FATHER GORIOT

 BY

 HONORE DE BALZAC

 Translated by Ellen Marriage

 To the great and illustrious Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, a token of admiration for his works and genius. DE BALZAC. 

Mme. Vauquer (_nee_ de Conflans) is an elderly person, who forthe past forty years has kept a lodging-house in the RueNueve-Sainte-Genevieve, in the district that lies between theLatin Quarter and the Faubourg Saint-Marcel. Her house (known inthe neighborhood as the _Maison Vauquer_) receives men and women, old and young, and no word has ever been breathed against herrespectable establishment; but, at the same time, it must be saidthat as a matter of fact no young woman has been under her roof forthirty years, and that if a young man stays there for any length oftime it is a sure sign that his allowance must be of the slenderest. In 1819, however, the time when this drama opens, there was an almostpenniless young girl among Mme. Vauquer's boarders. 

That word drama has been somewhat discredited of late; it has beenoverworked and twisted to strange uses in these days of dolorousliterature; but it must do service again here, not because this storyis dramatic in the restricted sense of the word, but because sometears may perhaps be shed _intra et extra muros_ before it is over. 

Will any one without the walls of Paris understand it? It is open todoubt. The only audience who could appreciate the results of closeobservation, the careful reproduction of minute detail and localcolor, are dwellers between the heights of Montrouge and Montmartre, in a vale of crumbling stucco watered by streams of black mud, a valeof sorrows which are real and joys too often hollow; but this audienceis so accustomed to terrible sensations, that only some unimaginableand well-neigh impossible woe could produce any lasting impressionthere. Now and again there are tragedies so awful and so grand byreason of the complication of virtues and vices that bring them about, that egotism and selfishness are forced to pause and are moved topity; but the impression that they receive is like a luscious fruit, soon consumed. Civilization, like the car of Juggernaut, is scarcelystayed perceptibly in its progress by a heart less easy to break thanthe others that lie in its course; this also is broken, andCivilization continues on her course triumphant. And you, too, will dothe like; you who with this book in your white hand will sink backamong the cushions of your armchair, and say to yourself, "Perhapsthis may amuse me. " You will read the story of Father Goriot's secretwoes, and, dining thereafter with an unspoiled appetite, will lay theblame of your insensibility upon the writer, and accuse him ofexaggeration, of writing romances. Ah! once for all, this drama isneither a fiction nor a romance! _All is true_, --so true, that everyone can discern the elements of the tragedy in his own house, perhapsin his own heart. 

The lodging-house is Mme. Vauquer's own property. It is still standingin the lower end of the Rue Nueve-Sainte-Genevieve, just where theroad slopes so sharply down to the Rue de l'Arbalete, that wheeledtraffic seldom passes that way, because it is so stony and steep. Thisposition is sufficient to account for the silence prevalent in thestreets shut in between the dome of the Pantheon and the dome of theVal-de-Grace, two conspicuous public buildings which give a yellowishtone to the landscape and darken the whole district that lies beneaththe shadow of their leaden-hued cupolas. 

In that district the pavements are clean and dry, there is neither mudnor water in the gutters, grass grows in the chinks of the walls. Themost heedless passer-by feels the depressing influences of a placewhere the sound of wheels creates a sensation; there is a grim lookabout the houses, a suggestion of a jail about those high gardenwalls. A Parisian straying into a suburb apparently composed oflodging-houses and public institutions would see poverty and dullness, old age lying down to die, and joyous youth condemned to drudgery. Itis the ugliest quarter of Paris, and, it may be added, the leastknown. But, before all things, the Rue Nueve-Sainte-Genevieve is likea bronze frame for a picture for which the mind cannot be too wellprepared by the contemplation of sad hues and sober images. Even so, step by step the daylight decreases, and the cicerone's droning voicegrows hollower as the traveler descends into the Catacombs. Thecomparison holds good! Who shall say which is more ghastly, the sightof the bleached skulls or of dried-up human hearts?

The front of the lodging-house is at right angles to the road, andlooks out upon a little garden, so that you see the side of the housein section, as it were, from the Rue Nueve-Sainte-Genevieve. Beneaththe wall of the house front there lies a channel, a fathom wide, pavedwith cobble-stones, and beside it runs a graveled walk bordered bygeraniums and oleanders and pomegranates set in great blue and whiteglazed earthenware pots. Access into the graveled walk is afforded bya door, above which the words MAISON VAUQUER may be read, and beneath, in rather smaller letters, "_Lodgings for both sexes, etc. _"

During the day a glimpse into the garden is easily obtained through awicket to which a bell is attached. On the opposite wall, at thefurther end of the graveled walk, a green marble arch was painted onceupon a time by a local artist, and in this semblance of a shrine astatue representing Cupid is installed; a Parisian Cupid, so blisteredand disfigured that he looks like a candidate for one of the adjacenthospitals, and might suggest an allegory to lovers of symbolism. Thehalf-obliterated inscription on the pedestal beneath determines thedate of this work of art, for it bears witness to the widespreadenthusiasm felt for Voltaire on his return to Paris in 1777:

 "Whoe'er thou art, thy master see; He is, or was, or ought to be. "

At night the wicket gate is replaced by a solid door. The littlegarden is no wider than the front of the house; it is shut in betweenthe wall of the street and the partition wall of the neighboringhouse. A mantle of ivy conceals the bricks and attracts the eyes ofpassers-by to an effect which is picturesque in Paris, for each of thewalls is covered with trellised vines that yield a scanty dusty cropof fruit, and furnish besides a subject of conversation for Mme. Vauquer and her lodgers; every year the widow trembles for hervintage. 

A straight path beneath the walls on either side of the garden leadsto a clump of lime-trees at the further end of it; _line_-trees, asMme. Vauquer persists in calling them, in spite of the fact that shewas a de Conflans, and regardless of repeated corrections from herlodgers. 

The central space between the walls is filled with artichokes and rowsof pyramid fruit-trees, and surrounded by a border of lettuce, pot-herbs, and parsley. Under the lime-trees there are a fewgreen-painted garden seats and a wooden table, and hither, during thedog-days, such of the lodgers as are rich enough to indulge in a cup ofcoffee come to take their pleasure, though it is hot enough to roasteggs even in the shade. 

The house itself is three stories high, without counting the atticsunder the roof. It is built of rough stone, and covered with theyellowish stucco that gives a mean appearance to almost every house inParis. There are five windows in each story in the front of the house;all the blinds visible through the small square panes are drawn upawry, so that the lines are all at cross purposes. At the side of thehouse there are but two windows on each floor, and the lowest of allare adorned with a heavy iron grating. 

Behind the house a yard extends for some twenty feet, a spaceinhabited by a happy family of pigs, poultry, and rabbits; thewood-shed is situated on the further side, and on the wall betweenthe wood-shed and the kitchen window hangs the meat-safe, just abovethe place where the sink discharges its greasy streams. The cooksweeps all the refuse out through a little door into the RueNueve-Sainte-Genevieve, and frequently cleanses the yard withcopious supplies of water, under pain of pestilence. 

The house might have been built on purpose for its present uses. Access is given by a French window to the first room on the groundfloor, a sitting-room which looks out upon the street through the twobarred windows already mentioned. Another door opens out of it intothe dining-room, which is separated from the kitchen by the well ofthe staircase, the steps being constructed partly of wood, partly oftiles, which are colored and beeswaxed. Nothing can be more depressingthan the sight of that sitting-room. The furniture is covered withhorse hair woven in alternate dull and glossy stripes. There is around table in the middle, with a purplish-red marble top, on whichthere stands, by way of ornament, the inevitable white chinatea-service, covered with a half-effaced gilt network. The floor issufficiently uneven, the wainscot rises to elbow height, and the restof the wall space is decorated with a varnished paper, on which theprincipal scenes from _Telemaque_ are depicted, the various classicalpersonages being colored. The subject between the two windows is thebanquet given by Calypso to the son of Ulysses, displayed thereon forthe admiration of the boarders, and has furnished jokes these fortyyears to the young men who show themselves superior to their positionby making fun of the dinners to which poverty condemns them. Thehearth is always so clean and neat that it is evident that a fire isonly kindled there on great occasions; the stone chimney-piece isadorned by a couple of vases filled with faded artificial flowersimprisoned under glass shades, on either side of a bluish marble clockin the very worst taste. 

The first room exhales an odor for which there is no name in thelanguage, and which should be called the _odeur de pension_. The dampatmosphere sends a chill through you as you breathe it; it has astuffy, musty, and rancid quality; it permeates your clothing;after-dinner scents seem to be mingled in it with smells from thekitchen and scullery and the reek of a hospital. It might be possibleto describe it if some one should discover a process by which todistil from the atmosphere all the nauseating elements with which itis charged by the catarrhal exhalations of every individual lodger, young or old. Yet, in spite of these stale horrors, the sitting-roomis as charming and as delicately perfumed as a boudoir, when comparedwith the adjoining dining-room. 

The paneled walls of that apartment were once painted some color, nowa matter of conjecture, for the surface is incrusted with accumulatedlayers of grimy deposit, which cover it with fantastic outlines. Acollection of dim-ribbed glass decanters, metal discs with a satinsheen on them, and piles of blue-edged earthenware plates of Touraineware cover the sticky surfaces of the sideboards that line the room. In a corner stands a box containing a set of numbered pigeon-holes, inwhich the lodgers' table napkins, more or less soiled and stained withwine, are kept. Here you see that indestructible furniture never metwith elsewhere, which finds its way into lodging-houses much as thewrecks of our civilization drift into hospitals for incurables. Youexpect in such places as these to find the weather-house whence aCapuchin issues on wet days; you look to find the execrable engravingswhich spoil your appetite, framed every one in a black varnishedframe, with a gilt beading round it; you know the sort oftortoise-shell clock-case, inlaid with brass; the green stove, theArgand lamps, covered with oil and dust, have met your eyes before. The oilcloth which covers the long table is so greasy that a waggish_externe_ will write his name on the surface, using his thumb-nail as astyle. The chairs are broken-down invalids; the wretched little hempenmats slip away from under your feet without slipping away for good;and finally, the foot-warmers are miserable wrecks, hingeless, charred, broken away about the holes. It would be impossible to givean idea of the old, rotten, shaky, cranky, worm-eaten, halt, maimed, one-eyed, rickety, and ramshackle condition of the furniture withoutan exhaustive description, which would delay the progress of the storyto an extent that impatient people would not pardon. The red tiles ofthe floor are full of depressions brought about by scouring andperiodical renewings of color. In short, there is no illusory graceleft to the poverty that reigns here; it is dire, parsimonious, concentrated, threadbare poverty; as yet it has not sunk into themire, it is only splashed by it, and though not in rags as yet, itsclothing is ready to drop to pieces. 

This apartment is in all its glory at seven o'clock in the morning, when Mme. Vauquer's cat appears, announcing the near approach of hismistress, and jumps upon the sideboards to sniff at the milk in thebowls, each protected by a plate, while he purrs his morning greetingto the world. A moment later the widow shows her face; she is trickedout in a net cap attached to a false front set on awry, and shufflesinto the room in her slipshod fashion. She is an oldish woman, with abloated countenance, and a nose like a parrot's beak set in the middleof it; her fat little hands (she is as sleek as a church rat) and hershapeless, slouching figure are in keeping with the room that reeks ofmisfortune, where hope is reduced to speculate for the meanest stakes. Mme. Vauquer alone can breathe that tainted air without beingdisheartened by it. Her face is as fresh as a frosty morning inautumn; there are wrinkles about the eyes that vary in theirexpression from the set smile of a ballet-dancer to the dark, suspicious scowl of a discounter of bills; in short, she is at oncethe embodiment and interpretation of her lodging-house, as surely asher lodging-house implies the existence of its mistress. You can nomore imagine the one without the other, than you can think of a jailwithout a turnkey. The unwholesome corpulence of the little woman isproduced by the life she leads, just as typhus fever is bred in thetainted air of a hospital. The very knitted woolen petticoat that shewears beneath a skirt made of an old gown, with the wadding protrudingthrough the rents in the material, is a sort of epitome of thesitting-room, the dining-room, and the little garden; it discovers thecook, it foreshadows the lodgers--the picture of the house iscompleted by the portrait of its mistress. 

Mme. Vauquer at the age of fifty is like all women who "have seen adeal of trouble. " She has the glassy eyes and innocent air of atrafficker in flesh and blood, who will wax virtuously indignant toobtain a higher price for her services, but who is quite ready tobetray a Georges or a Pichegru, if a Georges or a Pichegru were inhiding and still to be betrayed, or for any other expedient that mayalleviate her lot. Still, "she is a good woman at bottom, " said thelodgers who believed that the widow was wholly dependent upon themoney that they paid her, and sympathized when they heard her coughand groan like one of themselves. 

What had M. Vauquer been? The lady was never very explicit on thishead. How had she lost her money? "Through trouble, " was her answer. He had treated her badly, had left her nothing but her eyes to cryover his cruelty, the house she lived in, and the privilege of pityingnobody, because, so she was wont to say, she herself had been throughevery possible misfortune. 

Sylvie, the stout cook, hearing her mistress' shuffling footsteps, hastened to serve the lodgers' breakfasts. Beside those who lived inthe house, Mme. Vauquer took boarders who came for their meals; butthese _externes_ usually only came to dinner, for which they paidthirty francs a month. 

At the time when this story begins, the lodging-house contained seveninmates. The best rooms in the house were on the first story, Mme. Vauquer herself occupying the least important, while the rest were letto a Mme. Couture, the widow of a commissary-general in the service ofthe Republic. With her lived Victorine Taillefer, a schoolgirl, towhom she filled the place of mother. These two ladies paid eighteenhundred francs a year. 

The two sets of rooms on the second floor were respectively occupiedby an old man named Poiret and a man of forty or thereabouts, thewearer of a black wig and dyed whiskers, who gave out that he was aretired merchant, and was addressed as M. Vautrin. Two of the fourrooms on the third floor were also let--one to an elderly spinster, aMlle. Michonneau, and the other to a retired manufacturer ofvermicelli, Italian paste and starch, who allowed the others toaddress him as "Father Goriot. " The remaining rooms were allotted tovarious birds of passage, to impecunious students, who like "FatherGoriot" and Mlle. Michonneau, could only muster forty-five francs amonth to pay for their board and lodging. Mme. Vauquer had littledesire for lodgers of this sort; they ate too much bread, and she onlytook them in default of better. 

At that time one of the rooms was tenanted by a law student, a youngman from the neighborhood of Angouleme, one of a large family whopinched and starved themselves to spare twelve hundred francs a yearfor him. Misfortune had accustomed Eugene de Rastignac, for that washis name, to work. He belonged to the number of young men who know aschildren that their parents' hopes are centered on them, anddeliberately prepare themselves for a great career, subordinatingtheir studies from the first to this end, carefully watching theindications of the course of events, calculating the probable turnthat affairs will take, that they may be the first to profit by them. But for his observant curiosity, and the skill with which he managedto introduce himself into the salons of Paris, this story would nothave been colored by the tones of truth which it certainly owes tohim, for they are entirely due to his penetrating sagacity and desireto fathom the mysteries of an appalling condition of things, which wasconcealed as carefully by the victim as by those who had brought it topass. 

Above the third story there was a garret where the linen was hung todry, and a couple of attics. Christophe, the man-of-all-work, slept inone, and Sylvie, the stout cook, in the other. Beside the seveninmates thus enumerated, taking one year with another, some eight lawor medical students dined in the house, as well as two or threeregular comers who lived in the neighborhood. There were usuallyeighteen people at dinner, and there was room, if need be, for twentyat Mme. Vauquer's table; at breakfast, however, only the seven lodgersappeared. It was almost like a family party. Every one came down indressing-gown and slippers, and the conversation usually turned onanything that had happened the evening before; comments on the dressor appearance of the dinner contingent were exchanged in friendlyconfidence. 

These seven lodgers were Mme. Vauquer's spoiled children. Among themshe distributed, with astronomical precision, the exact proportion ofrespect and attention due to the varying amounts they paid for theirboard. One single consideration influenced all these human beingsthrown together by chance. The two second-floor lodgers only paidseventy-two francs a month. Such prices as these are confined to theFaubourg Saint-Marcel and the district between La Bourbe and theSalpetriere; and, as might be expected, poverty, more or lessapparent, weighed upon them all, Mme. Couture being the sole exceptionto the rule. 

The dreary surroundings were reflected in the costumes of the inmatesof the house; all were alike threadbare. The color of the men's coatswere problematical; such shoes, in more fashionable quarters, are onlyto be seen lying in the gutter; the cuffs and collars were worn andfrayed at the edges; every limp article of clothing looked like theghost of its former self. The women's dresses were faded, old-fashioned, dyed and re-dyed; they wore gloves that were glazedwith hard wear, much-mended lace, dingy ruffles, crumpled muslinfichus. So much for their clothing; but, for the most part, theirframes were solid enough; their constitutions had weathered the stormsof life; their cold, hard faces were worn like coins that have beenwithdrawn from circulation, but there were greedy teeth behind thewithered lips. Dramas brought to a close or still in progress areforeshadowed by the sight of such actors as these, not the dramas thatare played before the footlights and against a background of paintedcanvas, but dumb dramas of life, frost-bound dramas that sere heartslike fire, dramas that do not end with the actors' lives. 

Mlle. Michonneau, that elderly young lady, screened her weak eyes fromthe daylight by a soiled green silk shade with a rim of brass, anobject fit to scare away the Angel of Pity himself. Her shawl, withits scanty, draggled fringe, might have covered a skeleton, so meagreand angular was the form beneath it. Yet she must have been pretty andshapely once. What corrosive had destroyed the feminine outlines? Wasit trouble, or vice, or greed? Had she loved too well? Had she been asecond-hand clothes dealer, a frequenter of the backstairs of greathouses, or had she been merely a courtesan? Was she expiating theflaunting triumphs of a youth overcrowded with pleasures by an old agein which she was shunned by every passer-by? Her vacant gaze sent achill through you; her shriveled face seemed like a menace. Her voicewas like the shrill, thin note of the grasshopper sounding from thethicket when winter is at hand. She said that she had nursed an oldgentleman, ill of catarrh of the bladder, and left to die by hischildren, who thought that he had nothing left. His bequest to her, alife annuity of a thousand francs, was periodically disputed by hisheirs, who mingled slander with their persecutions. In spite of theravages of conflicting passions, her face retained some traces of itsformer fairness and fineness of tissue, some vestiges of the physicalcharms of her youth still survived. 

M. Poiret was a sort of automaton. He might be seen any day sailinglike a gray shadow along the walks of the Jardin des Plantes, on hishead a shabby cap, a cane with an old yellow ivory handle in the tipsof his thin fingers; the outspread skirts of his threadbare overcoatfailed to conceal his meagre figure; his breeches hung loosely on hisshrunken limbs; the thin, blue-stockinged legs trembled like those ofa drunken man; there was a notable breach of continuity between thedingy white waistcoat and crumpled shirt frills and the cravat twistedabout a throat like a turkey gobbler's; altogether, his appearance setpeople wondering whether this outlandish ghost belonged to theaudacious race of the sons of Japhet who flutter about on theBoulevard Italien. What devouring kind of toil could have so shriveledhim? What devouring passions had darkened that bulbous countenance, which would have seemed outrageous as a caricature? What had he been?Well, perhaps he had been part of the machinery of justice, a clerk inthe office to which the executioner sends in his accounts, --so muchfor providing black veils for parricides, so much for sawdust, so muchfor pulleys and cord for the knife. Or he might have been a receiverat the door of a public slaughter-house, or a sub-inspector ofnuisances. Indeed, the man appeared to have been one of the beasts ofburden in our great social mill; one of those Parisian Ratons whomtheir Bertrands do not even know by sight; a pivot in the obscuremachinery that disposes of misery and things unclean; one of thosemen, in short, at sight of whom we are prompted to remark that, "Afterall, we cannot do without them. "

Stately Paris ignores the existence of these faces bleached by moralor physical suffering; but, then, Paris is in truth an ocean that noline can plumb. You may survey its surface and describe it; but nomatter how numerous and painstaking the toilers in this sea, therewill always be lonely and unexplored regions in its depths, cavernsunknown, flowers and pearls and monsters of the deep overlooked orforgotten by the divers of literature. The Maison Vauquer is one ofthese curious monstrosities. 

Two, however, of Mme. Vauquer's boarders formed a striking contrast tothe rest. There was a sickly pallor, such as is often seen in anaemicgirls, in Mlle. Victorine Taillefer's face; and her unvaryingexpression of sadness, like her embarrassed manner and pinched look, was in keeping with the general wretchedness of the establishment inthe Rue Nueve-Saint-Genevieve, which forms a background to thispicture; but her face was young, there was youthfulness in her voiceand elasticity in her movements. This young misfortune was not unlikea shrub, newly planted in an uncongenial soil, where its leaves havealready begun to wither. The outlines of her figure, revealed by herdress of the simplest and cheapest materials, were also youthful. There was the same kind of charm about her too slender form, herfaintly colored face and light-brown hair, that modern poets find inmediaeval statuettes; and a sweet expression, a look of Christianresignation in the dark gray eyes. She was pretty by force ofcontrast; if she had been happy, she would have been charming. Happiness is the poetry of woman, as the toilette is her tinsel. Ifthe delightful excitement of a ball had made the pale face glow withcolor; if the delights of a luxurious life had brought the color tothe wan cheeks that were slightly hollowed already; if love had putlight into the sad eyes, then Victorine might have ranked among thefairest; but she lacked the two things which create woman a secondtime--pretty dresses and love-letters. 

A book might have been made of her story. Her father was persuadedthat he had sufficient reason for declining to acknowledge her, andallowed her a bare six hundred francs a year; he had further takenmeasures to disinherit his daughter, and had converted all his realestate into personalty, that he might leave it undivided to his son. Victorine's mother had died broken-hearted in Mme. Couture's house;and the latter, who was a near relation, had taken charge of thelittle orphan. Unluckily, the widow of the commissary-general to thearmies of the Republic had nothing in the world but her jointure andher widow's pension, and some day she might be obliged to leave thehelpless, inexperienced girl to the mercy of the world. The good soul, therefore, took Victorine to mass every Sunday, and to confession oncea fortnight, thinking that, in any case, she would bring up her wardto be devout. She was right; religion offered a solution of theproblem of the young girl's future. The poor child loved the fatherwho refused to acknowledge her. Once every year she tried to see himto deliver her mother's message of forgiveness, but every yearhitherto she had knocked at that door in vain; her father wasinexorable. Her brother, her only means of communication, had not cometo see her for four years, and had sent her no assistance; yet sheprayed to God to unseal her father's eyes and to soften her brother'sheart, and no accusations mingled with her prayers. Mme. Couture andMme. Vauquer exhausted the vocabulary of abuse, and failed to findwords that did justice to the banker's iniquitous conduct; but whilethey heaped execrations on the millionaire, Victorine's words were asgentle as the moan of the wounded dove, and affection found expressioneven in the cry drawn from her by pain. 

Eugene de Rastignac was a thoroughly southern type; he had a faircomplexion, blue eyes, black hair. In his figure, manner, and hiswhole bearing it was easy to see that he had either come of a noblefamily, or that, from his earliest childhood, he had been gently bred. If he was careful of his wardrobe, only taking last year's clothesinto daily wear, still upon occasion he could issue forth as a youngman of fashion. Ordinarily he wore a shabby coat and waistcoat, thelimp black cravat, untidily knotted, that students affect, trousersthat matched the rest of his costume, and boots that had been resoled. 

Vautrin (the man of forty with the dyed whiskers) marked a transitionstage between these two young people and the others. He was the kindof man that calls forth the remark: "He looks a jovial sort!" He hadbroad shoulders, a well-developed chest, muscular arms, and strongsquare-fisted hands; the joints of his fingers were covered with tuftsof fiery red hair. His face was furrowed by premature wrinkles; therewas a certain hardness about it in spite of his bland and insinuatingmanner. His bass voice was by no means unpleasant, and was in keepingwith his boisterous laughter. He was always obliging, always in goodspirits; if anything went wrong with one of the locks, he would soonunscrew it, take it to pieces, file it, oil and clean and set it inorder, and put it back in its place again; "I am an old hand at it, "he used to say. Not only so, he knew all about ships, the sea, France, foreign countries, men, business, law, great houses and prisons, --there was nothing that he did not know. If any one complained rathermore than usual, he would offer his services at once. He had severaltimes lent money to Mme. Vauquer, or to the boarders; but, somehow, those whom he obliged felt that they would sooner face death than failto repay him; a certain resolute look, sometimes seen on his face, inspired fear of him, for all his appearance of easy good-nature. Inthe way he spat there was an imperturbable coolness which seemed toindicate that this was a man who would not stick at a crime toextricate himself from a false position. His eyes, like those of apitiless judge, seemed to go to the very bottom of all questions, toread all natures, all feelings and thoughts. His habit of life wasvery regular; he usually went out after breakfast, returning in timefor dinner, and disappeared for the rest of the evening, lettinghimself in about midnight with a latch key, a privilege that Mme. Vauquer accorded to no other boarder. But then he was on very goodterms with the widow; he used to call her "mamma, " and put his armround her waist, a piece of flattery perhaps not appreciated to thefull! The worthy woman might imagine this to be an easy feat; but, asa matter of fact, no arm but Vautrin's was long enough to encircleher. 

It was a characteristic trait of his generously to pay fifteen francsa month for the cup of coffee with a dash of brandy in it, which hetook after dinner. Less superficial observers than young men engulfedby the whirlpool of Parisian life, or old men, who took no interest inanything that did not directly concern them, would not have stoppedshort at the vaguely unsatisfactory impression that Vautrin made uponthem. He knew or guessed the concerns of every one about him; but noneof them had been able to penetrate his thoughts, or to discover hisoccupation. He had deliberately made his apparent good-nature, hisunfailing readiness to oblige, and his high spirits into a barrierbetween himself and the rest of them, but not seldom he gave glimpsesof appalling depths of character. He seemed to delight in scourgingthe upper classes of society with the lash of his tongue, to takepleasure in convicting it of inconsistency, in mocking at law andorder with some grim jest worthy of Juvenal, as if some grudge againstthe social system rankled in him, as if there were some mysterycarefully hidden away in his life. 

Mlle. Taillefer felt attracted, perhaps unconsciously, by the strengthof the one man, and the good looks of the other; her stolen glancesand secret thoughts were divided between them; but neither of themseemed to take any notice of her, although some day a chance mightalter her position, and she would be a wealthy heiress. For thatmatter, there was not a soul in the house who took any trouble toinvestigate the various chronicles of misfortunes, real or imaginary, related by the rest. Each one regarded the others with indifference, tempered by suspicion; it was a natural result of their relativepositions. Practical assistance not one could give, this they allknew, and they had long since exhausted their stock of condolence overprevious discussions of their grievances. They were in something thesame position as an elderly couple who have nothing left to say toeach other. The routine of existence kept them in contact, but theywere parts of a mechanism which wanted oil. There was not one of thembut would have passed a blind man begging in the street, not one thatfelt moved to pity by a tale of misfortune, not one who did not see indeath the solution of the all-absorbing problem of misery which leftthem cold to the most terrible anguish in others. 

The happiest of these hapless beings was certainly Mme. Vauquer, whoreigned supreme over this hospital supported by voluntarycontributions. For her, the little garden, which silence, and cold, and rain, and drought combined to make as dreary as an Asian _steppe_, was a pleasant shaded nook; the gaunt yellow house, the musty odors ofa back shop had charms for her, and for her alone. Those cellsbelonged to her. She fed those convicts condemned to penal servitudefor life, and her authority was recognized among them. Where else inParis would they have found wholesome food in sufficient quantity atthe prices she charged them, and rooms which they were at liberty tomake, if not exactly elegant or comfortable, at any rate clean andhealthy? If she had committed some flagrant act of injustice, thevictim would have borne it in silence. 

Such a gathering contained, as might have been expected, the elementsout of which a complete society might be constructed. And, as in aschool, as in the world itself, there was among the eighteen men andwomen who met round the dinner table a poor creature, despised by allthe others, condemned to be the butt of all their jokes. At thebeginning of Eugene de Rastignac's second twelvemonth, this figuresuddenly started out into bold relief against the background of humanforms and faces among which the law student was yet to live foranother two years to come. This laughing-stock was the retiredvermicelli-merchant, Father Goriot, upon whose face a painter, likethe historian, would have concentrated all the light in his picture. 

How had it come about that the boarders regarded him with ahalf-malignant contempt? Why did they subject the oldest among theirnumber to a kind of persecution, in which there was mingled some pity, but no respect for his misfortunes? Had he brought it on himself bysome eccentricity or absurdity, which is less easily forgiven orforgotten than more serious defects? The question strikes at the rootof many a social injustice. Perhaps it is only human nature to inflictsuffering on anything that will endure suffering, whether by reason ofits genuine humility, or indifference, or sheer helplessness. Do we not, one and all, like to feel our strength even at the expense of some oneor of something? The poorest sample of humanity, the street arab, willpull the bell handle at every street door in bitter weather, andscramble up to write his name on the unsullied marble of a monument. 

In the year 1813, at the age of sixty-nine or thereabouts, "FatherGoriot" had sold his business and retired--to Mme. Vauquer's boardinghouse. When he first came there he had taken the rooms now occupied byMme. Couture; he had paid twelve hundred francs a year like a man towhom five louis more or less was a mere trifle. For him Mme. Vauquerhad made various improvements in the three rooms destined for his use, in consideration of a certain sum paid in advance, so it was said, forthe miserable furniture, that is to say, for some yellow cottoncurtains, a few chairs of stained wood covered with Utrecht velvet, several wretched colored prints in frames, and wall papers that alittle suburban tavern would have disdained. Possibly it was thecareless generosity with which Father Goriot allowed himself to beoverreached at this period of his life (they called him MonsieurGoriot very respectfully then) that gave Mme. Vauquer the meanestopinion of his business abilities; she looked on him as an imbecilewhere money was concerned. 

Goriot had brought with him a considerable wardrobe, the gorgeousoutfit of a retired tradesman who denies himself nothing. Mme. Vauquer's astonished eyes beheld no less than eighteencambric-fronted shirts, the splendor of their fineness being enhancedby a pair of pins each bearing a large diamond, and connected by ashort chain, an ornament which adorned the vermicelli-maker's shirtfront. He usually wore a coat of corn-flower blue; his rotund andportly person was still further set off by a clean white waistcoat, and a gold chain and seals which dangled over that broad expanse. Whenhis hostess accused him of being "a bit of a beau, " he smiled with thevanity of a citizen whose foible is gratified. His cupboards(_ormoires_, as he called them in the popular dialect) were filledwith a quantity of plate that he brought with him. The widow's eyesgleamed as she obligingly helped him to unpack the soup ladles, table-spoons, forks, cruet-stands, tureens, dishes, and breakfastservices--all of silver, which were duly arranged upon shelves, besidesa few more or less handsome pieces of plate, all weighing noinconsiderable number of ounces; he could not bring himself to partwith these gifts that reminded him of past domestic festivals. 

"This was my wife's present to me on the first anniversary of ourwedding day, " he said to Mme. Vauquer, as he put away a little silverposset dish, with two turtle-doves billing on the cover. "Poor dear!she spent on it all the money she had saved before we were married. Doyou know, I would sooner scratch the earth with my nails for a living, madame, than part with that. But I shall be able to take my coffee outof it every morning for the rest of my days, thank the Lord! I am notto be pitied. There's not much fear of my starving for some time tocome. "

Finally, Mme. Vauquer's magpie's eye had discovered and read certainentries in the list of shareholders in the funds, and, after a roughcalculation, was disposed to credit Goriot (worthy man) with somethinglike ten thousand francs a year. From that day forward Mme. Vauquer(_nee_ de Conflans), who, as a matter of fact, had seen forty-eightsummers, though she would only own to thirty-nine of them--Mme. Vauquer had her own ideas. Though Goriot's eyes seemed to have shrunkin their sockets, though they were weak and watery, owing to someglandular affection which compelled him to wipe them continually, sheconsidered him to be a very gentlemanly and pleasant-looking man. Moreover, the widow saw favorable indications of character in thewell-developed calves of his legs and in his square-shaped nose, indications still further borne out by the worthy man's full-mooncountenance and look of stupid good-nature. This, in all probability, was a strongly-build animal, whose brains mostly consisted in acapacity for affection. His hair, worn in _ailes de pigeon_, and dulypowdered every morning by the barber from the Ecole Polytechnique, described five points on his low forehead, and made an elegant settingto his face. Though his manners were somewhat boorish, he was alwaysas neat as a new pin and he took his snuff in a lordly way, like a manwho knows that his snuff-box is always likely to be filled withmaccaboy, so that when Mme. Vauquer lay down to rest on the day of M. Goriot's installation, her heart, like a larded partridge, swelteredbefore the fire of a burning desire to shake off the shroud of Vauquerand rise again as Goriot. She would marry again, sell herboarding-house, give her hand to this fine flower of citizenship, become a lady of consequence in the quarter, and ask for subscriptionsfor charitable purposes; she would make little Sunday excursions toChoisy, Soissy, Gentilly; she would have a box at the theatre when sheliked, instead of waiting for the author's tickets that one of herboarders sometimes gave her, in July; the whole Eldorado of a littleParisian household rose up before Mme. Vauquer in her dreams. Nobodyknew that she herself possessed forty thousand francs, accumulated _souby sou_, that was her secret; surely as far as money was concerned shewas a very tolerable match. "And in other respects, I am quite hisequal, " she said to herself, turning as if to assure herself of thecharms of a form that the portly Sylvie found moulded in down feathersevery morning. 

For three months from that day Mme. Veuve Vauquer availed herself ofthe services of M. Goriot's coiffeur, and went to some expense overher toilette, expense justifiable on the ground that she owed it toherself and her establishment to pay some attention to appearanceswhen such highly-respectable persons honored her house with theirpresence. She expended no small amount of ingenuity in a sort ofweeding process of her lodgers, announcing her intention of receivinghenceforward none but people who were in every way select. If astranger presented himself, she let him know that M. Goriot, one ofthe best known and most highly-respected merchants in Paris, hadsingled out her boarding-house for a residence. She drew up aprospectus headed MAISON VAUQUER, in which it was asserted that herswas "_one of the oldest and most highly recommended boarding-houses inthe Latin Quarter_. " "From the windows of the house, " thus ran theprospectus, "there is a charming view of the Vallee des Gobelins (sothere is--from the third floor), and a _beautiful_ garden, _extending_down to _an avenue of lindens_ at the further end. " Mention was madeof the bracing air of the place and its quiet situation. 

It was this prospectus that attracted Mme. La Comtesse del'Ambermesnil, a widow of six and thirty, who was awaiting the finalsettlement of her husband's affairs, and of another matter regarding apension due to her as the wife of a general who had died "on the fieldof battle. " On this Mme. Vauquer saw to her table, lighted a firedaily in the sitting-room for nearly six months, and kept the promiseof her prospectus, even going to some expense to do so. And theCountess, on her side, addressed Mme. Vauquer as "my dear, " andpromised her two more boarders, the Baronne de Vaumerland and thewidow of a colonel, the late Comte de Picquoisie, who were about toleave a boarding-house in the Marais, where the terms were higher thanat the Maison Vauquer. Both these ladies, moreover, would be very wellto do when the people at the War Office had come to an end of theirformalities. "But Government departments are always so dilatory, " thelady added. 

After dinner the two widows went together up to Mme. Vauquer's room, and had a snug little chat over some cordial and various delicaciesreserved for the mistress of the house. Mme. Vauquer's ideas as toGoriot were cordially approved by Mme. De l'Ambermesnil; it was acapital notion, which for that matter she had guessed from the veryfirst; in her opinion the vermicelli maker was an excellent man. 

"Ah! my dear lady, such a well-preserved man of his age, as sound asmy eyesight--a man who might make a woman happy!" said the widow. 

The good-natured Countess turned to the subject of Mme. Vauquer'sdress, which was not in harmony with her projects. "You must putyourself on a war footing, " said she. 

After much serious consideration the two widows went shoppingtogether--they purchased a hat adorned with ostrich feathers and a capat the Palais Royal, and the Countess took her friend to the Magasinde la Petite Jeannette, where they chose a dress and a scarf. Thusequipped for the campaign, the widow looked exactly like the prizeanimal hung out for a sign above an a la mode beef shop; but sheherself was so much pleased with the improvement, as she consideredit, in her appearance, that she felt that she lay under someobligation to the Countess; and, though by no means open-handed, shebegged that lady to accept a hat that cost twenty francs. The fact wasthat she needed the Countess' services on the delicate mission ofsounding Goriot; the countess must sing her praises in his ears. Mme. De l'Ambermesnil lent herself very good-naturedly to this manoeuvre, began her operations, and succeeded in obtaining a private interview;but the overtures that she made, with a view to securing him forherself, were received with embarrassment, not to say a repulse. Sheleft him, revolted by his coarseness. 

"My angel, " said she to her dear friend, "you will make nothing ofthat man yonder. He is absurdly suspicious, and he is a meancurmudgeon, an idiot, a fool; you would never be happy with him. "

After what had passed between M. Goriot and Mme. De l'Ambermesnil, theCountess would no longer live under the same roof. She left the nextday, forgot to pay for six months' board, and left behind herwardrobe, cast-off clothing to the value of five francs. Eagerly andpersistently as Mme. Vauquer sought her quondam lodger, the Comtessede l'Ambermesnil was never heard of again in Paris. The widow oftentalked of this deplorable business, and regretted her own tooconfiding disposition. As a matter of fact, she was as suspicious as acat; but she was like many other people, who cannot trust their ownkin and put themselves at the mercy of the next chance comer--an oddbut common phenomenon, whose causes may readily be traced to thedepths of the human heart. 

Perhaps there are people who know that they have nothing more to lookfor from those with whom they live; they have shown the emptiness oftheir hearts to their housemates, and in their secret selves they areconscious that they are severely judged, and that they deserve to bejudged severely; but still they feel an unconquerable craving forpraises that they do not hear, or they are consumed by a desire toappear to possess, in the eyes of a new audience, the qualities whichthey have not, hoping to win the admiration or affection of strangersat the risk of forfeiting it again some day. Or, once more, there areother mercenary natures who never do a kindness to a friend or arelation simply because these have a claim upon them, while a servicedone to a stranger brings its reward to self-love. Such natures feelbut little affection for those who are nearest to them; they keeptheir kindness for remoter circles of acquaintance, and show most tothose who dwell on its utmost limits. Mme. Vauquer belonged to boththese essentially mean, false, and execrable classes. 

"If I had been there at the time, " Vautrin would say at the end of thestory, "I would have shown her up, and that misfortune would not havebefallen you. I know that kind of phiz!"

Like all narrow natures, Mme. Vauquer was wont to confine herattention to events, and did not go very deeply into the causes thatbrought them about; she likewise preferred to throw the blame of herown mistakes on other people, so she chose to consider that the honestvermicelli maker was responsible for her misfortune. It had opened hereyes, so she said, with regard to him. As soon as she saw that herblandishments were in vain, and that her outlay on her toilette wasmoney thrown away, she was not slow to discover the reason of hisindifference. It became plain to her at once that there was _someother attraction_, to use her own expression. In short, it was evidentthat the hope she had so fondly cherished was a baseless delusion, andthat she would "never make anything out of that man yonder, " in theCountess' forcible phrase. The Countess seemed to have been a judge ofcharacter. Mme. Vauquer's aversion was naturally more energetic thanher friendship, for her hatred was not in proportion to her love, butto her disappointed expectations. The human heart may find here andthere a resting-place short of the highest height of affection, but weseldom stop in the steep, downward slope of hatred. Still, M. Goriotwas a lodger, and the widow's wounded self-love could not vent itselfin an explosion of wrath; like a monk harassed by the prior of hisconvent, she was forced to stifle her sighs of disappointment, and togulp down her craving for revenge. Little minds find gratification fortheir feelings, benevolent or otherwise, by a constant exercise ofpetty ingenuity. The widow employed her woman's malice to devise asystem of covert persecution. She began by a course of retrenchment--various luxuries which had found their way to the table appearedthere no more. 

"No more gherkins, no more anchovies; they have made a fool of me!"she said to Sylvie one morning, and they returned to the old bill offare. 

The thrifty frugality necessary to those who mean to make their way inthe world had become an inveterate habit of life with M. Goriot. Soup, boiled beef, and a dish of vegetables had been, and always would be, the dinner he liked best, so Mme. Vauquer found it very difficult toannoy a boarder whose tastes were so simple. He was proof against hermalice, and in desperation she spoke to him and of him slightinglybefore the other lodgers, who began to amuse themselves at hisexpense, and so gratified her desire for revenge. 

Towards the end of the first year the widow's suspicions had reachedsuch a pitch that she began to wonder how it was that a retiredmerchant with a secure income of seven or eight thousand livres, theowner of such magnificent plate and jewelry handsome enough for a keptmistress, should be living in her house. Why should he devote so smalla proportion of his money to his expenses? Until the first year wasnearly at an end, Goriot had dined out once or twice every week, butthese occasions came less frequently, and at last he was scarcelyabsent from the dinner-table twice a month. It was hardly expectedthat Mme. Vauquer should regard the increased regularity of herboarder's habits with complacency, when those little excursions of hishad been so much to her interest. She attributed the change not somuch to a gradual diminution of fortune as to a spiteful wish to annoyhis hostess. It is one of the most detestable habits of a Liliputianmind to credit other people with its own malignant pettiness. 

