“We expect of you to act like a clever man,” said Madame de Bellegarde.  “You have shown yourself that already, and what we have done is altogether based upon your being so.  When one must submit, one must.  Since my daughter absolutely withdraws, what will be the use of your making a noise?”

“It remains to be seen whether your daughter absolutely withdraws.  Your daughter and I are still very good friends; nothing is changed in that.  As I say, I will talk it over with her.”

“That will be of no use,” said the old lady.  “I know my daughter well enough to know that words spoken as she just now spoke to you are final.  Besides, she has promised me.”

“I have no doubt her promise is worth a great deal more than your own,” said Newman; “nevertheless I don’t give her up.”

“Just as you please!  But if she won’t even see you,—­and she won’t,—­your constancy must remain purely Platonic.”

Poor Newman was feigning a greater confidence than he felt.  Madame de Cintre’s strange intensity had in fact struck a chill to his heart; her face, still impressed upon his vision, had been a terribly vivid image of renunciation.  He felt sick, and suddenly helpless.  He turned away and stood for a moment with his hand on the door; then he faced about and after the briefest hesitation broke out with a different accent.  “Come, think of what this must be to me, and let her alone!  Why should you object to me so—­what’s the matter with me?  I can’t hurt you.  I wouldn’t if I could.  I’m the most unobjectionable fellow in the world.  What if I am a commercial person?  What under the sun do you mean?  A commercial person?  I will be any sort of a person you want.  I never talked to you about business.  Let her go, and I will ask no questions.  I will take her away, and you shall never see me or hear of me again.  I will stay in America if you like.  I’ll sign a paper promising never to come back to Europe!  All I want is not to lose her!”

Madame de Bellegarde and her son exchanged a glance of lucid irony, and Urbain said, “My dear sir, what you propose is hardly an improvement.  We have not the slightest objection to seeing you, as an amiable foreigner, and we have every reason for not wishing to be eternally separated from my sister.  We object to the marriage; and in that way,” and M. de Bellegarde gave a small, thin laugh, “she would be more married than ever.”

“Well, then,” said Newman, “where is this place of yours—­Fleurieres?  I know it is near some old city on a hill.”

“Precisely.  Poitiers is on a hill,” said Madame de Bellegarde.  “I don’t know how old it is.  We are not afraid to tell you.”

“It is Poitiers, is it?  Very good,” said Newman.  “I shall immediately follow Madame de Cintre.”

“The trains after this hour won’t serve you,” said Urbain.

“I shall hire a special train!”

“That will be a very silly waste of money,” said Madame de Bellegarde.