was that I discovered two marriage stories in it."

"Marriage stories? and two of them?"

"Certainly. Emilia is the offspring of an unfortunate, or, to speak
plainly, a bad marriage. Odoardo, with his rude virtue, and Claudia, so
yielding, led each other a terrible life and, in the end, parted
without scandal. He remained on his estate, while she took the daughter
to the city, in order that she might there receive the finishing
touches. Emilia was obliged to devote much of her time to the piano.
Papa Appiani was, in a moral sense, always on stilts. Madame Claudia
was worldly-minded and fond of society. The fruit of this marriage was
Emilia, and her marriage with Appiani would have been just like that of
her parents."

"Cleverly expounded," said the king, and, encouraged by his praise,
Irma continued:

"Emilia's grandmother may have said: 'I am unhappy, but I would like my
daughter Claudia to be happy with good Odoardo, who was then but a
captain. And in turn, mother Claudia said: 'I am not happy, but my
daughter shall be'; and, at a later day, Emilia would have said: 'I am
not happy, but my daughter, etc., etc.' It's an everlasting round of
misery and resignation. Who is this Mr. Appiani? A splenetic counselor
to the embassy, who is out of employ, and merely marries for the sake
of the worthy man whom he thus makes his father-in-law, and who, after
marriage, would preach to his wife just as Odoardo had done before him,
and with just as much effect. Appiani was worth a charge of powder, or
even two, as Marinelli thought. Why had he no eye for the toilette of
his betrothed? The very next winter, Emilia would have died of _ennui_
in the country, or, becoming transformed in spirit, would have founded
an infant school on her estate. If Emilia could sing, her melodies
would have been like those of Mozart's Zerlina. Masetto Appiani felt
that he would not suit, and, although he could not tell why, had good
reasons for feeling so bad before the betrothal. Appiani ought to have
married a widow with seven children. The man's heart was tender by
nature. Had he quarreled with his wife, he would have said, as he did
after his dispute with Marinelli; 'Ah, that did me good. It stirred up
my blood and now I feel like a new and better man.' Emilia loves the
prince and, therefore, fears him. He who becomes her husband by virtue
of the marriage contract, has never possessed her love. I would have
chosen Appiani for a parliamentary dele