Unluckily, towards the end of the second year, M. Goriot's conductgave some color to the idle talk about him. He asked Mme. Vauquer togive him a room on the second floor, and to make a correspondingreduction in her charges. Apparently, such strict economy was calledfor, that he did without a fire all through the winter. Mme. Vauquerasked to be paid in advance, an arrangement to which M. Goriotconsented, and thenceforward she spoke of him as "Father Goriot. "

What had brought about this decline and fall? Conjecture was keen, butinvestigation was difficult. Father Goriot was not communicative; inthe sham countess' phrase he was "a curmudgeon. " Empty-headed peoplewho babble about their own affairs because they have nothing else tooccupy them, naturally conclude that if people say nothing of theirdoings it is because their doings will not bear being talked about; sothe highly respectable merchant became a scoundrel, and the late beauwas an old rogue. Opinion fluctuated. Sometimes, according to Vautrin, who came about this time to live in the Maison Vauquer, Father Goriotwas a man who went on 'Change and _dabbled_ (to use the sufficientlyexpressive language of the Stock Exchange) in stocks and shares afterhe had ruined himself by heavy speculation. Sometimes it was held thathe was one of those petty gamblers who nightly play for small stakesuntil they win a few francs. A theory that he was a detective in theemploy of the Home Office found favor at one time, but Vautrin urgedthat "Goriot was not sharp enough for one of that sort. " There wereyet other solutions; Father Goriot was a skinflint, a shark of amoney-lender, a man who lived by selling lottery tickets. He was byturns all the most mysterious brood of vice and shame and misery; yet, however vile his life might be, the feeling of repulsion which hearoused in others was not so strong that he must be banished fromtheir society--he paid his way. Besides, Goriot had his uses, everyone vented his spleen or sharpened his wit on him; he was pelted withjokes and belabored with hard words. The general consensus of opinionwas in favor of a theory which seemed the most likely; this was Mme. Vauquer's view. According to her, the man so well preserved at histime of life, as sound as her eyesight, with whom a woman might bevery happy, was a libertine who had strange tastes. These are thefacts upon which Mme. Vauquer's slanders were based. 

Early one morning, some few months after the departure of the unluckyCountess who had managed to live for six months at the widow'sexpense, Mme. Vauquer (not yet dressed) heard the rustle of a silkdress and a young woman's light footstep on the stair; some one wasgoing to Goriot's room. He seemed to expect the visit, for his doorstood ajar. The portly Sylvie presently came up to tell her mistressthat a girl too pretty to be honest, "dressed like a goddess, " and nota speck of mud on her laced cashmere boots, had glided in from thestreet like a snake, had found the kitchen, and asked for M. Goriot'sroom. Mme. Vauquer and the cook, listening, overheard several wordsaffectionately spoken during the visit, which lasted for some time. When M. Goriot went downstairs with the lady, the stout Sylvieforthwith took her basket and followed the lover-like couple, underpretext of going to do her marketing. 

"M. Goriot must be awfully rich, all the same, madame, " she reportedon her return, "to keep her in such style. Just imagine it! There wasa splendid carriage waiting at the corner of the Place de l'Estrapade, and _she_ got into it. "

While they were at dinner that evening, Mme. Vauquer went to thewindow and drew the curtain, as the sun was shining into Goriot'seyes. 

"You are beloved of fair ladies, M. Goriot--the sun seeks you out, "she said, alluding to his visitor. "_Peste!_ you have good taste; shewas very pretty. "

"That was my daughter, " he said, with a kind of pride in his voice, and the rest chose to consider this as the fatuity of an old man whowishes to save appearances. 

A month after this visit M. Goriot received another. The same daughterwho had come to see him that morning came again after dinner, thistime in evening dress. The boarders, in deep discussion in thedining-room, caught a glimpse of a lovely, fair-haired woman, slender, graceful, and much too distinguished-looking to be a daughter ofFather Goriot's. 

"Two of them!" cried the portly Sylvie, who did not recognize the ladyof the first visit. 

A few days later, and another young lady--a tall, well-mouldedbrunette, with dark hair and bright eyes--came to ask for M. Goriot. 

"Three of them!" said Sylvie. 

Then the second daughter, who had first come in the morning to see herfather, came shortly afterwards in the evening. She wore a ball dress, and came in a carriage. 

"Four of them!" commented Mme. Vauquer and her plump handmaid. Sylviesaw not a trace of resemblance between this great lady and the girl inher simple morning dress who had entered her kitchen on the occasionof her first visit. 

At that time Goriot was paying twelve hundred francs a year to hislandlady, and Mme. Vauquer saw nothing out of the common in the factthat a rich man had four or five mistresses; nay, she thought it veryknowing of him to pass them off as his daughters. She was not at allinclined to draw a hard-and-fast line, or to take umbrage at hissending for them to the Maison Vauquer; yet, inasmuch as these visitsexplained her boarder's indifference to her, she went so far (at theend of the second year) as to speak of him as an "ugly old wretch. "When at length her boarder declined to nine hundred francs a year, sheasked him very insolently what he took her house to be, after meetingone of these ladies on the stairs. Father Goriot answered that thelady was his eldest daughter. 

"So you have two or three dozen daughters, have you?" said Mme. Vauquer sharply. 

"I have only two, " her boarder answered meekly, like a ruined man whois broken in to all the cruel usage of misfortune. 

Towards the end of the third year Father Goriot reduced his expensesstill further; he went up to the third story, and now paid forty-fivefrancs a month. He did without snuff, told his hairdresser that he nolonger required his services, and gave up wearing powder. When Goriotappeared for the first time in this condition, an exclamation ofastonishment broke from his hostess at the color of his hair--a dingyolive gray. He had grown sadder day by day under the influence of somehidden trouble; among all the faces round the table, his was the mostwoe-begone. There was no longer any doubt. Goriot was an elderlylibertine, whose eyes had only been preserved by the skill of thephysician from the malign influence of the remedies necessitated bythe state of his health. The disgusting color of his hair was a resultof his excesses and of the drugs which he had taken that he mightcontinue his career. The poor old man's mental and physical conditionafforded some grounds for the absurd rubbish talked about him. Whenhis outfit was worn out, he replaced the fine linen by calico atfourteen _sous_ the ell. His diamonds, his gold snuff-box, watch-chainand trinkets, disappeared one by one. He had left off wearing thecorn-flower blue coat, and was sumptuously arrayed, summer as well aswinter, in a coarse chestnut-brown coat, a plush waistcoat, anddoeskin breeches. He grew thinner and thinner; his legs were shrunken, his cheeks, once so puffed out by contented bourgeois prosperity, werecovered with wrinkles, and the outlines of the jawbones weredistinctly visible; there were deep furrows in his forehead. In thefourth year of his residence in the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve he wasno longer like his former self. The hale vermicelli manufacturer, sixty-two years of age, who had looked scarce forty, the stout, comfortable, prosperous tradesman, with an almost bucolic air, andsuch a brisk demeanor that it did you good to look at him; the manwith something boyish in his smile, had suddenly sunk into his dotage, and had become a feeble, vacillating septuagenarian. 

The keen, bright blue eyes had grown dull, and faded to a steel-graycolor; the red inflamed rims looked as though they had shed tears ofblood. He excited feelings of repulsion in some, and of pity inothers. The young medical students who came to the house noticed thedrooping of his lower lip and the conformation of the facial angle;and, after teasing him for some time to no purpose, they declared thatcretinism was setting in. 

One evening after dinner Mme. Vauquer said half banteringly to him, "So those daughters of yours don't come to see you any more, eh?"meaning to imply her doubts as to his paternity; but Father Goriotshrank as if his hostess had touched him with a sword-point. 

"They come sometimes, " he said in a tremulous voice. 

"Aha! you still see them sometimes?" cried the students. "Bravo, Father Goriot!"

The old man scarcely seemed to hear the witticisms at his expense thatfollowed on the words; he had relapsed into the dreamy state of mindthat these superficial observers took for senile torpor, due to hislack of intelligence. If they had only known, they might have beendeeply interested by the problem of his condition; but few problemswere more obscure. It was easy, of course, to find out whether Goriothad really been a vermicelli manufacturer; the amount of his fortunewas readily discoverable; but the old people, who were mostinquisitive as to his concerns, never went beyond the limits of theQuarter, and lived in the lodging-house much as oysters cling to arock. As for the rest, the current of life in Paris daily awaitedthem, and swept them away with it; so soon as they left the RueNeuve-Sainte-Genevieve, they forgot the existence of the old man, their butt at dinner. For those narrow souls, or for careless youth, the misery in Father Goriot's withered face and its dull apathy werequite incompatible with wealth or any sort of intelligence. As for thecreatures whom he called his daughters, all Mme. Vauquer's boarderswere of her opinion. With the faculty for severe logic sedulouslycultivated by elderly women during long evenings of gossip till theycan always find an hypothesis to fit all circumstances, she was wontto reason thus:

"If Father Goriot had daughters of his own as rich as those ladies whocame here seemed to be, he would not be lodging in my house, on thethird floor, at forty-five francs a month; and he would not go aboutdressed like a poor man. "

No objection could be raised to these inferences. So by the end of themonth of November 1819, at the time when the curtain rises on thisdrama, every one in the house had come to have a very decided opinionas to the poor old man. He had never had either wife or daughter;excesses had reduced him to this sluggish condition; he was a sort ofhuman mollusk who should be classed among the capulidoe, so one of thedinner contingent, an _employe_ at the Museum, who had a pretty wit ofhis own. Poiret was an eagle, a gentleman, compared with Goriot. Poiret would join the talk, argue, answer when he was spoken to; as amatter of fact, his talk, arguments, and responses contributed nothingto the conversation, for Poiret had a habit of repeating what theothers said in different words; still, he did join in the talk; he wasalive, and seemed capable of feeling; while Father Goriot (to quotethe Museum official again) was invariably at zero degrees--Reaumur. 

Eugene de Rastignac had just returned to Paris in a state of mind notunknown to young men who are conscious of unusual powers, and to thosewhose faculties are so stimulated by a difficult position, that forthe time being they rise above the ordinary level. 

Rastignac's first year of study for the preliminary examinations inlaw had left him free to see the sights of Paris and to enjoy some ofits amusements. A student has not much time on his hands if he setshimself to learn the repertory of every theatre, and to study the insand outs of the labyrinth of Paris. To know its customs; to learn thelanguage, and become familiar with the amusements of the capital, hemust explore its recesses, good and bad, follow the studies thatplease him best, and form some idea of the treasures contained ingalleries and museums. 

At this stage of his career a student grows eager and excited aboutall sorts of follies that seem to him to be of immense importance. Hehas his hero, his great man, a professor at the College de France, paid to talk down to the level of his audience. He adjusts his cravat, and strikes various attitudes for the benefit of the women in thefirst galleries at the Opera-Comique. As he passes through all thesesuccessive initiations, and breaks out of his sheath, the horizons oflife widen around him, and at length he grasps the plan of societywith the different human strata of which it is composed. 

If he begins by admiring the procession of carriages on sunnyafternoons in the Champs-Elysees, he soon reaches the further stage ofenvying their owners. Unconsciously, Eugene had served hisapprenticeship before he went back to Angouleme for the long vacationafter taking his degrees as bachelor of arts and bachelor of law. Theillusions of childhood had vanished, so also had the ideas he broughtwith him from the provinces; he had returned thither with anintelligence developed, with loftier ambitions, and saw things as theywere at home in the old manor house. His father and mother, his twobrothers and two sisters, with an aged aunt, whose whole fortuneconsisted in annuities, lived on the little estate of Rastignac. Thewhole property brought in about three thousand francs; and though theamount varied with the season (as must always be the case in avine-growing district), they were obliged to spare an unvarying twelvehundred francs out of their income for him. He saw how constantly thepoverty, which they had generously hidden from him, weighed upon them;he could not help comparing the sisters, who had seemed so beautifulto his boyish eyes, with women in Paris, who had realized the beautyof his dreams. The uncertain future of the whole family depended uponhim. It did not escape his eyes that not a crumb was wasted in thehouse, nor that the wine they drank was made from the second pressing;a multitude of small things, which it is useless to speak of in detailhere, made him burn to distinguish himself, and his ambition tosucceed increased tenfold. 

He meant, like all great souls, that his success should be owingentirely to his merits; but his was pre-eminently a southerntemperament, the execution of his plans was sure to be marred by thevertigo that seizes on youth when youth sees itself alone in a widesea, uncertain how to spend its energies, whither to steer its course, how to adapt its sails to the winds. At first he determined to flinghimself heart and soul into his work, but he was diverted from thispurpose by the need of society and connections; then he saw how greatan influence women exert in social life, and suddenly made up his mindto go out into this world to seek a protectress there. Surely a cleverand high-spirited young man, whose wit and courage were set off toadvantage by a graceful figure and the vigorous kind of beauty thatreadily strikes a woman's imagination, need not despair of finding aprotectress. These ideas occurred to him in his country walks with hissisters, whom he had once joined so gaily. The girls thought him verymuch changed. 

His aunt, Mme. De Marcillac, had been presented at court, and hadmoved among the brightest heights of that lofty region. Suddenly theyoung man's ambition discerned in those recollections of hers, whichhad been like nursery fairy tales to her nephews and nieces, theelements of a social success at least as important as the successwhich he had achieved at the Ecole de Droit. He began to ask his auntabout those relations; some of the old ties might still hold good. After much shaking of the branches of the family tree, the old ladycame to the conclusion that of all persons who could be useful to hernephew among the selfish genus of rich relations, the Vicomtesse deBeauseant was the least likely to refuse. To this lady, therefore, shewrote in the old-fashioned style, recommending Eugene to her; pointingout to her nephew that if he succeeded in pleasing Mme. De Beauseant, the Vicomtesse would introduce him to other relations. A few daysafter his return to Paris, therefore, Rastignac sent his aunt's letterto Mme. De Beauseant. The Vicomtesse replied by an invitation to aball for the following evening. This was the position of affairs atthe Maison Vauquer at the end of November 1819. 

A few days later, after Mme. De Beauseant's ball, Eugene came in attwo o'clock in the morning. The persevering student meant to make upfor the lost time by working until daylight. It was the first timethat he had attempted to spend the night in this way in that silentquarter. The spell of a factitious energy was upon him; he had beheldthe pomp and splendor of the world. He had not dined at the MaisonVauquer; the boarders probably would think that he would walk home atdaybreak from the dance, as he had done sometimes on former occasions, after a fete at the Prado, or a ball at the Odeon, splashing his silkstockings thereby, and ruining his pumps. 

It so happened that Christophe took a look into the street beforedrawing the bolts of the door; and Rastignac, coming in at thatmoment, could go up to his room without making any noise, followed byChristophe, who made a great deal. Eugene exchanged his dress suit fora shabby overcoat and slippers, kindled a fire with some blocks ofpatent fuel, and prepared for his night's work in such a sort that thefaint sounds he made were drowned by Christophe's heavy tramp on thestairs. 

Eugene sat absorbed in thought for a few moments before plunging intohis law books. He had just become aware of the fact that theVicomtesse de Beauseant was one of the queens of fashion, that herhouse was thought to be the pleasantest in the Faubourg Saint-Germain. And not only so, she was, by right of her fortune, and the name shebore, one of the most conspicuous figures in that aristocratic world. Thanks to the aunt, thanks to Mme. De Marcillac's letter ofintroduction, the poor student had been kindly received in that housebefore he knew the extent of the favor thus shown to him. It wasalmost like a patent of nobility to be admitted to those gildedsalons; he had appeared in the most exclusive circle in Paris, and nowall doors were open for him. Eugene had been dazzled at first by thebrilliant assembly, and had scarcely exchanged a few words with theVicomtesse; he had been content to single out a goddess among thisthrong of Parisian divinities, one of those women who are sure toattract a young man's fancy. 

The Comtesse Anastasie de Restaud was tall and gracefully made; shehad one of the prettiest figures in Paris. Imagine a pair of greatdark eyes, a magnificently moulded hand, a shapely foot. There was afiery energy in her movements; the Marquis de Ronquerolles had calledher "a thoroughbred, " "a pure pedigree, " these figures of speech havereplaced the "heavenly angel" and Ossianic nomenclature; the oldmythology of love is extinct, doomed to perish by modern dandyism. Butfor Rastignac, Mme. Anastasie de Restaud was the woman for whom he hadsighed. He had contrived to write his name twice upon the list ofpartners upon her fan, and had snatched a few words with her duringthe first quadrille. 

"Where shall I meet you again, Madame?" he asked abruptly, and thetones of his voice were full of the vehement energy that women like sowell. 

"Oh, everywhere!" said she, "in the Bois, at the Bouffons, in my ownhouse. "

With the impetuosity of his adventurous southern temper, he did all hecould to cultivate an acquaintance with this lovely countess, makingthe best of his opportunities in the quadrille and during a waltz thatshe gave him. When he told her that he was a cousin of Mme. DeBeauseant's, the Countess, whom he took for a great lady, asked him tocall at her house, and after her parting smile, Rastignac feltconvinced that he must make this visit. He was so lucky as to lightupon some one who did not laugh at his ignorance, a fatal defect amongthe gilded and insolent youth of that period; the coterie ofMaulincourts, Maximes de Trailles, de Marsays, Ronquerolles, Ajuda-Pintos, and Vandenesses who shone there in all the glory ofcoxcombry among the best-dressed women of fashion in Paris--LadyBrandon, the Duchesse de Langeais, the Comtesse de Kergarouet, Mme. DeSerizy, the Duchesse de Carigliano, the Comtesse Ferraud, Mme. De Lanty, the Marquise d'Aiglemont, Mme. Firmiani, the Marquise de Listomere andthe Marquise d'Espard, the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse and the Grandlieus. Luckily, therefore, for him, the novice happened upon the Marquis deMontriveau, the lover of the Duchesse de Langeais, a general as simpleas a child; from him Rastignac learned that the Comtesse lived in theRue du Helder. 

Ah, what it is to be young, eager to see the world, greedily on thewatch for any chance that brings you nearer the woman of your dreams, and behold two houses open their doors to you! To set foot in theVicomtesse de Beauseant's house in the Faubourg Saint-Germain; to fallon your knees before a Comtesse de Restaud in the Chaussee d'Antin; tolook at one glance across a vista of Paris drawing-rooms, consciousthat, possessing sufficient good looks, you may hope to find aid andprotection there in a feminine heart! To feel ambitious enough tospurn the tight-rope on which you must walk with the steady head of anacrobat for whom a fall is impossible, and to find in a charming womanthe best of all balancing poles. 

He sat there with his thoughts for a while, Law on the one hand, andPoverty on the other, beholding a radiant vision of a woman rise abovethe dull, smouldering fire. Who would not have paused and questionedthe future as Eugene was doing? who would not have pictured it full ofsuccess? His wondering thoughts took wings; he was transported out ofthe present into that blissful future; he was sitting by Mme. DeRestaud's side, when a sort of sigh, like the grunt of an overburdenedSt. Joseph, broke the silence of the night. It vibrated through thestudent, who took the sound for a death groan. He opened his doornoiselessly, went out upon the landing, and saw a thin streak of lightunder Father Goriot's door. Eugene feared that his neighbor had beentaken ill; he went over and looked through the keyhole; the old manwas busily engaged in an occupation so singular and so suspicious thatRastignac thought he was only doing a piece of necessary service tosociety to watch the self-styled vermicelli maker's nocturnalindustries. 

The table was upturned, and Goriot had doubtless in some way secured asilver plate and cup to the bar before knotting a thick rope roundthem; he was pulling at this rope with such enormous force that theywere being crushed and twisted out of shape; to all appearance hemeant to convert the richly wrought metal into ingots. 

"_Peste!_ what a man!" said Rastignac, as he watched Goriot's musculararms; there was not a sound in the room while the old man, with theaid of the rope, was kneading the silver like dough. "Was he then, indeed, a thief, or a receiver of stolen goods, who affectedimbecility and decrepitude, and lived like a beggar that he mightcarry on his pursuits the more securely?" Eugene stood for a momentrevolving these questions, then he looked again through the keyhole. 

Father Goriot had unwound his coil of rope; he had covered the tablewith a blanket, and was now employed in rolling the flattened mass ofsilver into a bar, an operation which he performed with marvelousdexterity. 

"Why, he must be as strong as Augustus, King of Poland!" said Eugeneto himself when the bar was nearly finished. 

Father Goriot looked sadly at his handiwork, tears fell from his eyes, he blew out the dip which had served him for a light while hemanipulated the silver, and Eugene heard him sigh as he lay downagain. 

"He is mad, " thought the student. 

"_Poor child!_" Father Goriot said aloud. Rastignac, hearing thosewords, concluded to keep silence; he would not hastily condemn hisneighbor. He was just in the doorway of his room when a strange soundfrom the staircase below reached his ears; it might have been made bytwo men coming up in list slippers. Eugene listened; two men therecertainly were, he could hear their breathing. Yet there had been nosound of opening the street door, no footsteps in the passage. Suddenly, too, he saw a faint gleam of light on the second story; itcame from M. Vautrin's room. 

"There are a good many mysteries here for a lodging-house!" he said tohimself. 

He went part of the way downstairs and listened again. The rattle ofgold reached his ears. In another moment the light was put out, andagain he distinctly heard the breathing of two men, but no sound of adoor being opened or shut. The two men went downstairs, the faintsounds growing fainter as they went. 

"Who is there?" cried Mme. Vauquer out of her bedroom window. 

"I, Mme. Vauquer, " answered Vautrin's deep bass voice. "I am comingin. "

"That is odd! Christophe drew the bolts, " said Eugene, going back tohis room. "You have to sit up at night, it seems, if you really meanto know all that is going on about you in Paris. "

These incidents turned his thought from his ambitious dreams; hebetook himself to his work, but his thought wandered back to FatherGoriot's suspicious occupation; Mme. De Restaud's face swam again andagain before his eyes like a vision of a brilliant future; and at lasthe lay down and slept with clenched fists. When a young man makes uphis mind that he will work all night, the chances are that seven timesout of ten he will sleep till morning. Such vigils do not begin beforewe are turned twenty. 

The next morning Paris was wrapped in one of the dense fogs that throwthe most punctual people out in their calculations as to the time;even the most business-like folk fail to keep their appointments insuch weather, and ordinary mortals wake up at noon and fancy it iseight o'clock. On this morning it was half-past nine, and Mme. Vauquerstill lay abed. Christophe was late, Sylvie was late, but the two satcomfortably taking their coffee as usual. It was Sylvie's custom totake the cream off the milk destined for the boarders' breakfast forher own, and to boil the remainder for some time, so that madameshould not discover this illegal exaction. 

"Sylvie, " said Christophe, as he dipped a piece of toast into thecoffee, "M. Vautrin, who is not such a bad sort, all the same, had twopeople come to see him again last night. If madame says anything, mindyou say nothing about it. "

"Has he given you something?"

"He gave me a five-franc piece this month, which is as good as saying, 'Hold your tongue. '"

"Except him and Mme. Couture, who doesn't look twice at every penny, there's no one in the house that doesn't try to get back with the lefthand all that they give with the right at New Year, " said Sylvie. 

"And, after all, " said Christophe, "what do they give you? A miserablefive-franc piece. There is Father Goriot, who has cleaned his shoeshimself these two years past. There is that old beggar Poiret, whogoes without blacking altogether; he would sooner drink it than put iton his boots. Then there is that whipper-snapper of a student, whogives me a couple of francs. Two francs will not pay for my brushes, and he sells his old clothes, and gets more for them than they areworth. Oh! they're a shabby lot!"

"Pooh!" said Sylvie, sipping her coffee, "our places are the best inthe Quarter, that I know. But about that great big chap Vautrin, Christophe; has any one told you anything about him?"

"Yes. I met a gentleman in the street a few days ago; he said to me, 'There's a gentleman in your place, isn't there? a tall man that dyeshis whiskers?' I told him, 'No, sir; they aren't dyed. A gay fellowlike him hasn't the time to do it. ' And when I told M. Vautrin aboutit afterwards, he said, 'Quite right, my boy. That is the way toanswer them. There is nothing more unpleasant than to have your littleweaknesses known; it might spoil many a match. '"

"Well, and for my part, " said Sylvie, "a man tried to humbug me at themarket wanting to know if I had seen him put on his shirt. Such bosh!There, " she cried, interrupting herself, "that's a quarter to tenstriking at the Val-de-Grace, and not a soul stirring!"

"Pooh! they are all gone out. Mme. Couture and the girl went out ateight o'clock to take the wafer at Saint-Etienne. Father Goriotstarted off somewhere with a parcel, and the student won't be backfrom his lecture till ten o'clock. I saw them go while I was sweepingthe stairs; Father Goriot knocked up against me, and his parcel was ashard as iron. What is the old fellow up to, I wonder? He is as good asa plaything for the rest of them; they can never let him alone; but heis a good man, all the same, and worth more than all of them puttogether. He doesn't give you much himself, but he sometimes sends youwith a message to ladies who fork out famous tips; they are dressedgrandly, too. "

"His daughters, as he calls them, eh? There are a dozen of them. "

"I have never been to more than two--the two who came here. "

"There is madame moving overhead; I shall have to go, or she willraise a fine racket. Just keep an eye on the milk, Christophe; don'tlet the cat get at it. "

Sylvie went up to her mistress' room. 

"Sylvie! How is this? It's nearly ten o'clock, and you let me sleeplike a dormouse! Such a thing has never happened before. "

"It's the fog; it is that thick, you could cut it with a knife. "

"But how about breakfast?"

"Bah! the boarders are possessed, I'm sure. They all cleared outbefore there was a wink of daylight. "

"Do speak properly, Sylvie, " Mme. Vauquer retorted; "say a blink ofdaylight. "

"Ah, well, madame, whichever you please. Anyhow, you can havebreakfast at ten o'clock. La Michonnette and Poiret have neither ofthem stirred. There are only those two upstairs, and they are sleepinglike the logs they are. "

"But, Sylvie, you put their names together as if----"

"As if what?" said Sylvie, bursting into a guffaw. "The two of themmake a pair. "

"It is a strange thing, isn't it, Sylvie, how M. Vautrin got in lastnight after Christophe had bolted the door?"

"Not at all, madame. Christophe heard M. Vautrin, and went down andundid the door. And here are you imagining that----?"

"Give me my bodice, and be quick and get breakfast ready. Dish up therest of the mutton with the potatoes, and you can put the stewed pearson the table, those at five a penny. "

A few moments later Mme. Vauquer came down, just in time to see thecat knock down a plate that covered a bowl of milk, and begin to lapin all haste. 

"Mistigris!" she cried. 

The cat fled, but promptly returned to rub against her ankles. 

"Oh! yes, you can wheedle, you old hypocrite!" she said. "Sylvie!Sylvie!"

"Yes, madame; what is it?"

"Just see what the cat has done!"

"It is all that stupid Christophe's fault. I told him to stop and laythe table. What has become of him? Don't you worry, madame; FatherGoriot shall have it. I will fill it up with water, and he won't knowthe difference; he never notices anything, not even what he eats. "

"I wonder where the old heathen can have gone?" said Mme. Vauquer, setting the plates round the table. 

"Who knows? He is up to all sorts of tricks. "

"I have overslept myself, " said Mme. Vauquer. 

"But madame looks as fresh as a rose, all the same. "

The door bell rang at that moment, and Vautrin came through thesitting-room, singing loudly:

 "'Tis the same old story everywhere, A roving heart and a roving glance . . 

"Oh! Mamma Vauquer! good-morning!" he cried at the sight of hishostess, and he put his arm gaily round her waist. 

"There! have done----"

"'Impertinence!' Say it!" he answered. "Come, say it! Now, isn't thatwhat you really mean? Stop a bit, I will help you to set the table. Ah! I am a nice man, am I not?

 "For the locks of brown and the golden hair A sighing lover . . . 

"Oh! I have just seen something so funny----

 . . . . Led by chance. "

"What?" asked the widow. 

"Father Goriot in the goldsmith's shop in the Rue Dauphine athalf-past eight this morning. They buy old spoons and forks and goldlace there, and Goriot sold a piece of silver plate for a good roundsum. It had been twisted out of shape very neatly for a man that'snot used to the trade. "

"Really? You don't say so?"

"Yes. One of my friends is expatriating himself; I had been to see himoff on board the Royal Mail steamer, and was coming back here. Iwaited after that to see what Father Goriot would do; it is a comicalaffair. He came back to this quarter of the world, to the Rue desGres, and went into a money-lender's house; everybody knows him, Gobseck, a stuck-up rascal, that would make dominoes out of hisfather's bones, a Turk, a heathen, an old Jew, a Greek; it would be adifficult matter to rob _him_, for he puts all his coin into theBank. "

"Then what was Father Goriot doing there?"

"Doing?" said Vautrin. "Nothing; he was bent on his own undoing. He isa simpleton, stupid enough to ruin himself by running after----"

"There he is!" cried Sylvie. 

"Christophe, " cried Father Goriot's voice, "come upstairs with me. "

Christophe went up, and shortly afterwards came down again. 

"Where are you going?" Mme. Vauquer asked of her servant. 

"Out on an errand for M. Goriot. "

"What may that be?" said Vautrin, pouncing on a letter in Christophe'shand. "_Mme. La Comtesse Anastasie de Restaud_, " he read. "Where areyou going with it?" he added, as he gave the letter back toChristophe. 

"To the Rue du Helder. I have orders to give this into her handsmyself. "

"What is there inside it?" said Vautrin, holding the letter up to thelight. "A banknote? No. " He peered into the envelope. "A receiptedaccount!" he cried. "My word! 'tis a gallant old dotard. Off with you, old chap, " he said, bringing down a hand on Christophe's head, andspinning the man round like a thimble; "you will have a famous tip. "

By this time the table was set. Sylvie was boiling the milk, Mme. Vauquer was lighting a fire in the stove with some assistance fromVautrin, who kept humming to himself:

 "The same old story everywhere, A roving heart and a roving glance. "

When everything was ready, Mme. Couture and Mlle. Taillefer came in. 

"Where have you been this morning, fair lady?" said Mme. Vauquer, turning to Mme. Couture. 

"We have just been to say our prayers at Saint-Etienne du Mont. To-dayis the day when we must go to see M. Taillefer. Poor little thing! Sheis trembling like a leaf, " Mme. Couture went on, as she seated herselfbefore the fire and held the steaming soles of her boots to the blaze. 

"Warm yourself, Victorine, " said Mme. Vauquer. 

"It is quite right and proper, mademoiselle, to pray to Heaven tosoften your father's heart, " said Vautrin, as he drew a chair nearerto the orphan girl; "but that is not enough. What you want is a friendwho will give the monster a piece of his mind; a barbarian that hasthree millions (so they say), and will not give you a dowry; and apretty girl needs a dowry nowadays. "

"Poor child!" said Mme. Vauquer. "Never mind, my pet, your wretch of afather is going just the way to bring trouble upon himself. "

Victorine's eyes filled with tears at the words, and the widow checkedherself at a sign from Mme. Couture. 

"If we could only see him!" said the Commissary-General's widow; "if Icould speak to him myself and give him his wife's last letter! I havenever dared to run the risk of sending it by post; he knew myhandwriting----"

"'Oh woman, persecuted and injured innocent!'" exclaimed Vautrin, breaking in upon her. "So that is how you are, is it? In a few days'time I will look into your affairs, and it will be all right, youshall see. "

"Oh! sir, " said Victorine, with a tearful but eager glance at Vautrin, who showed no sign of being touched by it, "if you know of any way ofcommunicating with my father, please be sure and tell him that hisaffection and my mother's honor are more to me than all the money inthe world. If you can induce him to relent a little towards me, I willpray to God for you. You may be sure of my gratitude----"

"_The same old story everywhere_, " sang Vautrin, with a satiricalintonation. At this juncture, Goriot, Mlle. Michonneau, and Poiretcame downstairs together; possibly the scent of the gravy which Sylviewas making to serve with the mutton had announced breakfast. The sevenpeople thus assembled bade each other good-morning, and took theirplaces at the table; the clock struck ten, and the student's footstepwas heard outside. 

"Ah! here you are, M. Eugene, " said Sylvie; "every one is breakfastingat home to-day. "

The student exchanged greetings with the lodgers, and sat down besideGoriot. 

"I have just met with a queer adventure, " he said, as he helpedhimself abundantly to the mutton, and cut a slice of bread, which Mme. Vauquer's eyes gauged as usual. 

"An adventure?" queried Poiret. 

"Well, and what is there to astonish you in that, old boy?" Vautrinasked of Poiret. "M. Eugene is cut out for that kind of thing. "

Mlle. Taillefer stole a timid glance at the young student. 

"Tell us about your adventure!" demanded M. Vautrin. 

"Yesterday evening I went to a ball given by a cousin of mine, theVicomtesse de Beauseant. She has a magnificent house; the rooms arehung with silk--in short, it was a splendid affair, and I was as happyas a king---"

"Fisher, " put in Vautrin, interrupting. 

"What do you mean, sir?" said Eugene sharply. 

"I said 'fisher, ' because kingfishers see a good deal more fun thankings. "

"Quite true; I would much rather be the little careless bird than aking, " said Poiret the ditto-ist, "because----"

"In fact"--the law-student cut him short--"I danced with one of thehandsomest women in the room, a charming countess, the most exquisitecreature I have ever seen. There was peach blossom in her hair, andshe had the loveliest bouquet of flowers--real flowers, that scentedthe air----but there! it is no use trying to describe a woman glowingwith the dance. You ought to have seen her! Well, and this morning Imet this divine countess about nine o'clock, on foot in the Rue deGres. Oh! how my heart beat! I began to think----"

"That she was coming here, " said Vautrin, with a keen look at thestudent. "I expect that she was going to call on old Gobseck, amoney-lender. If ever you explore a Parisian woman's heart, you willfind the money-lender first, and the lover afterwards. Your countessis called Anastasie de Restaud, and she lives in the Rue du Helder. "

The student stared hard at Vautrin. Father Goriot raised his head atthe words, and gave the two speakers a glance so full of intelligenceand uneasiness that the lodgers beheld him with astonishment. 

"Then Christophe was too late, and she must have gone to him!" criedGoriot, with anguish in his voice. 

"It is just as I guessed, " said Vautrin, leaning over to whisper inMme. Vauquer's ear. 

Goriot went on with his breakfast, but seemed unconscious of what hewas doing. He had never looked more stupid nor more taken up with hisown thoughts than he did at that moment. 

"Who the devil could have told you her name, M. Vautrin?" askedEugene. 

"Aha! there you are!" answered Vautrin. "Old Father Goriot there knewit quite well! and why should I not know it too?"

"M. Goriot?" the student cried. 

"What is it?" asked the old man. "So she was very beautiful, was she, yesterday night?"

"Who?"

"Mme. De Restaud. "

"Look at the old wretch, " said Mme. Vauquer, speaking to Vautrin; "howhis eyes light up!"

"Then does he really keep her?" said Mlle. Michonneau, in a whisper tothe student. 

"Oh! yes, she was tremendously pretty, " Eugene answered. Father Goriotwatched him with eager eyes. "If Mme. De Beauseant had not been there, my divine countess would have been the queen of the ball; none of theyounger men had eyes for any one else. I was the twelfth on her list, and she danced every quadrille. The other women were furious. She musthave enjoyed herself, if ever creature did! It is a true saying thatthere is no more beautiful sight than a frigate in full sail, agalloping horse, or a woman dancing. "

"So the wheel turns, " said Vautrin; "yesterday night at a duchess'ball, this morning in a money-lender's office, on the lowest rung ofthe ladder--just like a Parisienne! If their husbands cannot afford topay for their frantic extravagance, they will sell themselves. Or ifthey cannot do that, they will tear out their mothers' hearts to findsomething to pay for their splendor. They will turn the world upsidedown. Just a Parisienne through and through!"

Father Goriot's face, which had shone at the student's words like thesun on a bright day, clouded over all at once at this cruel speech ofVautrin's. 

"Well, " said Mme. Vauquer, "but where is your adventure? Did you speakto her? Did you ask her if she wanted to study law?"

"She did not see me, " said Eugene. "But only think of meeting one ofthe prettiest women in Paris in the Rue des Gres at nine o'clock! Shecould not have reached home after the ball till two o'clock thismorning. Wasn't it queer? There is no place like Paris for this sortof adventures. "

"Pshaw! much funnier things than _that_ happen here!" exclaimedVautrin. 

Mlle. Taillefer had scarcely heeded the talk, she was so absorbed bythe thought of the new attempt that she was about to make. Mme. Couture made a sign that it was time to go upstairs and dress; the twoladies went out, and Father Goriot followed their example. 

"Well, did you see?" said Mme. Vauquer, addressing Vautrin and therest of the circle. "He is ruining himself for those women, that isplain. "

"Nothing will ever make me believe that that beautiful Comtesse deRestaud is anything to Father Goriot, " cried the student. 

"Well, and if you don't, " broke in Vautrin, "we are not set onconvincing you. You are too young to know Paris thoroughly yet; lateron you will find out that there are what we call men with apassion----"

Mlle. Michonneau gave Vautrin a quick glance at these words. Theyseemed to be like the sound of a trumpet to a trooper's horse. "Aha!"said Vautrin, stopping in his speech to give her a searching glance, "so we have had our little experiences, have we?"

The old maid lowered her eyes like a nun who sees a statue. 

"Well, " he went on, "when folk of that kind get a notion into theirheads, they cannot drop it. They must drink the water from someparticular spring--it is stagnant as often as not; but they will selltheir wives and families, they will sell their own souls to the devilto get it. For some this spring is play, or the stock-exchange, ormusic, or a collection of pictures or insects; for others it is somewoman who can give them the dainties they like. You might offer theselast all the women on earth--they would turn up their noses; they willhave the only one who can gratify their passion. It often happens thatthe woman does not care for them at all, and treats them cruelly; theybuy their morsels of satisfaction very dear; but no matter, the foolsare never tired of it; they will take their last blanket to thepawnbroker's to give their last five-franc piece to her. Father Goriothere is one of that sort. He is discreet, so the Countess exploitshim--just the way of the gay world. The poor old fellow thinks of herand of nothing else. In all other respects you see he is a stupidanimal; but get him on that subject, and his eyes sparkle likediamonds. That secret is not difficult to guess. He took some platehimself this morning to the melting-pot, and I saw him at DaddyGobseck's in the Rue des Gres. And now, mark what follows--he cameback here, and gave a letter for the Comtesse de Restaud to thatnoodle of a Christophe, who showed us the address; there was areceipted bill inside it. It is clear that it was an urgent matter ifthe Countess also went herself to the old money lender. Father Goriothas financed her handsomely. There is no need to tack a tale together;the thing is self-evident. So that shows you, sir student, that allthe time your Countess was smiling, dancing, flirting, swaying herpeach-flower crowned head, with her gown gathered into her hand, herslippers were pinching her, as they say; she was thinking of herprotested bills, or her lover's protested bills. "

"You have made me wild to know the truth, " cried Eugene; "I will go tocall on Mme. De Restaud to-morrow. "

"Yes, " echoed Poiret; "you must go and call on Mme. De Restaud. "

"And perhaps you will find Father Goriot there, who will take paymentfor the assistance he politely rendered. "

Eugene looked disgusted. "Why, then, this Paris of yours is a slough. "

"And an uncommonly queer slough, too, " replied Vautrin. "The mudsplashes you as you drive through it in your carriage--you are arespectable person; you go afoot and are splashed--you are ascoundrel. You are so unlucky as to walk off with something or otherbelonging to somebody else, and they exhibit you as a curiosity in thePlace du Palais-de-Justice; you steal a million, and you are pointedout in every salon as a model of virtue. And you pay thirty millionsfor the police and the courts of justice, for the maintenance of lawand order! A pretty slate of things it is!"

"What, " cried Mme. Vauquer, "has Father Goriot really melted down hissilver posset-dish?"

"There were two turtle-doves on the lid, were there not?" askedEugene. 

"Yes, that there were. "

"Then, was he fond of it?" said Eugene. "He cried while he wasbreaking up the cup and plate. I happened to see him by accident. "

"It was dear to him as his own life, " answered the widow. 

"There! you see how infatuated the old fellow is!" cried Vautrin. "Thewoman yonder can coax the soul out of him. "

The student went up to his room. Vautrin went out, and a few momentslater Mme. Couture and Victorine drove away in a cab which Sylvie hadcalled for them. Poiret gave his arm to Mlle. Michonneau, and theywent together to spend the two sunniest hours of the day in the Jardindes Plantes. 

"Well, those two are as good as married, " was the portly Sylvie'scomment. "They are going out together to-day for the first time. Theyare such a couple of dry sticks that if they happen to strike againsteach other they will draw sparks like flint and steel. "

"Keep clear of Mlle. Michonneau's shawl, then, " said Mme. Vauquer, laughing; "it would flare up like tinder. "

At four o'clock that evening, when Goriot came in, he saw, by thelight of two smoky lamps, that Victorine's eyes were red. Mme. Vauquerwas listening to the history of the visit made that morning to M. Taillefer; it had been made in vain. Taillefer was tired of the annualapplication made by his daughter and her elderly friend; he gave thema personal interview in order to arrive at an understanding with them. 

