Page:The Novels and Tales of Henry James, Volume 2 (New York, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1907).djvu/288

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THE AMERICAN

"I suppose," he presently answered, "that I like her so much because she has lived near you so long. Since your birth, she told me."

"Yes—such an age as that makes! She's very faithful," Madame de Cintré went on simply. "I can absolutely trust her."

Newman, however that might be, had never made a reflexion to this lady on her mother and her brother Urbain—he had given no hint of the impression they made on him. But, as if she could perfectly guess his feeling and subtly spare his nerves, she had markedly avoided any occasion for making him speak of them. She never alluded to her mother's domestic decrees; she never quoted the opinions of the Marquis. They had talked, it was true, of Valentin, and she had made no secret of her extreme affection for her younger brother. Newman listened sometimes with a vague, irrepressible pang; if he could only have caught in his own cup a few drops of that overflow! She once spoke to him with candid elation of something Valentin had done which she thought very much to his honour. It was a service he had rendered to an old friend of the family—something more "serious" and useful than he was usually supposed capable of achieving. Newman said he was glad to hear of it, and then began to talk of a matter more personal to himself. His companion listened, but after a while she said: "I don't like the way you speak of poor Valentin." At which, rather surprised, he protested he had never spoken of him save in kindness.

"Well, it's just the sort of kindness," she smiled,

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