 I could put it to the test. Give me time, and I will.« And Mrs.
Tristram remained silent for some time afterwards, as if she was trying to keep
her pledge. It did not appear that evening that she succeeded; but as he was
rising to take his leave, she passed suddenly, as she was very apt to do, from
the tone of unsparing persiflage to that of almost tremulous sympathy. »Speaking
seriously,« she said, »I believe in you, Mr. Newman. You flatter my patriotism.«
    »Your patriotism?« Christopher demanded.
    »Even so. It would take too long to explain, and you probably would not
understand. Besides, you might take it - really, you might take it for a
declaration. But it has nothing to do with you personally; it's what you
represent. Fortunately you don't know all that, or your conceit would increase
insufferably.«
    Newman stood staring and wondering what under the sun he represented.
    »Forgive all my meddlesome chatter, and forget my advice. It is very silly
in me to undertake to tell you what to do. When you are embarrassed, do as you
think best, and you will do very well. When you are in a difficulty, judge for
yourself.«
    »I shall remember everything you have told me,« said Newman. »There are so
many forms and ceremonies over here --«
    »Forms and ceremonies are what I mean, of course.«
    »Ah, but I want to observe them,« said Newman. »Haven't I as good a right as
another? They don't scare me, and you needn't give me leave to violate them. I
won't take it.«
    »That is not what I mean. I mean, observe them in your own way. Settle nice
questions for yourself. Cut the knot or untie it, as you choose.«
    »Oh, I am sure I shall never fumble over it,« said Newman.
    The next time that he dined in the Avenue d'Iéna was a Sunday, a day on
which Mr. Tristram left the cards unshuffled, so that there was a trio in the
evening on the balcony. The talk was of many things, and at last Mrs. Tristram
suddenly observed to Christopher Newman that it was high time he should take a
wife.
    »Listen to her; she has the audacity!« said Tristram, who on Sunday evenings
was always rather acrimonious.
    »I don't suppose you
