training had accustomed us.  “See the paths by which we have approached each other; what magnet led us through that ocean of bitterness to these springs of running water, flowing at the foot of those hills above the shining sands and between their green and flowery meadows?  Have we not followed the same star?  We stand before the cradle of a divine child whose joyous carol will renew the world for us, teach us through happiness a love of life, give