When it happens that a nice,
sweet, wholesome girl marries a disreputable nobleman, who is despised
from one end of Europe to the other, American parents seem to feel no
horror until she has become a mental, moral, and physical wreck. To us
over here it was unbelievable that a decent girl could think of
marrying him; that her parents could be so dazzled by the mere title of
'Lady' or 'Marquise' or 'Grafin' or 'Principessa' that they were willing
to give her into the keeping of an unspeakable cad, brute, or rake. Do
you think that it is the fault of Europe if such girls know nothing but
wretchedness?"
The princess paused, then continued: "On the other hand, if a girl
marries in Europe as good a man, regardless of his title, as the
American she would probably have chosen at home; and, above all--for
this is most essential--if she is adaptable enough to change herself
into a European, rather than to expect Europe to pattern itself upon
her, she will have as good a chance of happiness as comes to any one.
Marriage is a lottery in any event. Of course, _if_ it turns out badly
abroad, it is worse for her than it would have been at home--much worse.
Everything over here is, in that case, against her: custom, language,
law, religion; she is literally thrown upon her husband's indulgence.
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