But the two could not be separated; and, indeed, there was good reason why they should still cling together.  Secretly Heloise left her uncle’s house and fled through the narrow lanes of Paris to the dwelling of Abelard’s sister, Denyse, where Abelard himself was living.  There, presently, the young girl gave birth to a son, who was named Astrolabe, after an instrument used by astronomers, since both the father and the mother felt that the offspring of so great a love should have no ordinary name.

Fulbert was furious, and rightly so.  His hospitality had been outraged and his niece dishonored.  He insisted that the pair should at once be married.  Here was revealed a certain weakness in the character of Abelard.  He consented to the marriage, but insisted that it should be kept an utter secret.

Oddly enough, it was Heloise herself who objected to becoming the wife of the man she loved.  Unselfishness could go no farther.  She saw that, were he to marry her, his advancement in the Church would be almost impossible; for, while the very minor clergy sometimes married in spite of the papal bulls, matrimony was becoming a fatal bar to ecclesiastical promotion.  And so Heloise pleaded pitifully, both with her uncle and with Abelard, that there should be no marriage.  She would rather bear all manner of disgrace than stand in the way of Abelard’s advancement.

He has himself given some of the words in which she pleaded with him: 

What glory shall I win from you, when I have made you quite inglorious and have humbled both of us?  What vengeance will the world inflict on me if I deprive it of one so brilliant?  What curses will follow such a marriage?  How outrageous would it be that you, whom nature created for the universal good, should be devoted to one woman and plunged into such disgrace?  I loathe the thought of a marriage which would humiliate you.

Indeed, every possible effort which another woman in her place would employ to make him marry her she used in order to dissuade him.  Finally, her sweet face streaming with tears, she uttered that tremendous sentence which makes one really think that she loved him as no other woman ever loved a man.  She cried out, in an agony of self-sacrifice: 

“I would rather be your mistress than the wife even of an emperor!”

Nevertheless, the two were married, and Abelard returned to his lecture-room and to his studies.  For months they met but seldom.  Meanwhile, however, the taunts and innuendos directed against Heloise so irritated Fulbert that he broke his promise of secrecy, and told his friends that Abelard and Heloise were man and wife.  They went to Heloise for confirmation.  Once more she showed in an extraordinary way the depth of her devotion.

“I am no wife,” she said.  “It is not true that Abelard has married me.  My uncle merely tells you this to save my reputation.”

They asked her whether she would swear to this; and, without a moment’s hesitation, this pure and noble woman took an oath upon the Scriptures that there had been no marriage.