"_Vogue la galere_," cried he. "The devil take all this nonsense."
So Raphael gave himself up to the happiness of being beloved, and led
with Pauline the life of heart and heart. Difficulties which it would
be somewhat tedious to describe had delayed their marriage, which was
to take place early in March. Each was sure of the other; their
affection had been tried, and happiness had taught them how strong it
was. Never has love made two souls, two natures, so absolutely one.
The more they came to know of each other, the more they loved. On
either side there was the same hesitating delicacy, the same
transports of joy such as angels know; there were no clouds in their
heaven; the will of either was the other's law.
Wealthy as they both were, they had not a caprice which they could not
gratify, and for that reason had no caprices. A refined taste, a
feeling for beauty and poetry, was instinct in the soul of the bride;
her lover's smile was more to her than all the pearls of Ormuz. She
disdained feminine finery; a muslin dress and flowers formed her most
elaborate toilette.
Pauline and Raphael shunned every one else, for solitude was
abundantly beautiful to them. The idlers at the Opera, or at the
Italiens, saw this charming and unconventional pair evening after
evening.
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