“She had grown up into a splendid girl; a perfect type of a race, a sort of lovely and stupid Venus.  She was sixteen, and I have rarely seen such perfection of form, such suppleness and such regular features.  I said she was a Venus; yes, a fair, stout, vigorous Venus, with large, bright, vacant eyes, which were as blue as the flowers of the flax plant; she had a large mouth with full lips, the mouth of a glutton, of a sensualist, a mouth made for kisses.  Well, one morning her father came into my consulting room, with a strange look on his face, and, sitting down, without even replying to my greeting, he said: 

“’I want to speak to you about a very serious matter....  Would it be possible ... would it be possible for Bertha to marry?’

“‘Bertha to marry!...  Why, it is quite impossible!’

“‘Yes, I know, I know,’ he replied....  ’But reflect, Doctor ... don’t you think ... perhaps ... we hoped ... if she had children ... it would be a great shock to her, but a great happiness, and ... who knows whether maternity might not rouse her intellect...?’

“I was in a state of great perplexity.  He was right, and it was possible that such a new situation, and that wonderful instinct of maternity which beats in the hearts of the lower animals, as it does in the heart of a woman, which makes the hen fly at a dog’s jaws to defend her chickens, might bring about a revolution, an utter change in her vacant mind, and set the motionless mechanism of her thoughts into movement.  And then, moreover, I immediately remembered a personal instance.  Some years previously I had possessed a spaniel bitch who was so stupid that I could do nothing with her, but when she had had pups she became, if not exactly intelligent, yet almost like many other dogs who have not been thoroughly broken.

“As soon as I foresaw the possibility of this, the wish to get Bertha married grew in me, not so much out of friendship for her and her poor parents, as from scientific curiosity.  What would happen?  It was a singular problem, and I said to her father: 

“’Perhaps you are right ...  You might make the attempt ... but ... but you will never find a man to consent to marry her.’

“‘I have found somebody,’ he said in a low voice.

“I was dumbfounded, and said:  ’Somebody really suitable? ...  Some one of your own rank and position in society?’

“‘Decidedly,’ he replied.

“‘Oh!  And may I ask his name?’

“’I came on purpose to tell you, and to consult you.  It is Monsieur Gaston du Boys de Lucelles.’

“I felt inclined to exclaim:  ‘What a wretch,’ but I held my tongue, and after a few moments’ silence, I said: 

“‘Oh!  Very good.  I see nothing against it.’

“The poor man shook me heartily by the hand.

“‘She is to be married next month,’ he said.”

* * * * *