"Men never fall in love at first with a woman's mind; only with her body. They may learn to admire the mind afterwards, if it prove worth admiration, but it is always a secondary thing. This may be called a rough truth, but it is true, for all that. Who marries a woman of intellect by choice? No one; and if some unhappy man does it by accident, he generally regrets it. A stupid beauty is the most comfortable sort of housekeeper going, believe me. She will be strict with the children, scold the servants, and make herself look as ornamental as she can, till age and fat render ornament superfluous. But a woman of genius, with that strange subtle attraction about her which is yet not actual beauty,—she is the person to be avoided if you would have peace; if you would escape reproach; if you would elude the fixed and melancholy watchfulness of a pair of eyes haunting you in the night."
The love of Beauvais is apparently returned by
Pauline, and all goes merrily in the direction of
marriage-bells, whose ringing seems a matter of no
great distance off when the two young people become
betrothed; although it is apparent to a great
friend of Pauline's, Heloïse St. Cyr, that the schoolgirl
is not so sure of herself in the matter of being
in love as she should be.
Among the many charmingly French touches in this book is Pauline's reassuring speech to her lover. "Be satisfied, Gaston; I am thy very good little fiancée, who is very, very fond of thee, and happy in thy company, voilà tout!" And then, taking a
