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Within twenty-four hours of her wedding it was all over, and Madeleine had realized her plight. Of course the blow had been frightful ... stunning ... too terrible to describe. The first blinding flash of perception had exploded a second: the second, a third.... Her poor brain had staggered under this fearful appulse, her spirit fainted, her heart sunk to her shoes. Her love for Lacaze had shrivelled and died then and there. Not so her obedience. ... So soon as she could think clearly, Madeleine resolved to do her best to dovetail her principles into her husband’s demands.

The result was unsatisfactory—to Madame Lacaze. You cannot make a fair wallet out of a silk purse and a sow’s ear. The ways of Lacaze were not Madeleine’s. The grace the heaven had lent her, meant nothing to him. More—the man had a will. The grace the heaven had lent her, he made her discard.

The result was unsatisfactory—to Monsieur Lacaze. Madeleine bowed to his will, but not to his liking. She discarded her precious loan, if and when she was urged—never unless she was urged. His will had to be expressed—always. That was where her manners, as a horse, were so imperfect. Her rider’s heels ached....