, one after the other, to testify. We spoke of you very
handsomely. Madame de Bellegarde said that if she had not been told who
you were, she would have taken you for a duke--an American duke, the
Duke of California. I said that I could warrant you grateful for the
smallest favors--modest, humble, unassuming. I was sure that you would
know your own place, always, and never give us occasion to remind you of
certain differences. After all, you couldn't help it if you were not
a duke. There were none in your country; but if there had been, it was
certain that, smart and active as you are, you would have got the pick
of the titles. At this point I was ordered to sit down, but I think I
made an impression in your favor."

M. de Bellegarde looked at his brother with dangerous coldness, and
gave a smile as thin as the edge of a knife. Then he removed a spark of
cigar-ash from the sleeve of his coat; he fixed his eyes for a while on
the cornice of the room, and at last he inserted one of his white hands
into the breast of his waistcoat. "I must apologize to you for the
deplorable levity of my brother," he said, "and I must notify you that
this is probably not the last time that his want of tact will cause you
serious embarrassment."

"No, I confess I have no tact," said Valentin. "Is your embarrassment
really painful, Newman? The marquis will put you right again; his own
touch is deliciously delicate."

"Valentin, I am sorry to say," the marquis continued, "has never
possessed the tone, the manner, that belongs to a young man in his
position. It has been a great affliction to his mother, who is very fond
of the old traditions. But you must remember that he speaks for no one
but himself."

"Oh, I don't mind him, sir," said Newman, good-humoredly. "I know what
he amounts to."

"In the good old times," said Valentin, "marquises and counts used
to have their appointed fools and jesters, to crack jokes for them.
Nowadays we see a great strapping democrat keeping a count about him
to play the fool. It's a good situation, but I certainly am very
degenerate."

M. de Bellegarde fixed his eyes for some time on the floor. "My mother
informed me," he said presently, "of the announcement that you made to
her the other evening."

"That I desired to marry your sister?" said Newman.

"That you wished to arrange a marriage," said the marquis, slowly,
"with my sister, the Comtesse de Cintre. The proposal was serious, and
required, on