Newman's imagination began to glow with the idea of converting his bright, impracticable friend into a first-class man of business.He felt for the moment a sort of spiritual zeal, the zeal of the propagandist.Its ardor was in part the result of that general discomfort which the sight of all uninvested capital produced in him; so fine an intelligence as Bellegarde's ought to be dedicated to high uses.
The highest uses known to Newman's experience were certain transcendent sagacities in the handling of railway stock.
And then his zeal was quickened by his personal kindness for Valentin; he had a sort of pity for him which he was well aware he never could have made the Comte de Bellegarde understand.
He never lost a sense of its being pitiable that Valentin should think it a large life to revolve in varnished boots between the Rue d'Anjou and the Rue de l'Universite, taking the Boulevard des Italiens on the way, when over there in America one's promenade was a continent, and one's Boulevard stretched from New York to San Francisco.
It mortified him, moreover, to think that Valentin lacked money;there was a painful grotesqueness in it.It affected him as the ignorance of a companion, otherwise without reproach, touching some rudimentary branch of learning would have done.
There were things that one knew about as a matter of course, he would have said in such a case.Just so, if one pretended to be easy in the world, one had money as a matter of course, one had made it! There was something almost ridiculously anomalous to Newman in the sight of lively pretensions unaccompanied by large investments in railroads; though I may add that he would not have maintained that such investments were in themselves a proper ground for pretensions.
"I will make you do something," he said to Valentin;"I will put you through.I know half a dozen things in which we can make a place for you.You will see some lively work.
It will take you a little while to get used to the life, but you will work in before long, and at the end of six months--after you have done a thing or two on your own account--you will like it.And then it will be very pleasant for you, having your sister over there.It will be pleasant for her to have you, too.Yes, Valentin," continued Newman, pressing his friend's arm genially, "I think I see just the opening for you.
Keep quiet and I'll push you right in."
Newman pursued this favoring strain for some time longer.
The two men strolled about for a quarter of an hour.
Valentin listened and questioned, many of his questions making Newman laugh loud at the naivete of his ignorance of the vulgar processes of money-getting; smiling himself, too, half ironical and half curious.And yet he was serious; he was fascinated by Newman's plain prose version of the legend of El Dorado.
It is true, however, that though to accept an "opening"in an American mercantile house might be a bold, original, and in its consequences extremely agreeable thing to do, he did not quite see himself objectively doing it.
So that when the bell rang to indicate the close of the entr'acte, there was a certain mock-heroism in his saying, with his brilliant smile, "Well, then, put me through; push me in!
I make myself over to you.Dip me into the pot and turn me into gold."They had passed into the corridor which encircled the row of baignoires, and Valentin stopped in front of the dusky little box in which Mademoiselle Nioche had bestowed herself, laying his hand on the doorknob.
"Oh, come, are you going back there?" asked Newman.
"Mon Dieu, oui," said Valentin.
"Haven't you another place?"
"Yes, I have my usual place, in the stalls.""You had better go and occupy it, then."
"I see her very well from there, too, added Valentin, serenely, "and to-night she is worth seeing.But," he added in a moment, "I have a particular reason for going back just now.""Oh, I give you up," said Newman."You are infatuated!""No, it is only this.There is a young man in the box whom Ishall annoy by going in, and I want to annoy him.""I am sorry to hear it," said Newman."Can't you leave the poor fellow alone?""No, he has given me cause.The box is not his.
Noemie came in alone and installed herself.I went and spoke to her, and in a few moments she asked me to go and get her fan from the pocket of her cloak, which the ouvreuse had carried off.In my absence this gentleman came in and took the chair beside Noemie in which I had been sitting.
My reappearance disgusted him, and he had the grossness to show it.He came within an ace of being impertinent.
I don't know who he is; he is some vulgar wretch.
I can't think where she picks up such acquaintances.
He has been drinking, too, but he knows what he is about.
Just now, in the second act, he was unmannerly again.
I shall put in another appearance for ten minutes--time enough to give him an opportunity to commit himself, if he feels inclined.
I really can't let the brute suppose that he is keeping me out of the box.""My dear fellow," said Newman, remonstrantly, "what child's play!
You are not going to pick a quarrel about that girl, I hope.""That girl has nothing to do with it, and I have no intention of picking a quarrel.I am not a bully nor a fire-eater.Isimply wish to make a point that a gentleman must.""Oh, damn your point!" said Newman."That is the trouble with you Frenchmen;you must be always making points.Well," he added, "be short.
But if you are going in for this kind of thing, we must ship you off to America in advance.""Very good," Valentin answered, "whenever you please.
But if I go to America, I must not let this gentleman suppose that it is to run away from him."And they separated.At the end of the act Newman observed that Valentin was still in the baignoire.He strolled into the corridor again, expecting to meet him, and when he was within a few yards of Mademoiselle Nioche's box saw his friend pass out, accompanied by the young man who had been seated beside its fair occupant.
