“And these qualities that you require—­what are they?”

“Goodness, beauty, intelligence, a fine education, personal elegance—­everything, in a word, that makes a splendid woman.”

“And noble birth, evidently,” said Bellegarde.

“Oh, throw that in, by all means, if it’s there.  The more the better!”

“And my sister seems to you to have all these things?”

“She is exactly what I have been looking for.  She is my dream realized.”

“And you would make her a very good husband?”

“That is what I wanted you to tell her.”

Bellegarde laid his hand on his companion’s arm a moment, looked at him with his head on one side, from head to foot, and then, with a loud laugh, and shaking the other hand in the air, turned away.  He walked again the length of the room, and again he came back and stationed himself in front of Newman.  “All this is very interesting—­it is very curious.  In what I said just now I was speaking, not for myself, but for my tradition, my superstitions.  For myself, really, your proposal tickles me.  It startled me at first, but the more I think of it the more I see in it.  It’s no use attempting to explain anything; you won’t understand me.  After all, I don’t see why you need; it’s no great loss.”

“Oh, if there is anything more to explain, try it!  I want to proceed with my eyes open.  I will do my best to understand.”

“No,” said Bellegarde, “it’s disagreeable to me; I give it up.  I liked you the first time I saw you, and I will abide by that.  It would be quite odious for me to come talking to you as if I could patronize you.  I have told you before that I envy you; vous m’imposez, as we say.  I didn’t know you much until within five minutes.  So we will let things go, and I will say nothing to you that, if our positions were reversed, you would not say to me.”

I do not know whether in renouncing the mysterious opportunity to which he alluded, Bellegarde felt that he was doing something very generous.  If so, he was not rewarded; his generosity was not appreciated.  Newman quite failed to recognize the young Frenchman’s power to wound his feelings, and he had now no sense of escaping or coming off easily.  He did not thank his companion even with a glance.  “My eyes are open, though,” he said, “so far as that you have practically told me that your family and your friends will turn up their noses at me.  I have never thought much about the reasons that make it proper for people to turn up their noses, and so I can only decide the question off-hand.  Looking at it in that way I can’t see anything in it.  I simply think, if you want to know, that I’m as good as the best.  Who the best are, I don’t pretend to say.  I have never thought much about that either.  To tell the truth, I have always had rather a good opinion of myself; a man who is successful can’t help it.  But I will admit that I was conceited.  What I don’t say yes to is that I don’t stand high—­as high as any one else.  This is a line of speculation I should not have chosen, but you must remember you began it yourself.  I should never have dreamed that I was on the defensive, or that I had to justify myself; but if your people will have it so, I will do my best.”