“Let me tell your mother,” said Newman.

The old lady stared at him again, and then turned to her daughter.  “You are going to marry him?” she cried, softly.

“Oui ma mere,” said Madame de Cintre.

“Your daughter has consented, to my great happiness,” said Newman.

“And when was this arrangement made?” asked Madame de Bellegarde.  “I seem to be picking up the news by chance!”

“My suspense came to an end yesterday,” said Newman.

“And how long was mine to have lasted?” said the marquise to her daughter.  She spoke without irritation; with a sort of cold, noble displeasure.

Madame de Cintre stood silent, with her eyes on the ground.  “It is over now,” she said.

“Where is my son—­where is Urbain?” asked the marquise.  “Send for your brother and inform him.”

Young Madame de Bellegarde laid her hand on the bell-rope.  “He was to make some visits with me, and I was to go and knock—­very softly, very softly—­at the door of his study.  But he can come to me!” She pulled the bell, and in a few moments Mrs. Bread appeared, with a face of calm inquiry.

“Send for your brother,” said the old lady.

But Newman felt an irresistible impulse to speak, and to speak in a certain way.  “Tell the marquis we want him,” he said to Mrs. Bread, who quietly retired.

Young Madame de Bellegarde went to her sister-in-law and embraced her.  Then she turned to Newman, with an intense smile.  “She is charming.  I congratulate you.”

“I congratulate you, sir,” said Madame de Bellegarde, with extreme solemnity.  “My daughter is an extraordinarily good woman.  She may have faults, but I don’t know them.”

“My mother does not often make jokes,” said Madame de Cintre; “but when she does they are terrible.”

“She is ravishing,” the Marquise Urbain resumed, looking at her sister-in-law, with her head on one side.  “Yes, I congratulate you.”

Madame de Cintre turned away, and, taking up a piece of tapestry, began to ply the needle.  Some minutes of silence elapsed, which were interrupted by the arrival of M. de Bellegarde.  He came in with his hat in his hand, gloved, and was followed by his brother Valentin, who appeared to have just entered the house.  M. de Bellegarde looked around the circle and greeted Newman with his usual finely-measured courtesy.  Valentin saluted his mother and his sisters, and, as he shook hands with Newman, gave him a glance of acute interrogation.

“Arrivez donc, messieurs!” cried young Madame de Bellegarde.  “We have great news for you.”

“Speak to your brother, my daughter,” said the old lady.

Madame de Cintre had been looking at her tapestry.  She raised her eyes to her brother.  “I have accepted Mr. Newman.”

“Your sister has consented,” said Newman.  “You see after all, I knew what I was about.”

“I am charmed!” said M. de Bellegarde, with superior benignity.