She shook her head, and, on his insisting, she said, "I
have not been playing for you; I have been playing for myself." She went
back to the window again and looked out, and shortly afterwards left the
room. When Newman took leave, Urbain de Bellegarde accompanied him, as
he always did, just three steps down the staircase. At the bottom stood
a servant with his overcoat. He had just put it on when he saw Madame de
Cintre coming towards him across the vestibule.
"Shall you be at home on Friday?" Newman asked.
She looked at him a moment before answering his question. "You don't
like my mother and my brother," she said.
He hesitated a moment, and then he said softly, "No."
She laid her hand on the balustrade and prepared to ascend the stairs,
fixing her eyes on the first step.
"Yes, I shall be at home on Friday," and she passed up the wide dusky
staircase.
On the Friday, as soon as he came in, she asked him to please to tell
her why he disliked her family.
"Dislike your family?" he exclaimed. "That has a horrid sound. I didn't
say so, did I? I didn't mean it, if I did."
"I wish you would tell me what you think of them," said Madame de
Cintre.
"I don't think of any of them but you."
"That is because you dislike them. Speak the truth; you can't offend
me.
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