"My dear lady, " said Mme. Couture, addressing Mme. Vauquer, "justimagine it; he did not even ask Victorine to sit down, she wasstanding the whole time. He said to me quite coolly, without puttinghimself in a passion, that we might spare ourselves the trouble ofgoing there; that the young lady (he would not call her his daughter)was injuring her cause by importuning him (_importuning!_ once a year, the wretch!); that as Victorine's mother had nothing when he marriedher, Victorine ought not to expect anything from him; in fact, he saidthe most cruel things, that made the poor child burst out crying. Thelittle thing threw herself at her father's feet and spoke up bravely;she said that she only persevered in her visits for her mother's sake;that she would obey him without a murmur, but that she begged him toread her poor dead mother's farewell letter. She took it up and gaveit to him, saying the most beautiful things in the world, mostbeautifully expressed; I do not know where she learned them; God musthave put them into her head, for the poor child was inspired to speakso nicely that it made me cry like a fool to hear her talk. And whatdo you think the monster was doing all the time? Cutting his nails! Hetook the letter that poor Mme. Taillefer had soaked with tears, andflung it on to the chimney-piece. 'That is all right, ' he said. Heheld out his hands to raise his daughter, but she covered them withkisses, and he drew them away again. Scandalous, isn't it? And hisgreat booby of a son came in and took no notice of his sister. "

"What inhuman wretches they must be!" said Father Goriot. 

"And then they both went out of the room, " Mme. Couture went on, without heeding the worthy vermicelli maker's exclamation; "father andson bowed to me, and asked me to excuse them on account of urgentbusiness! That is the history of our call. Well, he has seen hisdaughter at any rate. How he can refuse to acknowledge her I cannotthink, for they are as alike as two peas. "

The boarders dropped in one after another, interchanging greetings andempty jokes that certain classes of Parisians regard as humorous andwitty. Dulness is their prevailing ingredient, and the whole pointconsists in mispronouncing a word or a gesture. This kind of argot isalways changing. The essence of the jest consists in some catchwordsuggested by a political event, an incident in the police courts, astreet song, or a bit of burlesque at some theatre, and forgotten in amonth. Anything and everything serves to keep up a game of battledoreand shuttlecock with words and ideas. The diorama, a recent invention, which carried an optical illusion a degree further than panoramas, hadgiven rise to a mania among art students for ending every word with_rama_. The Maison Vauquer had caught the infection from a young artistamong the boarders. 

"Well, Monsieur-r-r Poiret, " said the _employe_ from the Museum, "howis your health-orama?" Then, without waiting for an answer, he turnedto Mme. Couture and Victorine with a "Ladies, you seem melancholy. "

"Is dinner ready?" cried Horace Bianchon, a medical student, and afriend of Rastignac's; "my stomach is sinking _usque ad talones_. "

"There is an uncommon _frozerama_ outside, " said Vautrin. "Make roomthere, Father Goriot! Confound it, your foot covers the whole front ofthe stove. "

"Illustrious M. Vautrin, " put in Bianchon, "why do you say_frozerama_? It is incorrect; it should be _frozenrama_. "

"No, it shouldn't, " said the official from the Museum; "_frozerama_ isright by the same rule that you say 'My feet are _froze_. '"

"Ah! ah!"

"Here is his Excellency the Marquis de Rastignac, Doctor of the Law ofContraries, " cried Bianchon, seizing Eugene by the throat, and almostthrottling him. 

"Hallo there! hallo!"

Mlle. Michonneau came noiselessly in, bowed to the rest of the party, and took her place beside the three women without saying a word. 

"That old bat always makes me shudder, " said Bianchon in a low voice, indicating Mlle. Michonneau to Vautrin. "I have studied Gall's system, and I am sure she has the bump of Judas. "

"Then you have seen a case before?" said Vautrin. 

"Who has not?" answered Bianchon. "Upon my word, that ghastly old maidlooks just like one of the long worms that will gnaw a beam through, give them time enough. "

"That is the way, young man, " returned he of the forty years and thedyed whiskers:

 "The rose has lived the life of a rose-- A morning's space. "

"Aha! here is a magnificent _soupe-au-rama_, " cried Poiret asChristophe came in bearing the soup with cautious heed. 

"I beg your pardon, sir, " said Mme. Vauquer; "it is _soupe auxchoux_. "

All the young men roared with laughter. 

"Had you there, Poiret!"

"Poir-r-r-rette! she had you there!"

"Score two points to Mamma Vauquer, " said Vautrin. 

"Did any of you notice the fog this morning?" asked the official. 

"It was a frantic fog, " said Bianchon, "a fog unparalleled, doleful, melancholy, sea-green, asthmatical--a Goriot of a fog!"

"A Goriorama, " said the art student, "because you couldn't see a thingin it. "

"Hey! Milord Gaoriotte, they air talking about yoo-o-ou!"

Father Goriot, seated at the lower end of the table, close to the doorthrough which the servant entered, raised his face; he had smelt at ascrap of bread that lay under his table napkin, an old trick acquiredin his commercial capacity, that still showed itself at times. 

"Well, " Madame Vauquer cried in sharp tones, that rang above therattle of spoons and plates and the sound of other voices, "and isthere anything the matter with the bread?"

"Nothing whatever, madame, " he answered; "on the contrary, it is madeof the best quality of corn; flour from Etampes. "

"How could you tell?" asked Eugene. 

"By the color, by the flavor. "

"You knew the flavor by the smell, I suppose, " said Mme. Vauquer. "Youhave grown so economical, you will find out how to live on the smellof cooking at last. "

"Take out a patent for it, then, " cried the Museum official; "youwould make a handsome fortune. "

"Never mind him, " said the artist; "he does that sort of thing todelude us into thinking that he was a vermicelli maker. "

"Your nose is a corn-sampler, it appears?" inquired the official. 

"Corn _what_?" asked Bianchon. 

"Corn-el. "

"Corn-et. "

"Corn-elian. "

"Corn-ice. "

"Corn-ucopia. "

"Corn-crake. "

"Corn-cockle. "

"Corn-orama. "

The eight responses came like a rolling fire from every part of theroom, and the laughter that followed was the more uproarious becausepoor Father Goriot stared at the others with a puzzled look, like aforeigner trying to catch the meaning of words in a language which hedoes not understand. 

"Corn? . . . " he said, turning to Vautrin, his next neighbor. 

"Corn on your foot, old man!" said Vautrin, and he drove FatherGoriot's cap down over his eyes by a blow on the crown. 

The poor old man thus suddenly attacked was for a moment toobewildered to do anything. Christophe carried off his plate, thinkingthat he had finished his soup, so that when Goriot had pushed back hiscap from his eyes his spoon encountered the table. Every one burst outlaughing. "You are a disagreeable joker, sir, " said the old man, "andif you take any further liberties with me----"

"Well, what then, old boy?" Vautrin interrupted. 

"Well, then, you shall pay dearly for it some day----"

"Down below, eh?" said the artist, "in the little dark corner wherethey put naughty boys. "

"Well, mademoiselle, " Vautrin said, turning to Victorine, "you areeating nothing. So papa was refractory, was he?"

"A monster!" said Mme. Couture. 

"Mademoiselle might make application for aliment pending her suit; sheis not eating anything. Eh! eh! just see how Father Goriot is staringat Mlle. Victorine. "

The old man had forgotten his dinner, he was so absorbed in gazing atthe poor girl; the sorrow in her face was unmistakable, --the slightedlove of a child whose father would not recognize her. 

"We are mistaken about Father Goriot, my dear boy, " said Eugene in alow voice. "He is not an idiot, nor wanting in energy. Try your Gallsystem on him, and let me know what you think. I saw him crush asilver dish last night as if it had been made of wax; there seems tobe something extraordinary going on in his mind just now, to judge byhis face. His life is so mysterious that it must be worth studying. Oh! you may laugh, Bianchon; I am not joking. "

"The man is a subject, is he?" said Bianchon; "all right! I willdissect him, if he will give me the chance. "

"No; feel his bumps. "

"Hm!--his stupidity might perhaps be contagious. "

The next day Rastignac dressed himself very elegantly, and about threeo'clock in the afternoon went to call on Mme. De Restaud. On the waythither he indulged in the wild intoxicating dreams which fill a younghead so full of delicious excitement. Young men at his age take noaccount of obstacles nor of dangers; they see success in everydirection; imagination has free play, and turns their lives into aromance; they are saddened or discouraged by the collapse of one ofthe visionary schemes that have no existence save in their heatedfancy. If youth were not ignorant and timid, civilization would beimpossible. 

Eugene took unheard-of pains to keep himself in a spotless condition, but on his way through the streets he began to think about Mme. DeRestaud and what he should say to her. He equipped himself with wit, rehearsed repartees in the course of an imaginary conversation, andprepared certain neat speeches a la Talleyrand, conjuring up a seriesof small events which should prepare the way for the declaration onwhich he had based his future; and during these musings the lawstudent was bespattered with mud, and by the time he reached thePalais Royal he was obliged to have his boots blacked and his trousersbrushed. 

"If I were rich, " he said, as he changed the five-franc piece he hadbrought with him in case anything might happen, "I would take a cab, then I could think at my ease. "

At last he reached the Rue du Helder, and asked for the Comtesse deRestaud. He bore the contemptuous glances of the servants, who hadseen him cross the court on foot, with the cold fury of a man whoknows that he will succeed some day. He understood the meaning oftheir glances at once, for he had felt his inferiority as soon as heentered the court, where a smart cab was waiting. All the delights oflife in Paris seemed to be implied by this visible and manifest signof luxury and extravagance. A fine horse, in magnificent harness, waspawing the ground, and all at once the law student felt out of humorwith himself. Every compartment in his brain which he had thought tofind so full of wit was bolted fast; he grew positively stupid. Hesent up his name to the Countess, and waited in the ante-chamber, standing on one foot before a window that looked out upon the court;mechanically he leaned his elbow against the sash, and stared beforehim. The time seemed long; he would have left the house but for thesouthern tenacity of purpose which works miracles when it issingle-minded. 

"Madame is in her boudoir, and cannot see any one at present, sir, "said the servant. "She gave me no answer; but if you will go into thedining-room, there is some one already there. "

Rastignac was impressed with a sense of the formidable power of thelackey who can accuse or condemn his masters by a word; he coollyopened the door by which the man had just entered the ante-chamber, meaning, no doubt, to show these insolent flunkeys that he wasfamiliar with the house; but he found that he had thoughtlesslyprecipitated himself into a small room full of dressers, where lampswere standing, and hot-water pipes, on which towels were being dried;a dark passage and a back staircase lay beyond it. Stifled laughterfrom the ante-chamber added to his confusion. 

"This way to the drawing-room, sir, " said the servant, with theexaggerated respect which seemed to be one more jest at his expense. 

Eugene turned so quickly that he stumbled against a bath. By goodluck, he managed to keep his hat on his head, and saved it fromimmersion in the water; but just as he turned, a door opened at thefurther end of the dark passage, dimly lighted by a small lamp. Rastignac heard voices and the sound of a kiss; one of the speakerswas Mme. De Restaud, the other was Father Goriot. Eugene followed theservant through the dining-room into the drawing-room; he went to awindow that looked out into the courtyard, and stood there for awhile. He meant to know whether this Goriot was really the Goriot thathe knew. His heart beat unwontedly fast; he remembered Vautrin'shideous insinuations. A well-dressed young man suddenly emerged fromthe room almost as Eugene entered it, saying impatiently to theservant who stood at the door: "I am going, Maurice. Tell Madame laComtesse that I waited more than half an hour for her. "

Whereupon this insolent being, who, doubtless, had a right to beinsolent, sang an Italian trill, and went towards the window whereEugene was standing, moved thereto quite as much by a desire to seethe student's face as by a wish to look out into the courtyard. 

"But M. Le Comte had better wait a moment longer; madame isdisengaged, " said Maurice, as he returned to the ante-chamber. 

Just at that moment Father Goriot appeared close to the gate; he hademerged from a door at the foot of the back staircase. The worthy soulwas preparing to open his umbrella regardless of the fact that thegreat gate had opened to admit a tilbury, in which a young man with aribbon at his button-hole was seated. Father Goriot had scarcely timeto start back and save himself. The horse took fright at the umbrella, swerved, and dashed forward towards the flight of steps. The young manlooked round in annoyance, saw Father Goriot, and greeted him as hewent out with constrained courtesy, such as people usually show to amoney-lender so long as they require his services, or the sort ofrespect they feel it necessary to show for some one whose reputationhas been blown upon, so that they blush to acknowledge hisacquaintance. Father Goriot gave him a little friendly nod and agood-natured smile. All this happened with lightning speed. Eugenewas so deeply interested that he forgot that he was not alone tillhe suddenly heard the Countess' voice. 

"Oh! Maxime, were you going away?" she said reproachfully, with ashade of pique in her manner. The Countess had not seen the incidentnor the entrance of the tilbury. Rastignac turned abruptly and saw herstanding before him, coquettishly dressed in a loose white cashmeregown with knots of rose-colored ribbon here and there; her hair wascarelessly coiled about her head, as is the wont of Parisian women inthe morning; there was a soft fragrance about her--doubtless she wasfresh from a bath;--her graceful form seemed more flexible, her beautymore luxuriant. Her eyes glistened. A young man can see everything ata glance; he feels the radiant influence of woman as a plant discernsand absorbs its nutriment from the air; he did not need to touch herhands to feel their cool freshness. He saw faint rose tints throughthe cashmere of the dressing gown; it had fallen slightly open, givingglimpses of a bare throat, on which the student's eyes rested. TheCountess had no need of the adventitious aid of corsets; her girdledefined the outlines of her slender waist; her throat was a challengeto love; her feet, thrust into slippers, were daintily small. AsMaxime took her hand and kissed it, Eugene became aware of Maxime'sexistence, and the Countess saw Eugene. 

"Oh! is that you M. De Rastignac? I am very glad to see you, " shesaid, but there was something in her manner that a shrewd observerwould have taken as a hint to depart. 

Maxime, as the Countess Anastasie had called the young man with thehaughty insolence of bearing, looked from Eugene to the lady, and fromthe lady to Eugene; it was sufficiently evident that he wished to berid of the latter. An exact and faithful rendering of the glance mightbe given in the words: "Look here, my dear; I hope you intend to sendthis little whipper-snapper about his business. "

The Countess consulted the young man's face with an intentsubmissiveness that betrays all the secrets of a woman's heart, andRastignac all at once began to hate him violently. To begin with, thesight of the fair carefully arranged curls on the other's comely headhad convinced him that his own crop was hideous; Maxime's boots, moreover, were elegant and spotless, while his own, in spite of allhis care, bore some traces of his recent walk; and, finally, Maxime'sovercoat fitted the outline of his figure gracefully, he looked like apretty woman, while Eugene was wearing a black coat at half-past two. The quick-witted child of the Charente felt the disadvantage at whichhe was placed beside this tall, slender dandy, with the clear gaze andthe pale face, one of those men who would ruin orphan children withoutscruple. Mme. De Restaud fled into the next room without waiting forEugene to speak; shaking out the skirts of her dressing-gown in herflight, so that she looked like a white butterfly, and Maxime hurriedafter her. Eugene, in a fury, followed Maxime and the Countess, andthe three stood once more face to face by the hearth in the largedrawing-room. The law student felt quite sure that the odious Maximefound him in the way, and even at the risk of displeasing Mme. DeRestaud, he meant to annoy the dandy. It had struck him all at oncethat he had seen the young man before at Mme. De Beauseant's ball; heguessed the relation between Maxime and Mme. De Restaud; and with theyouthful audacity that commits prodigious blunders or achieves signalsuccess, he said to himself, "This is my rival; I mean to cut himout. "

Rash resolve! He did not know that M. Le Comte Maxime de Trailleswould wait till he was insulted, so as to fire first and kill his man. Eugene was a sportsman and a good shot, but he had not yet hit thebulls's eye twenty times out of twenty-two. The young Count droppedinto a low chair by the hearth, took up the tongs, and made up thefire so violently and so sulkily, that Anastasie's fair face suddenlyclouded over. She turned to Eugene, with a cool, questioning glancethat asked plainly, "Why do you not go?" a glance which well-bredpeople regard as a cue to make their exit. 

Eugene assumed an amiable expression. 

"Madame, " he began, "I hastened to call upon you----"

He stopped short. The door opened, and the owner of the tilburysuddenly appeared. He had left his hat outside, and did not greet theCountess; he looked meditatively at Rastignac, and held out his handto Maxime with a cordial "Good morning, " that astonished Eugene not alittle. The young provincial did not understand the amenities of atriple alliance. 

"M. De Restaud, " said the Countess, introducing her husband to the lawstudent. 

Eugene bowed profoundly. 

"This gentleman, " she continued, presenting Eugene to her husband, "isM. De Rastignac; he is related to Mme. La Vicomtesse de Beauseantthrough the Marcillacs; I had the pleasure of meeting him at her lastball. "

_Related to Mme. La Vicomtesse de Beauseant through the Marcillacs!_These words, on which the countess threw ever so slight an emphasis, by reason of the pride that the mistress of a house takes in showingthat she only receives people of distinction as visitors in her house, produced a magical effect. The Count's stiff manner relaxed at once ashe returned the student's bow. 

"Delighted to have an opportunity of making your acquaintance, " hesaid. 

Maxime de Trailles himself gave Eugene an uneasy glance, and suddenlydropped his insolent manner. The mighty name had all the power of afairy's wand; those closed compartments in the southern brain flewopen again; Rastignac's carefully drilled faculties returned. It wasas if a sudden light had pierced the obscurity of this upper world ofParis, and he began to see, though everything was indistinct as yet. Mme. Vauquer's lodging-house and Father Goriot were very far remotefrom his thoughts. 

"I thought that the Marcillacs were extinct, " the Comte de Restaudsaid, addressing Eugene. 

"Yes, they are extinct, " answered the law student. "My great-uncle, the Chevalier de Rastignac, married the heiress of the Marcillacfamily. They had only one daughter, who married the Marechal deClarimbault, Mme. De Beauseant's grandfather on the mother's side. Weare the younger branch of the family, and the younger branch is allthe poorer because my great-uncle, the Vice-Admiral, lost all that hehad in the King's service. The Government during the Revolutionrefused to admit our claims when the Compagnie des Indes wasliquidated. "

"Was not your great-uncle in command of the _Vengeur_ before 1789?"

"Yes. "

"Then he would be acquainted with my grandfather, who commanded the_Warwick_. "

Maxime looked at Mme. De Restaud and shrugged his shoulders, as whoshould say, "If he is going to discuss nautical matters with thatfellow, it is all over with us. " Anastasie understood the glance thatM. De Trailles gave her. With a woman's admirable tact, she began tosmile and said:

"Come with me, Maxime; I have something to say to you. We will leaveyou two gentlemen to sail in company on board the _Warwick_ and the_Vengeur_. "

She rose to her feet and signed to Maxime to follow her, mirth andmischief in her whole attitude, and the two went in the direction ofthe boudoir. The _morganatic_ couple (to use a convenient Germanexpression which has no exact equivalent) had reached the door, whenthe Count interrupted himself in his talk with Eugene. 

"Anastasie!" he cried pettishly, "just stay a moment, dear; you knowvery well that----"

"I am coming back in a minute, " she interrupted; "I have a commissionfor Maxime to execute, and I want to tell him about it. "

She came back almost immediately. She had noticed the inflection inher husband's voice, and knew that it would not be safe to retire tothe boudoir; like all women who are compelled to study their husbands'characters in order to have their own way, and whose business it is toknow exactly how far they can go without endangering a goodunderstanding, she was very careful to avoid petty collisions indomestic life. It was Eugene who had brought about this untowardincident; so the Countess looked at Maxime and indicated the lawstudent with an air of exasperation. M. De Trailles addressed theCount, the Countess, and Eugene with the pointed remark, "You arebusy, I do not want to interrupt you; good-day, " and he went. 

"Just wait a moment, Maxime!" the Count called after him. 

"Come and dine with us, " said the Countess, leaving Eugene and herhusband together once more. She followed Maxime into the littledrawing-room, where they sat together sufficiently long to feel surethat Rastignac had taken his leave. 

The law student heard their laughter, and their voices, and the pausesin their talk; he grew malicious, exerted his conversational powersfor M. De Restaud, flattered him, and drew him into discussions, tothe end that he might see the Countess again and discover the natureof her relations with Father Goriot. This Countess with a husband anda lover, for Maxime clearly was her lover, was a mystery. What was thesecret tie that bound her to the old tradesman? This mystery he meantto penetrate, hoping by its means to gain a sovereign ascendency overthis fair typical Parisian. 

"Anastasie!" the Count called again to his wife. 

"Poor Maxime!" she said, addressing the young man. "Come, we mustresign ourselves. This evening----"

"I hope, Nasie, " he said in her ear, "that you will give orders not toadmit that youngster, whose eyes light up like live coals when helooks at you. He will make you a declaration, and compromise you, andthen you will compel me to kill him. "

"Are you mad, Maxime?" she said. "A young lad of a student is, on thecontrary, a capital lightning-conductor; is not that so? Of course, Imean to make Restaud furiously jealous of him. "

Maxime burst out laughing, and went out, followed by the Countess, whostood at the window to watch him into his carriage; he shook his whip, and made his horse prance. She only returned when the great gate hadbeen closed after him. 

"What do you think, dear?" cried the Count, her husband, "thisgentleman's family estate is not far from Verteuil, on the Charente;his great-uncle and my grandfather were acquainted. "

"Delighted to find that we have acquaintances in common, " said theCountess, with a preoccupied manner. 

"More than you think, " said Eugene, in a low voice. 

"What do you mean?" she asked quickly. 

"Why, only just now, " said the student, "I saw a gentleman go out atthe gate, Father Goriot, my next door neighbor in the house where I amlodging. "

At the sound of this name, and the prefix that embellished it, theCount, who was stirring the fire, let the tongs fall as though theyhad burned his fingers, and rose to his feet. 

"Sir, " he cried, "you might have called him 'Monsieur Goriot'!"

The Countess turned pale at first at the sight of her husband'svexation, then she reddened; clearly she was embarrassed, her answerwas made in a tone that she tried to make natural, and with an air ofassumed carelessness:

"You could not know any one who is dearer to us both . . . "

She broke off, glanced at the piano as if some fancy had crossed hermind, and asked, "Are you fond of music, M. De Rastignac?"

"Exceedingly, " answered Eugene, flushing, and disconcerted by a dimsuspicion that he had somehow been guilty of a clumsy piece of folly. 

"Do you sing?" she cried, going to the piano, and, sitting downbefore it, she swept her fingers over the keyboard from end to end. R-r-r-rah!

"No, madame. "

The Comte de Restaud walked to and fro. 

"That is a pity; you are without one great means of success. --_Ca-ro, ca-a-ro, ca-a-a-ro, non du-bi-ta-re_, " sang the Countess. 

Eugene had a second time waved a magic wand when he uttered Goriot'sname, but the effect seemed to be entirely opposite to that producedby the formula "related to Mme. De Beauseant. " His position was notunlike that of some visitor permitted as a favor to inspect a privatecollection of curiosities, when by inadvertence he comes intocollision with a glass case full of sculptured figures, and three orfour heads, imperfectly secured, fall at the shock. He wished theearth would open and swallow him. Mme. De Restaud's expression wasreserved and chilly, her eyes had grown indifferent, and sedulouslyavoided meeting those of the unlucky student of law. 

"Madame, " he said, "you wish to talk with M. De Restaud; permit me towish you good-day----"

The Countess interrupted him by a gesture, saying hastily, "Wheneveryou come to see us, both M. De Restaud and I shall be delighted to seeyou. "

Eugene made a profound bow and took his leave, followed by M. DeRestaud, who insisted, in spite of his remonstrances, on accompanyinghim into the hall. 

"Neither your mistress nor I are at home to that gentleman when hecalls, " the Count said to Maurice. 

As Eugene set foot on the steps, he saw that it was raining. 

"Come, " said he to himself, "somehow I have just made a mess of it, Ido not know how. And now I am going to spoil my hat and coat into thebargain. I ought to stop in my corner, grind away at law, and neverlook to be anything but a boorish country magistrate. How can I gointo society, when to manage properly you want a lot of cabs, varnished boots, gold watch chains, and all sorts of things; you haveto wear white doeskin gloves that cost six francs in the morning, andprimrose kid gloves every evening? A fig for that old humbug of aGoriot!"

When he reached the street door, the driver of a hackney coach, whohad probably just deposited a wedding party at their door, and askednothing better than a chance of making a little money for himselfwithout his employer's knowledge, saw that Eugene had no umbrella, remarked his black coat, white waistcoat, yellow gloves, and varnishedboots, and stopped and looked at him inquiringly. Eugene, in the blinddesperation that drives a young man to plunge deeper and deeper intoan abyss, as if he might hope to find a fortunate issue in its lowestdepths, nodded in reply to the driver's signal, and stepped into thecab; a few stray petals of orange blossom and scraps of wire borewitness to its recent occupation by a wedding party. 

"Where am I to drive, sir?" demanded the man, who, by this time, hadtaken off his white gloves. 

"Confound it!" Eugene said to himself, "I am in for it now, and atleast I will not spend cab-hire for nothing!--Drive to the HotelBeauseant, " he said aloud. 

"Which?" asked the man, a portentous word that reduced Eugene toconfusion. This young man of fashion, species incerta, did not knowthat there were two Hotels Beauseant; he was not aware how rich he wasin relations who did not care about him. 

"The Vicomte de Beauseant, Rue----"

"De Grenelle, " interrupted the driver, with a jerk of his head. "Yousee, there are the hotels of the Marquis and Comte de Beauseant in theRue Saint-Dominique, " he added, drawing up the step. 

"I know all about that, " said Eugene, severely. --"Everybody islaughing at me to-day, it seems!" he said to himself, as he depositedhis hat on the opposite seat. "This escapade will cost me a king'sransom, but, at any rate, I shall call on my so-called cousin in athoroughly aristocratic fashion. Goriot has cost me ten francsalready, the old scoundrel. My word! I will tell Mme. De Beauseantabout my adventure; perhaps it may amuse her. Doubtless she will knowthe secret of the criminal relation between that handsome woman andthe old rat without a tail. It would be better to find favor in mycousin's eyes than to come in contact with that shameless woman, whoseems to me to have very expensive tastes. Surely the beautifulVicomtesse's personal interest would turn the scale for me, when themere mention of her name produces such an effect. Let us look higher. If you set yourself to carry the heights of heaven, you must faceGod. "

The innumerable thoughts that surged through his brain might be summedup in these phrases. He grew calmer, and recovered something of hisassurance as he watched the falling rain. He told himself that thoughhe was about to squander two of the precious five-franc pieces thatremained to him, the money was well laid out in preserving his coat, boots, and hat; and his cabman's cry of "Gate, if you please, " almostput him in spirits. A Swiss, in scarlet and gold, appeared, the greatdoor groaned on its hinges, and Rastignac, with sweet satisfaction, beheld his equipage pass under the archway and stop before the flightof steps beneath the awning. The driver, in a blue-and-red greatcoat, dismounted and let down the step. As Eugene stepped out of the cab, heheard smothered laughter from the peristyle. Three or four lackeyswere making merry over the festal appearance of the vehicle. Inanother moment the law student was enlightened as to the cause oftheir hilarity; he felt the full force of the contrast between hisequipage and one of the smartest broughams in Paris; a coachman, withpowdered hair, seemed to find it difficult to hold a pair of spiritedhorses, who stood chafing the bit. In Mme. De Restaud's courtyard, inthe Chaussee d'Antin, he had seen the neat turnout of a young man ofsix-and-twenty; in the Faubourg Saint-Germain he found the luxuriousequipage of a man of rank; thirty thousand francs would not havepurchased it. 

"Who can be here?" said Eugene to himself. He began to understand, though somewhat tardily, that he must not expect to find many women inParis who were not already appropriated, and that the capture of oneof these queens would be likely to cost something more than bloodshed. "Confound it all! I expect my cousin also has her Maxime. "

He went up the steps, feeling that he was a blighted being. The glassdoor was opened for him; the servants were as solemn as jackassesunder the curry comb. So far, Eugene had only been in the ballroom onthe ground floor of the Hotel Beauseant; the fete had followed soclosely on the invitation, that he had not had time to call on hiscousin, and had therefore never seen Mme. De Beauseant's apartments;he was about to behold for the first time a great lady among thewonderful and elegant surroundings that reveal her character andreflect her daily life. He was the more curious, because Mme. DeRestaud's drawing-room had provided him with a standard of comparison. 

At half-past four the Vicomtesse de Beauseant was visible. Fiveminutes earlier she would not have received her cousin, but Eugeneknew nothing of the recognized routine of various houses in Paris. Hewas conducted up the wide, white-painted, crimson-carpeted staircase, between the gilded balusters and masses of flowering plants, to Mme. De Beauseant's apartments. He did not know the rumor current aboutMme. De Beauseant, one of the biographies told, with variations, inwhispers, every evening in the salons of Paris. 

For three years past her name had been spoken of in connection withthat of one of the most wealthy and distinguished Portuguese nobles, the Marquis d'Ajuda-Pinto. It was one of those innocent _liaisons_ whichpossess so much charm for the two thus attached to each other thatthey find the presence of a third person intolerable. The Vicomte deBeauseant, therefore, had himself set an example to the rest of theworld by respecting, with as good a grace as might be, this morganaticunion. Any one who came to call on the Vicomtesse in the early days ofthis friendship was sure to find the Marquis d'Ajuda-Pinto there. As, under the circumstances, Mme. De Beauseant could not very well shuther door against these visitors, she gave them such a cold reception, and showed so much interest in the study of the ceiling, that no onecould fail to understand how much he bored her; and when it becameknown in Paris that Mme. De Beauseant was bored by callers between twoand four o'clock, she was left in perfect solitude during thatinterval. She went to the Bouffons or to the Opera with M. DeBeauseant and M. D'Ajuda-Pinto; and M. De Beauseant, like a well-bredman of the world, always left his wife and the Portuguese as soon ashe had installed them. But M. D'Ajuda-Pinto must marry, and a Mlle. DeRochefide was the young lady. In the whole fashionable world there wasbut one person who as yet knew nothing of the arrangement, and thatwas Mme. De Beauseant. Some of her friends had hinted at thepossibility, and she had laughed at them, believing that envy hadprompted those ladies to try to make mischief. And now, though thebans were about to be published, and although the handsome Portuguesehad come that day to break the news to the Vicomtesse, he had notfound courage as yet to say one word about his treachery. How was it?Nothing is doubtless more difficult than the notification of anultimatum of this kind. There are men who feel more at their ease whenthey stand up before another man who threatens their lives with swordor pistol than in the presence of a woman who, after two hours oflamentations and reproaches, falls into a dead swoon and requiressalts. At this moment, therefore, M. D'Ajuda-Pinto was on thorns, andanxious to take his leave. He told himself that in some way or otherthe news would reach Mme. De Beauseant; he would write, it would bemuch better to do it by letter, and not to utter the words that shouldstab her to the heart. 

So when the servant announced M. Eugene de Rastignac, the Marquisd'Ajuda-Pinto trembled with joy. To be sure, a loving woman shows evenmore ingenuity in inventing doubts of her lover than in varying themonotony of his happiness; and when she is about to be forsaken, sheinstinctively interprets every gesture as rapidly as Virgil's courserdetected the presence of his companion by snuffing the breeze. It wasimpossible, therefore, that Mme. De Beauseant should not detect thatinvoluntary thrill of satisfaction; slight though it was, it wasappalling in its artlessness. 

Eugene had yet to learn that no one in Paris should present himself inany house without first making himself acquainted with the wholehistory of its owner, and of its owner's wife and family, so that hemay avoid making any of the terrible blunders which in Poland drawforth the picturesque exclamation, "Harness five bullocks to yourcart!" probably because you will need them all to pull you out of thequagmire into which a false step has plunged you. If, down to thepresent day, our language has no name for these conversationaldisasters, it is probably because they are believed to be impossible, the publicity given in Paris to every scandal is so prodigious. Afterthe awkward incident at Mme. De Restaud's, no one but Eugene couldhave reappeared in his character of bullock-driver in Mme. DeBeauseant's drawing-room. But if Mme. De Restaud and M. De Trailleshad found him horribly in the way, M. D'Ajuda hailed his coming withrelief. 

"Good-bye, " said the Portuguese, hurrying to the door, as Eugene madehis entrance into a dainty little pink-and-gray drawing-room, whereluxury seemed nothing more than good taste. 

"Until this evening, " said Mme. De Beauseant, turning her head to givethe Marquis a glance. "We are going to the Bouffons, are we not?"

"I cannot go, " he said, with his fingers on the door handle. 

Mme. De Beauseant rose and beckoned to him to return. She did not paythe slightest attention to Eugene, who stood there dazzled by thesparkling marvels around him; he began to think that this was somestory out of the Arabian Nights made real, and did not know where tohide himself, when the woman before him seemed to be unconscious ofhis existence. The Vicomtesse had raised the forefinger of her righthand, and gracefully signed to the Marquis to seat himself beside her. The Marquis felt the imperious sway of passion in her gesture; he cameback towards her. Eugene watched him, not without a feeling of envy. 

"That is the owner of the brougham!" he said to himself. "But is itnecessary to have a pair of spirited horses, servants in livery, andtorrents of gold to draw a glance from a woman here in Paris?"

The demon of luxury gnawed at his heart, greed burned in his veins, his throat was parched with the thirst of gold. 

He had a hundred and thirty francs every quarter. His father, mother, brothers, sisters, and aunt did not spend two hundred francs a monthamong them. This swift comparison between his present condition andthe aims he had in view helped to benumb his faculties. 

"Why not?" the Vicomtesse was saying, as she smiled at the Portuguese. "Why cannot you come to the Italiens?"

"Affairs! I am to dine with the English Ambassador. "

"Throw him over. "

When a man once enters on a course of deception, he is compelled toadd lie to lie. M. D'Ajuda therefore said, smiling, "Do you lay yourcommands on me?"

"Yes, certainly. "

"That was what I wanted to have you say to me, " he answered, dissembling his feelings in a glance which would have reassured anyother woman. 

He took the Vicomtesse's hand, kissed it, and went. 

Eugene ran his fingers through his hair, and constrained himself tobow. He thought that now Mme. De Beauseant would give him herattention; but suddenly she sprang forward, rushed to a window in thegallery, and watched M. D'Ajuda step into his carriage; she listenedto the order that he gave, and heard the Swiss repeat it to thecoachman:

"To M. De Rochefide's house. "

Those words, and the way in which M. D'Ajuda flung himself back in thecarriage, were like a lightning flash and a thunderbolt for her; shewalked back again with a deadly fear gnawing at her heart. The mostterrible catastrophes only happen among the heights. The Vicomtessewent to her own room, sat down at a table, and took up a sheet ofdainty notepaper. 

 "When, instead of dining with the English Ambassador, " she wrote, "you go to the Rochefides, you owe me an explanation, which I am waiting to hear. "

She retraced several of the letters, for her hand was trembling sothat they were indistinct; then she signed the note with an initial Cfor "Claire de Bourgogne, " and rang the bell. 

"Jacques, " she said to the servant, who appeared immediately, "takethis note to M. De Rochefide's house at half-past seven and ask forthe Marquis d'Ajuda. If M. D'Ajuda is there, leave the note withoutwaiting for an answer; if he is not there, bring the note back to me. "

"Madame la Vicomtess, there is a visitor in the drawing-room. "

"Ah! yes, of course, " she said, opening the door. 

Eugene was beginning to feel very uncomfortable, but at last theVicomtesse appeared; she spoke to him, and the tremulous tones of hervoice vibrated through his heart. 

"Pardon me, monsieur, " she said; "I had a letter to write. Now I amquite at liberty. "

She scarcely knew what she was saying, for even as she spoke shethought, "Ah! he means to marry Mlle. De Rochefide? But is he stillfree? This evening the marriage shall be broken off, or else . . . Butbefore to-morrow I shall know. "

"Cousin . . . " the student replied. 

"Eh?" said the Countess, with an insolent glance that sent a coldshudder through Eugene; he understood what that "Eh?" meant; he hadlearned a great deal in three hours, and his wits were on the alert. He reddened:

"Madame . . . " he began; he hesitated a moment, and then went on. "Pardon me; I am in such need of protection that the nearest scrap ofrelationship could do me no harm. "

Mme. De Beauseant smiled but there was sadness in her smile; even nowshe felt forebodings of the coming pain, the air she breathed washeavy with the storm that was about to burst. 

"If you knew how my family are situated, " he went on, "you would loveto play the part of a beneficent fairy godmother who graciously clearsthe obstacles from the path of her protege. "

"Well, cousin, " she said, laughing, "and how can I be of service toyou?"

"But do I know even that? I am distantly related to you, and thisobscure and remote relationship is even now a perfect godsend to me. You have confused my ideas; I cannot remember the things that I meantto say to you. I know no one else here in Paris. . . . Ah! if I couldonly ask you to counsel me, ask you to look upon me as a poor childwho would fain cling to the hem of your dress, who would lay down hislife for you. "

"Would you kill a man for me?"

"Two, " said Eugene. 

"You, child. Yes, you are a child, " she said, keeping back the tearsthat came to her eyes; "you would love sincerely. "

"Oh!" he cried, flinging up his head. 

The audacity of the student's answer interested the Vicomtesse in him. The southern brain was beginning to scheme for the first time. BetweenMme. De Restaud's blue boudoir and Mme. De Beauseant's rose-coloreddrawing-room he had made a three years' advance in a kind of law whichis not a recognized study in Paris, although it is a sort of higherjurisprudence, and, when well understood, is a highroad to success ofevery kind. 

"Ah! that is what I meant to say!" said Eugene. "I met Mme. De Restaudat your ball, and this morning I went to see her. 

"You must have been very much in the way, " said Mme. De Beauseant, smiling as she spoke. 

"Yes, indeed. I am a novice, and my blunders will set every oneagainst me, if you do not give me your counsel. I believe that inParis it is very difficult to meet with a young, beautiful, andwealthy woman of fashion who would be willing to teach me, what youwomen can explain so well--life. I shall find a M. De Trailleseverywhere. So I have come to you to ask you to give me a key to apuzzle, to entreat you to tell me what sort of blunder I made thismorning. I mentioned an old man----"

"Madame la Duchess de Langeais, " Jacques cut the student short; Eugenegave expression to his intense annoyance by a gesture. 

"If you mean to succeed, " said the Vicomtesse in a low voice, "in thefirst place you must not be so demonstrative. "

"Ah! good morning, dear, " she continued, and rising and crossing theroom, she grasped the Duchess' hands as affectionately as if they hadbeen sisters; the Duchess responded in the prettiest and most graciousway. 

"Two intimate friends!" said Rastignac to himself. "Henceforward Ishall have two protectresses; those two women are great friends, nodoubt, and this newcomer will doubtless interest herself in herfriend's cousin. "

"To what happy inspiration do I owe this piece of good fortune, dearAntoinette?" asked Mme. De Beauseant. 

"Well, I saw M. D'Ajuda-Pinto at M. De Rochefide's door, so I thoughtthat if I came I should find you alone. "

Mme. De Beauseant's mouth did not tighten, her color did not rise, herexpression did not alter, or rather, her brow seemed to clear as theDuchess uttered those deadly words. 

"If I had known that you were engaged----" the speaker added, glancingat Eugene. 

"This gentleman is M. Eugene de Rastignac, one of my cousins, " saidthe Vicomtesse. "Have you any news of General de Montriveau?" shecontinued. "Serizy told me yesterday that he never goes anywhere now;has he been to see you to-day?"

It was believed that the Duchess was desperately in love with M. DeMontriveau, and that he was a faithless lover; she felt the questionin her very heart, and her face flushed as she answered:

"He was at the Elysee yesterday. "

"In attendance?"

"Claire, " returned the Duchess, and hatred overflowed in the glancesshe threw at Mme. De Beauseant; "of course you know that M. D'Ajuda-Pinto is going to marry Mlle. De Rochefide; the bans will bepublished to-morrow. "

This thrust was too cruel; the Vicomtesse's face grew white, but sheanswered, laughing, "One of those rumors that fools amuse themselveswith. What should induce M. D'Ajuda to take one of the noblest namesin Portugal to the Rochefides? The Rochefides were only ennobledyesterday. "

"But Bertha will have two hundred thousand livres a year, they say. "

"M. D'Ajuda is too wealthy to marry for money. "

"But, my dear, Mlle. De Rochefide is a charming girl. "

"Indeed?"

"And, as a matter of fact, he is dining with them to-day; the thing issettled. It is very surprising to me that you should know so littleabout it. "

Mme. De Beauseant turned to Rastignac. "What was the blunder that youmade, monsieur?" she asked. "The poor boy is only just launched intothe world, Antoinette, so that he understands nothing of all this thatwe are speaking of. Be merciful to him, and let us finish our talkto-morrow. Everything will be announced to-morrow, you know, and yourkind informal communication can be accompanied by officialconfirmation. "

The Duchess gave Eugene one of those insolent glances that measure aman from head to foot, and leave him crushed and annihilated. 

"Madame, I have unwittingly plunged a dagger into Mme. De Restaud'sheart; unwittingly--therein lies my offence, " said the student of law, whose keen brain had served him sufficiently well, for he had detectedthe biting epigrams that lurked beneath this friendly talk. "Youcontinue to receive, possibly you fear, those who know the amount ofpain that they deliberately inflict; but a clumsy blunderer who has noidea how deeply he wounds is looked upon as a fool who does not knowhow to make use of his opportunities, and every one despises him. "

Mme. De Beauseant gave the student a glance, one of those glances inwhich a great soul can mingle dignity and gratitude. It was like balmto the law student, who was still smarting under the Duchess' insolentscrutiny; she had looked at him as an auctioneer might look at somearticle to appraise its value. 

