While she was looking at the ladies she was seeing Valentin
de Bellegarde. He, at all events, was seeing her. He put down the
roughly-besmeared canvas and addressed a little click with his tongue,
accompanied by an elevation of the eyebrows, to Newman.
"Where have you been all these months?" asked Mademoiselle Noemie of our
hero. "You took those great journeys, you amused yourself well?"
"Oh, yes," said Newman. "I amused myself well enough."
"I am very glad," said Mademoiselle Noemie with extreme gentleness, and
she began to dabble in her colors again. She was singularly pretty, with
the look of serious sympathy that she threw into her face.
Valentin took advantage of her downcast eyes to telegraph again to his
companion. He renewed his mysterious physiognomical play, making at the
same time a rapid tremulous movement in the air with his fingers. He was
evidently finding Mademoiselle Noemie extremely interesting; the blue
devils had departed, leaving the field clear.
"Tell me something about your travels," murmured the young girl.
"Oh, I went to Switzerland,--to Geneva and Zermatt and Zurich and all
those places you know; and down to Venice, and all through Germany, and
down the Rhine, and into Holland and Belgium--the regular round. How do
you say that, in French--the regular round?" Newman asked of Valentin.
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