Rest assured this theory is no paradox; as proven by the prodigies of patient devotion—­tenacious, inviolable—­every day displayed by women of the lower classes, whose natures, if gross, retain their primitive sincerity.  Even with women of the world, depraved though they be by the temptations that assail them, nature asserts herself; and it is no rarity to see them devote an entire life to one idea, one thought, or one affection!  Their lives do not know the thousand distractions which at once disturb and console men; and any idea that takes hold upon them easily becomes fixed.  They dwell upon it in the crowd and in solitude; when they read and while they sew; in their dreams and in their prayers.  In it they live—­for it they die.

It was thus that Madame de Tecle had dwelt year after year on the project of this alliance with unalterable fervor, and had blended the two pure affections that shared her heart in this union of her daughter with Camors, and in thus securing the happiness of both.  Ever since she had conceived this desire—­which could only have had its birth in a soul as pure as it was tender—­the education of her child had become the sweet romance of her life.  She dreamed of it always, and of nothing else.

Without knowing or even suspecting the evil traits lurking in the character of Camors, she still understood that, like the great majority of the young men of his day, the young Count was not overburdened with principle.  But she held that one of the privileges of woman, in our social system, was the elevation of their husbands by connection with a pure soul, by family affections, and by the sweet religion of the heart.  Seeking, therefore, by making her daughter an amiable and lovable woman, to prepare her for the high mission for which she was destined, she omitted nothing which could improve her.  What success rewarded her care the sequel of this narrative will show.  It will suffice, for the present, to inform the reader that Mademoiselle de Tecle was a young girl of pleasing countenance, whose short neck was placed on shoulders a little too high.  She was not beautiful, but extremely pretty, well educated, and much more vivacious than her mother.

Mademoiselle Marie was so quick-witted that her mother often suspected she knew the secret which concerned herself.  Sometimes she talked too much of M. de Camors; sometimes she talked too little, and assumed a mysterious air when others spoke of him.

Madame de Tecle was a little disturbed by these eccentricities.  The conduct of M. de Camors, and his more than reserved bearing, annoyed her occasionally; but when we love any one we are likely to interpret favorably all that he does, or all that he omits to do.  Madame de Tecle readily attributed the equivocal conduct of the Count to the inspiration of a chivalric loyalty.  As she believed she knew him thoroughly, she thought he wished to avoid committing himself, or awakening public observation, before he had made up his mind.