"Imagine, too, that I had just made some progress with the Comte deRestaud; for I should tell you, madame, " he went on, turning to theDuchess with a mixture of humility and malice in his manner, "that asyet I am only a poor devil of a student, very much alone in the world, and very poor----"

"You should not tell us that, M. De Rastignac. We women never careabout anything that no one else will take. "

"Bah!" said Eugene. "I am only two-and-twenty, and I must make up mymind to the drawbacks of my time of life. Besides, I am confessing mysins, and it would be impossible to kneel in a more charmingconfessional; you commit your sins in one drawing-room, and receiveabsolution for them in another. "

The Duchess' expression grew colder, she did not like the flippanttone of these remarks, and showed that she considered them to be inbad taste by turning to the Vicomtesse with--"This gentleman has onlyjust come----"

Mme. De Beauseant began to laugh outright at her cousin and at theDuchess both. 

"He has only just come to Paris, dear, and is in search of some onewho will give him lessons in good taste. "

"Mme. La Duchesse, " said Eugene, "is it not natural to wish to beinitiated into the mysteries which charm us?" ("Come, now, " he said tohimself, "my language is superfinely elegant, I'm sure. ")

"But Mme. De Restaud is herself, I believe, M. De Trailles' pupil, "said the Duchess. 

"Of that I had no idea, madame, " answered the law student, "so Irashly came between them. In fact, I got on very well with the lady'shusband, and his wife tolerated me for a time until I took it into myhead to tell them that I knew some one of whom I had just caught aglimpse as he went out by a back staircase, a man who had given theCountess a kiss at the end of a passage. "

"Who was it?" both women asked together. 

"An old man who lives at the rate of two louis a month in the FaubourgSaint-Marceau, where I, a poor student, lodge likewise. He is a trulyunfortunate creature, everybody laughs at him--we all call him 'FatherGoriot. '"

"Why, child that you are, " cried the Vicomtesse, "Mme. De Restaud wasa Mlle. Goriot!"

"The daughter of a vermicelli manufacturer, " the Duchess added; "andwhen the little creature went to Court, the daughter of a pastry-cookwas presented on the same day. Do you remember, Claire? The King beganto laugh, and made some joke in Latin about flour. People--what wasit?--people----"

"_Ejusdem farinoe_, " said Eugene. 

"Yes, that was it, " said the Duchess. 

"Oh! is that her father?" the law student continued, aghast. 

"Yes, certainly; the old man had two daughters; he dotes on them, soto speak, though they will scarcely acknowledge him. "

"Didn't the second daughter marry a banker with a German name?" theVicomtesse asked, turning to Mme. De Langeais, "a Baron de Nucingen?And her name is Delphine, is it not? Isn't she a fair-haired woman whohas a side-box at the Opera? She comes sometimes to the Bouffons, andlaughs loudly to attract attention. "

The Duchess smiled and said:

"I wonder at you, dear. Why do you take so much interest in people ofthat kind? One must have been as madly in love as Restaud was, to beinfatuated with Mlle. Anastasie and her flour sacks. Oh! he will notfind her a good bargain! She is in M. De Trailles' hands, and he willruin her. "

"And they do not acknowledge their father!" Eugene repeated. 

"Oh! well, yes, their father, the father, a father, " replied theVicomtesse, "a kind father who gave them each five or six hundredthousand francs, it is said, to secure their happiness by marryingthem well; while he only kept eight or ten thousand livres a year forhimself, thinking that his daughters would always be his daughters, thinking that in them he would live his life twice over again, that intheir houses he should find two homes, where he would be loved andlooked up to, and made much of. And in two years' time both hissons-in-law had turned him out of their houses as if he were oneof the lowest outcasts. "

Tears came into Eugene's eyes. He was still under the spell ofyouthful beliefs, he had just left home, pure and sacred feelings hadbeen stirred within him, and this was his first day on the battlefieldof civilization in Paris. Genuine feeling is so infectious that for amoment the three looked at each other in silence. 

"_Eh, mon Dieu!_" said Mme. De Langeais; "yes, it seems very horrible, and yet we see such things every day. Is there not a reason for it?Tell me, dear, have you ever really thought what a son-in-law is? Ason-in-law is the man for whom we bring up, you and I, a dear littleone, bound to us very closely in innumerable ways; for seventeen yearsshe will be the joy of her family, its 'white soul, ' as Lamartinesays, and suddenly she will become its scourge. When HE comes andtakes her from us, his love from the very beginning is like an axelaid to the root of all the old affection in our darling's heart, andall the ties that bound her to her family are severed. But yesterdayour little daughter thought of no one but her mother and father, as wehad no thought that was not for her; by to-morrow she will have becomea hostile stranger. The tragedy is always going on under our eyes. Onthe one hand you see a father who has sacrificed himself to his son, and his daughter-in-law shows him the last degree of insolence. On theother hand, it is the son-in-law who turns his wife's mother out ofthe house. I sometimes hear it said that there is nothing dramaticabout society in these days; but the Drama of the Son-in-law isappalling, to say nothing of our marriages, which have come to be verypoor farces. I can explain how it all came about in the old vermicellimaker's case. I think I recollect that Foriot----"

"Goriot, madame. "

"Yes, that Moriot was once President of his Section during theRevolution. He was in the secret of the famous scarcity of grain, andlaid the foundation of his fortune in those days by selling flour forten times its cost. He had as much flour as he wanted. Mygrandmother's steward sold him immense quantities. No doubt Noriotshared the plunder with the Committee of Public Salvation, as thatsort of person always did. I recollect the steward telling mygrandmother that she might live at Grandvilliers in complete security, because her corn was as good as a certificate of civism. Well, then, this Loriot, who sold corn to those butchers, has never had but onepassion, they say--he idolizes his daughters. He settled one of themunder Restaud's roof, and grafted the other into the Nucingen familytree, the Baron de Nucingen being a rich banker who had turnedRoyalist. You can quite understand that so long as Bonaparte wasEmperor, the two sons-in-law could manage to put up with the oldNinety-three; but after the restoration of the Bourbons, M. De Restaudfelt bored by the old man's society, and the banker was still moretired of it. His daughters were still fond of him; they wanted 'tokeep the goat and the cabbage, ' so they used to see Joriot wheneverthere was no one there, under pretence of affection. 'Come to-day, papa, we shall have you all to ourselves, and that will be muchnicer!' and all that sort of thing. As for me, dear, I believe thatlove has second-sight: poor Ninety-three; his heart must have bled. Hesaw that his daughters were ashamed of him, that if they loved theirhusbands his visits must make mischief. So he immolated himself. Hemade the sacrifice because he was a father; he went into voluntaryexile. His daughters were satisfied, so he thought that he had donethe best thing he could; but it was a family crime, and father anddaughters were accomplices. You see this sort of thing everywhere. What could this old Doriot have been but a splash of mud in hisdaughters' drawing-rooms? He would only have been in the way, andbored other people, besides being bored himself. And this thathappened between father and daughters may happen to the prettiestwoman in Paris and the man she loves the best; if her love growstiresome, he will go; he will descend to the basest trickery to leaveher. It is the same with all love and friendship. Our heart is atreasury; if you pour out all its wealth at once, you are bankrupt. Weshow no more mercy to the affection that reveals its utmost extentthan we do to another kind of prodigal who has not a penny left. Theirfather had given them all he had. For twenty years he had given hiswhole heart to them; then, one day, he gave them all his fortune too. The lemon was squeezed; the girls left the rest in the gutter. "

"The world is very base, " said the Vicomtesse, plucking at the threadsof her shawl. She did not raise her head as she spoke; the words thatMme. De Langeais had meant for her in the course of her story had cuther to the quick. 

"Base? Oh, no, " answered the Duchess; "the world goes its own way, that is all. If I speak in this way, it is only to show that I am notduped by it. I think as you do, " she said, pressing the Vicomtesse'shand. "The world is a slough; let us try to live on the heights aboveit. "

She rose to her feet and kissed Mme. De Beauseant on the forehead asshe said: "You look very charming to-day, dear. I have never seen sucha lovely color in your cheeks before. "

Then she went out with a slight inclination of the head to the cousin. 

"Father Goriot is sublime!" said Eugene to himself, as he rememberedhow he had watched his neighbor work the silver vessel into ashapeless mass that night. 

Mme. De Beauseant did not hear him; she was absorbed in her ownthoughts. For several minutes the silence remained unbroken till thelaw student became almost paralyzed with embarrassment, and wasequally afraid to go or stay or speak a word. 

"The world is basely ungrateful and ill-natured, " said the Vicomtesseat last. "No sooner does a trouble befall you than a friend is readyto bring the tidings and to probe your heart with the point of adagger while calling on you to admire the handle. Epigrams andsarcasms already! Ah! I will defend myself!"

She raised her head like the great lady that she was, and lightningsflashed from her proud eyes. 

"Ah!" she said, as she saw Eugene, "are you there?"

"Still, " he said piteously. 

"Well, then, M. De Rastignac, deal with the world as it deserves. Youare determined to succeed? I will help you. You shall sound the depthsof corruption in woman; you shall measure the extent of man's pitifulvanity. Deeply as I am versed in such learning, there were pages inthe book of life that I had not read. Now I know all. The morecold-blooded your calculations, the further you will go. Strikeruthlessly; you will be feared. Men and women for you must be nothingmore than post-horses; take a fresh relay, and leave the last to dropby the roadside; in this way you will reach the goal of your ambition. You will be nothing here, you see, unless a woman interests herself inyou; and she must be young and wealthy, and a woman of the world. Yet, if you have a heart, lock it carefully away like a treasure; do notlet any one suspect it, or you will be lost; you would cease to be theexecutioner, you would take the victim's place. And if ever you shouldlove, never let your secret escape you! Trust no one until you arevery sure of the heart to which you open your heart. Learn to mistrustevery one; take every precaution for the sake of the love which doesnot exist as yet. Listen, Miguel"--the name slipped from her sonaturally that she did not notice her mistake--"there is somethingstill more appalling than the ingratitude of daughters who have castoff their old father and wish that he were dead, and that is a rivalrybetween two sisters. Restaud comes of a good family, his wife has beenreceived into their circle; she has been presented at court; and hersister, her wealthy sister, Mme. Delphine de Nucingen, the wife of agreat capitalist, is consumed with envy, and ready to die of spleen. There is gulf set between the sisters--indeed, they are sisters nolonger--the two women who refuse to acknowledge their father do notacknowledge each other. So Mme. De Nucingen would lap up all the mudthat lies between the Rue Saint-Lazare and the Rue de Grenelle to gainadmittance to my salon. She fancied that she should gain her endthrough de Marsay; she has made herself de Marsay's slave, and shebores him. De Marsay cares very little about her. If you willintroduce her to me, you will be her darling, her Benjamin; she willidolize you. If, after that, you can love her, do so; if not, make heruseful. I will ask her to come once or twice to one of my greatcrushes, but I will never receive her here in the morning. I will bowto her when I see her, and that will be quite sufficient. You haveshut the Comtesse de Restaud's door against you by mentioning FatherGoriot's name. Yes, my good friend, you may call at her house twentytimes, and every time out of the twenty you will find that she is notat home. The servants have their orders, and will not admit you. Verywell, then, now let Father Goriot gain the right of entry into hersister's house for you. The beautiful Mme. De Nucingen will give thesignal for a battle. As soon as she singles you out, other women willbegin to lose their heads about you, and her enemies and rivals andintimate friends will all try to take you from her. There are womenwho will fall in love with a man because another woman has chosen him;like the city madams, poor things, who copy our millinery, and hopethereby to acquire our manners. You will have a success, and in Parissuccess is everything; it is the key of power. If the women credit youwith wit and talent, the men will follow suit so long as you do notundeceive them yourself. There will be nothing you may not aspire to;you will go everywhere, and you will find out what the world is--anassemblage of fools and knaves. But you must be neither the one northe other. I am giving you my name like Ariadne's clue of thread totake with you into the labyrinth; make no unworthy use of it, " shesaid, with a queenly glance and curve of her throat; "give it back tome unsullied. And now, go; leave me. We women also have our battles tofight. "

"And if you should ever need some one who would gladly set a match toa train for you----"

"Well?" she asked. 

He tapped his heart, smiled in answer to his cousin's smile, and went. 

It was five o'clock, and Eugene was hungry; he was afraid lest heshould not be in time for dinner, a misgiving which made him feel thatit was pleasant to be borne so quickly across Paris. This sensation ofphysical comfort left his mind free to grapple with the thoughts thatassailed him. A mortification usually sends a young man of his ageinto a furious rage; he shakes his fist at society, and vows vengeancewhen his belief in himself is shaken. Just then Rastignac wasoverwhelmed by the words, "You have shut the Countess' door againstyou. "

"I shall call!" he said to himself, "and if Mme. De Beauseant isright, if I never find her at home--I . . . Well, Mme. De Restaudshall meet me in every salon in Paris. I will learn to fence and havesome pistol practice, and kill that Maxime of hers!"

"And money?" cried an inward monitor. "How about money, where is thatto come from?" And all at once the wealth displayed in the Countess deRestaud's drawing-room rose before his eyes. That was the luxury whichGoriot's daughter had loved too well, the gilding, the ostentatioussplendor, the unintelligent luxury of the parvenu, the riotousextravagance of a courtesan. Then the attractive vision suddenly wentunder an eclipse as he remembered the stately grandeur of the Hotel deBeauseant. As his fancy wandered among these lofty regions in thegreat world of Paris, innumerable dark thoughts gathered in his heart;his ideas widened, and his conscience grew more elastic. He saw theworld as it is; saw how the rich lived beyond the jurisdiction of lawand public opinion, and found in success the _ultima ratio mundi_. 

"Vautrin is right, success is virtue!" he said to himself. 

Arrived in the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve, he rushed up to his roomfor ten francs wherewith to satisfy the demands of the cabman, andwent in to dinner. He glanced round the squalid room, saw the eighteenpoverty-stricken creatures about to feed like cattle in their stalls, and the sight filled him with loathing. The transition was too sudden, and the contrast was so violent that it could not but act as apowerful stimulant; his ambition developed and grew beyond all socialbounds. On the one hand, he beheld a vision of social life in its mostcharming and refined forms, of quick-pulsed youth, of fair, impassioned faces invested with all the charm of poetry, framed in amarvelous setting of luxury or art; and, on the other hand, he saw asombre picture, the miry verge beyond these faces, in which passionwas extinct and nothing was left of the drama but the cords andpulleys and bare mechanism. Mme. De Beauseant's counsels, the wordsuttered in anger by the forsaken lady, her petulant offer, came to hismind, and poverty was a ready expositor. Rastignac determined to opentwo parallel trenches so as to insure success; he would be a learneddoctor of law and a man of fashion. Clearly he was still a child!Those two lines are asymptotes, and will never meet. 

"You are very dull, my lord Marquis, " said Vautrin, with one of theshrewd glances that seem to read the innermost secrets of anothermind. 

"I am not in the humor to stand jokes from people who call me 'my lordMarquis, '" answered Eugene. "A marquis here in Paris, if he is notthe veriest sham, ought to have a hundred thousand livres a year atleast; and a lodger in the Maison Vauquer is not exactly Fortune'sfavorite. "

Vautrin's glance at Rastignac was half-paternal, half-contemptuous. "Puppy!" it seemed to say; "I should make one mouthful of him!" Thenhe answered:

"You are in a bad humor; perhaps your visit to the beautiful Comtessede Restaud was not a success. "

"She has shut her door against me because I told her that her fatherdined at our table, " cried Rastignac. 

Glances were exchanged all round the room; Father Goriot looked down. 

"You have sent some snuff into my eye, " he said to his neighbor, turning a little aside to rub his hand over his face. 

"Any one who molests Father Goriot will have henceforward to reckonwith me, " said Eugene, looking at the old man's neighbor; "he is worthall the rest of us put together. --I am not speaking of the ladies, " headded, turning in the direction of Mlle. Taillefer. 

Eugene's remarks produced a sensation, and his tone silenced thedinner-table. Vautrin alone spoke. "If you are going to championFather Goriot, and set up for his responsible editor into the bargain, you had need be a crack shot and know how to handle the foils, " hesaid, banteringly. 

"So I intend, " said Eugene. 

"Then you are taking the field to-day?"

"Perhaps, " Rastignac answered. "But I owe no account of myself to anyone, especially as I do not try to find out what other people do of anight. "

Vautrin looked askance at Rastignac. 

"If you do not mean to be deceived by the puppets, my boy, you must gobehind and see the whole show, and not peep through holes in thecurtain. That is enough, " he added, seeing that Eugene was about tofly into a passion. "We can have a little talk whenever you like. "

There was a general feeling of gloom and constraint. Father Goriot wasso deeply dejected by the student's remark that he did not notice thechange in the disposition of his fellow-lodgers, nor know that he hadmet with a champion capable of putting an end to the persecution. 

"Then, M. Goriot sitting there is the father of a countess, " said Mme. Vauquer in a low voice. 

"And of a baroness, " answered Rastignac. 

"That is about all he is capable of, " said Bianchon to Rastignac; "Ihave taken a look at his head; there is only one bump--the bump ofPaternity; he must be an _eternal father_. "

Eugene was too intent on his thoughts to laugh at Bianchon's joke. Hedetermined to profit by Mme. De Beauseant's counsels, and was askinghimself how he could obtain the necessary money. He grew grave. Thewide savannas of the world stretched before his eyes; all things laybefore him, nothing was his. Dinner came to an end, the others went, and he was left in the dining-room. 

"So you have seen my daughter?" Goriot spoke tremulously, and thesound of his voice broke in upon Eugene's dreams. The young man tookthe elder's hand, and looked at him with something like kindness inhis eyes. 

"You are a good and noble man, " he said. "We will have some talk aboutyour daughters by and by. "

He rose without waiting for Goriot's answer, and went to his room. There he wrote the following letter to his mother:--

 "My Dear Mother, --Can you nourish your child from your breast again? I am in a position to make a rapid fortune, but I want twelve hundred francs--I must have them at all costs. Say nothing about this to my father; perhaps he might make objections, and unless I have the money, I may be led to put an end to myself, and so escape the clutches of despair. I will tell you everything when I see you. I will not begin to try to describe my present situation; it would take volumes to put the whole story clearly and fully. I have not been gambling, my kind mother, I owe no one a penny; but if you would preserve the life that you gave me, you must send me the sum I mention. As a matter of fact, I go to see the Vicomtesse de Beauseant; she is using her influence for me; I am obliged to go into society, and I have not a penny to lay out on clean gloves. I can manage to exist on bread and water, or go without food, if need be, but I cannot do without the tools with which they cultivate the vineyards in this country. I must resolutely make up my mind at once to make my way, or stick in the mire for the rest of my days. I know that all your hopes are set on me, and I want to realize them quickly. Sell some of your old jewelry, my kind mother; I will give you other jewels very soon. I know enough of our affairs at home to know all that such a sacrifice means, and you must not think that I would lightly ask you to make it; I should be a monster if I could. You must think of my entreaty as a cry forced from me by imperative necessity. Our whole future lies in the subsidy with which I must begin my first campaign, for life in Paris is one continual battle. If you cannot otherwise procure the whole of the money, and are forced to sell our aunt's lace, tell her that I will send her some still handsomer, " and so forth. 

He wrote to ask each of his sisters for their savings--would theydespoil themselves for him, and keep the sacrifice a secret from thefamily? To his request he knew that they would not fail to respondgladly, and he added to it an appeal to their delicacy by touching thechord of honor that vibrates so loudly in young and high-strungnatures. 

Yet when he had written the letters, he could not help feelingmisgivings in spite of his youthful ambition; his heart beat fast, andhe trembled. He knew the spotless nobleness of the lives buried awayin the lonely manor house; he knew what trouble and what joy hisrequest would cause his sisters, and how happy they would be as theytalked at the bottom of the orchard of that dear brother of theirs inParis. Visions rose before his eyes; a sudden strong light revealedhis sisters secretly counting over their little store, devising somegirlish stratagem by which the money could be sent to him _incognito_, essaying, for the first time in their lives, a piece of deceit thatreached the sublime in its unselfishness. 

"A sister's heart is a diamond for purity, a deep sea of tenderness!"he said to himself. He felt ashamed of those letters. 

What power there must be in the petitions put up by such hearts; howpure the fervor that bears their souls to Heaven in prayer! Whatexquisite joy they would find in self-sacrifice! What a pang for hismother's heart if she could not send him all that he asked for! Andthis noble affection, these sacrifices made at such terrible cost, were to serve as the ladder by which he meant to climb to Delphine deNucingen. A few tears, like the last grains of incense flung upon thesacred alter fire of the hearth, fell from his eyes. He walked up anddown, and despair mingled with his emotion. Father Goriot saw himthrough the half-open door. 

"What is the matter, sir?" he asked from the threshold. 

"Ah! my good neighbor, I am as much a son and brother as you are afather. You do well to fear for the Comtesse Anastasie; there is oneM. Maxime de Trailles, who will be her ruin. "

Father Goriot withdrew, stammering some words, but Eugene failed tocatch their meaning. 

The next morning Rastignac went out to post his letters. Up to thelast moment he wavered and doubted, but he ended by flinging them intothe box. "I shall succeed!" he said to himself. So says the gambler;so says the great captain; but the three words that have been thesalvation of some few, have been the ruin of many more. 

A few days after this Eugene called at Mme. De Restaud's house; shewas not at home. Three times he tried the experiment, and three timeshe found her doors closed against him, though he was careful to choosean hour when M. De Trailles was not there. The Vicomtesse was right. 

The student studied no longer. He put in an appearance at lecturessimply to answer to his name, and after thus attesting his presence, departed forthwith. He had been through a reasoning process familiarto most students. He had seen the advisability of deferring hisstudies to the last moment before going up for his examinations; hemade up his mind to cram his second and third years' work into thethird year, when he meant to begin to work in earnest, and to completehis studies in law with one great effort. In the meantime he hadfifteen months in which to navigate the ocean of Paris, to spread thenets and set the lines that would bring him a protectress and afortune. Twice during that week he saw Mme. De Beauseant; he did notgo to her house until he had seen the Marquis d'Ajuda drive away. 

Victory for yet a few more days was with the great lady, the mostpoetic figure in the Faubourg Saint-Germain; and the marriage of theMarquis d'Ajuda-Pinto with Mlle. De Rochefide was postponed. The dreadof losing her happiness filled those days with a fever of joy unknownbefore, but the end was only so much the nearer. The Marquis d'Ajudaand the Rochefides agreed that this quarrel and reconciliation was avery fortunate thing; Mme. De Beauseant (so they hoped) wouldgradually become reconciled to the idea of the marriage, and in theend would be brought to sacrifice d'Ajuda's morning visits to theexigencies of a man's career, exigencies which she must have foreseen. In spite of the most solemn promises, daily renewed, M. D'Ajuda wasplaying a part, and the Vicomtesse was eager to be deceived. "Insteadof taking a leap heroically from the window, she is falling headlongdown the staircase, " said her most intimate friend, the Duchesse deLangeais. Yet this after-glow of happiness lasted long enough for theVicomtesse to be of service to her young cousin. She had ahalf-superstitious affection for him. Eugene had shown her sympathyand devotion at a crisis when a woman sees no pity, no real comfortin any eyes; when if a man is ready with soothing flatteries, it isbecause he has an interested motive. 

Rastignac made up his mind that he must learn the whole of Goriot'sprevious history; he would come to his bearings before attempting toboard the Maison de Nucingen. The results of his inquiries may begiven briefly as follows:--

In the days before the Revolution, Jean-Joachim Goriot was simply aworkman in the employ of a vermicelli maker. He was a skilful, thriftyworkman, sufficiently enterprising to buy his master's business whenthe latter fell a chance victim to the disturbances of 1789. Goriotestablished himself in the Rue de la Jussienne, close to the CornExchange. His plain good sense led him to accept the position ofPresident of the Section, so as to secure for his business theprotection of those in power at that dangerous epoch. This prudentstep had led to success; the foundations of his fortune were laid inthe time of the Scarcity (real or artificial), when the price of grainof all kinds rose enormously in Paris. People used to fight for breadat the bakers' doors; while other persons went to the grocers' shopsand bought Italian paste foods without brawling over it. It was duringthis year that Goriot made the money, which, at a later time, was togive him all the advantage of the great capitalist over the smallbuyer; he had, moreover, the usual luck of average ability; hismediocrity was the salvation of him. He excited no one's envy, it wasnot even suspected that he was rich till the peril of being rich wasover, and all his intelligence was concentrated, not on political, buton commercial speculations. Goriot was an authority second to none onall questions relating to corn, flour, and "middlings"; and theproduction, storage, and quality of grain. He could estimate the yieldof the harvest, and foresee market prices; he bought his cereals inSicily, and imported Russian wheat. Any one who had heard him holdforth on the regulations that control the importation and exportationof grain, who had seen his grasp of the subject, his clear insightinto the principles involved, his appreciation of weak points in theway that the system worked, would have thought that here was the stuffof which a minister is made. Patient, active, and persevering, energetic and prompt in action, he surveyed his business horizon withan eagle eye. Nothing there took him by surprise; he foresaw allthings, knew all that was happening, and kept his own counsel; he wasa diplomatist in his quick comprehension of a situation; and in theroutine of business he was as patient and plodding as a soldier on themarch. But beyond this business horizon he could not see. He used tospend his hours of leisure on the threshold of his shop, leaningagainst the framework of the door. Take him from his dark littlecounting-house, and he became once more the rough, slow-wittedworkman, a man who cannot understand a piece of reasoning, who isindifferent to all intellectual pleasures, and falls asleep at theplay, a Parisian Dolibom in short, against whose stupidity other mindsare powerless. 

Natures of this kind are nearly all alike; in almost all of them youwill find some hidden depth of sublime affection. Two all-absorbingaffections filled the vermicelli maker's heart to the exclusion ofevery other feeling; into them he seemed to put all the forces of hisnature, as he put the whole power of his brain into the corn trade. Hehad regarded his wife, the only daughter of a rich farmer of La Brie, with a devout admiration; his love for her had been boundless. Goriothad felt the charm of a lovely and sensitive nature, which, in itsdelicate strength, was the very opposite of his own. Is there anyinstinct more deeply implanted in the heart of man than the pride ofprotection, a protection which is constantly exerted for a fragile anddefenceless creature? Join love thereto, the warmth of gratitude thatall generous souls feel for the source of their pleasures, and youhave the explanation of many strange incongruities in human nature. 

After seven years of unclouded happiness, Goriot lost his wife. It wasvery unfortunate for him. She was beginning to gain an ascendency overhim in other ways; possibly she might have brought that barren soilunder cultivation, she might have widened his ideas and given otherdirections to his thoughts. But when she was dead, the instinct offatherhood developed in him till it almost became a mania. All theaffection balked by death seemed to turn to his daughters, and hefound full satisfaction for his heart in loving them. More or lessbrilliant proposals were made to him from time to time; wealthymerchants or farmers with daughters vied with each other in offeringinducements to him to marry again; but he determined to remain awidower. His father-in-law, the only man for whom he felt a decidedfriendship, gave out that Goriot had made a vow to be faithful to hiswife's memory. The frequenters of the Corn Exchange, who could notcomprehend this sublime piece of folly, joked about it amongthemselves, and found a ridiculous nickname for him. One of themventured (after a glass over a bargain) to call him by it, and a blowfrom the vermicelli maker's fist sent him headlong into a gutter inthe Rue Oblin. He could think of nothing else when his children wereconcerned; his love for them made him fidgety and anxious; and thiswas so well known, that one day a competitor, who wished to get rid ofhim to secure the field to himself, told Goriot that Delphine had justbeen knocked down by a cab. The vermicelli maker turned ghastly pale, left the Exchange at once, and did not return for several daysafterwards; he was ill in consequence of the shock and the subsequentrelief on discovering that it was a false alarm. This time, however, the offender did not escape with a bruised shoulder; at a criticalmoment in the man's affairs, Goriot drove him into bankruptcy, andforced him to disappear from the Corn Exchange. 

As might have been expected, the two girls were spoiled. With anincome of sixty thousand francs, Goriot scarcely spent twelve hundredon himself, and found all his happiness in satisfying the whims of thetwo girls. The best masters were engaged, that Anastasie and Delphinemight be endowed with all the accomplishments which distinguish a goodeducation. They had a chaperon--luckily for them, she was a woman whohad good sense and good taste;--they learned to ride; they had acarriage for their use; they lived as the mistress of a rich old lordmight live; they had only to express a wish, their father would hastento give them their most extravagant desires, and asked nothing of themin return but a kiss. Goriot had raised the two girls to the level ofthe angels; and, quite naturally, he himself was left beneath them. Poor man! he loved them even for the pain that they gave him. 

When the girls were old enough to be married, they were left free tochoose for themselves. Each had half her father's fortune as herdowry; and when the Comte de Restaud came to woo Anastasie for herbeauty, her social aspirations led her to leave her father's house fora more exalted sphere. Delphine wished for money; she marriedNucingen, a banker of German extraction, who became a Baron of theHoly Roman Empire. Goriot remained a vermicelli maker as before. Hisdaughters and his sons-in-law began to demur; they did not like to seehim still engaged in trade, though his whole life was bound up withhis business. For five years he stood out against their entreaties, then he yielded, and consented to retire on the amount realized by thesale of his business and the savings of the last few years. It wasthis capital that Mme. Vauquer, in the early days of his residencewith her, had calculated would bring in eight or ten thousand livresin a year. He had taken refuge in her lodging-house, driven there bydespair when he knew that his daughters were compelled by theirhusbands not only to refuse to receive him as an inmate in theirhouses, but even to see him no more except in private. 

This was all the information which Rastignac gained from a M. Muretwho had purchased Goriot's business, information which confirmed theDuchesse de Langeais' suppositions, and herewith the preliminaryexplanation of this obscure but terrible Parisian tragedy comes to anend. 

Towards the end of the first week in December Rastignac received twoletters--one from his mother, and one from his eldest sister. Hisheart beat fast, half with happiness, half with fear, at the sight ofthe familiar handwriting. Those two little scraps of paper containedlife or death for his hopes. But while he felt a shiver of dread as heremembered their dire poverty at home, he knew their love for him sowell that he could not help fearing that he was draining their verylife-blood. His mother's letter ran as follows:--

 "MY DEAR CHILD, --I am sending you the money that you asked for. Make a good use of it. Even to save your life I could not raise so large a sum a second time without your father's knowledge, and there would be trouble about it. We should be obliged to mortgage the land. It is impossible to judge of the merits of schemes of which I am ignorant; but what sort of schemes can they be, that you should fear to tell me about them? Volumes of explanation would not have been needed; we mothers can understand at a word, and that word would have spared me the anguish of uncertainty. I do not know how to hide the painful impression that your letter has made upon me, my dear son. What can you have felt when you were moved to send this chill of dread through my heart? It must have been very painful to you to write the letter that gave me so much pain as I read it. To what courses are you committed? You are going to appear to be something that you are not, and your whole life and success depends upon this? You are about to see a society into which you cannot enter without rushing into expense that you cannot afford, without losing precious time that is needed for your studies. Ah! my dear Eugene, believe your mother, crooked ways cannot lead to great ends. Patience and endurance are the two qualities most needed in your position. I am not scolding you; I do not want any tinge of bitterness to spoil our offering. I am only talking like a mother whose trust in you is as great as her foresight for you. You know the steps that you must take, and I, for my part, know the purity of heart, and how good your intentions are; so I can say to you without a doubt, 'Go forward, beloved!' If I tremble, it is because I am a mother, but my prayers and blessings will be with you at every step. Be very careful, dear boy. You must have a man's prudence, for it lies with you to shape the destinies of five others who are dear to you, and must look to you. Yes, our fortunes depend upon you, and your success is ours. We all pray to God to be with you in all that you do. Your aunt Marcillac has been most generous beyond words in this matter; she saw at once how it was, even down to your gloves. 'But I have a weakness for the eldest!' she said gaily. You must love your aunt very much, dear Eugene. I shall wait till you have succeeded before telling you all that she has done for you, or her money would burn your fingers. You, who are young, do not know what it is to part with something that is a piece of your past! But what would we not sacrifice for your sakes? Your aunt says that I am to send you a kiss on the forehead from her, and that kiss is to bring you luck again and again, she says. She would have written you herself, the dear kind-hearted woman, but she is troubled with the gout in her fingers just now. Your father is very well. The vintage of 1819 has turned out better than we expected. Good-bye, dear boy; I will say nothing about your sisters, because Laure is writing to you, and I must let her have the pleasure of giving you all the home news. Heaven send that you may succeed! Oh! yes, dear Eugene, you must succeed. I have come, through you, to a knowledge of a pain so sharp that I do not think I could endure it a second time. I have come to know what it is to be poor, and to long for money for my children's sake. There, good-bye! Do not leave us for long without news of you; and here, at the last, take a kiss from your mother. "

By the time Eugene had finished the letter he was in tears. He thoughtof Father Goriot crushing his silver keepsake into a shapeless massbefore he sold it to meet his daughter's bill of exchange. 

"Your mother has broken up her jewels for you, " he said to himself;"your aunt shed tears over those relics of hers before she sold themfor your sake. What right have you to heap execrations on Anastasie?You have followed her example; you have selfishly sacrificed others toyour own future, and she sacrifices her father to her lover; and ofyou two, which is the worse?"

He was ready to renounce his attempts; he could not bear to take thatmoney. The fires of remorse burned in his heart, and gave himintolerable pain, the generous secret remorse which men seldom takeinto account when they sit in judgment upon their fellow-men; butperhaps the angels in heaven, beholding it, pardon the criminal whomour justice condemns. Rastignac opened his sister's letter; itssimplicity and kindness revived his heart. 

 "Your letter came just at the right time, dear brother. Agathe and I had thought of so many different ways of spending our money, that we did not know what to buy with it; and now you have come in, and, like the servant who upset all the watches that belonged to the King of Spain, you have restored harmony; for, really and truly, we did not know which of all the things we wanted we wanted most, and we were always quarreling about it, never thinking, dear Eugene, of a way of spending our money which would satisfy us completely. Agathe jumped for you. Indeed, we have been like two mad things all day, 'to such a prodigious degree' (as aunt would say), that mother said, with her severe expression, 'Whatever can be the matter with you, mesdemoiselles?' I think if we had been scolded a little, we should have been still better pleased. A woman ought to be very glad to suffer for one she loves! I, however, in my inmost soul, was doleful and cross in the midst of all my joy. I shall make a bad wife, I am afraid, I am too fond of spending. I had bought two sashes and a nice little stiletto for piercing eyelet-holes in my stays, trifles that I really did not want, so that I have less than that slow-coach Agathe, who is so economical, and hoards her money like a magpie. She had two hundred francs! And I have only one hundred and fifty! I am nicely punished; I could throw my sash down the well; it will be painful to me to wear it now. Poor dear, I have robbed you. And Agathe was so nice about it. She said, 'Let us send the three hundred and fifty francs in our two names!' But I could not help telling you everything just as it happened. 

 "Do you know how we managed to keep your commandments? We took our glittering hoard, we went out for a walk, and when once fairly on the highway we ran all the way to Ruffec, where we handed over the coin, without more ado, to M. Grimbert of the Messageries Royales. We came back again like swallows on the wing. 'Don't you think that happiness has made us lighter?' Agathe said. We said all sorts of things, which I shall not tell you, Monsieur le Parisien, because they were all about you. Oh, we love you dearly, dear brother; it was all summed up in those few words. As for keeping the secret, little masqueraders like us are capable of anything (according to our aunt), even of holding our tongues. Our mother has been on a mysterious journey to Angouleme, and the aunt went with her, not without solemn councils, from which we were shut out, and M. Le Baron likewise. They are silent as to the weighty political considerations that prompted their mission, and conjectures are rife in the State of Rastignac. The Infantas are embroidering a muslin robe with open-work sprigs for her Majesty the Queen; the work progresses in the most profound secrecy. There be but two more breadths to finish. A decree has gone forth that no wall shall be built on the side of Verteuil, but that a hedge shall be planted instead thereof. Our subjects may sustain some disappointment of fruit and espaliers, but strangers will enjoy a fair prospect. Should the heir-presumptive lack pocket-handkerchiefs, be it known unto him that the dowager Lady of Marcillac, exploring the recesses of her drawers and boxes (known respectively as Pompeii and Herculaneum), having brought to light a fair piece of cambric whereof she wotted not, the Princesses Agathe and Laure place at their brother's disposal their thread, their needles, and hands somewhat of the reddest. The two young Princes, Don Henri and Don Gabriel, retain their fatal habits of stuffing themselves with grape-jelly, of teasing their sisters, of taking their pleasure by going a-bird-nesting, and of cutting switches for themselves from the osier-beds, maugre the laws of the realm. Moreover, they list not to learn naught, wherefore the Papal Nuncio (called of the commonalty, M. Le Cure) threateneth them with excommunication, since that they neglect the sacred canons of grammatical construction for the construction of other canon, deadly engines made of the stems of elder. 

 "Farewell, dear brother, never did letter carry so many wishes for your success, so much love fully satisfied. You will have a great deal to tell us when you come home! You will tell me everything, won't you? I am the oldest. From something the aunt let fall, we think you must have had some success. 

 "Something was said of a lady, but nothing more was said . . . 

 "Of course not, in our family! Oh, by-the-by, Eugene, would you rather that we made that piece of cambric into shirts for you instead of pocket-handkerchiefs? If you want some really nice shirts at once, we ought to lose no time in beginning upon them; and if the fashion is different now in Paris, send us one for a pattern; we want more particularly to know about the cuffs. Good- bye! Good-bye! Take my kiss on the left side of your forehead, on the temple that belongs to me, and to no one else in the world. I am leaving the other side of the sheet for Agathe, who has solemnly promised not to read a word that I have written; but, all the same, I mean to sit by her side while she writes, so as to be quite sure that she keeps her word. --Your loving sister, "LAURE DE RASTIGNAC. "

"Yes!" said Eugene to himself. "Yes! Success at all costs now! Richescould not repay such devotion as this. I wish I could give them everysort of happiness! Fifteen hundred and fifty francs, " he went on aftera pause. "Every shot must go to the mark! Laure is right. Trust awoman! I have only calico shirts. Where some one else's welfare isconcerned, a young girl becomes as ingenious as a thief. Guilelesswhere she herself is in question, and full of foresight for me, --sheis like a heavenly angel forgiving the strange incomprehensible sinsof earth. "

The world lay before him. His tailor had been summoned and sounded, and had finally surrendered. When Rastignac met M. De Trailles, he hadseen at once how great a part the tailor plays in a young man'scareer; a tailor is either a deadly enemy or a staunch friend, with aninvoice for a bond of friendship; between these two extremes there is, alack! no middle term. In this representative of his craft Eugenediscovered a man who understood that his was a sort of paternalfunction for young men at their entrance into life, who regardedhimself as a stepping-stone between a young man's present and future. And Rastignac in gratitude made the man's fortune by an epigram of akind in which he excelled at a later period of his life. 

"I have twice known a pair of trousers turned out by him make a matchof twenty thousand livres a year!"

Fifteen hundred francs, and as many suits of clothes as he chose toorder! At that moment the poor child of the South felt no more doubtsof any kind. The young man went down to breakfast with the indefinableair which the consciousness of the possession of money gives to youth. No sooner are the coins slipped into a student's pocket than hiswealth, in imagination at least, is piled into a fantastic column, which affords him a moral support. He begins to hold up his head as hewalks; he is conscious that he has a means of bringing his powers tobear on a given point; he looks you straight in the face; his gesturesare quick and decided; only yesterday he was diffident and shy, anyone might have pushed him aside; to-morrow, he will take the wall of aprime minister. A miracle has been wrought in him. Nothing is beyondthe reach of his ambition, and his ambition soars at random; he islight-hearted, generous, and enthusiastic; in short, the fledglingbird has discovered that he has wings. A poor student snatches atevery chance pleasure much as a dog runs all sorts of risks to steal abone, cracking it and sucking the marrow as he flies from pursuit; buta young man who can rattle a few runaway gold coins in his pocket cantake his pleasure deliberately, can taste the whole of the sweets ofsecure possession; he soars far above earth; he has forgotten what theword _poverty_ means; all Paris is his. Those are days when the wholeworld shines radiant with light, when everything glows and sparklesbefore the eyes of youth, days that bring joyous energy that is neverbrought into harness, days of debts and of painful fears that go handin hand with every delight. Those who do not know the left bank of theSeine between the Rue Saint-Jacques and the Rue des Saints-Peres knownothing of life. 

"Ah! if the women of Paris but knew, " said Rastignac, as he devouredMme. Vauquer's stewed pears (at five for a penny), "they would comehere in search of a lover. "

Just then a porter from the Messageries Royales appeared at the doorof the room; they had previously heard the bell ring as the wicketopened to admit him. The man asked for M. Eugene de Rastignac, holdingout two bags for him to take, and a form of receipt for his signature. Vautrin's keen glance cut Eugene like a lash. 

"Now you will be able to pay for those fencing lessons and go to theshooting gallery, " he said. 

"Your ship has come in, " said Mme. Vauquer, eyeing the bags. 

Mlle. Michonneau did not dare to look at the money, for fear her eyesshould betray her cupidity. 

"You have a kind mother, " said Mme. Couture. 

"You have a kind mother, sir, " echoed Poiret. 

"Yes, mamma has been drained dry, " said Vautrin, "and now you can haveyour fling, go into society, and fish for heiresses, and dance withcountesses who have peach blossom in their hair. But take my advice, young man, and don't neglect your pistol practice. "

Vautrin struck an attitude, as if he were facing an antagonist. Rastignac, meaning to give the porter a tip, felt in his pockets andfound nothing. Vautrin flung down a franc piece on the table. 

"Your credit is good, " he remarked, eyeing the student, and Rastignacwas forced to thank him, though, since the sharp encounter of wits atdinner that day, after Eugene came in from calling on Mme. DeBeauseant, he had made up his mind that Vautrin was insufferable. Fora week, in fact, they had both kept silence in each other's presence, and watched each other. The student tried in vain to account tohimself for this attitude. 

