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Updated: July 17, 2025
Newman said to himself that he had better see the thing out and he took a chair at the end of the table, with Mademoiselle Nioche on his left and her father on the other side. "You will take something, of course," said Miss Noemie, who was sipping a glass of madeira. Newman said that he believed not, and then she turned to her papa with a smile. "What an honor, eh? he has come only for us."
"You find me in a very fine moment," she repeated. "Two gentlemen one of them is M. de Bellegarde, the pleasure of whose acquaintance I owe to you have just had words about your humble servant. Very big words too. They can't come off without crossing swords. A duel that will give me a push!" cried Mademoiselle Noemie clapping her little hands. "C'est ca qui pose une femme!"
"Her influence on your daughter, then," said Newman encouragingly, "is not to be feared." "She cared no more for her daughter than for the sole of her shoe! But Noemie has no need of influence. She is sufficient to herself. She is stronger than I." "She doesn't obey you, eh?" "She can't obey, monsieur, since I don't command. What would be the use?
She threw her old lady over, bought a paint-box, a canvas, and a new dress, and went and set up her easel in the Louvre. There in one place and another, she has passed the last two years; I can't say it has made us millionaires. But Noemie tells me that Rome was not built in a day, that she is making great progress, that I must leave her to her own devices.
Mademoiselle Noemie evidently relished her situation, and had no desire to bring her public interview with her striking-looking patron to a close. Newman perceived that prosperity agreed with her. The little thin-lipped, peremptory air with which she had addressed her father on the occasion of their former meeting had given place to the most lingering and caressing tones.
But they still had to count their sous very narrowly, and M. Nioche intimated with a sigh that Mademoiselle Noemie did not bring to this task that zealous cooperation which might have been desired. "But what will you have?" he asked, philosophically. "One is young, one is pretty, one needs new dresses and fresh gloves; one can't wear shabby gowns among the splendors of the Louvre."
"Does one leave one's father? You have the proof of the contrary." "Yes, convincing proof," said Newman glancing at M. Nioche. The old man caught his glance obliquely, with his faded, deprecating eye, and then, lifting his empty glass, pretended to drink again. "Who told you that?" Noemie demanded. "I know very well. It was M. de Bellegarde. Why don't you say yes? You are not polite."
M. Nioche drained his pungent glass at a long draught, and looked out from eyes more lachrymose in consequence. "But you didn't come for me, eh?" Mademoiselle Noemie went on. "You didn't expect to find me here?" Newman observed the change in her appearance.
"We must go home," said Mademoiselle Noemie. "This is a good day's work. Take care how you carry it!" And she began to put up her utensils. "How can I thank you?" said M. Nioche. "My English does not suffice." "I wish I spoke French as well," said Newman, good-naturedly. "Your daughter is very clever."
Valentin made a bow which must have seemed to Mademoiselle Noemie quite in harmony with the impressiveness of his title, but the graceful brevity of her own response made no concession to underbred surprise. She turned to Newman, putting up her hands to her hair and smoothing its delicately-felt roughness. Then, rapidly, she turned the canvas that was on her easel over upon its face.
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