“Did I really say that? It seemed to me afterwards that the words had escaped me. Before Claire it was bad taste. But I felt gloomy as I spoke, and I feel gloomy still. Why did you ever introduce me to that girl?”
“Oh, it’s Noemie, is it? Lord deliver us! You don’t mean to say you are lovesick about her?”
“Lovesick, no; it’s not a grand passion. But the cold-blooded little demon sticks in my thoughts; she has bitten me with those even little teeth of hers; I feel as if I might turn rabid and do something crazy in consequence. It’s very low, it’s disgustingly low. She’s the most mercenary little jade in Europe. Yet she really affects my peace of mind; she is always running in my head. It’s a striking contrast to your noble and virtuous attachment—a vile contrast! It is rather pitiful that it should be the best I am able to do for myself at my present respectable age. I am a nice young man, eh, en somme? You can’t warrant my future, as you do your own.”
“Drop that girl, short,” said Newman; “don’t go near her again, and your future will do. Come over to America and I will get you a place in a bank.”
“It is easy to say drop her,” said Valentin, with a light laugh. “You can’t drop a pretty woman like that. One must be polite, even with Noemie. Besides, I’ll not have her suppose I am afraid of her.”
“So, between politeness and vanity, you will get deeper into the mud? Keep them both for something better. Remember, too, that I didn’t want to introduce you to her: you insisted. I had a sort of uneasy feeling about it.”
“Oh, I don’t reproach you,” said Valentin. “Heaven forbid! I wouldn’t for the world have missed knowing her. She is really extraordinary. The way she has already spread her wings is amazing. I don’t know when a woman has amused me more. But excuse me,” he added in an instant; “she doesn’t amuse you, at second hand, and the subject is an impure one. Let us talk of something else.” Valentin introduced another topic, but within five minutes Newman observed that, by a bold transition, he had reverted to Mademoiselle Nioche, and was giving pictures of her manners and quoting specimens of her mots. These were very witty, and, for a young woman who six months before had been painting the most artless madonnas, startlingly cynical. But at last, abruptly, he stopped, became thoughtful, and for some time afterwards said nothing. When he rose to go it was evident that his thoughts were still running upon Mademoiselle Nioche. “Yes, she’s a frightful little monster!” he said.
The next ten days were the happiest that Newman had ever known. He saw Madame de Cintre every day, and never saw either old Madame de Bellegarde or the elder of his prospective brothers-in-law. Madame de Cintre at last seemed to think it becoming to apologize for their never being present. “They are much taken up,” she said, “with doing the honors of Paris to Lord Deepmere.” There was a smile in her gravity as she made this declaration, and it deepened as she added, “He is our seventh cousin, you know, and blood is thicker than water. And then, he is so interesting!” And with this she laughed.