 used it. Madame de Cintré
gave Newman the sense of an elaborate education, of her having passed through
mysterious ceremonies and processes of culture in her youth, of her having been
fashioned and made flexible to certain exalted social needs. All this, as I have
affirmed, made her seem rare and precious - a very expensive article, as he
would have said, and one which a man with an ambition to have everything about
him of the best would find it highly agreeable to possess. But looking at the
matter with an eye to private felicity, Newman wondered where, in so exquisite a
compound, nature and art showed their dividing line. Where did the special
intention separate from the habit of good manners? Where did urbanity end and
sincerity begin? Newman asked himself these questions even while he stood ready
to accept the admired object in all its complexity; he felt that he could do so
in profound security, and examine its mechanism afterwards, at leisure.
    »I am very glad to find you alone,« he said. »You know I have never had such
good luck before.«
    »But you have seemed before very well contented with your luck,« said Madame
de Cintré. »You have sat and watched my visitors with an air of quiet amusement.
What have you thought of them?«
    »Oh, I have thought the ladies were very elegant and very graceful, and
wonderfully quick at repartee. But what I have chiefly thought has been that
they only help me to admire you.« This was not gallantry on Newman's part - an
art in which he was quite unversed. It was simply the instinct of the practical
man, who had quite made up his mind what he wanted, and was now beginning to
take active steps to obtain it.
    Madame de Cintré started slightly, and raised her eyebrows; she had
evidently not expected so fervid a compliment. »Oh, in that case,« she said,
with a laugh, »your finding me alone is not good luck for me. I hope some one
will come in quickly.«
    »I hope not,« said Newman. »I have something particular to say to you. Have
you seen your brother?«
    »Yes; I saw him an hour ago.«
    »Did he tell you that he had seen me last night?«
    »He said so.«
    »And did he tell you what we had talked about?«
    Madame de Cintré hesitated a moment. As Newman asked these questions she had
grown a little pale, as if she regarded what was coming as
