uld both have so sad a death, when one word, one
simple word, would secure them such bliss? Ah! the pride of name, the
glory of wealth, persistence in one's determination: all these were
nothing in comparison to the fact that by the union of two hearts the
eternal happiness of two human beings was assured. He joined his
hands together, he twisted them feverishly, quite beside himself as
he demanded his father's consent, still supplicating, already almost
threatening. But the Bishop, with face deeply flushed by the mounting
of his blood, with swollen lips, with flaming eyes, terrible in his
unexpressed anger, at last opened his mouth, only to reply by this word
of parental authority: "Never!"

Then Felicien, absolutely raving in his rebellion, lost all control over
himself.

He spoke of his mother, he really threatened his father by the
remembrance of the dead. It was she who had come back again in the shape
of her son to vindicate and reclaim the right of affection. Could it be
that his father had never loved her? Had he even rejoiced in her death,
since he showed himself so harsh towards those who loved each other, and
who wished to live? But he might well do all he could to become cold in
the renunciations demanded by the Church; she would come back to haunt
and to torture him, because he was willing to torture the child they
had had, the living witness of their affection for each other. She would
always be there, so long as their son lived. She wished to reappear in
the children of their child for ever. And he was causing her to die
over again, by refusing to her son the betrothed of his choice, the
one through whom the race was to be continued. When a man had once been
married to a woman, he should never think of wedding the Church. Face to
face with his father, who, motionless, appeared in his fearful silence
to grow taller and taller, he uttered unfilial, almost murderous words.
Then, shocked at himself, he rushed away, shuddering at the extent to
which passion had carried him.

When once more alone, Monseigneur, as if stabbed in the full breast by
a sharp weapon, turned back upon himself and struggled deeply with his
soul, as he knelt upon his prie-Dieu. A half-rattling sound came
from his throat. Oh! these frightful heart contests, these invincible
weaknesses of the flesh. This woman, and his beloved dead, who was
constantly coming back to life, he adored her now, as he did the first
evening when he kissed he