“I congratulate you, sir,” said Madame de Bellegarde, with extreme solemnity. “My daughter is an extraordinarily good woman. She may have faults, but I don’t know them.”
“My mother does not often make jokes,” said Madame de Cintré; “but when she does they are terrible.”
“She is ravishing,” the Marquise Urbain resumed, looking at her sister-in-law, with her head on one side. “Yes, I congratulate you.”
Madame de Cintré turned away, and, taking up a piece of tapestry, began to ply the needle. Some minutes of silence elapsed, which were interrupted by the arrival of M. de Bellegarde. He came in with his hat in his hand, gloved, and was followed by his brother Valentin, who appeared to have just entered the house. M. de Bellegarde looked around the circle and greeted Newman with his usual finely-measured courtesy. Valentin saluted his mother and his sisters, and, as he shook hands with Newman, gave him a glance of acute interrogation.
“Arrivez donc, messieurs!” cried young Madame de Bellegarde. “We have great news for you.”
“Speak to your brother, my daughter,” said the old lady.
Madame de Cintré had been looking at her tapestry. She raised her eyes to her brother. “I have accepted Mr. Newman.”
“Your sister has consented,” said Newman. “You see after all, I knew what I was about.”
“I am charmed!” said M. de Bellegarde, with superior benignity.
“So am I,” said Valentin to Newman. “The marquis and I are charmed. I can’t marry, myself, but I can understand it. I can’t stand on my head, but I can applaud a clever acrobat. My dear sister, I bless your union.”