"She is immensely tickled," he said. "She says we will make her fortune. I don't want to be fatuous, but I think it is very possible."
"So you are going to fight?" said Newman.
"My dear fellow, don't look so mortally disgusted. It was not my choice. The thing is all arranged."
"I told you so!" groaned Newman.
"I told HIM so," said Valentin, smiling.
"What did he do to you?"
"My good friend, it doesn't matter what. He used an expression — I took it up."
"But I insist upon knowing; I can't, as your elder brother, have you rushing into this sort of nonsense."
"I am very much obliged to you," said Valentin. "I have nothing to conceal, but I can't go into particulars now and here."
"We will leave this place, then. You can tell me outside."
"Oh no, I can't leave this place, why should I hurry away? I will go to my orchestra-stall and sit out the opera."
"You will not enjoy it; you will be preoccupied."
Valentin looked at him a moment, colored a little, smiled, and patted him on the arm. "You are delightfully simple! Before an affair a man is quiet. The quietest thing I can do is to go straight to my place."
"Ah," said Newman, "you want her to see you there — you and your quietness. I am not so simple! It is a poor business."
Valentin remained, and the two men, in their respective places, sat out the rest of the performance, which was also enjoyed by Mademoiselle Nioche and her truculent admirer. At the end Newman joined Valentin again, and they went into the street together. Valentin shook his head at his friend's proposal that he should get into Newman's own vehicle, and stopped on the edge of the pavement. "I must go off alone," he said; "I must look up a couple of friends who will take charge of this matter."
"I will take charge of it," Newman declared. "Put it into my hands."
"You are very kind, but that is hardly possible. In the first place, you are, as you said just now, almost my brother; you are about to marry my sister. That alone disqualifies you; it casts doubts on your impartiality. And if it didn't, it would be enough for me that I strongly suspect you of disapproving of the affair. You would try to prevent a meeting."
"Of course I should," said Newman. "Whoever your friends are, I hope they will do that."
"Unquestionably they will. They will urge that excuses be made, proper excuses. But you would be too good-natured. You won't do."
Newman was silent a moment. He was keenly annoyed, but he saw it was useless to attempt interference. "When is this precious performance to come off?" he asked.
"The sooner the better," said Valentin. "The day after to-morrow, I hope."
"Well," said Newman, "I have certainly a claim to know the facts. I can't consent to shut my eyes to the matter."
"I shall be most happy to tell you the facts," said Valentin. "They are very simple, and it will be quickly done. But now everything depends on my putting my hands on my friends without delay. I will jump into a cab; you had better drive to my room and wait for me there. I will turn up at the end of an hour."
Newman assented protestingly, let his friend go, and then betook himself to the picturesque little apartment in the Rue d'Anjou. It was more than an hour before Valentin returned, but when he did so he was able to announce that he had found one of his desired friends, and that this gentleman had taken upon himself the care of securing an associate. Newman had been sitting without lights by Valentin's faded fire, upon which he had thrown a log; the blaze played over the richly-encumbered little sitting-room and produced fantastic gleams and shadows. He listened in silence to Valentin's account of what had passed between him and the gentleman whose card he had in his pocket — M. Stanislas Kapp, of Strasbourg — after his return to Mademoiselle Nioche's box. This hospitable young lady had espied an acquaintance on the other side of the house, and had expressed her displeasure at his not having the civility to come and pay her a visit. "Oh, let him alone!" M. Stanislas Kapp had hereupon exclaimed. "There are too many people in the box already." And he had fixed his eyes with a demonstrative stare upon M. de Bellegarde. Valentin had promptly retorted that if there were too many people in the box it was easy for M. Kapp to diminish the number. "I shall be most happy to open the door for YOU!" M. Kapp exclaimed. "I shall be delighted to fling you into the pit!" Valentin had answered. "Oh, do make a rumpus and get into the papers!" Miss Noemie had gleefully ejaculated. "M. Kapp, turn him out; or, M. de Bellegarde, pitch him into the pit, into the orchestra — anywhere! I don't care who does which, so long as you make a scene." Valentin answered that they would make no scene, but that the gentleman would be so good as to step into the corridor with him. In the corridor, after a brief further exchange of words, there had been an exchange of cards. M. Stanislas Kapp was very stiff. He evidently meant to force his offence home.
"The man, no doubt, was insolent," Newman said; "but if you hadn't gone back into the box the thing wouldn't have happened."
"Why, don't you see," Valentin replied, "that the event proves the extreme propriety of my going back into the box? M. Kapp wished to provoke me; he was awaiting his chance. In such a case — that is, when he has been, so to speak, notified — a man must be on hand to receive the provocation. My not returning would simply have been tantamount to my saying to M. Stanislas Kapp, 'Oh, if you are going to be disagreeable'" —