"I know married couples are always absorbed in each other, and have little time for others, at first. That's natural." Or so he's been told; Combeferre's certainly never tried it out. "But woman does not lose need of her father simply because she marries, no matter how loving her husband is. Indeed, she may have even greater need of her father, for who else will protect her from her husband?" And here he's speaking from his own observations, the bruised and bloodied and dying women, but also the neglected ones, the ones whose husbands don't take their health seriously. Not that Marius would do that. But--he does other things, at least in Hugo's account, and Combeferre has no trouble believing it.

Combeferre takes a deep breath. "Monsieur, I cast no aspersions on Marius Pontmercy. A good man, and a comrade. He would never harm your daughter intentionally, but he's a fallible man like any other, and his faults--in my view--include a stubborn, ungenerous refusal to listen to others. When faced with disagreement, he fights or retreats; he does not listen. Mme Pontmercy will some day need him to listen. We all have our flaws, and they may lead us to wrong even our loved ones, perhaps especially our loved ones. Especially wives and children. If a husband wrongs his wife, her loving nature will leave her unable to defend herself--and the law gives her husband full authority to do as he pleases. So who will take Mme Pontmercy's part, if Marius fails her, and you're not there? Marius's grandfather? He's likelier to take Marius's part, and--well--he's a capricious and tyrannical man, who used to beat his servants and Marius. Only a father can be relied on to defend his daughter, even against her husband if need be. And even a woman married to a good husband may require such a defense."

Another deep breath. "I can't tell you what to do, and I wouldn't even attempt to. But married women need their fathers, monsieur, just as much as small girls."