Valentin's servant, who was allowed only in scanty measure the honor of watching with his master, had been lending a light Parisian hand in the kitchen.

The two Frenchmen did their best to prove that if circumstances might overshadow, they could not really obscure, the national talent for conversation, and M.Ledoux delivered a neat little eulogy on poor Bellegarde, whom he pronounced the most charming Englishman he had ever known.
"Do you call him an Englishman ?" Newman asked.
M.Ledoux smiled a moment and then made an epigram.

"C'est plus qu'un Anglais--c'est un Anglomane!" Newman said soberly that he had never noticed it; and M.de Grosjoyaux remarked that it was really too soon to deliver a funeral oration upon poor Bellegarde.

"Evidently," said M.
Ledoux.

"But I couldn't help observing this morning to Mr.Newman that when a man has taken such excellent measures for his salvation as our dear friend did last evening, it seems almost a pity he should put it in peril again by returning to the world." M.Ledoux was a great Catholic, and Newman thought him a queer mixture.