But what I have chiefly thought has
been that they only helped me to admire you." This was not gallantry on
Newman's part--an art in which he was quite unversed. It was simply the
instinct of the practical man, who had made up his mind what he wanted,
and was now beginning to take active steps to obtain it.
Madame de Cintre started slightly, and raised her eyebrows; she had
evidently not expected so fervid a compliment. "Oh, in that case," she
said with a laugh, "your finding me alone is not good luck for me. I
hope some one will come in quickly."
"I hope not," said Newman. "I have something particular to say to you.
Have you seen your brother?"
"Yes, I saw him an hour ago."
"Did he tell you that he had seen me last night?"
"He said so."
"And did he tell you what we had talked about?"
Madame de Cintre hesitated a moment. As Newman asked these questions
she had grown a little pale, as if she regarded what was coming as
necessary, but not as agreeable. "Did you give him a message to me?" she
asked.
"It was not exactly a message--I asked him to render me a service."
"The service was to sing your praises, was it not?" And she accompanied
this question with a little smile, as if to make it easier to herself.
"Yes, that is what it really amounts to," said Newman.
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