he, too, felt no love for this young woman; and, as she never forgave
him for having accepted her hand, although he knew that she loved
another, he, in like manner, could never forgive her having consented to
be his wife, although he had not been the one to solicit it, and
although he had never told her that he loved her. Both had bowed to the
will of him who gave the law, not merely to all France, but also to his
own family, and who had already become the lord and master of the
republic. Both had married through obedience, not for love; and the
consciousness of this compulsion rose like an impassable wall between
these two otherwise tender and confiding young hearts. In the
consciousness of this compulsion, too, they would not even try to love
one another, or find in each other's society the happiness that they
were forbidden to seek elsewhere.

Pale and mournful, in splendid attire, but with a heavy heart, did
Hortense make her appearance at the _fêtes_ which were given in honor of
her marriage; and it was with a beclouded brow and averted face that
Louis Bonaparte received the customary congratulations. While every one
around them exhibited a cheerful and joyous bearing, while parties were
given in their honor, and people danced and sang, the young couple only,
of all present, were dull and sad. Louis avoided speaking to Hortense,
and she turned her gaze away from him, possibly so that he might not
read in it her deep and angry aversion.

But she had to accept her lot; and, since she was thus indissolubly
bound up with another, she had to try to live with that other. Hortense,
externally so gentle and yielding, so full of maiden coyness and
delicacy, nevertheless possessed a strong and resolute soul, and, in the
noble pride of her wounded heart, was unwilling to give any one the
right to pity her. Her soul wept, but she restrained her tears and still