And then, one day, she announced, 'Ernest and I are going to be
married.' And when we cried out why, she explained that--despite her
own conviction that marriage was a barbarous institution--she felt, in
the present state of public opinion, people owed legitimacy to their
children. So Ernest, who, according to both French and Brazilian law,
could not, at his age, marry without his parents' consent, was going
home to procure it. He would sail next week; he would be back before
three months. Ernest sailed from Lisbon; and the post, a day or two
after he was safe at sea, brought Nina a letter from him. It was a
wild, hysterical, remorseful letter, in which he called himself every
sort of name. He said his parents would never dream of letting him
marry her. They were Catholics, they were very devout, they had
prejudices, they had old-fashioned notions. Besides, he had been as
good as affianced to a lady of their election ever since he was born.
He was going home to marry his second cousin.
XI.
Shortly after the birth of Camille I had to go to London, and it was
nearly a year before I came back to Paris. Nina was looking better
than when I had left, but still in nowise like her old self--pale and
worn and worried, with a smile that was the ghost of her former one.
She had been waiting for my return, she said, to have a long talk with
me.
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