“There has been a family council,” the young man continued; “my mother and Urbain have put their heads together, and even my testimony has not been altogether excluded.  My mother and the marquis sat at a table covered with green cloth; my sister-in-law and I were on a bench against the wall.  It was like a committee at the Corps Legislatif.  We were called up, one after the other, to testify.  We spoke of you very handsomely.  Madame de Bellegarde said that if she had not been told who you were, she would have taken you for a duke—­an American duke, the Duke of California.  I said that I could warrant you grateful for the smallest favors—­modest, humble, unassuming.  I was sure that you would know your own place, always, and never give us occasion to remind you of certain differences.  After all, you couldn’t help it if you were not a duke.  There were none in your country; but if there had been, it was certain that, smart and active as you are, you would have got the pick of the titles.  At this point I was ordered to sit down, but I think I made an impression in your favor.”

M. de Bellegarde looked at his brother with dangerous coldness, and gave a smile as thin as the edge of a knife.  Then he removed a spark of cigar-ash from the sleeve of his coat; he fixed his eyes for a while on the cornice of the room, and at last he inserted one of his white hands into the breast of his waistcoat.  “I must apologize to you for the deplorable levity of my brother,” he said, “and I must notify you that this is probably not the last time that his want of tact will cause you serious embarrassment.”

“No, I confess I have no tact,” said Valentin.  “Is your embarrassment really painful, Newman?  The marquis will put you right again; his own touch is deliciously delicate.”

“Valentin, I am sorry to say,” the marquis continued, “has never possessed the tone, the manner, that belongs to a young man in his position.  It has been a great affliction to his mother, who is very fond of the old traditions.  But you must remember that he speaks for no one but himself.”

“Oh, I don’t mind him, sir,” said Newman, good-humoredly.  “I know what he amounts to.”

“In the good old times,” said Valentin, “marquises and counts used to have their appointed fools and jesters, to crack jokes for them.  Nowadays we see a great strapping democrat keeping a count about him to play the fool.  It’s a good situation, but I certainly am very degenerate.”

M. de Bellegarde fixed his eyes for some time on the floor.  “My mother informed me,” he said presently, “of the announcement that you made to her the other evening.”

“That I desired to marry your sister?” said Newman.