Newman felt disposed to walk to him, clutch his neck with his fingers and press his windpipe with his thumb."I needn't tell you how you strike me," he said; "of course you know that.
But I should think you would be afraid of your friends--all those people you introduced me to the other night.
There were some very nice people among them; you may depend upon it there were some honest men and women.""Our friends approve us," said M.de Bellegarde, "there is not a family among them that would have acted otherwise.
And however that may be, we take the cue from no one.
The Bellegardes have been used to set the example not to wait for it.""You would have waited long before any one would have set you such an example as this," exclaimed Newman."Have I done anything wrong?"he demanded."Have I given you reason to change your opinion?
Have you found out anything against me? I can't imagine.""Our opinion," said Madame de Bellegarde, "is quite the same as at first--exactly.We have no ill-will towards yourself; we are very far from accusing you of misconduct.Since your relations with us began you have been, I frankly confess, less--less peculiar than I expected.
It is not your disposition that we object to, it is your antecedents.
We really cannot reconcile ourselves to a commercial person.
We fancied in an evil hour that we could; it was a great misfortune.
We determined to persevere to the end, and to give you every advantage.I was resolved that you should have no reason to accuse me of want of loyalty.
We let the thing certainly go very far; we introduced you to our friends.
To tell the truth, it was that, I think, that broke me down.
I succumbed to the scene that took place on Thursday night in these rooms.
You must excuse me if what I say is disagreeable to you, but we cannot release ourselves without an explanation.""There can be no better proof of our good faith," said the marquis, "than our committing ourselves to you in the eyes of the world the other evening.
We endeavored to bind ourselves--to tie our hands, as it were.""But it was that," added his mother, "that opened our eyes and broke our bonds.We should have been most uncomfortable!
You know," she added in a moment, "that you were forewarned.
I told you we were very proud."
Newman took up his hat and began mechanically to smooth it;the very fierceness of his scorn kept him from speaking.
"You are not proud enough," he observed at last.
"In all this matter," said the marquis, smiling, "I really see nothing but our humility.""Let us have no more discussion than is necessary," resumed Madame de Bellegarde."My daughter told you everything when she said she gave you up.""I am not satisfied about your daughter," said Newman; "I want to know what you did to her.It is all very easy talking about authority and saying you commanded her.She didn't accept me blindly, and she wouldn't have given me up blindly.Not that I believe yet she has really given me up; she will talk it over with me.
But you have frightened her, you have bullied her, you have HURT her.
What was it you did to her?"
"I did very little! said Madame de Bellegarde, in a tone which gave Newman a chill when he afterwards remembered it.
"Let me remind you that we offered you these explanations,"the marquis observed, "with the express understanding that you should abstain from violence of language.""I am not violent," Newman answered, "it is you who are violent!
But I don't know that I have much more to say to you.
What you expect of me, apparently, is to go my way, thanking you for favors received, and promising never to trouble you again.""We expect of you to act like a clever man," said Madame de Bellegarde.
"You have shown yourself that already, and what we have done is altogether based upon your being so.When one must submit, one must.
Since my daughter absolutely withdraws, what will be the use of your ****** a noise?""It remains to be seen whether your daughter absolutely withdraws.
Your daughter and I are still very good friends; nothing is changed in that.
As I say, I will talk it over with her."
"That will be of no use," said the old lady."I know my daughter well enough to know that words spoken as she just now spoke to you are final.
Besides, she has promised me."
"I have no doubt her promise is worth a great deal more than your own,"said Newman; "nevertheless I don't give her up.""Just as you please! But if she won't even see you,--and she won't,--your constancy must remain purely Platonic."Poor Newman was feigning a greater confidence than he felt.
Madame de Cintre's strange intensity had in fact struck a chill to his heart; her face, still impressed upon his vision, had been a terribly vivid image of renunciation.He felt sick, and suddenly helpless.He turned away and stood for a moment with his hand on the door; then he faced about and after the briefest hesitation broke out with a different accent.
"Come, think of what this must be to me, and let her alone!
Why should you object to me so--what's the matter with me?
I can't hurt you.I wouldn't if I could.I'm the most unobjectionable fellow in the world.What if I am a commercial person?
What under the sun do you mean? A commercial person?
I will be any sort of a person you want.I never talked to you about business.Let her go, and I will ask no questions.
I will take her away, and you shall never see me or hear of me again.I will stay in America if you like.
I'll sign a paper promising never to come back to Europe!
All I want is not to lose her!"
Madame de Bellegarde and her son exchanged a glance of lucid irony, and Urbain said, "My dear sir, what you propose is hardly an improvement.
We have not the slightest objection to seeing you, as an amiable foreigner, and we have every reason for not wishing to be eternally separated from my sister.We object to the marriage; and in that way," and M.de Bellegarde gave a small, thin laugh, "she would be more married than ever.""Well, then," said Newman, "where is this place of yours--Fleurieres?
