h. He lapsed again into silence, and Newman sat watching him. "Do
you understand?" he began again, presently. "At Fleurieres. You can find
out. Mrs. Bread knows. Tell her I begged you to ask her. Then tell them
that, and see. It may help you. If not, tell, every one. It will--it
will"--here Valentin's voice sank to the feeblest murmur--"it will
avenge you!"

The words died away in a long, soft groan. Newman stood up, deeply
impressed, not knowing what to say; his heart was beating violently.
"Thank you," he said at last. "I am much obliged." But Valentin seemed
not to hear him, he remained silent, and his silence continued. At
last Newman went and opened the door. M. le cure reentered, bearing
his sacred vessel and followed by the three gentlemen and by Valentin's
servant. It was almost processional.

CHAPTER XX

Valentin de Bellegarde died, tranquilly, just as the cold, faint March
dawn began to illumine the faces of the little knot of friends gathered
about his bedside. An hour afterwards Newman left the inn and drove
to Geneva; he was naturally unwilling to be present at the arrival of
Madame de Bellegarde and her first-born. At Geneva, for the moment, he
remained. He was like a man who has had a fall and wants to sit still
and count his bruises. He instantly wrote to Madame de Cintre,
relating to her the circumstances of her brother's death--with certain
exceptions--and asking her what was the earliest moment at which he
might hope that she would consent to see him. M. Ledoux had told him
that he had reason to know that Valentin's will--Bellegarde had a great
deal of elegant personal property to dispose of--contained a request
that he should be buried near his father in the church-yard of
Fleurieres, and Newman intended that the state of his own relations with
the family should not deprive him of the satisfaction of helping to pay
the last earthly honors to the best fellow in the world. He reflected
that Valentin's friendship was older than Urbain's enmity, and that at
a funeral it was easy to escape notice. Madame de Cintre's answer to his
letter enabled him to time his arrival at Fleurieres. This answer was
very brief; it ran as follows:--

"I thank you for your letter, and for your being with Valentin. It is
a most inexpressible sorrow to me that I was not. To see you will be
nothing but a distress to me; there is no need, therefore, to wait for
what you call brighter days. It is all one now, and I shal