THE AMERICAN
"Where's my son—where's Urbain?" asked the Marquise. "Send for your brother and let him know."
Young Madame de Bellegarde laid her hand on the bell-rope. "He was to make some visits with me, and I was to go and knock—very softly, very softly—at the door of his study. But he can come to me! She pulled the bell and in a few moments Mrs. Bread appeared with a face of calm enquiry.
"Send for your brother," the old lady went on to Claire.
But Newman felt an irresistible impulse to speak—and to speak in a certain way. "Please tell the Marquis we want him immediately," he said to Mrs. Bread, who quietly retired.
Young Madame de Bellegarde approached her sister-in-law and embraced her, and then she turned, intensely smiling, to Newman. "She's as charming as you like. I congratulate you."
"I do the same, Mr. Newman," said Madame de Bellegarde with extreme solemnity. "My daughter's an extraordinarily good woman. She may have faults, but I don't know them."
"My mother does n't often make jokes," Madame de Cintré observed; "but when she does they're terrible."
"She's a pearl, she's adorable," the Marquise Urbain resumed, looking at her sister-in-law with her head on one side. "Yes, I congratulate you."
Madame de Cintré turned away and, taking up a piece of tapestry, began to ply the needle. Some minutes of silence elapsed, which were interrupted by the arrival of M. de Bellegarde. He came in with
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