Oh, you never heard of us, of course! Ce que c'est que la gloire! We are much better than the Bellegardes, at any rate. But I don't care a pin for my pedigree; I want to belong to my time. I'm a revolutionist, a radical, a child of the age! I am sure I go beyond you. I like clever people, wherever they come from, and I take my amusement wherever I find it. I don't pout at the Empire; here all the world pouts at the Empire. Of course I have to mind what I say; but I expect to take my revenge with you.« Madame de Bellegarde discoursed for some time longer in this sympathetic strain, with an eager abundance which seemed to indicate that her opportunities for revealing her esoteric philosophy were indeed rare. She hoped that Newman would never be afraid of her, however he might be with the others, for, really, she went very far indeed. Strong people - les gens forts - were in her opinion equal, all the world over. Newman listened to her with an attention at once beguiled and irritated. He wondered what the deuce she, too, was driving at, with her hope that he would not be afraid of her and her protestations of equality. In so far as he could understand her, she was wrong; a silly rattling woman was certainly not the equal of a sensible man, preoccupied with an ambitious passion. Madame de Bellegarde stopped suddenly, and looked at him sharply, shaking her fan. »I see you don't believe me,« she said, »you are too much on your guard. You will not form an alliance, offensive or defensive? You are very wrong; I could help you.« Newman answered that he was very grateful and that he would certainly ask for help; she should see. »But first of all,« he said, »I must help myself.« And he went to join Madame de Cintré. »I have been telling Madame de la Rochefidèle that you are an American,« she said, as he came up. »It interests her greatly. Her father went over with the French troops to help you in your battles in the last century, and she has always, in consequence, wanted greatly to see an American. But she has never succeeded till tonight. You are the first - to her knowledge - that she has ever looked at.« Madame de la Rochefidèle had an aged cadaverous face, with a falling of