An idea, of course, gains in force by the energy with which it isexpressed; it strikes where the brain sends it, by a law asmathematically exact as the law that determines the course of a shellfrom a mortar. The amount of impression it makes is not to bedetermined so exactly. Sometimes, in an impressible nature, the ideaworks havoc, but there are, no less, natures so robustly protected, that this sort of projectile falls flat and harmless on skulls oftriple brass, as cannon-shot against solid masonry; then there areflaccid and spongy-fibred natures into which ideas from without sinklike spent bullets into the earthworks of a redoubt. Rastignac's headwas something of the powder-magazine order; the least shock sufficedto bring about an explosion. He was too quick, too young, not to bereadily accessible to ideas; and open to that subtle influence ofthought and feeling in others which causes so many strange phenomenathat make an impression upon us of which we are all unconscious at thetime. Nothing escaped his mental vision; he was lynx-eyed; in him themental powers of perception, which seem like duplicates of the senses, had the mysterious power of swift projection that astonishes us inintellects of a high order--slingers who are quick to detect the weakspot in any armor. 

In the past month Eugene's good qualities and defects had rapidlydeveloped with his character. Intercourse with the world and theendeavor to satisfy his growing desires had brought out his defects. But Rastignac came from the South side of the Loire, and had the goodqualities of his countrymen. He had the impetuous courage of theSouth, that rushes to the attack of a difficulty, as well as thesouthern impatience of delay or suspense. These traits are held to bedefects in the North; they made the fortune of Murat, but theylikewise cut short his career. The moral would appear to be that whenthe dash and boldness of the South side of the Loire meets, in asouthern temperament, with the guile of the North, the character iscomplete, and such a man will gain (and keep) the crown of Sweden. 

Rastignac, therefore, could not stand the fire from Vautrin'sbatteries for long without discovering whether this was a friend or afoe. He felt as if this strange being was reading his inmost soul, anddissecting his feelings, while Vautrin himself was so close andsecretive that he seemed to have something of the profound and unmovedserenity of a sphinx, seeing and hearing all things and sayingnothing. Eugene, conscious of that money in his pocket, grewrebellious. 

"Be so good as to wait a moment, " he said to Vautrin, as the latterrose, after slowly emptying his coffee-cup, sip by sip. 

"What for?" inquired the older man, as he put on his large-brimmedhat and took up the sword-cane that he was wont to twirl like a manwho will face three or four footpads without flinching. 

"I will repay you in a minute, " returned Eugene. He unsealed one ofthe bags as he spoke, counted out a hundred and forty francs, andpushed them towards Mme. Vauquer. "Short reckonings make good friends"he added, turning to the widow; "that clears our accounts till the endof the year. Can you give me change for a five-franc piece?"

"Good friends make short reckonings, " echoed Poiret, with a glance atVautrin. 

"Here is your franc, " said Rastignac, holding out the coin to thesphinx in the black wig. 

"Any one might think that you were afraid to owe me a trifle, "exclaimed this latter, with a searching glance that seemed to read theyoung man's inmost thoughts; there was a satirical and cynical smileon Vautrin's face such as Eugene had seen scores of times already;every time he saw it, it exasperated him almost beyond endurance. 

"Well . . . So I am, " he answered. He held both the bags in his hand, and had risen to go up to his room. 

Vautrin made as if he were going out through the sitting-room, and thestudent turned to go through the second door that opened into thesquare lobby at the foot of the staircase. 

"Do you know, Monsieur le Marquis de Rastignacorama, that what youwere saying just now was not exactly polite?" Vautrin remarked, as herattled his sword-cane across the panels of the sitting-room door, andcame up to the student. 

Rastignac looked coolly at Vautrin, drew him to the foot of thestaircase, and shut the dining-room door. They were standing in thelittle square lobby between the kitchen and the dining-room; the placewas lighted by an iron-barred fanlight above a door that gave accessinto the garden. Sylvie came out of her kitchen, and Eugene chose thatmoment to say:

"_Monsieur_ Vautrin, I am not a marquis, and my name is notRastignacorama. "

"They will fight, " said Mlle. Michonneau, in an indifferent tone. 

"Fight!" echoed Poiret. 

"Not they, " replied Mme. Vauquer, lovingly fingering her pile ofcoins. 

"But there they are under the lime-trees, " cried Mlle. Victorine, whohad risen so that she might see out into the garden. "Poor young man!he was in the right, after all. "

"We must go upstairs, my pet, " said Mme. Couture; "it is no businessof ours. "

At the door, however, Mme. Couture and Victorine found their progressbarred by the portly form of Sylvie the cook. 

"What ever can have happened?" she said. "M. Vautrin said to M. Eugene, 'Let us have an explanation!' then he took him by the arm, andthere they are, out among the artichokes. "

Vautrin came in while she was speaking. "Mamma Vauquer, " he saidsmiling, "don't frighten yourself at all. I am only going to try mypistols under the lime-trees. "

"Oh! monsieur, " cried Victorine, clasping her hands as she spoke, "whydo you want to kill M. Eugene?"

Vautrin stepped back a pace or two, and gazed at Victorine. 

"Oh! this is something fresh!" he exclaimed in a bantering tone, thatbrought the color into the poor girl's face. "That young fellow yonderis very nice, isn't he?" he went on. "You have given me a notion, mypretty child; I will make you both happy. "

Mme. Couture laid her hand on the arm of her ward, and drew the girlaway, as she said in her ear:

"Why, Victorine, I cannot imagine what has come over you thismorning. "

"I don't want any shots fired in my garden, " said Mme. Vauquer. "Youwill frighten the neighborhood and bring the police up here all in amoment. "

"Come, keep cool, Mamma Vauquer, " answered Vautrin. "There, there;it's all right; we will go to the shooting-gallery. "

He went back to Rastignac, laying his hand familiarly on the youngman's arm. 

"When I have given you ocular demonstration of the fact that I can puta bullet through the ace on a card five times running at thirty-fivepaces, " he said, "that won't take away your appetite, I suppose? Youlook to me to be inclined to be a trifle quarrelsome this morning, andas if you would rush on your death like a blockhead. "

"Do you draw back?" asked Eugene. 

"Don't try to raise my temperature, " answered Vautrin, "it is not coldthis morning. Let us go and sit over there, " he added, pointing to thegreen-painted garden seats; "no one can overhear us. I want a littletalk with you. You are not a bad sort of youngster, and I have noquarrel with you. I like you, take Trump--(confound it!)--takeVautrin's word for it. What makes me like you? I will tell youby-and-by. Meantime, I can tell you that I know you as well as if Ihad made you myself, as I will prove to you in a minute. Put down yourbags, " he continued, pointing to the round table. 

Rastignac deposited his money on the table, and sat down. He wasconsumed with curiosity, which the sudden change in the manner of theman before him had excited to the highest pitch. Here was a strangebeing who, a moment ago, had talked of killing him, and now posed ashis protector. 

"You would like to know who I really am, what I was, and what I donow, " Vautrin went on. "You want to know too much, youngster. Come!come! keep cool! You will hear more astonishing things than that. Ihave had my misfortunes. Just hear me out first, and you shall haveyour turn afterwards. Here is my past in three words. Who am I?Vautrin. What do I do? Just what I please. Let us change the subject. You want to know my character. I am good-natured to those who do me agood turn, or to those whose hearts speak to mine. These last may doanything they like with me; they may bruise my shins, and I shall nottell them to 'mind what they are about'; but, _nom d'une pipe_, thedevil himself is not an uglier customer than I can be if people annoyme, or if I don't happen to take to them; and you may just as wellknow at once that I think no more of killing a man than of that, " andhe spat before him as he spoke. "Only when it is absolutely necessaryto do so, I do my best to kill him properly. I am what you call anartist. I have read Benvenuto Cellini's _Memoirs_, such as you see me;and, what is more, in Italian: A fine-spirited fellow he was! From himI learned to follow the example set us by Providence, who strikes usdown at random, and to admire the beautiful whenever and wherever itis found. And, setting other questions aside, is it not a gloriouspart to play, when you pit yourself against mankind, and the luck ison your side? I have thought a good deal about the constitution ofyour present social Dis-order. A duel is downright childish, my boy!utter nonsense and folly! When one of two living men must be got outof the way, none but an idiot would leave chance to decide which it isto be; and in a duel it is a toss-up--heads or tails--and there youare! Now I, for instance, can hit the ace in the middle of a card fivetimes running, send one bullet after another through the same hole, and at thirty-five paces, moreover! With that little accomplishmentyou might think yourself certain of killing your man, mightn't you. Well, I have fired, at twenty paces, and missed, and the rogue who hadnever handled a pistol in his life--look here!"--(he unbuttoned hiswaistcoat and exposed his chest, covered, like a bear's back, with ashaggy fell; the student gave a startled shudder)--"he was a raw lad, but he made his mark on me, " the extraordinary man went on, drawingRastignac's fingers over a deep scar on his breast. But that happenedwhen I myself was a mere boy; I was one-and-twenty then (your age), and I had some beliefs left--in a woman's love, and in a pack ofrubbish that you will be over head and ears in directly. You and Iwere to have fought just now, weren't we? You might have killed me. Suppose that I were put under the earth, where would you be? You wouldhave to clear out of this, go to Switzerland, draw on papa's purse--and he has none too much in it as it is. I mean to open your eyes toyour real position, that is what I am going to do: but I shall do itfrom the point of view of a man who, after studying the world veryclosely, sees that there are but two alternatives--stupid obedience orrevolt. I obey nobody; is that clear? Now, do you know how much youwill want at the pace you are going? A million; and promptly, too, orthat little head of ours will be swaying to and fro in the drag-netsat Saint-Cloud, while we are gone to find out whether or no there is aSupreme Being. I will put you in the way of that million. "

He stopped for a moment and looked at Eugene. 

"Aha! you do not look so sourly at papa Vautrin now! At the mention ofthe million you look like a young girl when somebody has said, 'I willcome for you this evening!' and she betakes herself to her toilette asa cat licks its whiskers over a saucer of milk. All right. Come, now, let us go into the question, young man; all between ourselves, youknow. We have a papa and mamma down yonder, a great-aunt, two sisters(aged eighteen and seventeen), two young brothers (one fifteen, andthe other ten), that is about the roll-call of the crew. The auntbrings up the two sisters; the cure comes and teaches the boys Latin. Boiled chestnuts are oftener on the table than white bread. Papa makesa suit of clothes last a long while; if mamma has a different dresswinter and summer, it is about as much as she has; the sisters manageas best they can. I know all about it; I have lived in the south. 

"That is how things are at home. They send you twelve hundred francs ayear, and the whole property only brings in three thousand francs alltold. We have a cook and a manservant; papa is a baron, and we mustkeep up appearances. Then we have our ambitions; we are connected withthe Beauseants, and we go afoot through the streets; we want to berich, and we have not a penny; we eat Mme. Vauquer's messes, and welike grand dinners in the Faubourg Saint-Germain; we sleep on atruckle-bed, and dream of a mansion! I do not blame you for wantingthese things. What sort of men do the women run after? Men ofambition. Men of ambition have stronger frames, their blood is richerin iron, their hearts are warmer than those of ordinary men. Womenfeel that when their power is greatest, they look their best, and thatthose are their happiest hours; they like power in men, and prefer thestrongest even if it is a power that may be their own destruction. Iam going to make an inventory of your desires in order to put thequestion at issue before you. Here it is:--

"We are as hungry as a wolf, and those newly-cut teeth of ours aresharp; what are we to do to keep the pot boiling? In the first place, we have the Code to browse upon; it is not amusing, and we are nonethe wiser for it, but that cannot be helped. So far so good. We meanto make an advocate of ourselves with a prospect of one day being madePresident of a Court of Assize, when we shall send poor devils, ourbetters, to the galleys with a T. F. [*] on their shoulders, so that therich may be convinced that they can sleep in peace. There is no fun inthat; and you are a long while coming to it; for, to begin with, thereare two years of nauseous drudgery in Paris, we see all the lollipopsthat we long for out of our reach. It is tiresome to want things andnever to have them. If you were a pallid creature of the molluskorder, you would have nothing to fear, but it is different when youhave the hot blood of a lion and are ready to get into a score ofscrapes every day of your life. This is the ghastliest form of tortureknown in this inferno of God's making, and you will give in to it. Orsuppose that you are a good boy, drink nothing stronger than milk, andbemoan your hard lot; you, with your generous nature, will endurehardships that would drive a dog mad, and make a start, after longwaiting, as deputy to some rascal or other in a hole of a place wherethe Government will fling you a thousand francs a year like the scrapsthat are thrown to the butcher's dog. Bark at thieves, plead the causeof the rich, send men of heart to the guillotine, that is your work!Many thanks! If you have no influence, you may rot in your provincialtribunal. At thirty you will be a Justice with twelve hundred francs ayear (if you have not flung off the gown for good before then). By thetime you are forty you may look to marry a miller's daughter, anheiress with some six thousand livres a year. Much obliged! If youhave influence, you may possibly be a Public Prosecutor by the timeyou are thirty; with a salary of a thousand crowns, you could look tomarry the mayor's daughter. Some petty piece of political trickery, such as mistaking Villele for Manuel in a bulletin (the names rhyme, and that quiets your conscience), and you will probably be a ProcureurGeneral by the time you are forty, with a chance of becoming a deputy. Please to observe, my dear boy, that our conscience will have been alittle damaged in the process, and that we shall endure twenty yearsof drudgery and hidden poverty, and that our sisters are wearingDian's livery. I have the honor to call your attention to anotherfact: to wit, that there are but twenty Procureurs Generaux at a timein all France, while there are some twenty thousand of you young menwho aspire to that elevated position; that there are some mountebanksamong you who would sell their family to screw their fortunes a peghigher. If this sort of thing sickens you, try another course. TheBaron de Rastignac thinks of becoming an advocate, does he? There's anice prospect for you! Ten years of drudgery straight away. You areobliged to live at the rate of a thousand francs a month; you musthave a library of law books, live in chambers, go into society, godown on your knees to ask a solicitor for briefs, lick the dust offthe floor of the Palais de Justice. If this kind of business led toanything, I should not say no; but just give me the names of fiveadvocates here in Paris who by the time that they are fifty are makingfifty thousand francs a year! Bah! I would sooner turn pirate on thehigh seas than have my soul shrivel up inside me like that. How willyou find the capital? There is but one way, marry a woman who hasmoney. There is no fun in it. Have you a mind to marry? You hang astone around your neck; for if you marry for money, what becomes ofour exalted notions of honor and so forth? You might as well fly inthe face of social conventions at once. Is it nothing to crawl like aserpent before your wife, to lick her mother's feet, to descend todirty actions that would sicken swine--faugh!--never mind if you atleast make your fortune. But you will be as doleful as a dripstone ifyou marry for money. It is better to wrestle with men than to wrangleat home with your wife. You are at the crossway of the roads of life, my boy; choose your way. 

[*] Travaux forces, forced labour. 

"But you have chosen already. You have gone to see your cousin ofBeauseant, and you have had an inkling of luxury; you have been toMme. De Restaud's house, and in Father Goriot's daughter you have seena glimpse of the Parisienne for the first time. That day you came backwith a word written on your forehead. I knew it, I could readit--'_Success_!' Yes, success at any price. 'Bravo, ' said I to myself, 'here is the sort of fellow for me. ' You wanted money. Where was itall to come from? You have drained your sisters' little hoard (allbrothers sponge more or less on their sisters). Those fifteen hundredfrancs of yours (got together, God knows how! in a country where thereare more chestnuts than five-franc pieces) will slip away likesoldiers after pillage. And, then, what will you do? Shall you beginto work? Work, or what you understand by work at this moment, means, for a man of Poiret's calibre, an old age in Mamma Vauquer'slodging-house. There are fifty thousand young men in your position atthis moment, all bent as you are on solving one and the same problem--how to acquire a fortune rapidly. You are but a unit in thataggregate. You can guess, therefore, what efforts you must make, howdesperate the struggle is. There are not fifty thousand good positionsfor you; you must fight and devour one another like spiders in a pot. Do you know how a man makes his way here? By brilliant genius or byskilful corruption. You must either cut your way through these massesof men like a cannon ball, or steal among them like a plague. Honestyis nothing to the purpose. Men bow before the power of genius; theyhate it, and try to slander it, because genius does not divide thespoil; but if genius persists, they bow before it. To sum it all up ina phrase, if they fail to smother genius in the mud, they fall on theirknees and worship it. Corruption is a great power in the world, andtalent is scarce. So corruption is the weapon of superfluousmediocrity; you will be made to feel the point of it everywhere. Youwill see women who spend more than ten thousand francs a year ondress, while their husband's salary (his whole income) is six thousandfrancs. You will see officials buying estates on twelve thousandfrancs a year. You will see women who sell themselves body and soul todrive in a carriage belonging to the son of a peer of France, who hasa right to drive in the middle rank at Longchamp. You have seen thatpoor simpleton of a Goriot obliged to meet a bill with his daughter'sname at the back of it, though her husband has fifty thousand francs ayear. I defy you to walk a couple of yards anywhere in Paris withoutstumbling on some infernal complication. I'll bet my head to a head ofthat salad that you will stir up a hornet's nest by taking a fancy tothe first young, rich, and pretty woman you meet. They are all dodgingthe law, all at loggerheads with their husbands. If I were to begin totell you all that vanity or necessity (virtue is not often mixed up init, you may be sure), all that vanity and necessity drive them to dofor lovers, finery, housekeeping, or children, I should never come toan end. So an honest man is the common enemy. 

"But do you know what an honest man is? Here, in Paris, an honest manis the man who keeps his own counsel, and will not divide the plunder. I am not speaking now of those poor bond-slaves who do the work of theworld without a reward for their toil--God Almighty's outcasts, I callthem. Among them, I grant you, is virtue in all the flower of itsstupidity, but poverty is no less their portion. At this moment, Ithink I see the long faces those good folk would pull if God played apractical joke on them and stayed away at the Last Judgment. 

"Well, then, if you mean to make a fortune quickly, you must either berich to begin with, or make people believe that you are rich. It is nouse playing here except for high stakes; once take to low play, it isall up with you. If in the scores of professions that are open to you, there are ten men who rise very rapidly, people are sure to call themthieves. You can draw your own conclusions. Such is life. It is nocleaner than a kitchen; it reeks like a kitchen; and if you mean tocook your dinner, you must expect to soil your hands; the real art isin getting them clean again, and therein lies the whole morality ofour epoch. If I take this tone in speaking of the world to you, I havethe right to do so; I know it well. Do you think that I am blaming it?Far from it; the world has always been as it is now. Moralists'strictures will never change it. Mankind are not perfect, but one ageis more or less hypocritical than another, and then simpletons saythat its morality is high or low. I do not think that the rich are anyworse than the poor; man is much the same, high or low, or wherever heis. In a million of these human cattle there may be half a score ofbold spirits who rise above the rest, above the laws; I am one ofthem. And you, if you are cleverer than your fellows, make straight toyour end, and hold your head high. But you must lay your account withenvy and slander and mediocrity, and every man's hand will be againstyou. Napoleon met with a Minister of War, Aubry by name, who all butsent him to the colonies. 

"Feel your pulse. Think whether you can get up morning after morning, strengthened in yesterday's purpose. In that case I will make you anoffer that no one would decline. Listen attentively. You see, I havean idea of my own. My idea is to live a patriarchal life on a vastestate, say a hundred thousand acres, somewhere in the Southern Statesof America. I mean to be a planter, to have slaves, to make a few snugmillions by selling my cattle, timber, and tobacco; I want to live anabsolute monarch, and to do just as I please; to lead such a life asno one here in these squalid dens of lath and plaster ever imagines. Iam a great poet; I do not write my poems, I feel them, and act them. At this moment I have fifty thousand francs, which might possibly buyforty negroes. I want two hundred thousand francs, because I want tohave two hundred negroes to carry out my notions of the patriarachallife properly. Negroes, you see, are like a sort of family readygrown, and there are no inquisitive public prosecutors out there tointerfere with you. That investment in ebony ought to mean three orfour million francs in ten years' time. If I am successful, no onewill ask me who I am. I shall be Mr. Four Millions, an Americancitizen. I shall be fifty years old by then, and sound and heartystill; I shall enjoy life after my own fashion. In two words, if Ifind you an heiress with a million, will you give me two hundredthousand francs? Twenty per cent commission, eh? Is that too much?Your little wife will be very much in love with you. Once married, youwill show signs of uneasiness and remorse; for a couple of weeks youwill be depressed. Then, some night after sundry grimacings, comes theconfession, between two kisses, 'Two hundred thousand francs of debts, my darling!' This sort of farce is played every day in Paris, and byyoung men of the highest fashion. When a young wife has given herheart, she will not refuse her purse. Perhaps you are thinking thatyou will lose the money for good? Not you. You will make two hundredthousand francs again by some stroke of business. With your capitaland your brains you should be able to accumulate as large a fortune asyou could wish. _Ergo_, in six months you will have made your ownfortune, and our old friend Vautrin's, and made an amiable woman veryhappy, to say nothing of your people at home, who must blow on theirfingers to warm them, in the winter, for lack of firewood. You neednot be surprised at my proposal, nor at the demand I make. Forty-sevenout of every sixty great matches here in Paris are made after justsuch a bargain as this. The Chamber of Notaries compels my gentlemanto----"

"What must I do?" said Rastignac, eagerly interrupting Vautrin'sspeech. 

"Next to nothing, " returned the other, with a slight involuntarymovement, the suppressed exultation of the angler when he feels a biteat the end of his line. "Follow me carefully! The heart of a girlwhose life is wretched and unhappy is a sponge that will thirstilyabsorb love; a dry sponge that swells at the first drop of sentiment. If you pay court to a young girl whose existence is a compound ofloneliness, despair, and poverty, and who has no suspicion that shewill come into a fortune, good Lord! it is quint and quatorze atpiquet; it is knowing the numbers of the lottery before-hand; it isspeculating in the funds when you have news from a sure source; it isbuilding up a marriage on an indestructible foundation. The girl maycome in for millions, and she will fling them, as if they were so manypebbles, at your feet. 'Take it, my beloved! Take it, Alfred, Adolphe, Eugene!' or whoever it was that showed his sense by sacrificinghimself for her. And as for sacrificing himself, this is how Iunderstand it. You sell a coat that is getting shabby, so that you cantake her to the _Cadran bleu_, treat her to mushrooms on toast, andthen go to the Ambigu-Comique in the evening; you pawn your watch tobuy her a shawl. I need not remind you of the fiddle-faddlesentimentality that goes down so well with all women; you spill a fewdrops of water on your stationery, for instance; those are the tearsyou shed while far away from her. You look to me as if you wereperfectly acquainted with the argot of the heart. Paris, you see, islike a forest in the New World, where you have to deal with a score ofvarieties of savages--Illinois and Hurons, who live on the proceed oftheir social hunting. You are a hunter of millions; you set yoursnares; you use lures and nets; there are many ways of hunting. Somehunt heiresses, others a legacy; some fish for souls, yet others selltheir clients, bound hand and foot. Every one who comes back from thechase with his game-bag well filled meets with a warm welcome in goodsociety. In justice to this hospitable part of the world, it must besaid that you have to do with the most easy and good-natured of greatcities. If the proud aristocracies of the rest of Europe refuseadmittance among their ranks to a disreputable millionaire, Parisstretches out a hand to him, goes to his banquets, eats his dinners, and hobnobs with his infamy. "

"But where is such a girl to be found?" asked Eugene. 

"Under your eyes; she is yours already. "

"Mlle. Victorine?"

"Precisely. "

"And what was that you said?"

"She is in love with you already, your little Baronne de Rastignac!"

"She has not a penny, " Eugene continued, much mystified. 

"Ah! now we are coming to it! Just another word or two, and it willall be clear enough. Her father, Taillefer, is an old scoundrel; it issaid that he murdered one of his friends at the time of theRevolution. He is one of your comedians that sets up to have opinionsof his own. He is a banker--senior partner in the house of FredericTaillefer and Company. He has one son, and means to leave all he hasto the boy, to the prejudice of Victorine. For my part, I don't liketo see injustice of this sort. I am like Don Quixote, I have a fancyfor defending the weak against the strong. If it should please God totake that youth away from him, Taillefer would have only his daughterleft; he would want to leave his money to some one or other; an absurdnotion, but it is only human nature, and he is not likely to have anymore children, as I know. Victorine is gentle and amiable; she willsoon twist her father round her fingers, and set his head spinninglike a German top by plying him with sentiment! She will be too muchtouched by your devotion to forget you; you will marry her. I mean toplay Providence for you, and Providence is to do my will. I have afriend whom I have attached closely to myself, a colonel in the Armyof the Loire, who has just been transferred into the _garde royale_. Hehas taken my advice and turned ultra-royalist; he is not one of thosefools who never change their opinions. Of all pieces of advice, mycherub, I would give you this--don't stick to your opinions any morethan to your words. If any one asks you for them, let him have them--at a price. A man who prides himself on going in a straight linethrough life is an idiot who believes in infallibility. There are nosuch things as principles; there are only events, and there are nolaws but those of expediency: a man of talent accepts events and thecircumstances in which he finds himself, and turns everything to hisown ends. If laws and principles were fixed and invariable, nationswould not change them as readily as we change our shirts. Theindividual is not obliged to be more particular than the nation. A manwhose services to France have been of the very slightest is a fetichlooked on with superstitious awe because he has always seen everythingin red; but he is good, at the most, to be put into the Museum of Artsand Crafts, among the automatic machines, and labeled La Fayette;while the prince at whom everybody flings a stone, the man whodespises humanity so much that he spits as many oaths as he is askedfor in the face of humanity, saved France from being torn in pieces atthe Congress of Vienna; and they who should have given him laurelsfling mud at him. Oh! I know something of affairs, I can tell you; Ihave the secrets of many men! Enough. When I find three minds inagreement as to the application of a principle, I shall have a fixedand immovable opinion--I shall have to wait a long while first. In theTribunals you will not find three judges of the same opinion on asingle point of law. To return to the man I was telling you of. Hewould crucify Jesus Christ again, if I bade him. At a word from hisold chum Vautrin he will pick a quarrel with a scamp that will notsend so much as five francs to his sister, poor girl, and" (hereVautrin rose to his feet and stood like a fencing-master about tolunge)--"turn him off into the dark!" he added. 

"How frightful!" said Eugene. "You do not really mean it? M. Vautrin, you are joking!"

"There! there! Keep cool!" said the other. "Don't behave like a baby. But if you find any amusement in it, be indignant, flare up! Say thatI am a scoundrel, a rascal, a rogue, a bandit; but do not call me ablackleg nor a spy! There, out with it, fire away! I forgive you; itis quite natural at your age. I was like that myself once. Onlyremember this, you will do worse things yourself some day. You willflirt with some pretty woman and take her money. You have thought ofthat, of course, " said Vautrin, "for how are you to succeed unlesslove is laid under contribution? There are no two ways about virtue, my dear student; it either is, or it is not. Talk of doing penance foryour sins! It is a nice system of business, when you pay for yourcrime by an act of contrition! You seduce a woman that you may setyour foot on such and such a rung of the social ladder; you sowdissension among the children of a family; you descend, in short, toevery base action that can be committed at home or abroad, to gainyour own ends for your own pleasure or your profit; and can youimagine that these are acts of faith, hope, or charity? How is it thata dandy, who in a night has robbed a boy of half his fortune, getsonly a couple of months in prison; while a poor devil who steals abanknote for a thousand francs, with aggravating circumstances, iscondemned to penal servitude? Those are your laws. Not a singleprovision but lands you in some absurdity. That man with yellow glovesand a golden tongue commits many a murder; he sheds no blood, but hedrains his victim's veins as surely; a desperado forces open a doorwith a crowbar, dark deeds both of them! You yourself will do everyone of those things that I suggest to you to-day, bar the bloodshed. Do you believe that there is any absolute standard in this world?Despise mankind and find out the meshes that you can slip through inthe net of the Code. The secret of a great success for which you areat a loss to account is a crime that has never been found out, becauseit was properly executed. "

"Silence, sir! I will not hear any more; you make me doubt myself. Atthis moment my sentiments are all my science. "

"Just as you please, my fine fellow; I did think you were soweak-minded, " said Vautrin, "I shall say no more about it. One lastword, however, " and he looked hard at the student--"you have mysecret, " he said. 

"A young man who refuses your offer knows that he must forget it. "

"Quite right, quite right; I am glad to hear you say so. Somebody elsemight not be so scrupulous, you see. Keep in mind what I want to dofor you. I will give you a fortnight. The offer is still open. "

"What a head of iron the man has!" said Eugene to himself, as hewatched Vautrin walk unconcernedly away with his cane under his arm. "Yet Mme. De Beauseant said as much more gracefully; he has onlystated the case in cruder language. He would tear my heart with clawsof steel. What made me think of going to Mme. De Nucingen? He guessedmy motives before I knew them myself. To sum it up, that outlaw hastold me more about virtue than all I have learned from men and books. If virtue admits of no compromises, I have certainly robbed mysisters, " he said, throwing down the bags on the table. 

He sat down again and fell, unconscious of his surroundings, into deepthought. 

"To be faithful to an ideal of virtue! A heroic martyrdom! Pshaw!every one believes in virtue, but who is virtuous? Nations have madean idol of Liberty, but what nation on the face of the earth is free?My youth is still like a blue and cloudless sky. If I set myself toobtain wealth or power, does it mean that I must make up my mind tolie, and fawn, and cringe, and swagger, and flatter, and dissemble? Toconsent to be the servant of others who have likewise fawned, andlied, and flattered? Must I cringe to them before I can hope to betheir accomplice? Well, then, I decline. I mean to work nobly and witha single heart. I will work day and night; I will owe my fortune tonothing but my own exertions. It may be the slowest of all roads tosuccess, but I shall lay my head on the pillow at night untroubled byevil thoughts. Is there a greater thing than this--to look back overyour life and know that it is stainless as a lily? I and my life arelike a young man and his betrothed. Vautrin has put before me all thatcomes after ten years of marriage. The devil! my head is swimming. Ido not want to think at all; the heart is a sure guide. "

Eugene was roused from his musings by the voice of the stout Sylvie, who announced that the tailor had come, and Eugene therefore made hisappearance before the man with the two money bags, and was not illpleased that it should be so. When he had tried on his dress suit, heput on his new morning costume, which completely metamorphosed him. 

"I am quite equal to M. De Trailles, " he said to himself. "In short, Ilook like a gentleman. "

"You asked me, sir, if I knew the houses where Mme. De Nucingen goes, "Father Goriot's voice spoke from the doorway of Eugene's room. "

"Yes. "

"Very well then, she is going to the Marechale Carigliano's ball onMonday. If you can manage to be there, I shall hear from you whethermy two girls enjoyed themselves, and how they were dressed, and allabout it in fact. "

"How did you find that out, my good Goriot?" said Eugene, putting achair by the fire for his visitor. 

"Her maid told me. I hear all about their doings from Therese andConstance, " he added gleefully. 

The old man looked like a lover who is still young enough to be madehappy by the discovery of some little stratagem which brings himinformation of his lady-love without her knowledge. 

"_You_ will see them both!" he said, giving artless expression to a pangof jealousy. 

"I do not know, " answered Eugene. "I will go to Mme. De Beauseant andask her for an introduction to the Marechale. "

Eugene felt a thrill of pleasure at the thought of appearing beforethe Vicomtesse, dressed as henceforward he always meant to be. The"abysses of the human heart, " in the moralists' phrase, are onlyinsidious thoughts, involuntary promptings of personal interest. Theinstinct of enjoyment turns the scale; those rapid changes of purposewhich have furnished the text for so much rhetoric are calculationsprompted by the hope of pleasure. Rastignac beholding himself welldressed and impeccable as to gloves and boots, forgot his virtuousresolutions. Youth, moreover, when bent upon wrongdoing does not dareto behold himself in the mirror of consciousness; mature age has seenitself; and therein lies the whole difference between these two phasesof life. 

A friendship between Eugene and his neighbor, Father Goriot, had beengrowing up for several days past. This secret friendship and theantipathy that the student had begun to entertain for Vautrin arosefrom the same psychological causes. The bold philosopher who shallinvestigate the effects of mental action upon the physical world willdoubtless find more than one proof of the material nature of oursentiments in other animals. What physiognomist is as quick to discerncharacter as a dog is to discover from a stranger's face whether thisis a friend or no? Those by-words--"atoms, " "affinities"--are factssurviving in modern languages for the confusion of philosophicwiseacres who amuse themselves by winnowing the chaff of language tofind its grammatical roots. We _feel_ that we are loved. Oursentiments make themselves felt in everything, even at a greatdistance. A letter is a living soul, and so faithful an echo of thevoice that speaks in it, that finer natures look upon a letter as oneof love's most precious treasures. Father Goriot's affection was ofthe instinctive order, a canine affection raised to a sublime pitch;he had scented compassion in the air, and the kindly respect andyouthful sympathy in the student's heart. This friendship had, however, scarcely reached the stage at which confidences are made. Though Eugene had spoken of his wish to meet Mme. De Nucingen, it wasnot because he counted on the old man to introduce him to her house, for he hoped that his own audacity might stand him in good stead. Allthat Father Goriot had said as yet about his daughters had referred tothe remarks that the student had made so freely in public on that dayof the two visits. 

"How could you think that Mme. De Restaud bore you a grudge formentioning my name?" he had said on the day following that scene atdinner. "My daughters are very fond of me; I am a happy father; but mysons-in-law have behaved badly to me, and rather than make troublebetween my darlings and their husbands, I choose to see my daughterssecretly. Fathers who can see their daughters at any time have no ideaof all the pleasure that all this mystery gives me; I cannot alwayssee mine when I wish, do you understand? So when it is fine I walk outin the Champs-Elysees, after finding out from their waiting-maidswhether my daughters mean to go out. I wait near the entrance; myheart beats fast when the carriages begin to come; I admire them intheir dresses, and as they pass they give me a little smile, and itseems as if everything was lighted up for me by a ray of brightsunlight. I wait, for they always go back the same way, and then I seethem again; the fresh air has done them good and brought color intotheir cheeks; all about me people say, 'What a beautiful woman thatis!' and it does my heart good to hear them. 

"Are they not my own flesh and blood? I love the very horses that drawthem; I envy the little lap-dog on their knees. Their happiness is mylife. Every one loves after his own fashion, and mine does no one anyharm; why should people trouble their heads about me? I am happy in myown way. Is there any law against going to see my girls in the eveningwhen they are going out to a ball? And what a disappointment it iswhen I get there too late, and am told that 'Madame has gone out!'Once I waited till three o'clock in the morning for Nasie; I had notseen her for two whole days. I was so pleased, that it was almost toomuch for me! Please do not speak of me unless it is to say how good mydaughters are to me. They are always wanting to heap presents upon me, but I will not have it. 'Just keep your money, ' I tell them. 'Whatshould I do with it? I want nothing. ' And what am I, sir, after all?An old carcase, whose soul is always where my daughters are. When youhave seen Mme. De Nucingen, tell me which you like the most, " said theold man after a moment's pause, while Eugene put the last touches tohis toilette. The student was about to go out to walk in the Garden ofthe Tuileries until the hour when he could venture to appear in Mme. De Beauseant's drawing-room. 

That walk was a turning-point in Eugene's career. Several womennoticed him; he looked so handsome, so young, and so well dressed. This almost admiring attention gave a new turn to his thoughts. Heforgot his sisters and the aunt who had robbed herself for him; he nolonger remembered his own virtuous scruples. He had seen hoveringabove his head the fiend so easy to mistake for an angel, the Devilwith rainbow wings, who scatters rubies, and aims his golden shafts atpalace fronts, who invests women with purple, and thrones with a glorythat dazzles the eyes of fools till they forget the simple origins ofroyal dominion; he had heard the rustle of that Vanity whose tinselseems to us to be the symbol of power. However cynical Vautrin's wordshad been, they had made an impression on his mind, as the sordidfeatures of the old crone who whispers, "A lover, and gold intorrents, " remain engraven on a young girl's memory. 

Eugene lounged about the walks till it was nearly five o'clock, thenhe went to Mme. De Beauseant, and received one of the terrible blowsagainst which young hearts are defenceless. Hitherto the Vicomtessehad received him with the kindly urbanity, the bland grace of mannerthat is the result of fine breeding, but is only complete when itcomes from the heart. 

To-day Mme. De Beauseant bowed constrainedly, and spoke curtly:

"M. De Rastignac, I cannot possibly see you, at least not at thismoment. I am engaged . . . "

An observer, and Rastignac instantly became an observer, could readthe whole history, the character and customs of caste, in the phrase, in the tones of her voice, in her glance and bearing. He caught aglimpse of the iron hand beneath the velvet glove--the personality, the egoism beneath the manner, the wood beneath the varnish. In short, he heard that unmistakable I THE KING that issues from the plumedcanopy of the throne, and finds its last echo under the crest of thesimplest gentleman. 

Eugene had trusted too implicitly to the generosity of a woman; hecould not believe in her haughtiness. Like all the unfortunate, he hadsubscribed, in all good faith, the generous compact which should bindthe benefactor to the recipient, and the first article in that bond, between two large-hearted natures, is a perfect equality. The kindnesswhich knits two souls together is as rare, as divine, and as littleunderstood as the passion of love, for both love and kindness are thelavish generosity of noble natures. Rastignac was set upon going tothe Duchesse de Carigliano's ball, so he swallowed down this rebuff. 

"Madame, " he faltered out, "I would not have come to trouble you abouta trifling matter; be so kind as to permit me to see you later, I canwait. "

"Very well, come and dine with me, " she said, a little confused by theharsh way in which she had spoken, for this lady was as genuinelykind-hearted as she was high-born. 

Eugene was touched by this sudden relenting, but none the less he saidto himself as he went away, "Crawl in the dust, put up with every kindof treatment. What must the rest of the world be like when one of thekindest of women forgets all her promises of befriending me in amoment, and tosses me aside like an old shoe? So it is every one forhimself? It is true that her house is not a shop, and I have putmyself in the wrong by needing her help. You should cut your waythrough the world like a cannon ball, as Vautrin said. "

But the student's bitter thoughts were soon dissipated by the pleasurewhich he promised himself in this dinner with the Vicomtesse. Fateseemed to determine that the smallest accidents in his life shouldcombine to urge him into a career, which the terrible sphinx of theMaison Vauquer had described as a field of battle where you musteither slay or be slain, and cheat to avoid being cheated. You leaveyour conscience and your heart at the barriers, and wear a mask onentering into this game of grim earnest, where, as in ancient Sparta, you must snatch your prize without being detected if you would deservethe crown. 

On his return he found the Vicomtesse gracious and kindly, as she hadalways been to him. They went together to the dining-room, where theVicomte was waiting for his wife. In the time of the Restoration theluxury of the table was carried, as is well known, to the highestdegree, and M. De Beauseant, like many jaded men of the world, had fewpleasures left but those of good cheer; in this matter, in fact, hewas a gourmand of the schools of Louis XVIII. And of the Duc d'Escars, and luxury was supplemented by splendor. Eugene, dining for the firsttime in a house where the traditions of grandeur had descended throughmany generations, had never seen any spectacle like this that now methis eyes. In the time of the Empire, balls had always ended with asupper, because the officers who took part in them must be fortifiedfor immediate service, and even in Paris might be called upon to leavethe ballroom for the battlefield. This arrangement had gone out offashion under the Monarchy, and Eugene had so far only been asked todances. The self-possession which pre-eminently distinguished him inlater life already stood him in good stead, and he did not betray hisamazement. Yet as he saw for the first time the finely wrought silverplate, the completeness of every detail, the sumptuous dinner, noiselessly served, it was difficult for such an ardent imaginationnot to prefer this life of studied and refined luxury to the hardshipsof the life which he had chosen only that morning. 

His thoughts went back for a moment to the lodging-house, and with afeeling of profound loathing, he vowed to himself that at New Year hewould go; prompted at least as much by a desire to live among cleanersurroundings as by a wish to shake off Vautrin, whose huge hand heseemed to feel on his shoulder at that moment. When you consider thenumberless forms, clamorous or mute, that corruption takes in Paris, common-sense begins to wonder what mental aberration prompted theState to establish great colleges and schools there, and assembleyoung men in the capital; how it is that pretty women are respected, or that the gold coin displayed in the money-changer's wooden saucersdoes not take to itself wings in the twinkling of an eye; and when youcome to think further, how comparatively few cases of crime there are, and to count up the misdemeanors committed by youth, is there not acertain amount of respect due to these patient Tantaluses who wrestlewith themselves and nearly always come off victorious? The strugglesof the poor student in Paris, if skilfully drawn, would furnish a mostdramatic picture of modern civilization. 

In vain Mme. De Beauseant looked at Eugene as if asking him to speak;the student was tongue-tied in the Vicomte's presence. 

"Are you going to take me to the Italiens this evening?" theVicomtesse asked her husband. 

"You cannot doubt that I should obey you with pleasure, " he answered, and there was a sarcastic tinge in his politeness which Eugene did notdetect, "but I ought to go to meet some one at the Varietes. "

"His mistress, " said she to herself. 

"Then, is not Ajuda coming for you this evening?" inquired theVicomte. 

"No, " she answered, petulantly. 

"Very well, then, if you really must have an arm, take that of M. DeRastignac. "

The Vicomtess turned to Eugene with a smile. 

"That would be a very compromising step for you, " she said. 

"'A Frenchman loves danger, because in danger there is glory, ' toquote M. De Chateaubriand, " said Rastignac, with a bow. 

