THE AMERICAN
person I ever saw—to notice him—was an American."
"Ah!" said Newman sympathetically.
"The great Dr. Franklin. Of course I was very very young. I believe I had but just come into the world. He was received very well dans le nôtre."
"Not better than Mr. Newman," said Madame de Bellegarde. I beg he 'll offer me his arm into the other room. I could have offered no higher privilege to Dr. Franklin." Newman, complying with her request, perceived that her two sons had returned to the drawing-room. He scanned their faces an instant for traces of the scene that had followed his separation from them, but if the Marquis had been ruffled he stepped all the more like some high-crested though distinctly domestic fowl who had always the alternative of the perch. Valentin, on his side, was kissing ladies' hands as much as ever as if there were nothing else in the world but these and sundry other invitations to the moustachioed lip. Madame de Bellegarde gave a glance at her elder son, and by the time she had crossed the threshold of her boudoir he was at her side. The room was now empty and offered a sufficient privacy. She disengaged herself from Newman's arm and rested her hand on that of their companion; and in this position she stood a moment, bridling, almost quivering, causing her ornaments, her earrings and brooches and buckles, somehow doubly to twinkle, and pursing, as from simple force of character, her portentous little mouth. I am afraid the picture was lost on Newman, but she was in fact at this moment a striking image of the dignity
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