"Did he sing my
praises?"
"He spoke very well of you. But when I know that it was by your special
request, of course I must take his eulogy with a grain of salt."
"Oh, that makes no difference," said Newman. "Your brother would not
have spoken well of me unless he believed what he was saying. He is too
honest for that."
"Are you very deep?" said Madame de Cintre. "Are you trying to please me
by praising my brother? I confess it is a good way."
"For me, any way that succeeds will be good. I will praise your brother
all day, if that will help me. He is a noble little fellow. He has made
me feel, in promising to do what he can to help me, that I can depend
upon him."
"Don't make too much of that," said Madame de Cintre. "He can help you
very little."
"Of course I must work my way myself. I know that very well; I only want
a chance to. In consenting to see me, after what he told you, you almost
seem to be giving me a chance."
"I am seeing you," said Madame de Cintre, slowly and gravely, "because I
promised my brother I would."
"Blessings on your brother's head!" cried Newman. "What I told him last
evening was this: that I admired you more than any woman I had ever
seen, and that I should like immensely to make you my wife." He uttered
these words with great directness and firmness, and without any sense of
confusion.
Pages:
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186