第38章

"You have evidently had some surprising adventures; you have seen some strange sides of life, you have revolved to and fro over a whole continent as I walked up and down the Boulevard.

You are a man of the world with a vengeance! You have spent some deadly dull hours, and you have done some extremely disagreeable things:

you have shoveled sand, as a boy, for supper, and you have eaten roast dog in a gold-diggers' camp.You have stood casting up figures for ten hours at a time, and you have sat through Methodist sermons for the sake of looking at a pretty girl in another pew.All that is rather stiff, as we say.

But at any rate you have done something and you are something;you have used your will and you have made your fortune.

You have not stupified yourself with debauchery and you have not mortgaged your fortune to social conveniences.

You take things easily, and you have fewer prejudices even than I, who pretend to have none, but who in reality have three or four.

Happy man, you are strong and you are free.But what the deuce,"demanded the young man in conclusion, "do you propose to do with such advantages? Really to use them you need a better world than this.

There is nothing worth your while here."

"Oh, I think there is something," said Newman.

"What is it?"

"Well," murmured Newman, "I will tell you some other time!"In this way our hero delayed from day to day broaching a subject which he had very much at heart.Meanwhile, however, he was growing practically familiar with it; in other words, he had called again, three times, on Madame de Cintre.On only two of these occasions had he found her at home, and on each of them she had other visitors.

Her visitors were numerous and extremely loquacious, and they exacted much of their hostess's attention.

She found time, however, to bestow a little of it on Newman, in an occasional vague smile, the very vagueness of which pleased him, allowing him as it did to fill it out mentally, both at the time and afterwards, with such meanings as most pleased him.

He sat by without speaking, looking at the entrances and exits, the greetings and chatterings, of Madame de Cintre's visitors.

He felt as if he were at the play, and as if his own speaking would be an interruption; sometimes he wished he had a book, to follow the dialogue; he half expected to see a woman in a white cap and pink ribbons come and offer him one for two francs.

Some of the ladies looked at him very hard--or very soft, as you please; others seemed profoundly unconscious of his presence.

The men looked only at Madame de Cintre.This was inevitable;for whether one called her beautiful or not she entirely occupied and filled one's vision, just as an agreeable sound fills one's ear.

Newman had but twenty distinct words with her, but he carried away an impression to which solemn promises could not have given a higher value.She was part of the play that he was seeing acted, quite as much as her companions; but how she filled the stage and how much better she did it! Whether she rose or seated herself;whether she went with her departing friends to the door and lifted up the heavy curtain as they passed out, and stood an instant looking after them and giving them the last nod; or whether she leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed and her eyes resting, listening and smiling; she gave Newman the feeling that he should like to have her always before him, moving slowly to and fro along the whole scale of expressive hospitality.If it might be TO him, it would be well; if it might be FOR him, it would be still better!

She was so tall and yet so light, so active and yet so still, so elegant and yet so simple, so frank and yet so mysterious!