eed make you unhappy. My agitation is over.
Some day I will tell you what it was; not now. I can't now!"

"Well, I confess," remarked Newman, "I don't want to hear anything
unpleasant. I am satisfied with everything--most of all with you. I
have seen all the ladies and talked with a great many of them; but I am
satisfied with you." Madame de Cintre covered him for a moment with her
large, soft glance, and then turned her eyes away into the starry night.
So they stood silent a moment, side by side. "Say you are satisfied with
me," said Newman.

He had to wait a moment for the answer; but it came at last, low yet
distinct: "I am very happy."

It was presently followed by a few words from another source, which made
them both turn round. "I am sadly afraid Madame de Cintre will take a
chill. I have ventured to bring a shawl." Mrs. Bread stood there softly
solicitous, holding a white drapery in her hand.

"Thank you," said Madame de Cintre, "the sight of those cold stars gives
one a sense of frost. I won't take your shawl, but we will go back into
the house."

She passed back and Newman followed her, Mrs. Bread standing
respectfully aside to make way for them. Newman paused an instant before
the old woman, and she glanced up at him with a silent greeting. "Oh,
yes," he said, "you must come and live with us."

"Well then, sir, if you will," she answered, "you have not seen the last
of me!"

CHAPTER XVII

Newman was fond of music and went often to the opera. A couple of
evenings after Madame de Bellegarde's ball he sat listening to "Don
Giovanni," having in honor of this work, which he had never yet seen
represented, come to occupy his orchestra-chair before the rising of
the curtain. Frequently he took a large box and invited a party of
his compatriots; this was a mode of recreation to which he was much
addicted. He liked making up parties of his friends and conducting them
to the theatre, and taking them to drive on high drags or to dine at
remote restaurants. He liked doing things which involved his paying for
people; the vulgar truth is that he enjoyed "treating" them. This was
not because he was what is called purse-proud; handling money in public
was on the contrary positively disagreeable to him; he had a sort of
personal modesty about it, akin to what he would have felt about making
a toilet before spectators. But just as it was a gratification to him to
be handsomely dressed, just so it was a private s