A few moments later he was sitting beside Mme. De Beauseant in abrougham, that whirled them through the streets of Paris to afashionable theatre. It seemed to him that some fairy magic hadsuddenly transported him into a box facing the stage. All thelorgnettes of the house were pointed at him as he entered, and at theVicomtesse in her charming toilette. He went from enchantment toenchantment. 

"You must talk to me, you know, " said Mme. De Beauseant. "Ah! look!There is Mme. De Nucingen in the third box from ours. Her sister andM. De Trailles are on the other side. "

The Vicomtesse glanced as she spoke at the box where Mlle. DeRochefide should have been; M. D'Ajuda was not there, and Mme. DeBeauseant's face lighted up in a marvelous way. 

"She is charming, " said Eugene, after looking at Mme. De Nucingen. 

"She has white eyelashes. "

"Yes, but she has such a pretty slender figure!"

"Her hands are large. "

"Such beautiful eyes!"

"Her face is long. "

"Yes, but length gives distinction. "

"It is lucky for her that she has some distinction in her face. Justsee how she fidgets with her opera-glass! The Goriot blood showsitself in every movement, " said the Vicomtesse, much to Eugene'sastonishment. 

Indeed, Mme. De Beauseant seemed to be engaged in making a survey ofthe house, and to be unconscious of Mme. Nucingen's existence; but nomovement made by the latter was lost upon the Vicomtesse. The housewas full of the loveliest women in Paris, so that Delphine de Nucingenwas not a little flattered to receive the undivided attention of Mme. De Beauseant's young, handsome, and well-dressed cousin, who seemed tohave no eyes for any one else. 

"If you look at her so persistently, you will make people talk, M. DeRastignac. You will never succeed if you fling yourself at any one'shead like that. "

"My dear cousin, " said Eugene, "you have protected me indeed so far, and now if you would complete your work, I only ask of you a favorwhich will cost you but little, and be of very great service to me. Ihave lost my heart. "

"Already!"

"Yes. "

"And to that woman!"

"How could I aspire to find any one else to listen to me?" he asked, with a keen glance at his cousin. "Her Grace the Duchesse deCarigliano is a friend of the Duchesse de Berri, " he went on, after apause; "you are sure to see her, will you be so kind as to present meto her, and to take me to her ball on Monday? I shall meet Mme. DeNucingen there, and enter into my first skirmish. "

"Willingly, " she said. "If you have a liking for her already, youraffairs of the heart are like to prosper. That is de Marsay over therein the Princesse Galathionne's box. Mme. De Nucingen is racked withjealousy. There is no better time for approaching a woman, especiallyif she happens to be a banker's wife. All those ladies of theChaussee-d'Antin love revenge. "

"Then, what would you do yourself in such a case?"

"I should suffer in silence. "

At this point the Marquis d'Ajuda appeared in Mme. De Beauseant's box. 

"I have made a muddle of my affairs to come to you, " he said, "and Iam telling you about it, so that it may not be a sacrifice. "

Eugene saw the glow of joy on the Vicomtesse's face, and knew thatthis was love, and learned the difference between love and theaffectations of Parisian coquetry. He admired his cousin, grew mute, and yielded his place to M. D'Ajuda with a sigh. 

"How noble, how sublime a woman is when she loves like that!" he saidto himself. "And _he_ could forsake her for a doll! Oh! how could anyone forsake her?"

There was a boy's passionate indignation in his heart. He could haveflung himself at Mme. De Beauseant's feet; he longed for the power ofthe devil if he could snatch her away and hide her in his heart, as aneagle snatches up some white yeanling from the plains and bears it toits eyrie. It was humiliating to him to think that in all this galleryof fair pictures he had not one picture of his own. "To have amistress and an almost royal position is a sign of power, " he said tohimself. And he looked at Mme. De Nucingen as a man measures anotherwho has insulted him. 

The Vicomtesse turned to him, and the expression of her eyes thankedhim a thousand times for his discretion. The first act came to an endjust then. 

"Do you know Mme. De Nucingen well enough to present M. De Rastignacto her?" she asked of the Marquis d'Ajuda. 

"She will be delighted, " said the Marquis. The handsome Portugueserose as he spoke and took the student's arm, and in another momentEugene found himself in Mme. De Nucingen's box. 

"Madame, " said the Marquis, "I have the honor of presenting to you theChevalier Eugene de Rastignac; he is a cousin of Mme. De Beauseant's. You have made so deep an impression upon him, that I thought I wouldfill up the measure of his happiness by bringing him nearer to hisdivinity. "

Words spoken half jestingly to cover their somewhat disrespectfulimport; but such an implication, if carefully disguised, never givesoffence to a woman. Mme. De Nucingen smiled, and offered Eugene theplace which her husband had just left. 

"I do not venture to suggest that you should stay with me, monsieur, "she said. "Those who are so fortunate as to be in Mme. De Beauseant'scompany do not desire to leave it. "

"Madame, " Eugene said, lowering his voice, "I think that to please mycousin I should remain with you. Before my lord Marquis came we werespeaking of you and of your exceedingly distinguished appearance, " headded aloud. 

M. D'Ajuda turned and left them. 

"Are you really going to stay with me, monsieur?" asked the Baroness. "Then we shall make each other's acquaintance. Mme. De Restaud told meabout you, and has made me anxious to meet you. "

"She must be very insincere, then, for she has shut her door on me. "

"What?"

"Madame, I will tell you honestly the reason why; but I must craveyour indulgence before confiding such a secret to you. I am yourfather's neighbor; I had no idea that Mme. De Restaud was hisdaughter. I was rash enough to mention his name; I meant no harm, butI annoyed your sister and her husband very much. You cannot think howseverely the Duchesse de Langeais and my cousin blamed this apostasyon a daughter's part, as a piece of bad taste. I told them all aboutit, and they both burst out laughing. Then Mme. De Beauseant made somecomparison between you and your sister, speaking in high terms of you, and saying how very fond you were of my neighbor, M. Goriot. And, indeed, how could you help loving him? He adores you so passionatelythat I am jealous already. We talked about you this morning for twohours. So this evening I was quite full of all that your father hadtold me, and while I was dining with my cousin I said that you couldnot be as beautiful as affectionate. Mme. De Beauseant meant togratify such warm admiration, I think, when she brought me here, telling me, in her gracious way, that I should see you. "

"Then, even now, I owe you a debt of gratitude, monsieur, " said thebanker's wife. "We shall be quite old friends in a little while. "

"Although a friendship with you could not be like an ordinaryfriendship, " said Rastignac; "I should never wish to be your friend. "

Such stereotyped phrases as these, in the mouths of beginners, possessan unfailing charm for women, and are insipid only when read coldly;for a young man's tone, glance and attitude give a surpassingeloquence to the banal phrases. Mme. De Nucingen thought thatRastignac was adorable. Then, woman-like, being at a loss how to replyto the student's outspoken admiration, she answered a previous remark. 

"Yes, it is very wrong of my sister to treat our poor father as shedoes, " she said; "he has been a Providence to us. It was not until M. De Nucingen positively ordered me only to receive him in the morningsthat I yielded the point. But I have been unhappy about it for a longwhile; I have shed many tears over it. This violence to my feelings, with my husband's brutal treatment, have been two causes of my unhappymarried life. There is certainly no woman in Paris whose lot seemsmore enviable than mine, and yet, in reality, there is not one so muchto be pitied. You will think I must be out of my senses to talk to youlike this; but you know my father, and I cannot regard you as astranger. "

"You will find no one, " said Eugene, "who longs as eagerly as I do tobe yours. What do all women seek? Happiness. " (He answered his ownquestion in low, vibrating tones. ) "And if happiness for a woman meansthat she is to be loved and adored, to have a friend to whom she canpour out her wishes, her fancies, her sorrows and joys; to whom shecan lay bare her heart and soul, and all her fair defects and hergracious virtues, without fear of a betrayal; believe me, the devotionand the warmth that never fails can only be found in the heart of ayoung man who, at a bare sign from you, would go to his death, whoneither knows nor cares to know anything as yet of the world, becauseyou will be all the world to him. I myself, you see (you will laugh atmy simplicity), have just come from a remote country district; I amquite new to this world of Paris; I have only known true and lovinghearts; and I made up my mind that here I should find no love. Then Ichanced to meet my cousin, and to see my cousin's heart from verynear; I have divined the inexhaustible treasures of passion, and, likeCherubino, I am the lover of all women, until the day comes when Ifind _the_ woman to whom I may devote myself. As soon as I saw you, assoon as I came into the theatre this evening, I felt myself bornetowards you as if by the current of a stream. I had so often thoughtof you already, but I had never dreamed that you would be sobeautiful! Mme. De Beauseant told me that I must not look so much atyou. She does not know the charm of your red lips, your fair face, norsee how soft your eyes are. . . . I also am beginning to talknonsense; but let me talk. "

Nothing pleases a woman better than to listen to such whispered wordsas these; the most puritanical among them listens even when she oughtnot to reply to them; and Rastignac, having once begun, continued topour out his story, dropping his voice, that she might lean andlisten; and Mme. De Nucingen, smiling, glanced from time to time at deMarsay, who still sat in the Princesse Galathionne's box. 

Rastignac did not leave Mme. De Nucingen till her husband came to takeher home. 

"Madame, " Eugene said, "I shall have the pleasure of calling upon youbefore the Duchesse de Carigliano's ball. "

"If Matame infites you to come, " said the Baron, a thickset Alsatian, with indications of a sinister cunning in his full-moon countenance, "you are quide sure of being well receifed. "

"My affairs seem to be in a promising way, " said Eugene to himself. --"'Can you love me?' I asked her, and she did not resent it. The bit isin the horse's mouth, and I have only to mount and ride;" and withthat he went to pay his respects to Mme. De Beauseant, who was leavingthe theatre on d'Ajuda's arm. 

The student did not know that the Baroness' thoughts had beenwandering; that she was even then expecting a letter from de Marsay, one of those letters that bring about a rupture that rends the soul;so, happy in his delusion, Eugene went with the Vicomtesse to theperistyle, where people were waiting till their carriages wereannounced. 

"That cousin of yours is hardly recognizable for the same man, " saidthe Portuguese laughingly to the Vicomtesse, when Eugene had takenleave of them. "He will break the bank. He is as supple as an eel; hewill go a long way, of that I am sure. Who else could have picked outa woman for him, as you did, just when she needed consolation?"

"But it is not certain that she does not still love the faithlesslover, " said Mme. De Beauseant. 

The student meanwhile walked back from the Theatre-Italien to the RueNeuve-Sainte-Genevieve, making the most delightful plans as he went. He had noticed how closely Mme. De Restaud had scrutinized him when hesat beside Mme. De Nucingen, and inferred that the Countess' doorswould not be closed in the future. Four important houses were now opento him--for he meant to stand well with the Marechale; he had foursupporters in the inmost circle of society in Paris. Even now it wasclear to him that, once involved in this intricate social machinery, he must attach himself to a spoke of the wheel that was to turn andraise his fortunes; he would not examine himself too curiously as tothe methods, but he was certain of the end, and conscious of the powerto gain and keep his hold. 

"If Mme. De Nucingen takes an interest in me, I will teach her how tomanage her husband. That husband of hers is a great speculator; hemight put me in the way of making a fortune by a single stroke. "

He did not say this bluntly in so many words; as yet, indeed, he wasnot sufficient of a diplomatist to sum up a situation, to see itspossibilities at a glance, and calculate the chances in his favor. These were nothing but hazy ideas that floated over his mentalhorizon; they were less cynical than Vautrin's notions; but if theyhad been tried in the crucible of conscience, no very pure resultwould have issued from the test. It is by a succession of such liketransactions that men sink at last to the level of the relaxedmorality of this epoch, when there have never been so few of those whosquare their courses with their theories, so few of those noblecharacters who do not yield to temptation, for whom the slightestdeviation from the line of rectitude is a crime. To these magnificenttypes of uncompromising Right we owe two masterpieces--the Alceste ofMoliere, and, in our own day, the characters of Jeanie Deans and herfather in Sir Walter Scott's novel. Perhaps a work which shouldchronicle the opposite course, which should trace out all the deviouscourses through which a man of the world, a man of ambitions, dragshis conscience, just steering clear of crime that he may gain his endand yet save appearances, such a chronicle would be no less edifyingand no less dramatic. 

Rastignac went home. He was fascinated by Mme. De Nucingen; he seemedto see her before him, slender and graceful as a swallow. He recalledthe intoxicating sweetness of her eyes, her fair hair, the delicatesilken tissue of the skin, beneath which it almost seemed to him thathe could see the blood coursing; the tones of her voice still exerteda spell over him; he had forgotten nothing; his walk perhaps heatedhis imagination by sending a glow of warmth through his veins. Heknocked unceremoniously at Goriot's door. 

"I have seen Mme. Delphine, neighbor, " said he. 

"Where?"

"At the Italiens. "

"Did she enjoy it? . . . . Just come inside, " and the old man left hisbed, unlocked the door, and promptly returned again. 

It was the first time that Eugene had been in Father Goriot's room, and he could not control his feeling of amazement at the contrastbetween the den in which the father lived and the costume of thedaughter whom he had just beheld. The window was curtainless, thewalls were damp, in places the varnished wall-paper had come away andgave glimpses of the grimy yellow plaster beneath. The wretched bed onwhich the old man lay boasted but one thin blanket, and a wadded quiltmade out of large pieces of Mme. Vauquer's old dresses. The floor wasdamp and gritty. Opposite the window stood a chest of drawers made ofrosewood, one of the old-fashioned kind with a curving front and brasshandles, shaped like rings of twisted vine stems covered with flowersand leaves. On a venerable piece of furniture with a wooden shelfstood a ewer and basin and shaving apparatus. A pair of shoes stood inone corner; a night-table by the bed had neither a door nor marbleslab. There was not a trace of a fire in the empty grate; the squarewalnut table with the crossbar against which Father Goriot had crushedand twisted his posset-dish stood near the hearth. The old man's hatwas lying on a broken-down bureau. An armchair stuffed with straw anda couple of chairs completed the list of ramshackle furniture. Fromthe tester of the bed, tied to the ceiling by a piece of rag, hung astrip of some cheap material in large red and black checks. No poordrudge in a garret could be worse lodged than Father Goriot in Mme. Vauquer's lodging-house. The mere sight of the room sent a chillthrough you and a sense of oppression; it was like the worst cell in aprison. Luckily, Goriot could not see the effect that his surroundingsproduced on Eugene as the latter deposited his candle on thenight-table. The old man turned round, keeping the bedclothes huddledup to his chin. 

"Well, " he said, "and which do you like the best, Mme. De Restaud orMme. De Nucingen?"

"I like Mme. Delphine the best, " said the law student, "because sheloves you the best. "

At the words so heartily spoken the old man's hand slipped out fromunder the bedclothes and grasped Eugene's. 

"Thank you, thank you, " he said, gratefully. "Then what did she sayabout me?"

The student repeated the Baroness' remarks with some embellishments ofhis own, the old man listening the while as though he heard a voicefrom Heaven. 

"Dear child!" he said. "Yes, yes, she is very fond of me. But you mustnot believe all that she tells you about Anastasie. The two sistersare jealous of each other, you see, another proof of their affection. Mme. De Restaud is very fond of me too. I know she is. A father seeshis children as God sees all of us; he looks into the very depths oftheir hearts; he knows their intentions; and both of them are soloving. Oh! if I only had good sons-in-law, I should be too happy, andI dare say there is no perfect happiness here below. If I might livewith them--simply hear their voices, know that they are there, seethem go and come as I used to do at home when they were still with me;why, my heart bounds at the thought. . . . Were they nicely dressed?"

"Yes, " said Eugene. "But, M. Goriot, how is it that your daughtershave such fine houses, while you live in such a den as this?"

"Dear me, why should I want anything better?" he replied, with seemingcarelessness. "I can't quite explain to you how it is; I am not usedto stringing words together properly, but it all lies there----" hesaid, tapping his heart. "My real life is in my two girls, you see;and so long as they are happy, and smartly dressed, and have softcarpets under their feet, what does it matter what clothes I wear orwhere I lie down of a night? I shall never feel cold so long as theyare warm; I shall never feel dull if they are laughing. I have notroubles but theirs. When you, too, are a father, and you hear yourchildren's little voices, you will say to yourself, 'That has all comefrom me. ' You will feel that those little ones are akin to every dropin your veins, that they are the very flower of your life (and whatelse are they?); you will cleave so closely to them that you seem tofeel every movement that they make. Everywhere I hear their voicessounding in my ears. If they are sad, the look in their eyes freezesmy blood. Some day you will find out that there is far more happinessin another's happiness than in your own. It is something that I cannotexplain, something within that sends a glow of warmth all through you. In short, I live my life three times over. Shall I tell you somethingfunny? Well, then, since I have been a father, I have come tounderstand God. He is everywhere in the world, because the whole worldcomes from Him. And it is just the same with my children, monsieur. Only, I love my daughters better than God loves the world, for theworld is not so beautiful as God Himself is, but my children are morebeautiful than I am. Their lives are so bound up with mine that I feltsomehow that you would see them this evening. Great Heaven! If any manwould make my little Delphine as happy as a wife is when she is loved, I would black his boots and run on his errands. That miserable M. DeMarsay is a cur; I know all about him from her maid. A longing towring his neck comes over me now and then. He does not love her! doesnot love a pearl of a woman, with a voice like a nightingale andshaped like a model. Where can her eyes have been when she marriedthat great lump of an Alsatian? They ought both of them to havemarried young men, good-looking and good-tempered--but, after all, they had their own way. "

Father Goriot was sublime. Eugene had never yet seen his face light upas it did now with the passionate fervor of a father's love. It isworthy of remark that strong feeling has a very subtle and pervasivepower; the roughest nature, in the endeavor to express a deep andsincere affection, communicates to others the influence that has putresonance into the voice, and eloquence into every gesture, wrought achange in the very features of the speaker; for under the inspirationof passion the stupidest human being attains to the highest eloquenceof ideas, if not of language, and seems to move in some sphere oflight. In the old man's tones and gesture there was something justthen of the same spell that a great actor exerts over his audience. But does not the poet in us find expression in our affections?

"Well, " said Eugene, "perhaps you will not be sorry to hear that sheis pretty sure to break with de Marsay before long. That sprig offashion has left her for the Princesse Galathionne. For my part, Ifell in love with Mme. Delphine this evening. "

"Stuff!" said Father Goriot. 

"I did indeed, and she did not regard me with aversion. For a wholehour we talked of love, and I am to go to call on her on Saturday, theday after to-morrow. "

"Oh! how I should love you, if she should like you. You arekind-hearted; you would never make her miserable. If you were toforsake her, I would cut your throat at once. A woman does not lovetwice, you see! Good heavens! what nonsense I am talking, M. Eugene!It is cold; you ought not to stay here. _Mon Dieu!_ so you have heardher speak? What message did she give you for me?"

"None at all, " said Eugene to himself; aloud he answered, "She told meto tell you that your daughter sends you a good kiss. "

"Good-night, neighbor! Sleep well, and pleasant dreams to you! I havemine already made for me by that message from her. May God grant youall your desires! You have come in like a good angel on me to-night, and brought with you the air that my daughter breathes. "

"Poor old fellow!" said Eugene as he lay down. "It is enough to melt aheart of stone. His daughter no more thought of him than of the GrandTurk. "

Ever after this conference Goriot looked upon his neighbor as afriend, a confidant such as he had never hoped to find; and there wasestablished between the two the only relationship that could attachthis old man to another man. The passions never miscalculate. FatherGoriot felt that this friendship brought him closer to his daughterDelphine; he thought that he should find a warmer welcome for himselfif the Baroness should care for Eugene. Moreover, he had confided oneof his troubles to the younger man. Mme. De Nucingen, for whosehappiness he prayed a thousand times daily, had never known the joysof love. Eugene was certainly (to make use of his own expression) oneof the nicest young men that he had ever seen, and some propheticinstinct seemed to tell him that Eugene was to give her the happinesswhich had not been hers. These were the beginnings of a friendshipthat grew up between the old man and his neighbor; but for thisfriendship the catastrophe of the drama must have remained a mystery. 

The affection with which Father Goriot regarded Eugene, by whom heseated himself at breakfast, the change in Goriot's face, which as arule, looked as expressionless as a plaster cast, and a few words thatpassed between the two, surprised the other lodgers. Vautrin, who sawEugene for the first time since their interview, seemed as if he wouldfain read the student's very soul. During the night Eugene had hadsome time in which to scan the vast field which lay before him; andnow, as he remembered yesterday's proposal, the thought of Mlle. Taillefer's dowry came, of course, to his mind, and he could not helpthinking of Victorine as the most exemplary youth may think of anheiress. It chanced that their eyes met. The poor girl did not fail tosee that Eugene looked very handsome in his new clothes. So much wassaid in the glance, thus exchanged, that Eugene could not doubt butthat he was associated in her mind with the vague hopes that liedormant in a girl's heart and gather round the first attractivenewcomer. "Eight hundred thousand francs!" a voice cried in his ears, but suddenly he took refuge in the memories of yesterday evening, thinking that his extemporized passion for Mme. De Nucingen was atalisman that would preserve him from this temptation. 

"They gave Rossini's _Barber of Seville_ at the Italiens yesterdayevening, " he remarked. "I never heard such delicious music. Goodgracious! how lucky people are to have a box at the Italiens!"

Father Goriot drank in every word that Eugene let fall, and watchedhim as a dog watches his master's slightest movement. 

"You men are like fighting cocks, " said Mme. Vauquer; "you do what youlike. "

"How did you get back?" inquired Vautrin. 

"I walked, " answered Eugene. 

"For my own part, " remarked the tempter, "I do not care about doingthings by halves. If I want to enjoy myself that way, I should preferto go in my carriage, sit in my own box, and do the thing comfortably. Everything or nothing; that is my motto. "

"And a good one, too, " commented Mme. Vauquer. 

"Perhaps you will see Mme. De Nucingen to-day, " said Eugene, addressing Goriot in an undertone. "She will welcome you with openarms, I am sure; she would want to ask you for all sorts of littledetails about me. I have found out that she will do anything in theworld to be known by my cousin Mme. De Beauseant; don't forget to tellher that I love her too well not to think of trying to arrange this. "

Rastignac went at once to the Ecole de Droit. He had no mind to stay amoment longer than was necessary in that odious house. He wasted histime that day; he had fallen a victim to that fever of the brain thataccompanies the too vivid hopes of youth. Vautrin's arguments had sethim meditating on social life, and he was deep in these reflectionswhen he happened on his friend Bianchon in the Jardin du Luxembourg. 

"What makes you look so solemn?" said the medical student, putting anarm through Eugene's as they went towards the Palais. 

"I am tormented by temptations. "

"What kind? There is a cure for temptation. "

"What?"

"Yielding to it. "

"You laugh, but you don't know what it is all about. Have you readRousseau?"

"Yes. "

"Do you remember that he asks the reader somewhere what he would do ifhe could make a fortune by killing an old mandarin somewhere in Chinaby mere force of wishing it, and without stirring from Paris?"

"Yes. "

"Well, then?"

"Pshaw! I am at my thirty-third mandarin. "

"Seriously, though. Look here, suppose you were sure that you could doit, and had only to give a nod. Would you do it?"

"Is he well stricken in years, this mandarin of yours? Pshaw! afterall, young or old, paralytic, or well and sound, my word for it. . . . Well, then. Hang it, no!"

"You are a good fellow, Bianchon. But suppose you loved a woman wellenough to lose your soul in hell for her, and that she wanted moneyfor dresses and a carriage, and all her whims, in fact?"

"Why, here you are taking away my reason, and want me to reason!"

"Well, then, Bianchon, I am mad; bring me to my senses. I have twosisters as beautiful and innocent as angels, and I want them to behappy. How am I to find two hundred thousand francs apiece for them inthe next five years? Now and then in life, you see, you must play forheavy stakes, and it is no use wasting your luck on low play. "

"But you are only stating the problem that lies before every one atthe outset of his life, and you want to cut the Gordian knot with asword. If that is the way of it, dear boy, you must be an Alexander, or to the hulks you go. For my own part, I am quite contented with thelittle lot I mean to make for myself somewhere in the country, when Imean to step into my father's shoes and plod along. A man's affectionsare just as fully satisfied by the smallest circle as they can be by avast circumference. Napoleon himself could only dine once, and hecould not have more mistresses than a house student at the Capuchins. Happiness, old man, depends on what lies between the sole of your footand the crown of your head; and whether it costs a million or ahundred louis, the actual amount of pleasure that you receive restsentirely with you, and is just exactly the same in any case. I am forletting that Chinaman live. "

"Thank you, Bianchon; you have done me good. We will always befriends. "

"I say, " remarked the medical student, as they came to the end of abroad walk in the Jardin des Plantes, "I saw the Michonneau and Poireta few minutes ago on a bench chatting with a gentleman whom I used tosee in last year's troubles hanging about the Chamber of Deputies; heseems to me, in fact, to be a detective dressed up like a decentretired tradesman. Let us keep an eye on that couple; I will tell youwhy some time. Good-bye; it is nearly four o'clock, and I must be into answer to my name. "

When Eugene reached the lodging-house, he found Father Goriot waitingfor him. 

"Here, " cried the old man, "here is a letter from her. Prettyhandwriting, eh?"

Eugene broke the seal and read:--

 "Sir, --I have heard from my father that you are fond of Italian music. I shall be delighted if you will do me the pleasure of accepting a seat in my box. La Fodor and Pellegrini will sing on Saturday, so I am sure that you will not refuse me. M. De Nucingen and I shall be pleased if you will dine with us; we shall be quite by ourselves. If you will come and be my escort, my husband will be glad to be relieved from his conjugal duties. Do not answer, but simply come. --Yours sincerely, D. DE N. "

"Let me see it, " said Father Goriot, when Eugene had read the letter. "You are going, aren't you?" he added, when he had smelled thewriting-paper. "How nice it smells! Her fingers have touched it, thatis certain. "

"A woman does not fling herself at a man's head in this way, " thestudent was thinking. "She wants to use me to bring back de Marsay;nothing but pique makes a woman do a thing like this. "

"Well, " said Father Goriot, "what are you thinking about?"

Eugene did not know the fever or vanity that possessed some women inthose days; how should he imagine that to open a door in the FaubourgSaint-Germain a banker's wife would go to almost any length. For thecoterie of the Faubourg Saint-Germain was a charmed circle, and thewomen who moved in it were at that time the queens of society; andamong the greatest of these _Dames du Petit-Chateau_, as they werecalled, were Mme. De Beauseant and her friends the Duchesse deLangeais and the Duchesse de Maufrigneause. Rastignac was alone in hisignorance of the frantic efforts made by women who lived in theChausee-d'Antin to enter this seventh heaven and shine among thebrightest constellations of their sex. But his cautious dispositionstood him in good stead, and kept his judgment cool, and the notaltogether enviable power of imposing instead of accepting conditions. 

"Yes, I am going, " he replied. 

So it was curiosity that drew him to Mme. De Nucingen; while, if shehad treated him disdainfully, passion perhaps might have brought himto her feet. Still he waited almost impatiently for to-morrow, and thehour when he could go to her. There is almost as much charm for ayoung man in a first flirtation as there is in first love. Thecertainty of success is a source of happiness to which men do notconfess, and all the charm of certain women lies in this. The desireof conquest springs no less from the easiness than from the difficultyof triumph, and every passion is excited or sustained by one or theother of these two motives which divide the empire of love. Perhapsthis division is one result of the great question of temperaments;which, after all, dominates social life. The melancholic temperamentmay stand in need of the tonic of coquetry, while those of nervous orsanguine complexion withdraw if they meet with a too stubbornresistance. In other words, the lymphatic temperament is essentiallydespondent, and the rhapsodic is bilious. 

Eugene lingered over his toilette with an enjoyment of all its littledetails that is grateful to a young man's self-love, though he willnot own to it for fear of being laughed at. He thought, as he arrangedhis hair, that a pretty woman's glances would wander through the darkcurls. He indulged in childish tricks like any young girl dressing fora dance, and gazed complacently at his graceful figure while hesmoothed out the creases of his coat. 

"There are worse figures, that is certain, " he said to himself. 

Then he went downstairs, just as the rest of the household weresitting down to dinner, and took with good humor the boisterousapplause excited by his elegant appearance. The amazement with whichany attention to dress is regarded in a lodging-house is a verycharacteristic trait. No one can put on a new coat but every one elsemust say his say about it. 

"Clk! clk! clk!" cried Bianchon, making the sound with his tongueagainst the roof of his mouth, like a driver urging on a horse. 

"He holds himself like a duke and a peer of France, " said Mme. Vauquer. 

"Are you going a-courting?" inquired Mlle. Michonneau. 

"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" cried the artist. 

"My compliments to my lady your wife, " from the _employe_ at theMuseum. 

"Your wife; have you a wife?" asked Poiret. 

"Yes, in compartments, water-tight and floats, guaranteed fast color, all prices from twenty-five to forty sous, neat check patterns in thelatest fashion and best taste, will wash, half-linen, half-cotton, half-wool; a certain cure for toothache and other complaints under thepatronage of the Royal College of Physicians! children like it! aremedy for headache, indigestion, and all other diseases affecting thethroat, eyes, and ears!" cried Vautrin, with a comical imitation ofthe volubility of a quack at a fair. "And how much shall we say forthis marvel, gentlemen? Twopence? No. Nothing of the sort. All that isleft in stock after supplying the Great Mogul. All the crowned headsof Europe, including the Gr-r-rand Duke of Baden, have been anxious toget a sight of it. Walk up! walk up! gentlemen! Pay at the desk as yougo in! Strike up the music there! Brooum, la, la, trinn! la, la, boum!boum! Mister Clarinette, there you are out of tune!" he added gruffly;"I will rap your knuckles for you!"

"Goodness! what an amusing man!" said Mme. Vauquer to Mme. Couture; "Ishould never feel dull with him in the house. "

This burlesque of Vautrin's was the signal for an outburst ofmerriment, and under cover of jokes and laughter Eugene caught aglance from Mlle. Taillefer; she had leaned over to say a few words inMme. Couture's ear. 

"The cab is at the door, " announced Sylvie. 

"But where is he going to dine?" asked Bianchon. 

"With Madame la Baronne de Nucingen. "

"M. Goriot's daughter, " said the law student. 

At this, all eyes turned to the old vermicelli maker; he was gazing atEugene with something like envy in his eyes. 

Rastignac reached the house in the Rue Saint-Lazare, one of thosemany-windowed houses with a mean-looking portico and slender columns, which are considered the thing in Paris, a typical banker's house, decorated in the most ostentatious fashion; the walls lined withstucco, the landings of marble mosaic. Mme. De Nucingen was sitting ina little drawing-room; the room was painted in the Italian fashion, and decorated like a restaurant. The Baroness seemed depressed. Theeffort that she made to hide her feelings aroused Eugene's interest;it was plain that she was not playing a part. He had expected a littleflutter of excitement at his coming, and he found her dispirited andsad. The disappointment piqued his vanity. 

"My claim to your confidence is very small, madame, " he said, afterrallying her on her abstracted mood; "but if I am in the way, pleasetell me so frankly; I count on your good faith. "

"No, stay with me, " she said; "I shall be all alone if you go. Nucingen is dining in town, and I do not want to be alone; I want tobe taken out of myself. "

"But what is the matter?"

"You are the very last person whom I should tell, " she exclaimed. 

"Then I am connected in some way in this secret. I wonder what it is?"

"Perhaps. Yet, no, " she went on; "it is a domestic quarrel, whichought to be buried in the depths of the heart. I am very unhappy; didI not tell you so the day before yesterday? Golden chains are theheaviest of all fetters. "

When a woman tells a young man that she is very unhappy, and when theyoung man is clever, and well dressed, and has fifteen hundred francslying idle in his pocket, he is sure to think as Eugene said, and hebecomes a coxcomb. 

"What can you have left to wish for?" he answered. "You are young, beautiful, beloved, and rich. "

"Do not let us talk of my affairs, " she said shaking her headmournfully. "We will dine together _tete-a-tete_, and afterwards wewill go to hear the most exquisite music. Am I to your taste?" shewent on, rising and displaying her gown of white cashmere, coveredwith Persian designs in the most superb taste. 

"I wish that you were altogether mine, " said Eugene; "you arecharming. "

"You would have a forlorn piece of property, " she said, smilingbitterly. "There is nothing about me that betrays my wretchedness; andyet, in spite of appearances, I am in despair. I cannot sleep; mytroubles have broken my night's rest; I shall grow ugly. "

"Oh! that is impossible, " cried the law student; "but I am curious toknow what these troubles can be that a devoted love cannot efface. "

"Ah! if I were to tell you about them, you would shun me, " she said. "Your love for me is as yet only the conventional gallantry that menuse to masquerade in; and, if you really loved me, you would be drivento despair. I must keep silence, you see. Let us talk of somethingelse, for pity's sake, " she added. "Let me show you my rooms. "

"No; let us stay here, " answered Eugene; he sat down on the sofabefore the fire, and boldly took Mme. De Nucingen's hand in his. Shesurrendered it to him; he even felt the pressure of her fingers in oneof the spasmodic clutches that betray terrible agitation. 

"Listen, " said Rastignac; "if you are in trouble, you ought to tell meabout it. I want to prove to you that I love you for yourself alone. You must speak to me frankly about your troubles, so that I can put anend to them, even if I have to kill half-a-dozen men; or I shall go, never to return. "

"Very well, " she cried, putting her hand to her forehead in an agonyof despair, "I will put you to the proof, and this very moment. Yes, "she said to herself, "I have no other resource left. "

She rang the bell. 

"Are the horses put in for the master?" she asked of the servant. 

"Yes, madame. "

"I shall take his carriage myself. He can have mine and my horses. Serve dinner at seven o'clock. "

"Now, come with me, " she said to Eugene, who thought as he sat in thebanker's carriage beside Mme. De Nucingen that he must surely bedreaming. 

"To the Palais-Royal, " she said to the coachman; "stop near theTheatre-Francais. "

She seemed to be too troubled and excited to answer the innumerablequestions that Eugene put to her. He was at a loss what to think ofher mute resistance, her obstinate silence. 

"Another moment and she will escape me, " he said to himself. 

When the carriage stopped at last, the Baroness gave the law student aglance that silenced his wild words, for he was almost beside himself. 

"Is it true that you love me?" she asked. 

"Yes, " he answered, and in his manner and tone there was no trace ofthe uneasiness that he felt. 

"You will not think ill of me, will you, whatever I may ask of you?"

"No. "

"Are you ready to do my bidding?"

"Blindly. "

"Have you ever been to a gaming-house?" she asked in a tremulousvoice. 

"Never. "

"Ah! now I can breathe. You will have luck. Here is my purse, " shesaid. "Take it! there are a hundred francs in it, all that such afortunate woman as I can call her own. Go up into one of thegaming-houses--I do not know where they are, but there are some nearthe Palais-Royal. Try your luck with the hundred francs at a game theycall roulette; lose it all or bring me back six thousand francs. Iwill tell you about my troubles when you come back. "

"Devil take me, I'm sure, if I have a glimmer of a notion of what I amabout, but I will obey you, " he added, with inward exultation, as hethought, "She has gone too far to draw back--she can refuse menothing now!"

Eugene took the dainty little purse, inquired the way of a second-handclothes-dealer, and hurried to number 9, which happened to be thenearest gaming-house. He mounted the staircase, surrendered his hat, and asked the way to the roulette-table, whither the attendant tookhim, not a little to the astonishment of the regular comers. All eyeswere fixed on Eugene as he asked, without bashfulness, where he was todeposit his stakes. 

"If you put a louis on one only of those thirty-six numbers, and itturns up, you will win thirty-six louis, " said a respectable-looking, white-haired old man in answer to his inquiry. 

Eugene staked the whole of his money on the number 21 (his own age). There was a cry of surprise; before he knew what he had done, he hadwon. 

"Take your money off, sir, " said the old gentleman; "you don't oftenwin twice running by that system. "

Eugene took the rake that the old man handed to him, and drew in histhree thousand six hundred francs, and, still perfectly ignorant ofwhat he was about, staked again on the red. The bystanders watched himenviously as they saw him continue to play. The disc turned, and againhe won; the banker threw him three thousand six hundred francs oncemore. 

"You have seven thousand, two hundred francs of your own, " the oldgentleman said in his ear. "Take my advice and go away with yourwinnings; red has turned up eight times already. If you arecharitable, you will show your gratitude for sound counsel by giving atrifle to an old prefect of Napoleon who is down on his luck. "

Rastignac's head was swimming; he saw ten of his louis pass into thewhite-haired man's possession, and went down-stairs with his seventhousand francs; he was still ignorant of the game, and stupefied byhis luck. 

"So, that is over; and now where will you take me?" he asked, as soonas the door was closed, and he showed the seven thousand francs toMme. De Nucingen. 

Delphine flung her arms about him, but there was no passion in thatwild embrace. 

"You have saved me!" she cried, and tears of joy flowed fast. 

"I will tell you everything, my friend. For you will be my friend, will you not? I am rich, you think, very rich; I have everything Iwant, or I seem as if I had everything. Very well, you must know thatM. De Nucingen does not allow me the control of a single penny; hepays all the bills for the house expenses; he pays for my carriagesand opera box; he does not give me enough to pay for my dress, and hereduces me to poverty in secret on purpose. I am too proud to beg fromhim. I should be the vilest of women if I could take his money at theprice at which he offers it. Do you ask how I, with seven hundredthousand francs of my own, could let myself be robbed? It is because Iwas proud, and scorned to speak. We are so young, so artless when ourmarried life begins! I never could bring myself to ask my husband formoney; the words would have made my lips bleed, I did not dare to ask;I spent my savings first, and then the money that my poor father gaveme, then I ran into debt. Marriage for me is a hideous farce; I cannottalk about it, let it suffice to say that Nucingen and I have separaterooms, and that I would fling myself out of the window sooner thanconsent to any other manner of life. I suffered agonies when I had toconfess to my girlish extravagance, my debts for jewelry and trifles(for our poor father had never refused us anything, and spoiled us), but at last I found courage to tell him about them. After all, I had afortune of my own. Nucingen flew into a rage; he said that I should bethe ruin of him, and used frightful language! I wished myself ahundred feet down in the earth. He had my dowry, so he paid my debts, but he stipulated at the same time that my expenses in future must notexceed a certain fixed sum, and I gave way for the sake of peace. Andthen, " she went on, "I wanted to gratify the self-love of some onewhom you know. He may have deceived me, but I should do him thejustice to say that there was nothing petty in his character. But, after all, he threw me over disgracefully. If, at a woman's utmostneed, _somebody_ heaps gold upon her, he ought never to forsake her;that love should last for ever! But you, at one-and-twenty, you, thesoul of honor, with the unsullied conscience of youth, will ask me howa woman can bring herself to accept money in such a way? _Mon Dieu_!is it not natural to share everything with the one to whom we owe ourhappiness? When all has been given, why should we pause and hesitateover a part? Money is as nothing between us until the moment when thesentiment that bound us together ceases to exist. Were we not bound toeach other for life? Who that believes in love foresees such an end tolove? You swear to love us eternally; how, then, can our interests beseparate?

"You do not know how I suffered to-day when Nucingen refused to giveme six thousand francs; he spends as much as that every month on hismistress, an opera dancer! I thought of killing myself. The wildestthoughts came into my head. There have been moments in my life when Ihave envied my servants, and would have changed places with my maid. It was madness to think of going to our father, Anastasie and I havebled him dry; our poor father would have sold himself if he could haveraised six thousand francs that way. I should have driven him franticto no purpose. You have saved me from shame and death; I was besidemyself with anguish. Ah! monsieur, I owed you this explanation aftermy mad ravings. When you left me just now, as soon as you were out ofsight, I longed to escape, to run away . . . Where, I did not know. Half the women in Paris lead such lives as mine; they live in apparentluxury, and in their souls are tormented by anxiety. I know of poorcreatures even more miserable than I; there are women who are drivento ask their tradespeople to make out false bills, women who rob theirhusbands. Some men believe that an Indian shawl worth a thousand louisonly cost five hundred francs, others that a shawl costing fivehundred francs is worth a hundred louis. There are women, too, withnarrow incomes, who scrape and save and starve their children to payfor a dress. I am innocent of these base meannesses. But this is thelast extremity of my torture. Some women will sell themselves to theirhusbands, and so obtain their way, but I, at any rate, am free. If Ichose, Nucingen would cover me with gold, but I would rather weep onthe breast of a man whom I can respect. Ah! tonight, M. De Marsay willno longer have a right to think of me as a woman whom he has paid. "She tried to conceal her tears from him, hiding her face in her hands;Eugene drew them away and looked at her; she seemed to him sublime atthat moment. 

"It is hideous, is it not, " she cried, "to speak in a breath of moneyand affection. You cannot love me after this, " she added. 

The incongruity between the ideas of honor which make women so great, and the errors in conduct which are forced upon them by theconstitution of society, had thrown Eugene's thoughts into confusion;he uttered soothing and consoling words, and wondered at the beautifulwoman before him, and at the artless imprudence of her cry of pain. 

"You will not remember this against me?" she asked; "promise me thatyou will not. "

"Ah! madame, I am incapable of doing so, " he said. She took his handand held it to her heart, a movement full of grace that expressed herdeep gratitude. 

"I am free and happy once more, thanks to you, " she said. "Oh! I havefelt lately as if I were in the grasp of an iron hand. But after thisI mean to live simply and to spend nothing. You will think me just aspretty, will you not, my friend? Keep this, " she went on, as she tookonly six of the banknotes. "In conscience I owe you a thousand crowns, for I really ought to go halves with you. "

Eugene's maiden conscience resisted; but when the Baroness said, "I ambound to look on you as an accomplice or as an enemy, " he took themoney. 

