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PART III
What inexpressible happiness it is to be married !
To be always near the beloved one, safe from the prying-
eyes of the fatuous world. It is as if one had regained
the home of one’s childhood with its sheltering love, a
safe port after the storm, a nest which awaits the little
ones.
Surrounded by nothing but objects which belonged to
her, mementoes and relics of her parents’ house, I felt
as if I were a shoot grafted on her trunk ; the oil paint-
ings of her ancestors deluded me into thinking that I
had been adopted by her family, because her ancestors
will also be the ancestors of my children. I received
everything from her hand ; she made me wear her father’s
watch and chain ; my dinner was served on her mother’s
china ; she poured on me a continuous stream of trifling-
presents, relics of old times, which had belonged to
famous warriors celebrated by the poets of her country,
a fact which impressed me not a little. She was the
benefactress, the generous giver of all these gifts, and I
entirely forgot that it was I who had reclaimed her, lifted
her out of the mire, made her the wife of a man with
brilliant prospects ; forgot that she had been an unknown
actress, a divorced wife condemned by her sisters, a
woman whom very probably I had saved from the worst.
What a happy life we led ! We realised the dream of
freedom in marriage. No double-bed, no common bed-
N 2 179
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