Once seated at table, with the various members of the ancient house of Bellegarde around him, he asked himself the meaning of his position.

Was the old lady responding to his advances?
Did the fact that he was a solitary guest augment his credit or diminish it?
Were they ashamed to show him to other people, or did they wish to give him a sign of sudden adoption into their last reserve of favor?
Newman was on his guard; he was watchful and conjectural; and yet at the same time he was vaguely indifferent.

Whether they gave him a long rope or a short one he was there now, and Madame de Cintre was opposite to him.

She had a tall candlestick on each side of her; she would sit there for the next hour, and that was enough.

The dinner was extremely solemn and measured; he wondered whether this was always the state of things in "old families." Madame de Bellegarde held her head very high, and fixed her eyes, which looked peculiarly sharp in her little, finely-wrinkled white face, very intently upon the table-service.