...of a newly-wedded wife

But neither Lolo nor Lola would have been so startled, or would have had to make such efforts to suppress their giggles, if her husband had not been such a handsome, rakish-looking man with that little moustache of his. No one who saw them together could help wondering why he had married her. The answer (whispered to me with a suppressed giggle by Lola) was that she was the daughter of a rich industrialist, which of course provided further ammunition for wagging tongues. Nor was this the end of the story, indeed it was only the beginning, for (as was also evident at first sight) they had no illusions about the impression they made, and tried to counter human malice with nothing but the purity of their intentions and their perfect right to do as they pleased. Have I not a perfect right to him? she seemed to say. Of course I have. I know he is good-looking and I am not, but have I not a perfect right to be in love with him? Of course I have, and you cannot forbid me to be in love with him, for it is my unassailable human right. I love him, and my love is pure and beautiful, there is no reason why I should be bashful about it, and look, I am not. Isolated from the rest of the party and not taking part in the general hilarity, she watched over this feeling as over a treasure, concentrated and silent, her eyes fixed on her husband or lost in contemplation of the green beauty of the meadows outside the window, and from time to time her bosom heaved with a sigh that was almost a prayer. And, as was her perfect right, every now and then she quietly said something like 'Tolo', with that mouth of hers that belonged to herself alone.

[Cosmos, Gombrowicz, W.]