"It shall be a last stake in reserve, " he said, "in case ofmisfortune. "

"That was what I was dreading to hear, " she cried, turning pale. "Oh, if you would that I should be anything to you, swear to me that youwill never re-enter a gaming-house. Great Heaven! that I shouldcorrupt you! I should die of sorrow!"

They had reached the Rue Saint-Lazare by this time. The contrastbetween the ostentation of wealth in the house, and the wretchedcondition of its mistress, dazed the student; and Vautrin's cynicalwords began to ring in his ears. 

"Seat yourself there, " said the Baroness, pointing to a low chairbeside the fire. "I have a difficult letter to write, " she added. "Tell me what to say. "

"Say nothing, " Eugene answered her. "Put the bills in an envelope, direct it, and send it by your maid. "

"Why, you are a love of a man, " she said. "Ah! see what it is to havebeen well brought up. That is the Beauseant through and through, " shewent on, smiling at him. 

"She is charming, " thought Eugene, more and more in love. He lookedround him at the room; there was an ostentatious character about theluxury, a meretricious taste in the splendor. 

"Do you like it?" she asked, as she rang for the maid. 

"Therese, take this to M. De Marsay, and give it into his handsyourself. If he is not at home, bring the letter back to me. "

Therese went, but not before she had given Eugene a spiteful glance. 

Dinner was announced. Rastignac gave his arm to Mme. De Nucingen, sheled the way into a pretty dining-room, and again he saw the luxury ofthe table which he had admired in his cousin's house. 

"Come and dine with me on opera evenings, and we will go to theItaliens afterwards, " she said. 

"I should soon grow used to the pleasant life if it could last, but Iam a poor student, and I have my way to make. "

"Oh! you will succeed, " she said laughing. "You will see. All that youwish will come to pass. _I_ did not expect to be so happy. "

It is the wont of women to prove the impossible by the possible, andto annihilate facts by presentiments. When Mme. De Nucingen andRastignac took their places in her box at the Bouffons, her face worea look of happiness that made her so lovely that every one indulged inthose small slanders against which women are defenceless; for thescandal that is uttered lightly is often seriously believed. Those whoknow Paris, believe nothing that is said, and say nothing of what isdone there. 

Eugene took the Baroness' hand in his, and by some light pressure ofthe fingers, or a closer grasp of the hand, they found a language inwhich to express the sensations which the music gave them. It was anevening of intoxicating delight for both; and when it ended, and theywent out together, Mme. De Nucingen insisted on taking Eugene with heras far as the Pont Neuf, he disputing with her the whole of the wayfor a single kiss after all those that she had showered upon him sopassionately at the Palais-Royal; Eugene reproached her withinconsistency. 

"That was gratitude, " she said, "for devotion that I did not dare tohope for, but now it would be a promise. "

"And will you give me no promise, ingrate?"

He grew vexed. Then, with one of those impatient gestures that fill alover with ecstasy, she gave him her hand to kiss, and he took it witha discontented air that delighted her. 

"I shall see you at the ball on Monday, " she said. 

As Eugene went home in the moonlight, he fell to serious reflections. He was satisfied, and yet dissatisfied. He was pleased with anadventure which would probably give him his desire, for in the end oneof the prettiest and best-dressed women in Paris would be his; but, asa set-off, he saw his hopes of fortune brought to nothing; and as soonas he realized this fact, the vague thoughts of yesterday eveningbegan to take a more decided shape in his mind. A check is sure toreveal to us the strength of our hopes. The more Eugene learned of thepleasures of life in Paris, the more impatient he felt of poverty andobscurity. He crumpled the banknote in his pocket, and found anyquantity of plausible excuses for appropriating it. 

He reached the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve at last, and from thestairhead he saw a light in Goriot's room; the old man had lighted acandle, and set the door ajar, lest the student should pass him by, and go to his room without "telling him all about his daughter, " touse his own expression. Eugene, accordingly, told him everythingwithout reserve. 

"Then they think that I am ruined!" cried Father Goriot, in an agonyof jealousy and desperation. "Why, I have still thirteen hundredlivres a year! _Mon Dieu!_ Poor little girl! why did she not come tome? I would have sold my rentes; she should have had some of theprincipal, and I would have bought a life-annuity with the rest. Mygood neighbor, why did not _you_ come to tell me of her difficulty? Howhad you the heart to go and risk her poor little hundred francs atplay? This is heart-breaking work. You see what it is to havesons-in-law. Oh! if I had hold of them, I would wring their necks. _Mon Dieu! crying!_ Did you say she was crying?"

"With her head on my waistcoat, " said Eugene. 

"Oh! give it to me, " said Father Goriot. "What! my daughter's tearshave fallen there--my darling Delphine, who never used to cry when shewas a little girl! Oh! I will buy you another; do not wear it again;let me have it. By the terms of her marriage-contract, she ought tohave the use of her property. To-morrow morning I will go and seeDerville; he is an attorney. I will demand that her money should beinvested in her own name. I know the law. I am an old wolf, I willshow my teeth. "

"Here, father; this is a banknote for a thousand francs that shewanted me to keep out of our winnings. Keep them for her, in thepocket of the waistcoat. "

Goriot looked hard at Eugene, reached out and took the law student'shand, and Eugene felt a tear fall on it. 

"You will succeed, " the old man said. "God is just, you see. I know anhonest man when I see him, and I can tell you, there are not many menlike you. I am to have another dear child in you, am I? There, go tosleep; you can sleep; you are not yet a father. She was crying! and Ihave to be told about it!--and I was quietly eating my dinner, like anidiot, all the time--I, who would sell the Father, Son and Holy Ghostto save one tear to either of them. "

"An honest man!" said Eugene to himself as he lay down. "Upon my word, I think I will be an honest man all my life; it is so pleasant to obeythe voice of conscience. " Perhaps none but believers in God do good insecret; and Eugene believed in a God. 

The next day Rastignac went at the appointed time to Mme. DeBeauseant, who took him with her to the Duchesse de Carigliano's ball. The Marechale received Eugene most graciously. Mme. De Nucingen wasthere. Delphine's dress seemed to suggest that she wished for theadmiration of others, so that she might shine the more in Eugene'seyes; she was eagerly expecting a glance from him, hiding, as shethought, this eagerness from all beholders. This moment is full ofcharm for one who can guess all that passes in a woman's mind. Who hasnot refrained from giving his opinion, to prolong her suspense, concealing his pleasure from a desire to tantalize, seeking aconfession of love in her uneasiness, enjoying the fears that he candissipate by a smile? In the course of the evening the law studentsuddenly comprehended his position; he saw that, as the cousin of Mme. De Beauseant, he was a personage in this world. He was alreadycredited with the conquest of Mme. De Nucingen, and for this reasonwas a conspicuous figure; he caught the envious glances of other youngmen, and experienced the earliest pleasures of coxcombry. Peoplewondered at his luck, and scraps of these conversations came to hisears as he went from room to room; all the women prophesied hissuccess; and Delphine, in her dread of losing him, promised that thisevening she would not refuse the kiss that all his entreaties couldscarcely win yesterday. 

Rastignac received several invitations. His cousin presented him toother women who were present; women who could claim to be of thehighest fashion; whose houses were looked upon as pleasant; and thiswas the loftiest and most fashionable society in Paris into which hewas launched. So this evening had all the charm of a brilliant debut;it was an evening that he was to remember even in old age, as a womanlooks back upon her first ball and the memories of her girlishtriumphs. 

The next morning, at breakfast, he related the story of his successfor the benefit of Father Goriot and the lodgers. Vautrin began tosmile in a diabolical fashion. 

"And do you suppose, " cried that cold-blooded logician, "that a youngman of fashion can live here in the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve, in theMaison Vauquer--an exceedingly respectable boarding-house in everyway, I grant you, but an establishment that, none the less, fallsshort of being fashionable? The house is comfortable, it is lordly inits abundance; it is proud to be the temporary abode of a Rastignac;but, after all, it is in the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve, and luxurywould be out of place here, where we only aim at the purely_patriarchalorama_. If you mean to cut a figure in Paris, my youngfriend, " Vautrin continued, with half-paternal jocularity, "you musthave three horses, a tilbury for the mornings, and a closed carriagefor the evening; you should spend altogether about nine thousandfrancs on your stables. You would show yourself unworthy of yourdestiny if you spent no more than three thousand francs with yourtailor, six hundred in perfumery, a hundred crowns to your shoemaker, and a hundred more to your hatter. As for your laundress, there goesanother thousand francs; a young man of fashion must of necessity makea great point of his linen; if your linen comes up to the requiredstandard, people often do not look any further. Love and the Churchdemand a fair altar-cloth. That is fourteen thousand francs. I amsaying nothing of losses at play, bets, and presents; it is impossibleto allow less than two thousand francs for pocket money. I have ledthat sort of life, and I know all about these expenses. Add the costof necessaries next; three hundred louis for provender, a thousandfrancs for a place to roost in. Well, my boy, for all these littlewants of ours we had need to have twenty-five thousand francs everyyear in our purse, or we shall find ourselves in the kennel, andpeople laughing at us, and our career is cut short, good-bye tosuccess, and good-bye to your mistress! I am forgetting your valet andyour groom! Is Christophe going to carry your _billets-doux_ for you?Do you mean to employ the stationery you use at present? Suicidalpolicy! Hearken to the wisdom of your elders!" he went on, his bassvoice growing louder at each syllable. "Either take up your quartersin a garret, live virtuously, and wed your work, or set about thething in a different way. "

Vautrin winked and leered in the direction of Mlle. Taillefer toenforce his remarks by a look which recalled the late temptingproposals by which he had sought to corrupt the student's mind. 

Several days went by, and Rastignac lived in a whirl of gaiety. Hedined almost every day with Mme. De Nucingen, and went wherever shewent, only returning to the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve in the smallhours. He rose at mid-day, and dressed to go into the Bois withDelphine if the day was fine, squandering in this way time that wasworth far more than he knew. He turned as eagerly to learn the lessonsof luxury, and was as quick to feel its fascination, as the flowers ofthe date palm to receive the fertilizing pollen. He played high, lostand won large sums of money, and at last became accustomed to theextravagant life that young men lead in Paris. He sent fifteen hundredfrancs out of his first winnings to his mother and sisters, sendinghandsome presents as well as the money. He had given out that he meantto leave the Maison Vauquer; but January came and went, and he wasstill there, still unprepared to go. 

One rule holds good of most young men--whether rich or poor. Theynever have money for the necessaries of life, but they have alwaysmoney to spare for their caprices--an anomaly which finds itsexplanation in their youth and in the almost frantic eagerness withwhich youth grasps at pleasure. They are reckless with anythingobtained on credit, while everything for which they must pay in readymoney is made to last as long as possible; if they cannot have allthat they want, they make up for it, it would seem, by squanderingwhat they have. To state the matter simply--a student is far morecareful of his hat than of his coat, because the latter being acomparatively costly article of dress, it is in the nature of thingsthat a tailor should be a creditor; but it is otherwise with thehatter; the sums of money spent with him are so modest, that he is themost independent and unmanageable of his tribe, and it is almostimpossible to bring him to terms. The young man in the balcony of atheatre who displays a gorgeous waistcoat for the benefit of the fairowners of opera glasses, has very probably no socks in his wardrobe, for the hosier is another of the genus of weevils that nibble at thepurse. This was Rastignac's condition. His purse was always empty forMme. Vauquer, always full at the demand of vanity; there was aperiodical ebb and flow in his fortunes, which was seldom favorable tothe payment of just debts. If he was to leave that unsavory and meanabode, where from time to time his pretensions met with humiliation, the first step was to pay his hostess for a month's board and lodging, and the second to purchase furniture worthy of the new lodgings hemust take in his quality of dandy, a course that remained impossible. Rastignac, out of his winnings at cards, would pay his jewelerexorbitant prices for gold watches and chains, and then, to meet theexigencies of play, would carry them to the pawnbroker, that discreetand forbidding-looking friend of youth; but when it was a question ofpaying for board or lodging, or for the necessary implements for thecultivation of his Elysian fields, his imagination and pluck alikedeserted him. There was no inspiration to be found in vulgarnecessity, in debts contracted for past requirements. Like most ofthose who trust to their luck, he put off till the last moment thepayment of debts that among the bourgeoisie are regarded as sacredengagements, acting on the plan of Mirabeau, who never settled hisbaker's bill until it underwent a formidable transformation into abill of exchange. 

It was about this time when Rastignac was down on his luck and fellinto debt, that it became clear to the law student's mind that he musthave some more certain source of income if he meant to live as he hadbeen doing. But while he groaned over the thorny problems of hisprecarious situation, he felt that he could not bring himself torenounce the pleasures of this extravagant life, and decided that hemust continue it at all costs. His dreams of obtaining a fortuneappeared more and more chimerical, and the real obstacles grew moreformidable. His initiation into the secrets of the Nucingen householdhad revealed to him that if he were to attempt to use this love affairas a means of mending his fortunes, he must swallow down all sense ofdecency, and renounce all the generous ideas which redeem the sins ofyouth. He had chosen this life of apparent splendor, but secretlygnawed by the canker worm of remorse, a life of fleeting pleasuredearly paid for by persistent pain; like _Le Distrait_ of La Bruyere, he had descended so far as to make his bed in a ditch; but (also like_Le Distrait_) he himself was uncontaminated as yet by the mire thatstained his garments. 

"So we have killed our mandarin, have we?" said Bianchon one day asthey left the dinner table. 

"Not yet, " he answered, "but he is at his last gasp. "

The medical student took this for a joke, but it was not a jest. Eugene had dined in the house that night for the first time for a longwhile, and had looked thoughtful during the meal. He had taken hisplace beside Mlle. Taillefer, and stayed through the dessert, givinghis neighbor an expressive glance from time to time. A few of theboarders discussed the walnuts at the table, and others walked aboutthe room, still taking part in the conversation which had begun amongthem. People usually went when they chose; the amount of time thatthey lingered being determined by the amount of interest that theconversation possessed for them, or by the difficulty of the processof digestion. In winter-time the room was seldom empty before eighto'clock, when the four women had it all to themselves, and made up forthe silence previously imposed upon them by the preponderatingmasculine element. This evening Vautrin had noticed Eugene'sabstractedness, and stayed in the room, though he had seemed to be ina hurry to finish his dinner and go. All through the talk afterwardshe had kept out of the sight of the law student, who quite believedthat Vautrin had left the room. He now took up his position cunninglyin the sitting-room instead of going when the last boarders went. Hehad fathomed the young man's thoughts, and felt that a crisis was athand. Rastignac was, in fact, in a dilemma, which many another youngman must have known. 

Mme. De Nucingen might love him, or might merely be playing with him, but in either case Rastignac had been made to experience all thealternations of hope and despair of genuine passion, and all thediplomatic arts of a Parisienne had been employed on him. Aftercompromising herself by continually appearing in public with Mme. DeBeauseant's cousin she still hesitated, and would not give him thelover's privileges which he appeared to enjoy. For a whole month shehad so wrought on his senses, that at last she had made an impressionon his heart. If in the earliest days the student had fancied himselfto be master, Mme. De Nucingen had since become the stronger of thetwo, for she had skilfully roused and played upon every instinct, goodor bad, in the two or three men comprised in a young student in Paris. This was not the result of deep design on her part, nor was sheplaying a part, for women are in a manner true to themselves eventhrough their grossest deceit, because their actions are prompted by anatural impulse. It may have been that Delphine, who had allowed thisyoung man to gain such an ascendency over her, conscious that she hadbeen too demonstrative, was obeying a sentiment of dignity, and eitherrepented of her concessions, or it pleased her to suspend them. It isso natural to a Parisienne, even when passion has almost mastered her, to hesitate and pause before taking the plunge; to probe the heart ofhim to whom she intrusts her future. And once already Mme. DeNucingen's hopes had been betrayed, and her loyalty to a selfish younglover had been despised. She had good reason to be suspicious. Or itmay have been that something in Eugene's manner (for his rapid successwas making a coxcomb of him) had warned her that the grotesque natureof their position had lowered her somewhat in his eyes. She doubtlesswished to assert her dignity; he was young, and she would be great inhis eyes; for the lover who had forsaken her had held her so cheapthat she was determined that Eugene should not think her an easyconquest, and for this very reason--he knew that de Marsay had beenhis predecessor. Finally, after the degradation of submission to thepleasure of a heartless young rake, it was so sweet to her to wanderin the flower-strewn realms of love, that it was not wonderful thatshe should wish to dwell a while on the prospect, to tremble with thevibrations of love, to feel the freshness of the breath of its dawn. The true lover was suffering for the sins of the false. Thisinconsistency is unfortunately only to be expected so long as men donot know how many flowers are mown down in a young woman's soul by thefirst stroke of treachery. 

Whatever her reasons may have been, Delphine was playing withRastignac, and took pleasure in playing with him, doubtless becauseshe felt sure of his love, and confident that she could put an end tothe torture as soon as it was her royal pleasure to do so. Eugene'sself-love was engaged; he could not suffer his first passage of loveto end in a defeat, and persisted in his suit like a sportsmandetermined to bring down at least one partridge to celebrate his firstFeast of Saint-Hubert. The pressure of anxiety, his wounded self-love, his despair, real or feigned, drew him nearer and nearer to thiswoman. All Paris credited him with this conquest, and yet he wasconscious that he had made no progress since the day when he saw Mme. De Nucingen for the first time. He did not know as yet that a woman'scoquetry is sometimes more delightful than the pleasure of securepossession of her love, and was possessed with helpless rage. If, atthis time, while she denied herself to love, Eugene gathered thespringtide spoils of his life, the fruit, somewhat sharp and green, and dearly bought, was no less delicious to the taste. There weremoments when he had not a sou in his pockets, and at such times hethought in spite of his conscience of Vautrin's offer and thepossibility of fortune by a marriage with Mlle. Taillefer. Povertywould clamor so loudly that more than once he was on the point ofyielding to the cunning temptations of the terrible sphinx, whoseglance had so often exerted a strange spell over him. 

Poiret and Mlle. Michonneau went up to their rooms; and Rastignac, thinking that he was alone with the women in the dining-room, satbetween Mme. Vauquer and Mme. Couture, who was nodding over the woolencuffs that she was knitting by the stove, and looked at Mlle. Taillefer so tenderly that she lowered her eyes. 

"Can you be in trouble, M. Eugene?" Victorine said after a pause. 

"Who has not his troubles?" answered Rastignac. "If we men were sureof being loved, sure of a devotion which would be our reward for thesacrifices which we are always ready to make, then perhaps we shouldhave no troubles. "

For answer Mlle. Taillefer only gave him a glance but it wasimpossible to mistake its meaning. 

"You, for instance, mademoiselle; you feel sure of your heart to-day, but are you sure that it will never change?"

A smile flitted over the poor girl's lips; it seemed as if a ray oflight from her soul had lighted up her face. Eugene was dismayed atthe sudden explosion of feeling caused by his words. 

"Ah! but suppose, " he said, "that you should be rich and happyto-morrow, suppose that a vast fortune dropped down from the cloudsfor you, would you still love the man whom you loved in your days ofpoverty?"

A charming movement of the head was her only answer. 

"Even if he were very poor?"

Again the same mute answer. 

"What nonsense are you talking, you two?" exclaimed Mme. Vauquer. 

"Never mind, " answered Eugene; "we understand each other. "

"So there is to be an engagement of marriage between M. Le ChevalierEugene de Rastignac and Mlle. Victorine Taillefer, is there?" Thewords were uttered in Vautrin's deep voice, and Vautrin appeared atthe door as he spoke. 

"Oh! how you startled me!" Mme. Couture and Mme. Vauquer exclaimedtogether. 

"I might make a worse choice, " said Rastignac, laughing. Vautrin'svoice had thrown him into the most painful agitation that he had yetknown. 

"No bad jokes, gentlemen!" said Mme. Couture. "My dear, let us goupstairs. "

Mme. Vauquer followed the two ladies, meaning to pass the evening intheir room, an arrangement that economized fire and candlelight. Eugene and Vautrin were left alone. 

"I felt sure you would come round to it, " said the elder man with thecoolness that nothing seemed to shake. "But stay a moment! I have asmuch delicacy as anybody else. Don't make up your mind on the spur ofthe moment; you are a little thrown off your balance just now. You arein debt, and I want you to come over to my way of thinking after soberreflection, and not in a fit of passion or desperation. Perhaps youwant a thousand crowns. There, you can have them if you like. "

The tempter took out a pocketbook, and drew thence three banknotes, which he fluttered before the student's eyes. Eugene was in a mostpainful dilemma. He had debts, debts of honor. He owed a hundred louisto the Marquis d'Ajuda and to the Count de Trailles; he had not themoney, and for this reason had not dared to go to Mme. De Restaud'shouse, where he was expected that evening. It was one of thoseinformal gatherings where tea and little cakes are handed round, butwhere it is possible to lose six thousand francs at whist in thecourse of a night. 

"You must see, " said Eugene, struggling to hide a convulsive tremor, "that after what has passed between us, I cannot possibly lay myselfunder any obligation to you. "

"Quite right; I should be sorry to hear you speak otherwise, " answeredthe tempter. "You are a fine young fellow, honorable, brave as a lion, and as gentle as a young girl. You would be a fine haul for the devil!I like youngsters of your sort. Get rid of one or two more prejudices, and you will see the world as it is. Make a little scene now and then, and act a virtuous part in it, and a man with a head on his shoulderscan do exactly as he likes amid deafening applause from the fools inthe gallery. Ah! a few days yet, and you will be with us; and if youwould only be tutored by me, I would put you in the way of achievingall your ambitions. You should no sooner form a wish than it should berealized to the full; you should have all your desires--honors, wealth, or women. Civilization should flow with milk and honey foryou. You should be our pet and favorite, our Benjamin. We would allwork ourselves to death for you with pleasure; every obstacle shouldbe removed from your path. You have a few prejudices left; so youthink that I am a scoundrel, do you? Well, M. De Turenne, quite ashonorable a man as you take yourself to be, had some little privatetransactions with bandits, and did not feel that his honor wastarnished. You would rather not lie under any obligation to me, eh?You need not draw back on that account, " Vautrin went on, and a smilestole over his lips. "Take these bits of paper and write across this, "he added, producing a piece of stamped paper, "_Accepted the sum ofthree thousand five hundred francs due this day twelvemonth_, and fillin the date. The rate of interest is stiff enough to silence anyscruples on your part; it gives you the right to call me a Jew. Youcan call quits with me on the score of gratitude. I am quite willingthat you should despise me to-day, because I am sure that you willhave a kindlier feeling towards me later on. You will find outfathomless depths in my nature, enormous and concentrated forces thatweaklings call vices, but you will never find me base or ungrateful. In short, I am neither a pawn nor a bishop, but a castle, a tower ofstrength, my boy. "

"What manner of man are you?" cried Eugene. "Were you created totorment me?"

"Why no; I am a good-natured fellow, who is willing to do a dirtypiece of work to put you high and dry above the mire for the rest ofyour days. Do you ask the reason of this devotion? All right; I willtell you that some of these days. A word or two in your ear willexplain it. I have begun by shocking you, by showing you the way toring the changes, and giving you a sight of the mechanism of thesocial machine; but your first fright will go off like a conscript'sterror on the battlefield. You will grow used to regarding men ascommon soldiers who have made up their minds to lose their lives forsome self-constituted king. Times have altered strangely. Once youcould say to a bravo, 'Here are a hundred crowns; go and kill MonsieurSo-and-so for me, ' and you could sup quietly after turning some oneoff into the dark for the least thing in the world. But nowadays Ipropose to put you in the way of a handsome fortune; you have only tonod your head, it won't compromise you in any way, and you hesitate. 'Tis an effeminate age. "

Eugene accepted the draft, and received the banknotes in exchange forit. 

"Well, well. Come, now, let us talk rationally, " Vautrin continued. "Imean to leave this country in a few months' time for America, and setabout planting tobacco. I will send you the cigars of friendship. If Imake money at it, I will help you in your career. If I have nochildren--which will probably be the case, for I have no anxiety toraise slips of myself here--you shall inherit my fortune. That is whatyou may call standing by a man; but I myself have a liking for you. Ihave a mania, too, for devoting myself to some one else. I have doneit before. You see, my boy, I live in a loftier sphere than other mendo; I look on all actions as means to an end, and the end is all thatI look at. What is a man's life to me? Not _that_, " he said, and hesnapped his thumb-nail against his teeth. "A man, in short, iseverything to me, or just nothing at all. Less than nothing if hisname happens to be Poiret; you can crush him like a bug, he is flatand he is offensive. But a man is a god when he is like you; he is nota machine covered with a skin, but a theatre in which the greatestsentiments are displayed--great thoughts and feelings--and for these, and these only, I live. A sentiment--what is that but the whole worldin a thought? Look at Father Goriot. For him, his two girls are thewhole universe; they are the clue by which he finds his way throughcreation. Well, for my own part, I have fathomed the depths of life, there is only one real sentiment--comradeship between man and man. Pierre and Jaffier, that is my passion. I knew _Venice Preserved_ byheart. Have you met many men plucky enough when a comrade says, 'Letus bury a dead body!' to go and do it without a word or plaguing himby taking a high moral tone? I have done it myself. I should not talklike this to just everybody, but you are not like an ordinary man; onecan talk to you, you can understand things. You will not dabble aboutmuch longer among the tadpoles in these swamps. Well, then, it is allsettled. You will marry. Both of us carry our point. Mine is made ofiron, and will never soften, he! he!"

Vautrin went out. He would not wait to hear the student's repudiation, he wished to put Eugene at his ease. He seemed to understand thesecret springs of the faint resistance still made by the younger man;the struggles in which men seek to preserve their self-respect byjustifying their blameworthy actions to themselves. 

"He may do as he likes; I shall not marry Mlle. Taillefer, that iscertain, " said Eugene to himself. 

He regarded this man with abhorrence, and yet the very cynicism ofVautrin's ideas, and the audacious way in which he used other men forhis own ends, raised him in the student's eyes; but the thought of acompact threw Eugene into a fever of apprehension, and not until hehad recovered somewhat did he dress, call for a cab, and go to Mme. DeRestaud's. 

For some days the Countess had paid more and more attention to a youngman whose every step seemed a triumphal progress in the great world;it seemed to her that he might be a formidable power before long. Hepaid Messieurs de Trailles and d'Ajuda, played at whist for part ofthe evening, and made good his losses. Most men who have their way tomake are more or less of fatalists, and Eugene was superstitious; hechose to consider that his luck was heaven's reward for hisperseverance in the right way. As soon as possible on the followingmorning he asked Vautrin whether the bill he had given was still inthe other's possession; and on receiving a reply in the affirmative, he repaid the three thousand francs with a not unnatural relief. 

"Everything is going on well, " said Vautrin. 

"But I am not your accomplice, " said Eugene. 

"I know, I know, " Vautrin broke in. "You are still acting like achild. You are making mountains out of molehills at the outset. "

Two days later, Poiret and Mlle. Michonneau were sitting together on abench in the sun. They had chosen a little frequented alley in theJardin des Plantes, and a gentleman was chatting with them, the sameperson, as a matter of fact, about whom the medical student had, notwithout good reason, his own suspicions. 

"Mademoiselle, " this M. Gondureau was saying, "I do not see any causefor your scruples. His Excellency, Monseigneur the Minister ofPolice----"

"Yes, his Excellency is taking a personal interest in the matter, "said Gondureau. 

Who would think it probable that Poiret, a retired clerk, doubtlesspossessed of some notions of civic virtue, though there might benothing else in his head--who would think it likely that such a manwould continue to lend an ear to this supposed independent gentlemanof the Rue de Buffon, when the latter dropped the mask of a decentcitizen by that word "police, " and gave a glimpse of the features of adetective from the Rue de Jerusalem? And yet nothing was more natural. Perhaps the following remarks from the hitherto unpublished recordsmade by certain observers will throw a light on the particular speciesto which Poiret belonged in the great family of fools. There is a raceof quill-drivers, confined in the columns of the budget between thefirst degree of latitude (a kind of administrative Greenland where thesalaries begin at twelve hundred francs) to the third degree, a moretemperate zone, where incomes grow from three to six thousand francs, a climate where the _bonus_ flourishes like a half-hardy annual inspite of some difficulties of culture. A characteristic trait thatbest reveals the feeble narrow-mindedness of these inhabitants ofpetty officialdom is a kind of involuntary, mechanical, andinstinctive reverence for the Grand Lama of every Ministry, known tothe rank and file only by his signature (an illegible scrawl) and byhis title--"His Excellency Monseigneur le Ministre, " five words whichproduce as much effect as the _il Bondo Cani_ of the _Calife deBagdad_, five words which in the eyes of this low order ofintelligence represent a sacred power from which there is no appeal. The Minister is administratively infallible for the clerks in theemploy of the Government, as the Pope is infallible for goodCatholics. Something of this peculiar radiance invests everything hedoes or says, or that is said or done in his name; the robe of officecovers everything and legalizes everything done by his orders; doesnot his very title--His Excellency--vouch for the purity of hisintentions and the righteousness of his will, and serve as a sort ofpassport and introduction to ideas that otherwise would not beentertained for a moment? Pronounce the words "His Excellency, " andthese poor folk will forthwith proceed to do what they would not dofor their own interests. Passive obedience is as well known in aGovernment department as in the army itself; and the administrativesystem silences consciences, annihilates the individual, and ends(give it time enough) by fashioning a man into a vise or a thumbscrew, and he becomes part of the machinery of Government. Wherefore, M. Gondureau, who seemed to know something of human nature, recognizedPoiret at once as one of those dupes of officialdom, and brought outfor his benefit, at the proper moment, the _deus ex machina_, themagical words "His Excellency, " so as to dazzle Poiret just as hehimself unmasked his batteries, for he took Poiret and the Michonneaufor the male and female of the same species. 

"If his Excellency himself, his Excellency the Minister . . . Ah! thatis quite another thing, " said Poiret. 

"You seem to be guided by this gentleman's opinion, and you hear whathe says, " said the man of independent means, addressing Mlle. Michonneau. "Very well, his Excellency is at this moment absolutelycertain that the so-called Vautrin, who lodges at the Maison Vauquer, is a convict who escaped from penal servitude at Toulon, where he isknown by the nickname _Trompe-la-Mort_. "

"Trompe-la-Mort?" said Pioret. "Dear me, he is very lucky if hedeserves that nickname. "

"Well, yes, " said the detective. "They call him so because he has beenso lucky as not to lose his life in the very risky businesses that hehas carried through. He is a dangerous man, you see! He has qualitiesthat are out of the common; the thing he is wanted for, in fact, was amatter which gained him no end of credit with his own set----"

"Then is he a man of honor?" asked Poiret. 

"Yes, according to his notions. He agreed to take another man's crimeupon himself--a forgery committed by a very handsome young fellow thathe had taken a great fancy to, a young Italian, a bit of a gambler, who has since gone into the army, where his conduct has beenunexceptionable. "

"But if his Excellency the Minister of Police is certain that M. Vautrin is this _Trompe-la-Mort_, why should he want me?" asked Mlle. Michonneau. 

"Oh yes, " said Poiret, "if the Minister, as you have been so obligingas to tell us, really knows for a certainty----"

"Certainty is not the word; he only suspects. You will soon understandhow things are. Jacques Collin, nicknamed _Trompe-la-Mort_, is in theconfidence of every convict in the three prisons; he is their man ofbusiness and their banker. He makes a very good thing out of managingtheir affairs, which want a _man of mark_ to see about them. "

"Ha! ha! do you see the pun, mademoiselle?" asked Poiret. "Thisgentleman calls himself a _man of mark_ because he is a _marked man_--branded, you know. "

"This so-called Vautrin, " said the detective, "receives the moneybelonging to my lords the convicts, invests it for them, and holds itat the disposal of those who escape, or hands it over to theirfamilies if they leave a will, or to their mistresses when they drawupon him for their benefit. "

"Their mistresses! You mean their wives, " remarked Poiret. 

"No, sir. A convict's wife is usually an illegitimate connection. Wecall them concubines. "

"Then they all live in a state of concubinage?"

"Naturally. "

"Why, these are abominations that his Excellency ought not to allow. Since you have the honor of seeing his Excellency, you, who seem tohave philanthropic ideas, ought really to enlighten him as to theirimmoral conduct--they are setting a shocking example to the rest ofsociety. "

"But the Government does not hold them up as models of all thevirtues, my dear sir----"

"Of course not, sir; but still----"

"Just let the gentleman say what he has to say, dearie, " said Mlle. Michonneau. 

"You see how it is, mademoiselle, " Gondureau continued. "TheGovernment may have the strongest reasons for getting this illicithoard into its hands; it mounts up to something considerable, by allthat we can make out. Trompe-la-Mort not only holds large sums for hisfriends the convicts, but he has other amounts which are paid over tohim by the Society of the Ten Thousand----"

"Ten Thousand Thieves!" cried Pioret in alarm. 

"No. The Society of the Ten Thousand is not an association of pettyoffenders, but of people who set about their work on a large scale--they won't touch a matter unless there are ten thousand francs init. It is composed of the most distinguished of the men who are sentstraight to the Assize Courts when they come up for trial. They knowthe Code too well to risk their necks when they are nabbed. Collin istheir confidential agent and legal adviser. By means of the large sumsof money at his disposal he has established a sort of detective systemof his own; it is widespread and mysterious in its workings. We havehad spies all about him for a twelvemonth, and yet we could not manageto fathom his games. His capital and his cleverness are at the serviceof vice and crime; this money furnishes the necessary funds for aregular army of blackguards in his pay who wage incessant war againstsociety. If we can catch Trompe-la-Mort, and take possession of hisfunds, we should strike at the root of this evil. So this job is akind of Government affair--a State secret--and likely to redound tothe honor of those who bring the thing to a successful conclusion. You, sir, for instance, might very well be taken into a Governmentdepartment again; they might make you secretary to a Commissary ofPolice; you could accept that post without prejudice to your retiringpension. "

Mlle. Michonneau interposed at this point with, "What is there tohinder Trompe-la-Mort from making off with the money?"

"Oh!" said the detective, "a man is told off to follow him everywherehe goes, with orders to kill him if he were to rob the convicts. Thenit is not quite as easy to make off with a lot of money as it is torun away with a young lady of family. Besides, Collin is not the sortof fellow to play such a trick; he would be disgraced, according tohis notions. "

"You are quite right, sir, " said Poiret, "utterly disgraced he wouldbe. "

"But none of all this explains why you do not come and take himwithout more ado, " remarked Mlle. Michonneau. 

"Very well, mademoiselle, I will explain--but, " he added in her ear, "keep your companion quiet, or I shall never have done. The old boyought to pay people handsomely for listening to him. --Trompe-la-Mort, when he came back here, " he went on aloud "slipped into the skin of anhonest man; he turned up disguised as a decent Parisian citizen, andtook up his quarters in an unpretending lodging-house. He is cunning, that he is! You don't catch him napping. Then M. Vautrin is a man ofconsequence, who transacts a good deal of business. "

"Naturally, " said Poiret to himself. 

"And suppose that the Minister were to make a mistake and get hold ofthe real Vautrin, he would put every one's back up among the businessmen in Paris, and public opinion would be against him. M. Le Prefet dePolice is on slippery ground; he has enemies. They would takeadvantage of any mistake. There would be a fine outcry and fuss madeby the Opposition, and he would be sent packing. We must set aboutthis just as we did about the Coignard affair, the sham Comte deSainte-Helene; if he had been the real Comte de Sainte-Helene, weshould have been in the wrong box. We want to be quite sure what weare about. "

"Yes, but what you want is a pretty woman, " said Mlle. Michonneaubriskly. 

"Trompe-la-Mort would not let a woman come near him, " said thedetective. "I will tell you a secret--he does not like them. "

"Still, I do not see what I can do, supposing that I did agree toidentify him for two thousand francs. "

"Nothing simpler, " said the stranger. "I will send you a little bottlecontaining a dose that will send a rush of blood to the head; it willdo him no harm whatever, but he will fall down as if he were in a fit. The drug can be put into wine or coffee; either will do equally well. You carry your man to bed at once, and undress him to see that he isnot dying. As soon as you are alone, you give him a slap on theshoulder, and _presto!_ the letters will appear. "

"Why, that is just nothing at all, " said Poiret. 

"Well, do you agree?" said Gondureau, addressing the old maid. 

"But, my dear sir, suppose there are no letters at all, " said Mlle. Michonneau; "am I to have the two thousand francs all the same?"

"No. "

"What will you give me then?"

"Five hundred francs. "

"It is such a thing to do for so little! It lies on your consciencejust the same, and I must quiet my conscience, sir. "

"I assure you, " said Poiret, "that mademoiselle has a great deal ofconscience, and not only so, she is a very amiable person, and veryintelligent. "

"Well, now, " Mlle. Michonneau went on, "make it three thousand francsif he is Trompe-la-Mort, and nothing at all if he is an ordinary man. "

"Done!" said Gondureau, "but on the condition that the thing issettled to-morrow. "

"Not quite so soon, my dear sir; I must consult my confessor first. "

"You are a sly one, " said the detective as he rose to his feet. "Good-bye till to-morrow, then. And if you should want to see me in ahurry, go to the Petite Rue Saint-Anne at the bottom of the Cour de laSainte-Chapelle. There is one door under the archway. Ask there for M. Gondureau. "

Bianchon, on his way back from Cuvier's lecture, overheard thesufficiently striking nickname of _Trompe-la-Mort_, and caught thecelebrated chief detective's "_Done!_"

"Why didn't you close with him? It would be three hundred francs ayear, " said Poiret to Mlle. Michonneau. 

"Why didn't I?" she asked. "Why, it wants thinking over. Suppose thatM. Vautrin is this Trompe-la-Mort, perhaps we might do better forourselves with him. Still, on the other hand, if you ask him formoney, it would put him on his guard, and he is just the man to clearout without paying, and that would be an abominable sell. "

"And suppose you did warn him, " Poiret went on, "didn't that gentlemansay that he was closely watched? You would spoil everything. "

"Anyhow, " thought Mlle. Michonneau, "I can't abide him. He saysnothing but disagreeable things to me. "

"But you can do better than that, " Poiret resumed. "As that gentlemansaid (and he seemed to me to be a very good sort of man, besides beingvery well got up), it is an act of obedience to the laws to ridsociety of a criminal, however virtuous he may be. Once a thief, always a thief. Suppose he were to take it into his head to murder usall? The deuce! We should be guilty of manslaughter, and be the firstto fall victims into the bargain!"

Mlle. Michonneau's musings did not permit her to listen very closelyto the remarks that fell one by one from Poiret's lips like waterdripping from a leaky tap. When once this elderly babbler began totalk, he would go on like clockwork unless Mlle. Michonneau stoppedhim. He started on some subject or other, and wandered on throughparenthesis after parenthesis, till he came to regions as remote aspossible from his premises without coming to any conclusions by theway. 

By the time they reached the Maison Vauquer he had tacked together awhole string of examples and quotations more or less irrelevant to thesubject in hand, which led him to give a full account of his owndeposition in the case of the Sieur Ragoulleau _versus_ Dame Morin, when he had been summoned as a witness for the defence. 

As they entered the dining-room, Eugene de Rastignac was talking apartwith Mlle. Taillefer; the conversation appeared to be of suchthrilling interest that the pair never noticed the two older lodgersas they passed through the room. None of this was thrown away on Mlle. Michonneau. 

"I knew how it would end, " remarked that lady, addressing Poiret. "They have been making eyes at each other in a heartrending way for aweek past. "

"Yes, " he answered. "So she was found guilty. "

"Who?"

"Mme. Morin. "

"I am talking about Mlle. Victorine, " said Mlle, Michonneau, as sheentered Poiret's room with an absent air, "and you answer, 'Mme. Morin. ' Who may Mme. Morin be?"

"What can Mlle. Victorine be guilty of?" demanded Poiret. 

"Guilty of falling in love with M. Eugene de Rastignac and goingfurther and further without knowing exactly where she is going, poorinnocent!"

That morning Mme. De Nucingen had driven Eugene to despair. In his ownmind he had completely surrendered himself to Vautrin, anddeliberately shut his eyes to the motive for the friendship which thatextraordinary man professed for him, nor would he look to theconsequences of such an alliance. Nothing short of a miracle couldextricate him now out of the gulf into which he had walked an hourago, when he exchanged vows in the softest whispers with Mlle. Taillefer. To Victorine it seemed as if she heard an angel's voice, that heaven was opening above her; the Maison Vauquer took strange andwonderful hues, like a stage fairy-palace. She loved and she wasloved; at any rate, she believed that she was loved; and what womanwould not likewise have believed after seeing Rastignac's face andlistening to the tones of his voice during that hour snatched underthe Argus eyes of the Maison Vauquer? He had trampled on hisconscience; he knew that he was doing wrong, and did it deliberately;he had said to himself that a woman's happiness should atone for thisvenial sin. The energy of desperation had lent new beauty to his face;the lurid fire that burned in his heart shone from his eyes. Luckilyfor him, the miracle took place. Vautrin came in in high spirits, andat once read the hearts of these two young creatures whom he hadbrought together by the combinations of his infernal genius, but hisdeep voice broke in upon their bliss. 

 "A charming girl is my Fanchette In her simplicity, "

he sang mockingly. 

