world. They
are very exacting. I myself am not very sure at this hour of really
possessing it. Eh, Bellegarde? To please you, I see, one must be an
American millionaire. But your real triumph, my dear sir, is pleasing
the countess; she is as difficult as a princess in a fairy tale. Your
success is a miracle. What is your secret? I don't ask you to reveal it
before all these gentlemen, but come and see me some day and give me a
specimen of your talents."

"The secret is with Madame de Cintre," said Newman. "You must ask her
for it. It consists in her having a great deal of charity."

"Very pretty!" said the duchess. "That's a very nice specimen, to begin
with. What, Bellegarde, are you already taking monsieur away?"

"I have a duty to perform, dear friend," said the marquis, pointing to
the other groups.

"Ah, for you I know what that means. Well, I have seen monsieur; that
is what I wanted. He can't persuade me that he isn't very clever.
Farewell."

As Newman passed on with his host, he asked who the duchess was. "The
greatest lady in France," said the marquis. M. de Bellegarde then
presented his prospective brother-in-law to some twenty other persons of
both sexes, selected apparently for their typically august character.
In some cases this character was written in good round hand upon the
countenance of the wearer; in others Newman was thankful for such help
as his companion's impressively brief intimation contributed to the
discovery of it. There were large, majestic men, and small demonstrative
men; there were ugly ladies in yellow lace and quaint jewels, and pretty
ladies with white shoulders from which jewels and every thing else were
absent. Every one gave Newman extreme attention, every one smiled, every
one was charmed to make his acquaintance, every one looked at him with
that soft hardness of good society which puts out its hand but keeps
its fingers closed over the coin. If the marquis was going about as a
bear-leader, if the fiction of Beauty and the Beast was supposed to have
found its companion-piece, the general impression appeared to be
that the bear was a very fair imitation of humanity. Newman found his
reception among the marquis's friends very "pleasant;" he could not have
said more for it. It was pleasant to be treated with so much explicit
politeness; it was pleasant to hear neatly turned civilities, with a
flavor of wit, uttered from beneath carefully-shaped mustaches; it was
pleasant to se