“I am so sure that I will ask you to take me back to my armchair without the least fear of having my sentiments modified by the service you render me.” And Madame de Bellegarde took his arm, and returned to the salon and to her customary place.
M. de la Rochefidèle and his wife were preparing to take their leave, and Madame de Cintré’s interview with the mumbling old lady was at an end. She stood looking about her, asking herself, apparently to whom she should next speak, when Newman came up to her.
“Your mother has given me leave—very solemnly—to come here often,” he said. “I mean to come often.”
“I shall be glad to see you,” she answered simply. And then, in a moment: “You probably think it very strange that there should be such a solemnity—as you say—about your coming.”
“Well, yes; I do, rather.”
“Do you remember what my brother Valentin said, the first time you came to see me—that we were a strange, strange family?”
“It was not the first time I came, but the second,” said Newman.
“Very true. Valentin annoyed me at the time, but now I know you better, I may tell you he was right. If you come often, you will see!” and Madame de Cintré turned away.
Newman watched her a while, talking with other people, and then he took his leave. He shook hands last with Valentin de Bellegarde, who came out with him to the top of the staircase. “Well, you have got your permit,” said Valentin. “I hope you liked the process.”
“I like your sister, more than ever. But don’t worry your brother any more for my sake,” Newman added. “I don’t mind him. I am afraid he came down on you in the smoking-room, after I went out.”