don't want to know anything about it; I belong to those who have
helped to destroy yours; but, for my misfortune, I have a daughter--"

"I don't see any misfortune in that," the priest interrupted.

"Wait, citizen, thou shalt see. We people, men of principles, we are the
victims of our children; inflexible towards all in the maintenance of
the ideas which we have formed for ourselves, we hesitate and we became
children before the prayers and the tears of our children. I have then a
daughter whom I have reared to be an honest woman and a true citizeness.
I thought I had formed her to my image, and here I was grossly deceived.

"A solemn moment is approaching for her. With the new year, she marries
a good young fellow, whom I myself selected for her husband. Everything
was going right; the two children loved each other,--at least I thought
so,--and everything was ready for the ceremony at the commune, when,
this evening, my daughter threw herself at my feet, begging me to
postpone her marriage.

"Surprised at first, I lifted her to her feet.

"'What! you don't love your intended?' I asked her.

"'Yes, father,' she replied, 'but I don't want to get married yet.'

"Pressed with questions on this strange caprice, she finally confessed
her girlish idea. She wanted to wait, hoping that a day would come when
she could get married, and have her union blessed in the church. My
first burst of anger having passed, I cannot tell you all the fine
reasons she gave me to obtain from me a thing so contrary to my rule of
conduct. The marriage of her dead mother had been performed in the
church; her memory required that pious action; she would not think
herself married if it was not at the foot of the altar; she would prefer
to remain single the rest of her days.

"She said so much, mingling her entreaties and tears with it all, that
she vanquished me. She even showed me the retreat which a few days ago I
would not have discovered with impunity to you all. I have come to seek
thee out, and now I ask thee: Thou hast before thee thy persecutor: wilt
thou bless according to thy rite, the marriage of his daughter?"

The worthy priest replied:--

"My ministry knows neither rancor nor exclusion; I am glad, besides, for
what you ask of me; only one thing grieves me, and that is that the
father should be hostile to his daughter's design."

"Thou mistakest: I understand all sentiments. That of a girl who wants
to be married as her mothe