--Well and good. We cannot use too much reflection upon a matter of this
importance. I am not rich, Veronica, but I should like to help you and to
increase, if it be possible, your little savings, your dowry in fact.

--You are very good, sir, but I do not wish to get married.

--Why so?

--It depends on tastes, you know.... You are in a great hurry then to get
rid of me, Monsieur le Curé.

--Not at all: do not believe it.

--Come, come, Monsieur le Curé. I see your intentions. You say to yourself:
"she holds a secret which may prove troublesome to me; with a little money
I will put a padlock on her tongue, I will get her married, and by this
means she will trouble me no more." Is it a bad guess?

--You have not guessed it the least in world, Veronica.

--Oh, it is! But it is a bad calculation, and for two reasons. In the first
place, if I marry, your secret is more in danger than if I remain single.
You know that a woman ought not to hide anything from her husband.

--There are certain things....

--No, nothing at all: no secret, or mystery. The husband ought to see all,
to know all, to be acquainted with all that concerns his wife. Ah! I know
how to live, though I am an old maid.