THE AMERICAN
a preposterous pretence, but you have n't a penny worth of power."
"My power," Madame de Bellegarde observed, "is in my children's obedience."
"In their fear, your daughter said. There's something very strange in it. Why should anyone be afraid of you?" added Newman after looking at her a moment. "There has been something at play I don't know and can't guess."
She met his gaze without flinching and as if neither hearing nor heeding. "I did my best," she said quietly. "I could bear it no longer."
"It was a bold experiment!" the Marquis pursued.
Newman felt disposed to walk to him and clutch his neck with irresistible firm fingers and a prolongation of thumb-pressure on the windpipe. "I need n't tell you how you strike me," he said, however, instead of this; "of course you know that. But I should think you 'd be afraid of your friends—all those people you introduced me to the other night. There were some decent people apparently among them; you may depend upon it there were some good, honest men and women."
"Our friends approve us," said M. de Bellegarde; there's not a responsible chef de famille among them who would have acted otherwise. And however that may be we take the cue from no one. We've been much more used—since one really has to tell you—to setting the example than to waiting for it."
"You 'd have waited long before any one would have set you such an example as this, I guess!" Newman cried. "Have I done anything wrong or
370
