egarde; "and as
you are also acquainted with my sister, it was time we should meet." He
turned to his mother and gallantly bent over her hand, touching it with
his lips, and then he assumed an attitude before the chimney-piece. With
his long, lean face, his high-bridged nose and his small, opaque eye he
looked much like an Englishman. His whiskers were fair and glossy, and
he had a large dimple, of unmistakably British origin, in the middle of
his handsome chin. He was "distinguished" to the tips of his polished
nails, and there was not a movement of his fine, perpendicular person
that was not noble and majestic. Newman had never yet been confronted
with such an incarnation of the art of taking one's self seriously; he
felt a sort of impulse to step backward, as you do to get a view of a
great facade.

"Urbain," said young Madame de Bellegarde, who had apparently been
waiting for her husband to take her to her ball, "I call your attention
to the fact that I am dressed."

"That is a good idea," murmured Valentin.

"I am at your orders, my dear friend," said M. de Bellegarde. "Only,
you must allow me first the pleasure of a little conversation with Mr.
Newman."

"Oh, if you are going to a party, don't let me keep you," objected
Newman. "I am very sure we shall meet again. Indeed, if you would like
to converse with me I will gladly name an hour." He was eager to make
it known that he would readily answer all questions and satisfy all
exactions.

M. de Bellegarde stood in a well-balanced position before the fire,
caressing one of his fair whiskers with one of his white hands, and
looking at Newman, half askance, with eyes from which a particular ray
of observation made its way through a general meaningless smile. "It is
very kind of you to make such an offer," he said. "If I am not mistaken,
your occupations are such as to make your time precious. You are
in--a--as we say, dans les affaires."

"In business, you mean? Oh no, I have thrown business overboard for the
present. I am 'loafing,' as WE say. My time is quite my own."

"Ah, you are taking a holiday," rejoined M. de Bellegarde. "'Loafing.'
Yes, I have heard that expression."

"Mr. Newman is American," said Madame de Bellegarde.

"My brother is a great ethnologist," said Valentin.

"An ethnologist?" said Newman. "Ah, you collect negroes' skulls, and
that sort of thing."

The marquis looked hard at his brother, and began to caress his other
whisker. Then,