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Updated: June 21, 2025
"You have a secret you have a skeleton in the closet." M. de Bellegarde continued to look at him hard, but Newman could not see whether his eyes betrayed anything; the look of his eyes was always so strange. Newman paused again, and then went on. "You and your mother have committed a crime." At this M. de Bellegarde's eyes certainly did change; they seemed to flicker, like blown candles.
But you have a mother-in-law, in all the force of the term." "Oh," said Newman, "my mother-in-law desires nothing better than to let me alone." Betimes, on the evening of the 27th, he went to Madame de Bellegarde's ball. The old house in the Rue de l'Universite looked strangely brilliant.
Newman handed it to the marquis, whose mother, glancing at him, said simply, "Look at it." M. de Bellegarde's eyes had a pale eagerness which it was useless for him to try to dissimulate; he took the paper in his light-gloved fingers and opened it. There was a silence, during which he read it. He had more than time to read it, but still he said nothing; he stood staring at it.
Roch which bore the recorded number, and observed in a neighboring basement, behind a dangling row of neatly inflated gloves, the attentive physiognomy of Bellegarde's informant a sallow person in a dressing-gown peering into the street as if she were expecting that amiable nobleman to pass again.
On this subject Newman maintained an habitual reserve; to expatiate largely upon it had always seemed to him a proceeding vaguely analogous to the cooing of pigeons and the chattering of monkeys, and even inconsistent with a fully developed human character. But Bellegarde's confidences greatly amused him, and rarely displeased him, for the generous young Frenchman was not a cynic.
It did bring, by three o'clock, a note, delivered by a footman; a note addressed in Urbain de Bellegarde's handsome English hand. It ran as follows: "I cannot deny myself the satisfaction of letting you know that I return to Paris, to-morrow, with my mother, in order that we may see my sister and confirm her in the resolution which is the most effectual reply to your audacious pertinacity.
At the Countess Irene Arco's beautiful Gothic château of Anif, which rises out of a small pellucid lake, and is reached by a bridge, we spent many pleasant evenings, as well as at Countess Bellegarde's, and at Aigen, which belonged to the Cardinal Schwartzenberg. We never saw him, but went to visit his niece, with whom we were intimate.
Did she wish to enjoin speech or silence? He was puzzled, and young Madame de Bellegarde's pretty grin gave him no information. "I have not told my mother," said Madame de Cintre abruptly, looking at him. "Told me what?" demanded the marquise. "You tell me too little; you should tell me everything." "That is what I do," said Madame Urbain, with a little laugh.
Domiciled once more in the Boulevard Haussmann, he walked over to the Rue de l'Universite and inquired of Madame de Bellegarde's portress whether the marquise had come back. The portress told him that she had arrived, with M. le Marquis, on the preceding day, and further informed him that if he desired to enter, Madame de Bellegarde and her son were both at home.
Mademoiselle Capello had been forced to engage a dame de compagnie in the person of Madame Chambellan, some relation of Count Bellegarde's, and as near milk and water as he. I surmised that Francezka was not likely to choose for her dame de compagnie one able or desirous to cross her. After an hour or two I was called to attend Count Saxe, and the brothers were left alone.
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