THE AMERICAN
together in amity; the old gentleman's rigour was purely theoretic. Newman confessed he was disappointed; he should have expected to see his venerable friend take high ground.
"High ground, my dear fellow!" Valentin returned; "there's no high ground for him to take. The only perceptible eminence in M. Nioche's horizon is Montmartre, which is n't an edifying quarter. You can't go mountaineering in a flat country."
"He remarked indeed," said Newman, "that he had not forgiven her. But she'll never find it out."
"We must do him the justice to suppose he intensely disapproves. His gifted child," Valentin added, "is like one of the great artists whose biographies we read, those who at the beginning of their career suffered opposition in the domestic circle. Their vocation was not recognised by their families, but the world has done it justice. Noémie has a vocation."
"Damn her vocation! Oh," added Newman impatiently, "you're a cold-blooded crew!"
Valentin sounded him a moment with curious eyes. "You must be very fond of boiled beef and cabbage to have such a suspicion of ripe peaches and plums."
But Newman sturdily met his look. "I should n't think I 'd have to tell you what fruit I gather!"
The young man, at this, closed his eyes an instant and then, with a motion of his hand, shook his head. After which he gravely said: "I back you more than ever!"
"Let me then," his companion returned, "do
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