And, after
all, papa, none of these people have titles. I want, at least, to be a
countess like my mother."
"Have you seen no one, then, this winter----"
"No, papa."
"What then do you want?"
"The son of a peer of France.
"My dear girl, you are mad!" said Monsieur de Fontaine, rising.
But he suddenly lifted his eyes to heaven, and seemed to find a fresh
fount of resignation in some religious thought; then, with a look of
fatherly pity at his daughter, who herself was moved, he took her
hand, pressed it, and said with deep feeling: "God is my witness, poor
mistaken child, I have conscientiously discharged my duty to you as a
father--conscientiously, do I say? Most lovingly, my Emilie. Yes, God
knows! This winter I have brought before you more than one good man,
whose character, whose habits, and whose temper were known to me, and
all seemed worthy of you. My child, my task is done. From this day
forth you are the arbiter of your fate, and I consider myself both
happy and unhappy at finding myself relieved of the heaviest of
paternal functions. I know not whether you will for any long time,
now, hear a voice which, to you, has never been stern; but remember
that conjugal happiness does not rest so much on brilliant qualities
and ample fortune as on reciprocal esteem. This happiness is, in its
nature, modest, and devoid of show. So now, my dear, my consent is
given beforehand, whoever the son-in-law may be whom you introduce to
me; but if you should be unhappy, remember you will have no right to
accuse your father.
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