When it happens that in a life so withdrawn from the world, so
solitary as that of Veronique, a single person enters it every day,
that person cannot long remain indifferent; either he is hated, and
the aversion, justified by a deepening knowledge of his character,
renders him intolerable, or the habit of seeing bodily defects dims
the eye to them. The mind looks about for compensations; his
countenance awakens curiosity; its features brighten; fleeting
beauties appear in it. At last the inner, hidden beneath the outer,
shows itself. Then, when the first impressions are fairly overcome,
the attachment felt is all the stronger, because the soul clings to it
as its own creation. That is love. And here lies the reason of those
passions conceived by beautiful things for other beings apparently
ugly. The outward aspect, forgotten by affection, is no longer seen in
a creature whose soul is deeply valued. Besides this, beauty, so
necessary to a woman, takes many strange aspects in man; and there is
as much diversity of feeling among women about the beauty of men as
there is among men about the beauty of women. So, after deep
reflection and much debating with herself, Veronique gave her consent
to the publication of the banns.

From that moment all Limoges rang with this inexplicable affair,
--inexplicable because no one knew the secret of it, namely, the
immensity of the dowry. Had that dowry been known Veronique could have
chosen a husband where she pleased; but even so, she might have made a
mistake.

Graslin was thought to be much in love. Upholsterers came from Paris
to fit up the house. Nothing was talked of in Limoges but the profuse
expenditures of the banker. The value of the chandeliers was
calculated; the gilding of the walls, the figures on the clocks, all