was very pleasant and sociable.  Only in an evil hour it came into her head to say that she must present us to her mother—­her mother wished to know your friends.  I didn’t want to know her mother, and I was on the point of telling Lizzie to go in alone and let me wait for her outside.  But Lizzie, with her usual infernal ingenuity, guessed my purpose and reduced me by a glance of her eye.  So they marched off arm in arm, and I followed as I could.  We found the old lady in her arm-chair, twiddling her aristocratic thumbs.  She looked at Lizzie from head to foot; but at that game Lizzie, to do her justice, was a match for her.  My wife told her we were great friends of Mr. Newman.  The marquise started a moment, and then said, ’Oh, Mr. Newman!  My daughter has made up her mind to marry a Mr. Newman.’  Then Madame de Cintre began to fondle Lizzie again, and said it was this dear lady that had planned the match and brought them together.  ’Oh, ’tis you I have to thank for my American son-in-law,’ the old lady said to Mrs. Tristram.  ’It was a very clever thought of yours.  Be sure of my gratitude.’  And then she began to look at me and presently said, ’Pray, are you engaged in some species of manufacture?’ I wanted to say that I manufactured broom-sticks for old witches to ride on, but Lizzie got in ahead of me.  ’My husband, Madame la Marquise,’ she said, ’belongs to that unfortunate class of persons who have no profession and no business, and do very little good in the world.’  To get her poke at the old woman she didn’t care where she shoved me.  ‘Dear me,’ said the marquise, ‘we all have our duties.’  ’I am sorry mine compel me to take leave of you,’ said Lizzie.  And we bundled out again.  But you have a mother-in-law, in all the force of the term.”

“Oh,” said Newman, “my mother-in-law desires nothing better than to let me alone.”

Betimes, on the evening of the 27th, he went to Madame de Bellegarde’s ball.  The old house in the Rue de l’Universite looked strangely brilliant.  In the circle of light projected from the outer gate a detachment of the populace stood watching the carriages roll in; the court was illumined with flaring torches and the portico carpeted with crimson.  When Newman arrived there were but a few people present.  The marquise and her two daughters were at the top of the staircase, where the sallow old nymph in the angle peeped out from a bower of plants.  Madame de Bellegarde, in purple and fine laces, looked like an old lady painted by Vandyke; Madame de Cintre was dressed in white.  The old lady greeted Newman with majestic formality, and looking round her, called several of the persons who were standing near.  They were elderly gentlemen, of what Valentin de Bellegarde had designated as the high-nosed category; two or three of them wore cordons and stars.  They approached with measured alertness, and the marquise said that she wished to present them to Mr. Newman, who was going to marry her daughter.  Then she introduced