all, but especially Frans. He maintained
that the idea of the marriage relation peculiar to the Romance nations
is still that of the age when the wife was the husband's property, and
when, in consequence of this, unfaithfulness was punished by death.
Christianity, he allowed, in course of time, also made the husband the
wife's property, especially in Roman Catholic countries. In these the
spouses rivalled each other in killing--the wife the husband, the
husband the wife. This assertion gave rise to an argument. Mary agreed
that neither of the contracting parties owned the other. After marriage,
as before, they were free individuals, with a right to dispose of
themselves. Love alone decided. If love ceased, because development made
of one or other a different being from what he or she was at the time of
marriage; or if one of them met another human being who took possession
of his or her soul and thoughts and changed the whole tenor of life,
then the deserted spouse must submit--neither condemn nor kill. But
Frans Roey and she disagreed when they discussed what ought to separate
husband and wife--and still more when they came to what ought to keep
them together. She was much more exacting than he. He suggested jokingly
that her theory was: Married people have full liberty to separate, but
this liberty they must not use. She declared his to be: Married people
ought as a rule to separate; if they have no real reason, they can
borrow one.

This conversation meant more to them than the words implied. It
impressed him as a new beauty in her that she was queenly. This cast a
new glory over all the rest.

The queenliness did not consist in desire to rule. It was purely
self-defence; but the loftiest. Her whole nature was concentrated in it,
luminously. "Touch me not!" said eyes, voice, bearing. There was
preparedness, undoubtedly, if need were, for the martyr's crown. She
became much greater--but also more helpless. Such as she look too high
and fall the first step they take. And great is generally their fall.

Frans gazed at her; he forgot to answer, forgot what she had said. He
seemed to hear a voice calling: "Protect her!" Chivalry entered into his
love, and issued its high behests.

Mary saw him withdraw himself from their conversation; but this did not
stop her; the subject was too absorbing. When he came back to it again
he heard her divulging her inmost thoughts, undoubtedly with no idea
that she was doing so. She to