"Not particularly. Are you a Roman Catholic, madam?" And he turned to
Madame de Cintre.
"Yes, sir," she answered, gravely.
Newman was struck with the gravity of her tone; he threw back his head
and began to look round the room again. "Had you never noticed that
number up there?" he presently asked.
She hesitated a moment, and then, "In former years," she said.
Her brother had been watching Newman's movement. "Perhaps you would like
to examine the house," he said.
Newman slowly brought down his eyes and looked at him; he had a vague
impression that the young man at the chimney-piece was inclined to
irony. He was a handsome fellow, his face wore a smile, his mustaches
were curled up at the ends, and there was a little dancing gleam in his
eye. "Damn his French impudence!" Newman was on the point of saying to
himself. "What the deuce is he grinning at?" He glanced at Madame de
Cintre; she was sitting with her eyes fixed on the floor. She raised
them, they met his, and she looked at her brother. Newman turned again
to this young man and observed that he strikingly resembled his sister.
This was in his favor, and our hero's first impression of the Count
Valentin, moreover, had been agreeable. His mistrust expired, and he
said he would be very glad to see the house.
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