"You know that I love you."

"Yes, but what I know, too, is that, sooner or later, you will have to
obey your father, and perhaps you will end by believing him."

"No, Marguerite. It is I who will make him believe me. Some of his
friends have been telling him tales which have made him angry; but he is
good and just, he will change his first impression; and then, after all,
what does it matter to me?"

"Do not say that, Armand. I would rather anything should happen than
that you should quarrel with your family; wait till after to-day, and
to-morrow go back to Paris. Your father, too, will have thought it over
on his side, and perhaps you will both come to a better understanding.
Do not go against his principles, pretend to make some concessions to
what he wants; seem not to care so very much about me, and he will let
things remain as they are. Hope, my friend, and be sure of one thing,
that whatever happens, Marguerite will always be yours."

"You swear it?"

"Do I need to swear it?"

How sweet it is to let oneself be persuaded by the voice that one loves!
Marguerite and I spent the whole day in talking over our projects for
the future, as if we felt the need of realizing them as quickly as
possible. At every moment we awaited some event, but the day passed
without bringing us any new tidings.