“But, my dear,” she began, interrupting me, “he is as ugly as . . .”

“As anything you like,” I retorted quickly, “but I love his ugliness.”

“If you love him, Armande,” said my father, “and have the strength to master your love, you must not risk your happiness.  Now, happiness in marriage depends largely on the first days—­”

“Days only?” interrupted my mother.  Then, with a glance at my father, she continued, “You had better leave us, my dear, to have our talk together.”

“You are to be married, dear child,” the Duchess then began in a low voice, “in three days.  It becomes my duty, therefore, without silly whimpering, which would be unfitting our rank in life, to give you the serious advice which every mother owes to her daughter.  You are marrying a man whom you love, and there is no reason why I should pity you or myself.  I have only known you for a year; and if this period has been long enough for me to learn to love you, it is hardly sufficient to justify floods of tears at the idea of losing you.  Your mental gifts are even more remarkable than those of your person; you have gratified maternal pride, and have shown yourself a sweet and loving daughter.  I, in my turn, can promise you that you will always find a staunch friend in your mother.  You smile?  Alas! it too often happens that a mother who has lived on excellent terms with her daughter, as long as the daughter is a mere girl, comes to cross purposes with her when they are both women together.

“It is your happiness which I want, so listen to my words.  The love which you now feel is that of a young girl, and is natural to us all, for it is woman’s destiny to cling to a man.  Unhappily, pretty one, there is but one man in the world for a woman!  And sometimes this man, whom fate has marked out for us, is not the one whom we, mistaking a passing fancy for love, choose as husband.  Strange as what I say may appear to you, it is worth noting.  If we cannot love the man we have chosen, the fault is not exclusively ours, it lies with both, or sometimes with circumstances over which we have no control.  Yet there is no reason why the man chosen for us by our family, the man to whom our fancy has gone out, should not be the man whom we can love.  The barriers which arise later between husband and wife are often due to lack of perseverance on both sides.  The task of transforming a husband into a lover is not less delicate than that other task of making a husband of the lover, in which you have just proved yourself marvelously successful.

“I repeat it, your happiness is my object.  Never allow yourself, then, to forget that the first three months of your married life may work your misery if you do not submit to the yoke with the same forbearance, tenderness, and intelligence that you have shown during the days of courtship.  For, my little rogue, you know very well that you have indulged in all the innocent pleasures of a clandestine love affair.  If the culmination of your love begins with disappointment, dislike, nay, even with pain, well, come and tell me about it.  Don’t hope for too much from marriage at first; it will perhaps give you more discomfort than joy.  The happiness of your life requires at least as patient cherishing as the early shoots of love.