He was "distinguished" to the tips of his polished nails, and there was not a movement of his fine, perpendicular person that was not noble and majestic.

Newman had never yet been confronted with such an incarnation of the art of taking one's self seriously; he felt a sort of impulse to step backward, as you do to get a view of a great facade.
"Urbain," said young Madame de Bellegarde, who had apparently been waiting for her husband to take her to her ball, "I call your attention to the fact that I am dressed." "That is a good idea," murmured Valentin.
"I am at your orders, my dear friend," said M.de Bellegarde.

"Only, you must allow me first the pleasure of a little conversation with Mr.
Newman." "Oh, if you are going to a party, don't let me keep you," objected Newman.

"I am very sure we shall meet again.

Indeed, if you would like to converse with me I will gladly name an hour." He was eager to make it known that he would readily answer all questions and satisfy all exactions.
M.de Bellegarde stood in a well-balanced position before the fire, caressing one of his fair whiskers with one of his white hands, and looking at Newman, half askance, with eyes from which a particular ray of observation made its way through a general meaningless smile.