r my part I think we had better let our temper take care of
itself; it generally seems to me quite high enough; I am not afraid
of being too meek. If your great-grandfather were to make himself
unpleasant to me, I think I could manage him yet."

"My dear friend," said Valentin, smiling, "you can't invent anything
that will take the place of satisfaction for an insult. To demand it and
to give it are equally excellent arrangements."

"Do you call this sort of thing satisfaction?" Newman asked. "Does it
satisfy you to receive a present of the carcass of that coarse fop? does
it gratify you to make him a present of yours? If a man hits you, hit
him back; if a man libels you, haul him up."

"Haul him up, into court? Oh, that is very nasty!" said Valentin.

"The nastiness is his--not yours. And for that matter, what you are
doing is not particularly nice. You are too good for it. I don't say
you are the most useful man in the world, or the cleverest, or the
most amiable. But you are too good to go and get your throat cut for a
prostitute."

Valentin flushed a little, but he laughed. "I shan't get my throat cut
if I can help it. Moreover, one's honor hasn't two different measures.
It only knows that it is hurt; it doesn't ask when, or how, or where."

"The more fool it is!" said Newman.

Valentin ceased to laugh; he looked grave. "I beg you not to say
any more," he said. "If you do I shall almost fancy you don't care
about--about"--and he paused.

"About what?"

"About that matter--about one's honor."

"Fancy what you please," said Newman. "Fancy while you are at it that
I care about YOU--though you are not worth it. But come back without
damage," he added in a moment, "and I will forgive you. And then,"
he continued, as Valentin was going, "I will ship you straight off to
America."

"Well," answered Valentin, "if I am to turn over a new page, this may
figure as a tail-piece to the old." And then he lit another cigar and
departed.

"Blast that girl!" said Newman as the door closed upon Valentin.

CHAPTER XVIII

Newman went the next morning to see Madame de Cintre, timing his visit
so as to arrive after the noonday breakfast. In the court of the hotel,
before the portico, stood Madame de Bellegarde's old square carriage.
The servant who opened the door answered Newman's inquiry with a
slightly embarrassed and hesitating murmur, and at the same moment Mrs.
Bread appeared in the background, dim-visaged as