Theweddingguestswereassembled。MadameBugeaudhadjustputtheveilupontheheadofherdaughterMargaret，andimpresseduponherforeheadthelastkissofmotherlylove。Itwasthehourwhenamotherholdsherdaughterasachildinherarmsforthelasttime，bidsadieutothepleasantpicturesofthepast，andsendsherchildfromherparents’housetogooutintotheworldandseekanewhome。Painfulalwaysissuchanhourtoamother’sheart，forthefutureisuncertain；nooneknowsanythingaboutthenewvicissitudesthatmayarise。
Andpainful，too，tothewifeofCouncillorBugeaudwasthispartingfromherdearly-loveddaughter，butshesuppressedherdeepemotion，restrainedthetearsinherheart，thatnotoneshouldfalluponthebridalwreathofherloveddaughter。Tearsdroppeduponthebridalwreatharetheheraldsofcomingmisfortune，thesealofpainwhichdestinystampsuponthebrowofthedoomedone。
AndthetendermotherwouldsogladlyhavetakenawayfromherlovedMargareteverypainandeverymisfortune!Thetimeswerethreatening，andthehorizonofthepresentwassofullofstormysignsthatitwasnecessarytolookintothefuturewithhope。
“Go，mydaughter，“saidMadameBugeaud，withasmile，regardingwhichonlyGodknewhowmuchitcostthemother’sheart——“gooutintoyournewworld，behappy，andmayyouneverregretthemomentwhenyonleftthethresholdofyourfather’shousetoenteranewhome!“
“Mydearmother，“criedMargaret，withbeamingeyes，“thehousetowhichIamgoingisthehouseofhimIlove，andmynewhomeishisheart，whichisnoble，great，andgood，andinwhichallthetreasuresintheearthformerest。“