“Very well, I promise.”
“Good-bye, then,” she said, and extended her hand.
He held it a moment, as if he were going to say something more. But he only looked at her; then he took his departure.
That evening, on the Boulevard, he met Valentin de Bellegarde. After they had exchanged greetings, Newman told him that he had seen Madame de Cintré a few hours before.
“I know it,” said Bellegarde. “I dined in the Rue de l’Université.” And then, for some moments, both men were silent. Newman wished to ask Bellegarde what visible impression his visit had made and the Count Valentin had a question of his own. Bellegarde spoke first.
“It’s none of my business, but what the deuce did you say to my sister?”
“I am willing to tell you,” said Newman, “that I made her an offer of marriage.”
“Already!” And the young man gave a whistle. “‘Time is money!’ Is that what you say in America? And Madame de Cintré?” he added, with an interrogative inflection.
“She did not accept my offer.”
“She couldn’t, you know, in that way.”