And I have an aim in existence which is in itself a happiness--to make Lucille's life a happy one, to ensure her that which I have missed, and to avoid a mistake made by generation after generation of women--namely, to believe that love comes to us after marriage.

It never does so, my friend--never.
Tolerance may come, or, at the best, affection--which is making an ornament of brass and setting it up where there should be gold--or nothing." I stood, half turning my back to Madame, looking down into the valley--not caring to meet the quiet eyes that had looked straight into my heart long ago in the room called the boudoir of the house in the Rue des Palmiers, and had ever since read the thoughts and desires which I had hidden from the rest of the world.

Madame knew, without any words of mine, that I also had one object in existence, and that the same as hers--namely, that Lucille's life should be a happy one.
"There is no task so difficult," said Madame, half talking, as I thought, to herself, "unless it be undertaken by the one man who can do it without an effort--no task so difficult as that of making a woman happy.

Even her mother cannot be sure of the wisdom of interference.

I always remember some words of your friend, John Turner, 'When in doubt, do nothing,' and he is a wise man, I think." The Vicomtesse was an economist of words, and explained herself no further.