"Why not?"
"Because it would be madness."
"Why, no, grandmamma, it would be very wise, on the contrary; if I did not marry him, I should never again all my life long have a minute's peace."
"Because?—"
"Because I have seen that he is dreadfully and horribly unhappy."
"No doubt; but that will all be forgotten in time."
"Oh, no, it won't be forgotten! And I told you I like M. de Clagny more than I have ever liked anyone—except you; and so the idea that he is wretched on my account—and, perhaps, a little through my fault—would seem odious to me, and would make me unhappy—much more unhappy even than he is."
"But you would be still more so if you married him. Listen, Bijou, dear, you know nothing about life, nor about marriage. I have, perhaps, been wrong in bringing you up so strictly, not letting you read or hear enough about things; there are certain duties and obligations which marriage imposes upon us, and about which you know nothing, and these duties—well, you ought to know something about them, before rushing headlong into such a terrible venture as this."
"No!" said Bijou, with a gesture to prevent Madame de Bracieux continuing, "don't tell me anything, grandmamma. I know what responsibilities I should have to accept, and what my duty would be, and I have decided—decided irrevocably—to become the wife of M. de Clagny, whom I love dearly." And then, as the marchioness made a movement as though to protest, she repeated: "Yes, I love him dearly; and the proof is that the idea of marrying him does not terrify me, whilst the thought of marrying the others made me feel a sort of repulsion."
She knelt down in front of the marchioness, and began again in a coaxing voice: