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Updated: July 8, 2025
Madame de Cintre was rather thin, and she looked younger than probably she was. In her whole person there was something both youthful and subdued, slender and yet ample, tranquil yet shy; a mixture of immaturity and repose, of innocence and dignity. What had Tristram meant, Newman wondered, by calling her proud?
Newman wished Madame de Cintre so well that nothing he could think of doing for her in the future rose to the high standard which his present mood had set itself.
"I am cold," said Madame de Cintre, "I am as cold as that flowing river." Newman gave a great rap on the floor with his stick, and a long, grim laugh. "Good, good!" he cried. "You go altogether too far you overshoot the mark. There isn't a woman in the world as bad as you would make yourself out. I see your game; it's what I said. You are blackening yourself to whiten others.
Madame de Cintre, when she had served her, began to talk again with Newman, and recalling what he had last said, "In your own country you were very much occupied?" she asked. "I was in business. I have been in business since I was fifteen years old." "And what was your business?" asked Madame de Bellegarde, who was decidedly not so pretty as Madame de Cintre.
"You can't prevent it," said Madame de Cintre, "and it ought a little to satisfy you. Do you suppose I will go on living in the world, still beside you, and yet not with you? It is all arranged. Good-by, good-by." This time he took her hand, took it in both his own. "Forever?" he said. Her lips made an inaudible movement and his own uttered a deep imprecation.
But when you say it, I believe it." "That's a poor reason," said Madame de Cintre, smiling. "No, it's a very good one. You have a high spirit, a high standard; but with you it's all natural and unaffected; you don't seem to have stuck your head into a vise, as if you were sitting for the photograph of propriety.
"Just Heaven, dear madam, how you go at it," said the Count Valentin, lowering his voice. "He's a man one can speak to, I suppose, since my sister receives him," the lady answered. "Besides, it's very true; those are my ideas." "Ah, you call them ideas," murmured the young man. "But Mrs. Tristram told me you had been in the army in your war," said Madame de Cintre.
He went to see Madame de Cintre the next day, and was informed by the servant that she was at home. He passed as usual up the large, cold staircase and through a spacious vestibule above, where the walls seemed all composed of small door panels, touched with long-faded gilding; whence he was ushered into the sitting-room in which he had already been received.
Madame de Cintre began to laugh. "That would be pride in a sad position!" she said. "It would be partly," Newman went on, "because I shouldn't want to know it. I want you to treat me well." Madame de Cintre, whose laugh had ceased, looked at him with her head half averted, as if she feared what he was going to say. "Mrs.
Then she said something to which he listened deferentially, but which he completely failed to understand. "Madame de la Rochefidele says that she is convinced that she must have seen Americans without knowing it," Madame de Cintre explained.
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