It was the mystery--it was what she was off the stage, as it were--that interested Newman most of all.He could not have told you what warrant he had for talking about mysteries; if it had been his habit to express himself in poetic figures he might have said that in observing Madame de Cintre he seemed to see the vague circle which sometimes accompanies the partly-filled disk of the moon.

It was not that she was reserved; on the contrary, she was as frank as flowing water.But he was sure she had qualities which she herself did not suspect.

He had abstained for several reasons from saying some of these things to Bellegarde.One reason was that before proceeding to any act he was always circumspect, conjectural, contemplative; he had little eagerness, as became a man who felt that whenever he really began to move he walked with long steps.And then, it simply pleased him not to speak--it occupied him, it excited him.But one day Bellegarde had been dining with him, at a restaurant, and they had sat long over their dinner.

On rising from it, Bellegarde proposed that, to help them through the rest of the evening, they should go and see Madame Dandelard.

Madame Dandelard was a little Italian lady who had married a Frenchman who proved to be a rake and a brute and the torment of her life.

Her husband had spent all her money, and then, lacking the means of obtaining more expensive pleasures, had taken, in his duller hours, to beating her.

She had a blue spot somewhere, which she showed to several persons, including Bellegarde.She had obtained a separation from her husband, collected the scraps of her fortune (they were very meagre)and come to live in Paris, where she was staying at a hotel garni.

She was always looking for an apartment, and visiting, inquiringly, those of other people.She was very pretty, very childlike, and she made very extraordinary remarks.Bellegarde had made her acquaintance, and the source of his interest in her was, according to his own declaration, a curiosity as to what would become of her."She is poor, she is pretty, and she is silly," he said, "it seems to me she can go only one way.

It's a pity, but it can't be helped.I will give her six months.

She has nothing to fear from me, but I am watching the process.

I am curious to see just how things will go.Yes, I know what you are going to say: this horrible Paris hardens one's heart.But it quickens one's wits, and it ends by teaching one a refinement of observation!

To see this little woman's little drama play itself out, now, is, for me, an intellectual pleasure.""If she is going to throw herself away," Newman had said, "you ought to stop her.""Stop her? How stop her?"

"Talk to her; give her some good advice."Bellegarde laughed."Heaven deliver us both! Imagine the situation!

Go and advise her yourself."

It was after this that Newman had gone with Bellegarde to see Madame Dandelard.When they came away, Bellegarde reproached his companion."Where was your famous advice?" he asked.

"I didn't hear a word of it."

"Oh, I give it up," said Newman, simply.

"Then you are as bad as I!" said Bellegarde.

"No, because I don't take an 'intellectual pleasure'

in her prospective adventures.I don't in the least want to see her going down hill.I had rather look the other way.

But why," he asked, in a moment, "don't you get your sister to go and see her?"Bellegarde stared."Go and see Madame Dandelard--my sister?""She might talk to her to very good purpose."Bellegarde shook his head with sudden gravity."My sister can't see that sort of person.Madame Dandelard is nothing at all;they would never meet."

"I should think," said Newman, "that your sister might see whom she pleased."And he privately resolved that after he knew her a little better he would ask Madame de Cintre to go and talk to the foolish little Italian lady.

After his dinner with Bellegarde, on the occasion I have mentioned, he demurred to his companion's proposal that they should go again and listen to Madame Dandelard describe her sorrows and her bruises.

"I have something better in mind," he said; "come home with me and finish the evening before my fire."Bellegarde always welcomed the prospect of a long stretch of conversation, and before long the two men sat watching the great blaze which scattered its scintillations over the high adornments of Newman's ball-room.