They were both young and mother Nature had done the rest.

However, at each fresh proof and certainty which he put before her, Marie only experienced growing emotion, trembling at last from head to foot, but still unwilling to question herself.
"No, no," said she, "I do not love him.

If I loved him I should know it and would acknowledge it to you; for you are well aware that I cannot tell an untruth." Guillaume, however, had the cruelty to insist on the point, like some heroic surgeon cutting into his own flesh even more than into that of others, in order that the truth might appear and everyone be saved.
"Marie," said he, "it is not I whom you love.

All that you feel for me is respect and gratitude and daughterly affection.

Remember what your feelings were at the time when our marriage was decided upon.