The Count Valentin looked at our hero from head to foot with his peculiar smile, in which impudence and urbanity seemed perplexingly commingled. “Are you a brave man?” he asked, eying him askance.
“Well, I hope so,” said Newman.
“I rather suspect so. In that case, come again.”
“Ah, what an invitation!” murmured Madame de Cintré, with something painful in her smile.
“Oh, I want Mr. Newman to come—particularly,” said the young man. “It will give me great pleasure. I shall be desolate if I miss one of his visits. But I maintain he must be brave. A stout heart, sir!” And he offered Newman his hand.
“I shall not come to see you; I shall come to see Madame de Cintré,” said Newman.
“You will need all the more courage.”
“Ah, Valentin!” said Madame de Cintré, appealingly.
“Decidedly,” cried Madame de Bellegarde, “I am the only person here capable of saying something polite! Come to see me; you will need no courage,” she said.
Newman gave a laugh which was not altogether an assent, and took his leave. Madame de Cintré did not take up her sister’s challenge to be gracious, but she looked with a certain troubled air at the retreating guest.