Octave. Keeping only to the human aspect of the question, is it not
cruel to refuse him happiness, to deprive him of children, to wipe his
name out of the Golden Book and the list of peers? My sufferings, my
repugnance, my feelings, all my egoism--for I know that I am an egoist
--ought to be sacrificed to the family. I shall be a mother; the
caresses of my child will wipe away many tears! I shall be very happy;
I certainly shall be much looked up to. I shall ride, haughty and
wealthy, in a handsome carriage! I shall have servants and a fine
house, and be the queen of as many parties as there are weeks in the
year. The world will receive me handsomely. I shall not have to climb
up again to the heaven of aristocracy, I shall never have come down
from it. So God, the law, society are all in accord.

"'"What are you rebelling against?" I am asked from the height of
heaven, from the pulpit, from the judge's bench, and from the throne,
whose august intervention may at need be invoked by the Count. Your
uncle, indeed, at need, would speak to me of a certain celestial grace
which will flood my heart when I know the pleasure of doing my duty.

"'God, the law, the world, and Octave all wish me to live, no doubt.
Well, if there is no other difficulty, my reply cuts the knot: I will
not live. I will become white and innocent again; for I will lie in my
shroud, white with the blameless pallor of death. This is not in the
least "mulish obstinacy." That mulish obstinacy of which you jestingly
accused me is in a woman the result of confidence, of a vision of the
future. Though my husband, sublimely generous, may forget all, I shall
not forget. Does forgetfulness depend on our will? When a widow
re-marries, love makes a girl of her; she marries a man she loves. But
I cannot love the Count. It all lies in that, do not you see?