Something in the tone seemed to move her strongly.  She turned away, burying her face in her hands.

“But you have interfered now, haven’t you?” inquired Newman of the marquis.

“Neither then nor now have I attempted to influence my sister.  I used no persuasion then, I have used no persuasion to-day.”

“And what have you used?”

“We have used authority,” said Madame de Bellegarde in a rich, bell-like voice.

“Ah, you have used authority,” Newman exclaimed.  “They have used authority,” he went on, turning to Madame de Cintre.  “What is it? how did they use it?”

“My mother commanded,” said Madame de Cintre.

“Commanded you to give me up—­I see.  And you obey—­I see.  But why do you obey?” asked Newman.

Madame de Cintre looked across at the old marquise; her eyes slowly measured her from head to foot.  “I am afraid of my mother,” she said.

Madame de Bellegarde rose with a certain quickness, crying, “This is a most indecent scene!”

“I have no wish to prolong it,” said Madame de Cintre; and turning to the door she put out her hand again.  “If you can pity me a little, let me go alone.”

Newman shook her hand quietly and firmly.  “I’ll come down there,” he said.  The portiere dropped behind her, and Newman sank with a long breath into the nearest chair.  He leaned back in it, resting his hands on the knobs of the arms and looking at Madame de Bellegarde and Urbain.  There was a long silence.  They stood side by side, with their heads high and their handsome eyebrows arched.

“So you make a distinction?” Newman said at last.  “You make a distinction between persuading and commanding?  It’s very neat.  But the distinction is in favor of commanding.  That rather spoils it.”

“We have not the least objection to defining our position,” said M. de Bellegarde.  “We understand that it should not at first appear to you quite clear.  We rather expected, indeed, that you should not do us justice.”

“Oh, I’ll do you justice,” said Newman.  “Don’t be afraid.  Please proceed.”

The marquise laid her hand on her son’s arm, as if to deprecate the attempt to define their position.  “It is quite useless,” she said, “to try and arrange this matter so as to make it agreeable to you.  It can never be agreeable to you.  It is a disappointment, and disappointments are unpleasant.  I thought it over carefully and tried to arrange it better; but I only gave myself a headache and lost my sleep.  Say what we will, you will think yourself ill-treated, and you will publish your wrongs among your friends.  But we are not afraid of that.  Besides, your friends are not our friends, and it will not matter.  Think of us as you please.  I only beg you not to be violent.  I have never in my life been present at a violent scene of any kind, and at my age I can’t be expected to begin.”

“Is that all you have got to say?” asked Newman, slowly rising out of his chair.  “That’s a poor show for a clever lady like you, marquise.  Come, try again.”