"A husband is indispensable, were it only as a matter of business.

You are now entering upon a struggle with your father; can you resist him all alone ?" "Yes, monsieur; I shall know how to protect my brothers and sister when the time comes." "Pshaw! the obstinate creature," thought Pierquin.

"No, you will not resist him," he said aloud.
"Let us end the subject," she said.
"Adieu, cousin, I shall endeavor to serve you in spite of yourself; I will prove my love by protecting you against your will from a disaster which all the town foresees." "I thank you for the interest you take in me," she answered; "but I entreat you to propose nothing and to undertake nothing which may give pain to my father." Marguerite stood thoughtfully watching Pierquin as he departed; she compared his metallic voice, his manners, flexible as a steel spring, his glance, servile rather than tender, with the mute melodious poetry in which Emmanuel's sentiments were wrapped.

No matter what may be said, or what may be done, there exists a wonderful magnetism whose effects never deceive.

The tones of the voice, the glance, the passionate gestures of a lover may be imitated; a young girl can be deluded by a clever comedian; but to succeed, the man must be alone in the field.
If the young girl has another soul beside her whose pulses vibrate in unison with hers, she is able to distinguish the expressions of a true love.