Anna didn't say a word.
This was what Madam Navarre feared the most: Once her eldest daughter showed this demeanor, it meant her mind was made up.
And once her eldest daughter's mind was made up, nothing could change it.
She was a stubborn girl; her soft exterior and resilient interior—at this moment—became the biggest problem.
"Is it worth it? You are still so young; is it worth it?"
"You have given him all your heart, precisely because you spent too little time together. You are in love with the man you imagine, not with who he really is. The real him would disappoint you, disgust you—do you understand? You'll meet someone much better!"
"It's just a man; not one hundred, not ten thousand men are worth a woman giving up herself!"
The silent Anna suddenly spoke up, "What about you and dad?"
Madam Navarre's breath hitched, "Your father and I are exceptions. And we got married! And we had you lot! And your father would never let me go to the monastery!"
"I do it willingly."