evidently very shy,
and he laughed a great deal, catching his breath with an odd, startling
sound, as the most convenient imitation of repose. His physiognomy
denoted great simplicity, a certain amount of brutality, and probable
failure in the past to profit by rare educational advantages. He
remarked that Paris was awfully jolly, but that for real, thorough-paced
entertainment it was nothing to Dublin. He even preferred Dublin to
London. Had Madame de Cintre ever been to Dublin? They must all come
over there some day, and he would show them some Irish sport. He always
went to Ireland for the fishing, and he came to Paris for the new
Offenbach things. They always brought them out in Dublin, but he
couldn't wait. He had been nine times to hear La Pomme de Paris. Madame
de Cintre, leaning back, with her arms folded, looked at Lord Deepmere
with a more visibly puzzled face than she usually showed to society.
Madame de Bellegarde, on the other hand, wore a fixed smile. The marquis
said that among light operas his favorite was the Gazza Ladra. The
marquise then began a series of inquiries about the duke and the
cardinal, the old countess and Lady Barbara, after listening to which,
and to Lord Deepmere's somewhat irreverent responses, for a quarter of
an hour, Newman rose to take his leave. The marquis went with him three
steps into the hall.

"Is he Irish?" asked Newman, nodding in the direction of the visitor.

"His mother was the daughter of Lord Finucane," said the marquis; "he
has great Irish estates. Lady Bridget, in the complete absence of
male heirs, either direct or collateral--a most extraordinary
circumstance--came in for everything. But Lord Deepmere's title is
English and his English property is immense. He is a charming young
man."

Newman answered nothing, but he detained the marquis as the latter was
beginning gracefully to recede. "It is a good time for me to thank you,"
he said, "for sticking so punctiliously to our bargain, for doing so
much to help me on with your sister."

The marquis stared. "Really, I have done nothing that I can boast of,"
he said.

"Oh don't be modest," Newman answered, laughing. "I can't flatter myself
that I am doing so well simply by my own merit. And thank your mother
for me, too!" And he turned away, leaving M. de Bellegarde looking after
him.

CHAPTER XIV

The next time Newman came to the Rue de l'Universite he had the good
fortune to find Madame de Cintre alone