Victorine fled. Her heart was more full than it had ever been, but itwas full of joy, and not of sorrow. Poor child! A pressure of thehand, the light touch of Rastignac's hair against her cheek, a wordwhispered in her ear so closely that she felt the student's warmbreath on her, the pressure of a trembling arm about her waist, a kissupon her throat--such had been her betrothal. The near neighborhood ofthe stout Sylvie, who might invade that glorified room at any moment, only made these first tokens of love more ardent, more eloquent, moreentrancing than the noblest deeds done for love's sake in the mostfamous romances. This _plain-song_ of love, to use the prettyexpression of our forefathers, seemed almost criminal to the devoutyoung girl who went to confession every fortnight. In that one hourshe had poured out more of the treasures of her soul than she couldgive in later days of wealth and happiness, when her whole selffollowed the gift. 

"The thing is arranged, " Vautrin said to Eugene, who remained. "Ourtwo dandies have fallen out. Everything was done in proper form. It isa matter of opinion. Our pigeon has insulted my hawk. They will meetto-morrow in the redoubt at Clignancourt. By half-past eight in themorning Mlle. Taillefer, calmly dipping her bread and butter in hercoffee cup, will be sole heiress of her father's fortune andaffections. A funny way of putting it, isn't it? Taillefer's youngsteris an expert swordsman, and quite cocksure about it, but he will bebled; I have just invented a thrust for his benefit, a way of raisingyour sword point and driving it at the forehead. I must show you thatthrust; it is an uncommonly handy thing to know. "

Rastignac heard him in dazed bewilderment; he could not find a word inreply. Just then Goriot came in, and Bianchon and a few of theboarders likewise appeared. 

"That is just as I intended. " Vautrin said. "You know quite well whatyou are about. Good, my little eaglet! You are born to command, youare strong, you stand firm on your feet, you are game! I respect you. "

He made as though he would take Eugene's hand, but Rastignac hastilywithdrew it, sank into a chair, and turned ghastly pale; it seemed tohim that there was a sea of blood before his eyes. 

"Oh! so we still have a few dubious tatters of the swaddling clothesof virtue about us!" murmured Vautrin. "But Papa Doliban has threemillions; I know the amount of his fortune. Once have her dowry inyour hands, and your character will be as white as the bride's whitedress, even in your own eyes. "

Rastignac hesitated no longer. He made up his mind that he would gothat evening to warn the Taillefers, father and son. But just asVautrin left him, Father Goriot came up and said in his ear, "You lookmelancholy, my boy; I will cheer you up. Come with me. "

The old vermicelli dealer lighted his dip at one of the lamps as hespoke. Eugene went with him, his curiosity had been aroused. 

"Let us go up to your room, " the worthy soul remarked, when he hadasked Sylvie for the law student's key. "This morning, " he resumed, "you thought that _she_ did not care about you, did you not? Eh? Shewould have nothing to say to you, and you went away out of humor andout of heart. Stuff and rubbish! She wanted you to go because she wasexpecting _me_! Now do you understand? We were to complete thearrangements for taking some chambers for you, a jewel of a place, youare to move into it in three days' time. Don't split upon me. Shewants it to be a surprise; but I couldn't bear to keep the secret fromyou. You will be in the Rue d'Artois, only a step or two from the RueSaint-Lazare, and you are to be housed like a prince! Any one mighthave thought we were furnishing the house for a bride. Oh! we havedone a lot of things in the last month, and you knew nothing about it. My attorney has appeared on the scene, and my daughter is to havethirty-six thousand francs a year, the interest on her money, and Ishall insist on having her eight hundred thousand invested in soundsecurities, landed property that won't run away. "

Eugene was dumb. He folded his arms and paced up and down in hischeerless, untidy room. Father Goriot waited till the student's backwas turned, and seized the opportunity to go to the chimney-piece andset upon it a little red morocco case with Rastignac's arms stamped ingold on the leather. 

"My dear boy, " said the kind soul, "I have been up to the eyes in thisbusiness. You see, there was plenty of selfishness on my part; I havean interested motive in helping you to change lodgings. You will notrefuse me if I ask you something; will you, eh?"

"What is it?"

"There is a room on the fifth floor, up above your rooms, that is tolet along with them; that is where I am going to live, isn't that so?I am getting old: I am too far from my girls. I shall not be in theway, but I shall be there, that is all. You will come and talk to meabout her every evening. It will not put you about, will it? I shallhave gone to bed before you come in, but I shall hear you come up, andI shall say to myself, 'He has just seen my little Delphine. He hasbeen to a dance with her, and she is happy, thanks to him. ' If I wereill, it would do my heart good to hear you moving about below, to knowwhen you leave the house and when you come in. It is only a step tothe Champs-Elysees, where they go every day, so I shall be sure ofseeing them, whereas now I am sometimes too late. And then--perhapsshe may come to see you! I shall hear her, I shall see her in her softquilted pelisse tripping about as daintily as a kitten. In this onemonth she has become my little girl again, so light-hearted and gay. Her soul is recovering, and her happiness is owing to you! Oh! I woulddo impossibilities for you. Only just now she said to me, 'I am veryhappy, papa!' When they say 'father' stiffly, it sends a chill throughme; but when they call me 'papa, ' it brings all the old memories back. I feel most their father then; I even believe that they belong to me, and to no one else. "

The good man wiped his eyes, he was crying. 

"It is a long while since I have heard them talk like that, a long, long time since she took my arm as she did to-day. Yes, indeed, itmust be quite ten years since I walked side by side with one of mygirls. How pleasant it was to keep step with her, to feel the touch ofher gown, the warmth of her arm! Well, I took Delphine everywhere thismorning; I went shopping with her, and I brought her home again. Oh!you must let me live near you. You may want some one to do you aservice some of these days, and I shall be on the spot to do it. Oh!if only that great dolt of an Alsatian would die, if his gout wouldhave the sense to attack his stomach, how happy my poor child wouldbe! You would be my son-in-law; you would be her husband in the eyesof the world. Bah! she has known no happiness, that excuseseverything. Our Father in heaven is surely on the side of fathers onearth who love their children. How fond of you she is!" he said, raising his head after a pause. "All the time we were going abouttogether she chatted away about you. 'He is so nice-looking, papa;isn't he? He is kind-hearted! Does he talk to you about me?' Pshaw!she said enough about you to fill whole volumes; between the Rued'Artois and the Passage des Panoramas she poured her heart out intomine. I did not feel old once during that delightful morning; I feltas light as a feather. I told her how you had given the banknote tome; it moved my darling to tears. But what can this be on yourchimney-piece?" said Father Goriot at last. Rastignac had showed nosign, and he was dying of impatience. 

Eugene stared at his neighbor in dumb and dazed bewilderment. Hethought of Vautrin, of that duel to be fought to-morrow morning, andof this realization of his dearest hopes, and the violent contrastbetween the two sets of ideas gave him all the sensations ofnightmare. He went to the chimney-piece, saw the little square case, opened it, and found a watch of Breguet's make wrapped in paper, onwhich these words were written:

 "I want you to think of me every hour, _because_ . . . 

 "DELPHINE. "

That last word doubtless contained an allusion to some scene thathad taken place between them. Eugene felt touched. Inside the goldwatch-case his arms had been wrought in enamel. The chain, the key, the workmanship and design of the trinket were all such as he hadimagined, for he had long coveted such a possession. Father Goriot wasradiant. Of course he had promised to tell his daughter every littledetail of the scene and of the effect produced upon Eugene by herpresent; he shared in the pleasure and excitement of the young people, and seemed to be not the least happy of the three. He loved Rastignacalready for his own as well as for his daughter's sake. 

"You must go and see her; she is expecting you this evening. Thatgreat lout of an Alsatian is going to have supper with hisopera-dancer. Aha! he looked very foolish when my attorney let him knowwhere he was. He says he idolizes my daughter, does he? He had betterlet her alone, or I will kill him. To think that my Delphine is his"--he heaved a sigh--"it is enough to make me murder him, but it wouldnot be manslaughter to kill that animal; he is a pig with a calf'sbrains. --You will take me with you, will you not?"

"Yes, dear Father Goriot; you know very well how fond I am of you----"

"Yes, I do know very well. You are not ashamed of me, are you? Notyou! Let me embrace you, " and he flung his arms around the student'sneck. 

"You will make her very happy; promise me that you will! You will goto her this evening, will you not?"

"Oh! yes. I must go out; I have some urgent business on hand. "

"Can I be of any use?"

"My word, yes! Will you go to old Taillefer's while I go to Mme. DeNucingen? Ask him to make an appointment with me some time thisevening; it is a matter of life and death. "

"Really, young man!" cried Father Goriot, with a change ofcountenance; "are you really paying court to his daughter, as thosesimpletons were saying down below? . . . _Tonnerre de dieu!_ you haveno notion what a tap _a la Goriot_ is like, and if you are playing adouble game, I shall put a stop to it by one blow of the fist. . . Oh!the thing is impossible!"

"I swear to you that I love but one woman in the world, " said thestudent. "I only knew it a moment ago. "

"Oh! what happiness!" cried Goriot. 

"But young Taillefer has been called out; the duel comes offto-morrow morning, and I have heard it said that he may lose his lifein it. "

"But what business is it of yours?" said Goriot. 

"Why, I ought to tell him so, that he may prevent his son from puttingin an appearance----"

Just at that moment Vautrin's voice broke in upon them; he wasstanding at the threshold of his door and singing:

 "Oh! Richard, oh my king! All the world abandons thee! Broum! broum! broum! broum! broum!

 The same old story everywhere, A roving heart and a . . . Tra la la. "

"Gentlemen!" shouted Christophe, "the soup is ready, and every one iswaiting for you. "

"Here, " Vautrin called down to him, "come and take a bottle of myBordeaux. "

"Do you think your watch is pretty?" asked Goriot. "She has goodtaste, hasn't she? Eh?"

Vautrin, Father Goriot, and Rastignac came downstairs in company, and, all three of them being late, were obliged to sit together. 

Eugene was as distant as possible in his manner to Vautrin duringdinner; but the other, so charming in Mme. Vauquer's opinion, hadnever been so witty. His lively sallies and sparkling talk put thewhole table in good humor. His assurance and coolness filled Eugenewith consternation. 

"Why, what has come to you to-day?" inquired Mme. Vauquer. "You are asmerry as a skylark. "

"I am always in spirits after I have made a good bargain. "

"Bargain?" said Eugene. 

"Well, yes, bargain. I have just delivered a lot of goods, and I shallbe paid a handsome commission on them--Mlle. Michonneau, " he went on, seeing that the elderly spinster was scrutinizing him intently, "haveyou any objection to some feature in my face, that you are makingthose lynx eyes at me? Just let me know, and I will have it changed tooblige you . . . We shall not fall out about it, Poiret, I dare say?"he added, winking at the superannuated clerk. 

"Bless my soul, you ought to stand as model for a burlesque Hercules, "said the young painter. 

"I will, upon my word! if Mlle. Michonneau will consent to sit as theVenus of Pere-Lachaise, " replied Vautrin. 

"There's Poiret, " suggested Bianchon. 

"Oh! Poiret shall pose as Poiret. He can be a garden god!" criedVautrin; "his name means a pear----"

"A sleepy pear!" Bianchon put in. "You will come in between the pearand the cheese. "

"What stuff are you all talking!" said Mme. Vauquer; "you would dobetter to treat us to your Bordeaux; I see a glimpse of a bottlethere. It would keep us all in a good humor, and it is good for thestomach besides. "

"Gentlemen, " said Vautrin, "the Lady President calls us to order. Mme. Couture and Mlle. Victorine will take your jokes in good part, butrespect the innocence of the aged Goriot. I propose a glass or two ofBordeauxrama, rendered twice illustrious by the name of Laffite, nopolitical allusions intended. --Come, you Turk!" he added, looking atChristophe, who did not offer to stir. "Christophe! Here! What, youdon't answer to your own name? Bring us some liquor, Turk!"

"Here it is, sir, " said Christophe, holding out the bottle. 

Vautrin filled Eugene's glass and Goriot's likewise, then hedeliberately poured out a few drops into his own glass, and sipped itwhile his two neighbors drank their wine. All at once he made agrimace. 

"Corked!" he cried. "The devil! You can drink the rest of this, Christophe, and go and find another bottle; take from the right-handside, you know. There are sixteen of us; take down eight bottles. "

"If you are going to stand treat, " said the painter, "I will pay for ahundred chestnuts. "

"Oh! oh!"

"Booououh!"

"Prrr!"

These exclamations came from all parts of the table like squibs from aset firework. 

"Come, now, Mama Vauquer, a couple of bottles of champagne, " calledVautrin. 

"_Quien!_ just like you! Why not ask for the whole house at once. Acouple of bottles of champagne; that means twelve francs! I shallnever see the money back again, I know! But if M. Eugene has a mind topay for it, I have some currant cordial. "

"That currant cordial of hers is as bad as a black draught, " mutteredthe medical student. 

"Shut up, Bianchon, " exclaimed Rastignac; "the very mention of blackdraught makes me feel----. Yes, champagne, by all means; I will payfor it, " he added. 

"Sylvie, " called Mme. Vauquer, "bring in some biscuits, and the littlecakes. "

"Those little cakes are mouldy graybeards, " said Vautrin. "But trotout the biscuits. "

The Bordeaux wine circulated; the dinner table became a livelier scenethan ever, and the fun grew fast and furious. Imitations of the criesof various animals mingled with the loud laughter; the Museum officialhaving taken it into his head to mimic a cat-call rather like thecaterwauling of the animal in question, eight voices simultaneouslystruck up with the following variations:

"Scissors to grind!"

"Chick-weeds for singing bir-ds!"

"Brandy-snaps, ladies!"

"China to mend!"

"Boat ahoy!"

"Sticks to beat your wives or your clothes!"

"Old clo'!"

"Cherries all ripe!"

But the palm was awarded to Bianchon for the nasal accent with whichhe rendered the cry of "Umbrellas to me-end!"

A few seconds later, and there was a head-splitting racket in theroom, a storm of tomfoolery, a sort of cats' concert, with Vautrin asconductor of the orchestra, the latter keeping an eye the while onEugene and Father Goriot. The wine seemed to have gone to their headsalready. They leaned back in their chairs, looking at the generalconfusion with an air of gravity, and drank but little; both of themwere absorbed in the thought of what lay before them to do thatevening, and yet neither of them felt able to rise and go. Vautringave a side glance at them from time to time, and watched the changethat came over their faces, choosing the moment when their eyesdrooped and seemed about to close, to bend over Rastignac and to sayin his ear:--

"My little lad, you are not quite shrewd enough to outwit Papa Vautrinyet, and he is too fond of you to let you make a mess of your affairs. When I have made up my mind to do a thing, no one short of Providencecan put me off. Aha! we were for going round to warn old Taillefer, telling tales out of school! The oven is hot, the dough is kneaded, the bread is ready for the oven; to-morrow we will eat it up andwhisk away the crumbs; and we are not going to spoil the baking?. . . No, no, it is all as good as done! We may suffer from a fewconscientious scruples, but they will be digested along with thebread. While we are having our forty winks, Colonel Count Franchessiniwill clear the way to Michel Taillefer's inheritance with the point ofhis sword. Victorine will come in for her brother's money, a snugfifteen thousand francs a year. I have made inquiries already, and Iknow that her late mother's property amounts to more than threehundred thousand----"

Eugene heard all this, and could not answer a word; his tongue seemedto be glued to the roof of his mouth, an irresistible drowsiness wascreeping over him. He still saw the table and the faces round it, butit was through a bright mist. Soon the noise began to subside, one byone the boarders went. At last, when their numbers had so dwindledthat the party consisted of Mme. Vauquer, Mme. Couture, Mlle. Victorine, Vautrin, and Father Goriot, Rastignac watched as though ina dream how Mme. Vauquer busied herself by collecting the bottles, anddrained the remainder of the wine out of each to fill others. 

"Oh! how uproarious they are! what a thing it is to be young!" saidthe widow. 

These were the last words that Eugene heard and understood. 

"There is no one like M. Vautrin for a bit of fun like this, " saidSylvie. "There, just hark at Christophe, he is snoring like a top. "

"Good-bye, mamma, " said Vautrin; "I am going to a theatre on theboulevard to see M. Marty in _Le Mont Sauvage_, a fine play taken from_Le Solitaire_. . . . If you like, I will take you and these twoladies----"

"Thank you; I must decline, " said Mme. Couture. 

"What! my good lady!" cried Mme. Vauquer, "decline to see a playfounded on the _Le Solitaire_, a work by Atala de Chateaubriand? We wereso fond of that book that we cried over it like Magdalens under the_line-trees_ last summer, and then it is an improving work that mightedify your young lady. "

"We are forbidden to go to the play, " answered Victorine. 

"Just look, those two yonder have dropped off where they sit, " saidVautrin, shaking the heads of the two sleepers in a comical way. 

He altered the sleeping student's position, settled his head morecomfortably on the back of his chair, kissed him warmly on theforehead, and began to sing:

 "Sleep, little darlings; I watch while you slumber. "

"I am afraid he may be ill, " said Victorine. 

"Then stop and take care of him, " returned Vautrin. "'Tis your dutyas a meek and obedient wife, " he whispered in her ear. "The youngfellow worships you, and you will be his little wife--there's yourfortune for you. In short, " he added aloud, "they lived happily everafterwards, were much looked up to in all the countryside, and had anumerous family. That is how all the romances end. --Now, mamma, " hewent on, as he turned to Madame Vauquer and put his arm round herwaist, "put on your bonnet, your best flowered silk, and the countess'scarf, while I go out and call a cab--all my own self. "

And he started out, singing as he went:

 "Oh! sun! divine sun! Ripening the pumpkins every one. "

"My goodness! Well, I'm sure! Mme. Couture, I could live happily in agarret with a man like that. --There, now!" she added, looking roundfor the old vermicelli maker, "there is that Father Goriot half seasover. _He_ never thought of taking me anywhere, the old skinflint. Buthe will measure his length somewhere. My word! it is disgraceful tolose his senses like that, at his age! You will be telling me that hecouldn't lose what he hadn't got--Sylvie, just take him up to hisroom!"

Sylvie took him by the arm, supported him upstairs, and flung him justas he was, like a package, across the bed. 

"Poor young fellow!" said Mme. Couture, putting back Eugene's hairthat had fallen over his eyes; "he is like a young girl, he does notknow what dissipation is. "

"Well, I can tell you this, I know, " said Mme. Vauquer, "I have takenlodgers these thirty years, and a good many have passed through myhands, as the saying is, but I have never seen a nicer nor a morearistocratic looking young man than M. Eugene. How handsome he lookssleeping! Just let his head rest on your shoulder, Mme. Couture. Pshaw! he falls over towards Mlle. Victorine. There's a specialprovidence for young things. A little more, and he would have brokenhis head against the knob of the chair. They'd make a pretty pairthose two would!"

"Hush, my good neighbor, " cried Mme. Couture, "you are saying suchthings----"

"Pooh!" put in Mme. Vauquer, "he does not hear. --Here, Sylvie! comeand help me to dress. I shall put on my best stays. "

"What! your best stays just after dinner, madame?" said Sylvie. "No, you can get some one else to lace you. I am not going to be yourmurderer. It's a rash thing to do, and might cost you your life. "

"I don't care, I must do honor to M. Vautrin. "

"Are you so fond of your heirs as all that?"

"Come, Sylvie, don't argue, " said the widow, as she left the room. 

"At her age, too!" said the cook to Victorine, pointing to hermistress as she spoke. 

Mme. Couture and her ward were left in the dining-room, and Eugeneslept on Victorine's shoulder. The sound of Christophe's snoringechoed through the silent house; Eugene's quiet breathing seemed allthe quieter by force of contrast, he was sleeping as peacefully as achild. Victorine was very happy; she was free to perform one of thoseacts of charity which form an innocent outlet for all the overflowingsentiments of a woman's nature; he was so close to her that she couldfeel the throbbing of his heart; there was a look of almost maternalprotection and conscious pride in Victorine's face. Among thecountless thoughts that crowded up in her young innocent heart, therewas a wild flutter of joy at this close contact. 

"Poor, dear child!" said Mme. Couture, squeezing her hand. 

The old lady looked at the girl. Victorine's innocent, pathetic face, so radiant with the new happiness that had befallen her, called tomind some naive work of mediaeval art, when the painter neglected theaccessories, reserving all the magic of his brush for the quiet, austere outlines and ivory tints of the face, which seems to havecaught something of the golden glory of heaven. 

"After all, he only took two glasses, mamma, " said Victorine, passingher fingers through Eugene's hair. 

"Indeed, if he had been a dissipated young man, child, he would havecarried his wine like the rest of them. His drowsiness does himcredit. "

There was a sound of wheels outside in the street. 

"There is M. Vautrin, mamma, " said the girl. "Just take M. Eugene. Iwould rather not have that man see me like this; there are some waysof looking at you that seem to sully your soul and make you feel asthough you had nothing on. "

"Oh, no, you are wrong!" said Mme. Couture. "M. Vautrin is a worthyman; he reminds me a little of my late husband, poor dear M. Couture, rough but kind-hearted; his bark is worse than his bite. "

Vautrin came in while she was speaking; he did not make a sound, butlooked for a while at the picture of the two young faces--thelamplight falling full upon them seemed to caress them. 

"Well, " he remarked, folding his arms, "here is a picture! It wouldhave suggested some pleasing pages to Bernardin de Saint-Pierre (goodsoul), who wrote _Paul et Virginie_. Youth is very charming, Mme. Couture!--Sleep on, poor boy, " he added, looking at Eugene, "lucksometimes comes while you are sleeping. --There is something touchingand attractive to me about this young man, madame, " he continued; "Iknow that his nature is in harmony with his face. Just look, the headof a cherub on an angel's shoulder! He deserves to be loved. If I werea woman, I would die (no--not such a fool), I would live for him. " Hebent lower and spoke in the widow's ear. "When I see those twotogether, madame, I cannot help thinking that Providence meant themfor each other; He works by secret ways, and tries the reins and theheart, " he said in a loud voice. "And when I see you, my children, thus united by a like purity and by all human affections, I say tomyself that it is quite impossible that the future should separateyou. God is just. "--He turned to Victorine. "It seems to me, " he said, "that I have seen the line of success in your hand. Let me look at it, Mlle. Victorine; I am well up in palmistry, and I have told fortunesmany a time. Come, now, don't be frightened. Ah! what do I see? Uponmy word, you will be one of the richest heiresses in Paris before verylong. You will heap riches on the man who loves you. Your father willwant you to go and live with him. You will marry a young and handsomeman with a title, and he will idolize you. "

The heavy footsteps of the coquettish widow, who was coming down thestairs, interrupted Vautrin's fortune-telling. "Here is MammaVauquerre, fair as a starr-r-r, dressed within an inch of her life. --Aren't we a trifle pinched for room?" he inquired, with his armround the lady; "we are screwed up very tightly about the bust, mamma!If we are much agitated, there may be an explosion; but I will pick upthe fragments with all the care of an antiquary. "

"There is a man who can talk the language of French gallantry!" saidthe widow, bending to speak in Mme. Couture's ear. 

"Good-bye, little ones!" said Vautrin, turning to Eugene andVictorine. "Bless you both!" and he laid a hand on either head. "Takemy word for it, young lady, an honest man's prayers are worthsomething; they should bring you happiness, for God hears them. "

"Good-bye, dear, " said Mme. Vauquer to her lodger. "Do you think thatM. Vautrin means to run away with me?" she added, lowering her voice. 

"Lack-a-day!" said the widow. 

"Oh! mamma dear, suppose it should really happen as that kind M. Vautrin said!" said Victorine with a sigh as she looked at her hands. The two women were alone together. 

"Why, it wouldn't take much to bring it to pass, " said the elderlylady; "just a fall from his horse, and your monster of a brother----"

"Oh! mamma. "

"Good Lord! Well, perhaps it is a sin to wish bad luck to an enemy, "the widow remarked. "I will do penance for it. Still, I would strewflowers on his grave with the greatest pleasure, and that is thetruth. Black-hearted, that he is! The coward couldn't speak up for hisown mother, and cheats you out of your share by deceit and trickery. My cousin had a pretty fortune of her own, but unluckily for you, nothing was said in the marriage-contract about anything that shemight come in for. "

"It would be very hard if my fortune is to cost some one else hislife, " said Victorine. "If I cannot be happy unless my brother is tobe taken out of the world, I would rather stay here all my life. "

"_Mon Dieu!_ it is just as that good M. Vautrin says, and he is fullof piety, you see, " Mme. Couture remarked. "I am very glad to findthat he is not an unbeliever like the rest of them that talk of theAlmighty with less respect than they do of the Devil. Well, as he wassaying, who can know the ways by which it may please Providence tolead us?"

With Sylvie's help the two women at last succeeded in getting Eugeneup to his room; they laid him on the bed, and the cook unfastened hisclothes to make him more comfortable. Before they left the room, Victorine snatched an opportunity when her guardian's back was turned, and pressed a kiss on Eugene's forehead, feeling all the joy that thisstolen pleasure could give her. Then she looked round the room, andgathering up, as it were, into one single thought all the untold blissof that day, she made a picture of her memories, and dwelt upon ituntil she slept, the happiest creature in Paris. 

That evening's merry-making, in the course of which Vautrin had giventhe drugged wine to Eugene and Father Goriot, was his own ruin. Bianchon, flustered with wine, forgot to open the subject ofTrompe-la-Mort with Mlle. Michonneau. The mere mention of the namewould have set Vautrin on his guard; for Vautrin, or, to give him hisreal name, Jacques Collin, was in fact the notorious escaped convict. 

But it was the joke about the Venus of Pere-Lachaise that finallydecided his fate. Mlle. Michonneau had very nearly made up her mind towarn the convict and to throw herself on his generosity, with the ideaof making a better bargain for herself by helping him to escape thatnight; but as it was, she went out escorted by Poiret in search of thefamous chief of detectives in the Petite Rue Saint-Anne, stillthinking that it was the district superintendent--one Gondureau--withwhom she had to do. The head of the department received his visitorscourteously. There was a little talk, and the details were definitelyarranged. Mlle. Michonneau asked for the draught that she was toadminister in order to set about her investigation. But the greatman's evident satisfaction set Mlle. Michonneau thinking; and shebegan to see that this business involved something more than the merecapture of a runaway convict. She racked her brains while he looked ina drawer in his desk for the little phial, and it dawned upon her thatin consequence of treacherous revelations made by the prisoners thepolice were hoping to lay their hands on a considerable sum of money. But on hinting her suspicions to the old fox of the Petite RueSaint-Anne, that officer began to smile, and tried to put her off thescent. 

"A delusion, " he said. "Collin's _sorbonne_ is the most dangerous thathas yet been found among the dangerous classes. That is all, and therascals are quite aware of it. They rally round him; he is thebackbone of the federation, its Bonaparte, in short; he is verypopular with them all. The rogue will never leave his _chump_ in thePlace de Greve. "

As Mlle. Michonneau seemed mystified, Gondureau explained the twoslang words for her benefit. _Sorbonne_ and _chump_ are two forcibleexpressions borrowed from thieves' Latin, thieves, of all people, being compelled to consider the human head in its two aspects. Asorbonne is the head of a living man, his faculty of thinking--hiscouncil; a chump is a contemptuous epithet that implies how little ahuman head is worth after the axe has done its work. 

"Collin is playing us off, " he continued. "When we come across a manlike a bar of steel tempered in the English fashion, there is alwaysone resource left--we can kill him if he takes it into his head tomake the least resistance. We are reckoning on several methods ofkilling Collin to-morrow morning. It saves a trial, and society is ridof him without all the expense of guarding and feeding him. What withgetting up the case, summoning witnesses, paying their expenses, andcarrying out the sentence, it costs a lot to go through all the properformalities before you can get quit of one of these good-for-nothings, over and above the three thousand francs that you are going to have. There is a saving in time as well. One good thrust of the bayonet intoTrompe-la-Mort's paunch will prevent scores of crimes, and save fiftyscoundrels from following his example; they will be very careful tokeep themselves out of the police courts. That is doing the work ofthe police thoroughly, and true philanthropists will tell you that itis better to prevent crime than to punish it. "

"And you do a service to our country, " said Poiret. 

"Really, you are talking in a very sensible manner tonight, that youare, " said the head of the department. "Yes, of course, we are servingour country, and we are very hardly used too. We do society very greatservices that are not recognized. In fact, a superior man must riseabove vulgar prejudices, and a Christian must resign himself to themishaps that doing right entails, when right is done in anout-of-the-way style. Paris is Paris, you see! That is the explanationof my life. --I have the honor to wish you a good-evening, mademoiselle. I shall bring my men to the Jardin du Roi in the morning. SendChristophe to the Rue du Buffon, tell him to ask for M. Gondureau inthe house where you saw me before. --Your servant, sir. If you shouldever have anything stolen from you, come to me, and I will do my bestto get it back for you. "

"Well, now, " Poiret remarked to Mlle. Michonneau, "there are idiotswho are scared out of their wits by the word police. That was a verypleasant-spoken gentleman, and what he wants you to do is as easy assaying 'Good-day. '"

The next day was destined to be one of the most extraordinary in theannals of the Maison Vauquer. Hitherto the most startling occurrencein its tranquil existence had been the portentous, meteor-likeapparition of the sham Comtesse de l'Ambermesnil. But the catastrophesof this great day were to cast all previous events into the shade, andsupply an inexhaustible topic of conversation for Mme. Vauquer and herboarders so long as she lived. 

In the first place, Goriot and Eugene de Rastignac both slept tillclose upon eleven o'clock. Mme. Vauquer, who came home about midnightfrom the Gaite, lay a-bed till half-past ten. Christophe, after aprolonged slumber (he had finished Vautrin's first bottle of wine), was behindhand with his work, but Poiret and Mlle. Michonneau utteredno complaint, though breakfast was delayed. As for Victorine and Mme. Couture, they also lay late. Vautrin went out before eight o'clock, and only came back just as breakfast was ready. Nobody protested, therefore, when Sylvie and Christophe went up at a quarter pasteleven, knocked at all the doors, and announced that breakfast waswaiting. While Sylvie and the man were upstairs, Mlle. Michonneau, whocame down first, poured the contents of the phial into the silver cupbelonging to Vautrin--it was standing with the others in thebain-marie that kept the cream hot for the morning coffee. The spinsterhad reckoned on this custom of the house to do her stroke of business. The seven lodgers were at last collected together, not without somedifficulty. Just as Eugene came downstairs, stretching himself andyawning, a commissionaire handed him a letter from Mme. De Nucingen. It ran thus:--

"I feel neither false vanity nor anger where you are concerned, myfriend. Till two o'clock this morning I waited for you. Oh, thatwaiting for one whom you love! No one that had passed through thattorture could inflict it on another. I know now that you have neverloved before. What can have happened? Anxiety has taken hold of me. Iwould have come myself to find out what had happened, if I had notfeared to betray the secrets of my heart. How can I walk out or driveout at this time of day? Would it not be ruin? I have felt to the fullhow wretched it is to be a woman. Send a word to reassure me, andexplain how it is that you have not come after what my father toldyou. I shall be angry, but I will forgive you. One word, for pity'ssake. You will come to me soon, will you not? If you are busy, a linewill be enough. Say, 'I will hasten to you, ' or else, 'I am ill. ' Butif you were ill my father would have come to tell me so. What can havehappened? . . . "

"Yes, indeed, what has happened?" exclaimed Eugene, and, hurrying downto the dining-room, he crumpled up the letter without reading anymore. "What time is it?"

"Half-past eleven, " said Vautrin, dropping a lump of sugar into hiscoffee. 

The escaped convict cast a glance at Eugene, a cold and fascinatingglance; men gifted with this magnetic power can quell furious lunaticsin a madhouse by such a glance, it is said. Eugene shook in everylimb. There was the sound of wheels in the street, and in anothermoment a man with a scared face rushed into the room. It was one of M. Taillefer's servants; Mme. Couture recognized the livery at once. 

"Mademoiselle, " he cried, "your father is asking for you--somethingterrible has happened! M. Frederic has had a sword thrust in theforehead in a duel, and the doctors have given him up. You willscarcely be in time to say good-bye to him! he is unconscious. "

"Poor young fellow!" exclaimed Vautrin. "How can people brawl whenthey have a certain income of thirty thousand livres? Young peoplehave bad manners, and that is a fact. "

"Sir!" cried Eugene. 

"Well, what then, you big baby!" said Vautrin, swallowing down hiscoffee imperturbably, an operation which Mlle. Michonneau watched withsuch close attention that she had no emotion to spare for the amazingnews that had struck the others dumb with amazement. "Are there notduels every morning in Paris?" added Vautrin. 

"I will go with you, Victorine, " said Mme. Couture, and the two womenhurried away at once without either hats or shawls. But before shewent, Victorine, with her eyes full of tears, gave Eugene a glancethat said--"How little I thought that our happiness should cost metears!"

"Dear me, you are a prophet, M. Vautrin, " said Mme. Vauquer. 

"I am all sorts of things, " said Vautrin. 

"Queer, isn't it?" said Mme. Vauquer, stringing together a successionof commonplaces suited to the occasion. "Death takes us off withoutasking us about it. The young often go before the old. It is a luckything for us women that we are not liable to fight duels, but we haveother complaints that men don't suffer from. We bear children, and ittakes a long time to get over it. What a windfall for Victorine! Herfather will have to acknowledge her now!"

"There!" said Vautrin, looking at Eugene, "yesterday she had not apenny; this morning she has several millions to her fortune. "

"I say, M. Eugene!" cried Mme. Vauquer, "you have landed on yourfeet!"

At this exclamation, Father Goriot looked at the student, and saw thecrumpled letter still in his hand. 

"You have not read it through! What does this mean? Are you going tobe like the rest of them?" he asked. 

"Madame, I shall never marry Mlle. Victorine, " said Eugene, turning toMme. Vauquer with an expression of terror and loathing that surprisedthe onlookers at this scene. 

Father Goriot caught the student's hand and grasped it warmly. Hecould have kissed it. 

"Oh, ho!" said Vautrin, "the Italians have a good proverb--_Coltempo_. "

"Is there any answer?" said Mme. De Nucingen's messenger, addressingEugene. 

"Say that I will come directly. "

The man went. Eugene was in a state of such violent excitement that hecould not be prudent. 

"What is to be done?" he exclaimed aloud. "There are no proofs!"

Vautrin began to smile. Though the drug he had taken was doing itswork, the convict was so vigorous that he rose to his feet, gaveRastignac a look, and said in hollow tones, "Luck comes to us while wesleep, young man, " and fell stiff and stark, as if he were struckdead. 

"So there is a Divine Justice!" said Eugene. 

"Well, if ever! What has come to that poor dear M. Vautrin?"

"A stroke!" cried Mlle. Michonneau. 

"Here, Sylvie! girl, run for the doctor, " called the widow. "Oh, M. Rastignac, just go for M. Bianchon, and be as quick as you can; Sylviemight not be in time to catch our doctor, M. Grimprel. "

Rastignac was glad of an excuse to leave that den of horrors, hishurry for the doctor was nothing but a flight. 

"Here, Christophe, go round to the chemist's and ask for somethingthat's good for the apoplexy. "

Christophe likewise went. 

"Father Goriot, just help us to get him upstairs. "

Vautrin was taken up among them, carried carefully up the narrowstaircase, and laid upon his bed. 

"I can do no good here, so I shall go to see my daughter, " said M. Goriot. 

"Selfish old thing!" cried Mme. Vauquer. "Yes, go; I wish you may dielike a dog. "

"Just go and see if you can find some ether, " said Mlle. Michonneau toMme. Vauquer; the former, with some help from Poiret, had unfastenedthe sick man's clothes. 

Mme. Vauquer went down to her room, and left Mlle. Michonneau mistressof the situation. 

"Now! just pull down his shirt and turn him over, quick! You might beof some use in sparing my modesty, " she said to Poiret, "instead ofstanding there like a stock. "

Vautrin was turned over; Mlle. Michonneau gave his shoulder a sharpslap, and the two portentous letters appeared, white against the red. 

"There, you have earned your three thousand francs very easily, "exclaimed Poiret, supporting Vautrin while Mlle. Michonneau slipped onthe shirt again. --"Ouf! How heavy he is, " he added, as he laid theconvict down. 

"Hush! Suppose there is a strong-box here!" said the old maid briskly;her glances seemed to pierce the walls, she scrutinized every articleof the furniture with greedy eyes. "Could we find some excuse foropening that desk?"

"It mightn't be quite right, " responded Poiret to this. 

"Where is the harm? It is money stolen from all sorts of people, so itdoesn't belong to any one now. But we haven't time, there is theVauquer. "

"Here is the ether, " said that lady. "I must say that this is aneventful day. Lord! that man can't have had a stroke; he is as whiteas curds. "

"White as curds?" echoed Poiret. 

"And his pulse is steady, " said the widow, laying her hand on hisbreast. 

"Steady?" said the astonished Poiret. 

"He is all right. "

"Do you think so?" asked Poiret. 

"Lord! Yes, he looks as if he were sleeping. Sylvie has gone for adoctor. I say, Mlle. Michonneau, he is sniffing the ether. Pooh! it isonly a spasm. His pulse is good. He is as strong as a Turk. Just look, mademoiselle, what a fur tippet he has on his chest; that is the sortof man to live till he is a hundred. His wig holds on tightly, however. Dear me! it is glued on, and his own hair is red; that is whyhe wears a wig. They say that red-haired people are either the worstor the best. Is he one of the good ones, I wonder?"

"Good to hang, " said Poiret. 

"Round a pretty woman's neck, you mean, " said Mlle Michonneau, hastily. "Just go away, M. Poiret. It is a woman's duty to nurse youmen when you are ill. Besides, for all the good you are doing, you mayas well take yourself off, " she added. "Mme. Vauquer and I will takegreat care of dear M. Vautrin. 

Poiret went out on tiptoe without a murmur, like a dog kicked out ofthe room by his master. 

Rastignac had gone out for the sake of physical exertion; he wanted tobreathe the air, he felt stifled. Yesterday evening he had meant toprevent the murder arranged for half-past eight that morning. What hadhappened? What ought he to do now? He trembled to think that hehimself might be implicated. Vautrin's coolness still further dismayedhim. 

"Yet, how if Vautrin should die without saying a word?" Rastignacasked himself. 

He hurried along the alleys of the Luxembourg Gardens as if the houndsof justice were after him, and he already heard the baying of thepack. 

"Well?" shouted Bianchon, "you have seen the _Pilote_?"

The _Pilote_ was a Radical sheet, edited by M. Tissot. It came outseveral hours later than the morning papers, and was meant for thebenefit of country subscribers; for it brought the morning news intoprovincial districts twenty-four hours sooner than the ordinary localjournals. 

"There is a wonderful history in it, " said the house student of theHopital Cochin. "Young Taillefer called out Count Franchessini, of theOld Guard, and the Count put a couple of inches of steel into hisforehead. And here is little Victorine one of the richest heiresses inParis! If we had known that, eh? What a game of chance death is! Theysay Victorine was sweet on you; was there any truth in it?"

"Shut up, Bianchon; I shall never marry her. I am in love with acharming woman, and she is in love with me, so----"

"You said that as if you were screwing yourself up to be faithful toher. I should like to see the woman worth the sacrifice of MasterTaillefer's money!"

"Are all the devils of hell at my heels?" cried Rastignac. 

"What is the matter with you? Are you mad? Give us your hand, " saidBianchon, "and let me feel your pulse. You are feverish. "

"Just go to Mother Vauquer's, " said Rastignac; "that scoundrel Vautrinhas dropped down like one dead. "

"Aha!" said Bianchon, leaving Rastignac to his reflections, "youconfirm my suspicions, and now I mean to make sure for myself. "

The law student's long walk was a memorable one for him. He made insome sort a survey of his conscience. After a close scrutiny, afterhesitation and self-examination, his honor at any rate came outscatheless from this sharp and terrible ordeal, like a bar of irontested in the English fashion. He remembered Father Goriot'sconfidences of the evening before; he recollected the rooms taken forhim in the Rue d'Artois, so that he might be near Delphine; and thenhe thought of his letter, and read it again and kissed it. 

"Such a love is my anchor of safety, " he said to himself. "How the oldman's heart must have been wrung! He says nothing about all that hehas been through; but who could not guess? Well, then, I will be likea son to him; his life shall be made happy. If she cares for me, shewill often come to spend the day with him. That grand Comtesse deRestaud is a heartless thing; she would make her father into her hallporter. Dear Delphine! she is kinder to the old man; she is worthy tobe loved. Ah! this evening I shall be very happy!"

He took out his watch and admired it. 

"I have had nothing but success! If two people mean to love each otherfor ever, they may help each other, and I can take this. Besides, Ishall succeed, and I will pay her a hundredfold. There is nothingcriminal in this _liaison_; nothing that could cause the most austeremoralist to frown. How many respectable people contract similarunions! We deceive nobody; it is deception that makes a positionhumiliating. If you lie, you lower yourself at once. She and herhusband have lived apart for a long while. Besides, how if I calledupon that Alsatian to resign a wife whom he cannot make happy?"

Rastignac's battle with himself went on for a long while; and thoughthe scruples of youth inevitably gained the day, an irresistiblecuriosity led him, about half-past four, to return to the MaisonVauquer through the gathering dusk. 

Bianchon had given Vautrin an emetic, reserving the contents of thestomach for chemical analysis at the hospital. Mlle. Michonneau'sofficious alacrity had still further strengthened his suspicions ofher. Vautrin, moreover, had recovered so quickly that it wasimpossible not to suspect some plot against the leader of all frolicsat the lodging-house. Vautrin was standing in front of the stove inthe dining-room when Rastignac came in. All the lodgers were assembledsooner than usual by the news of young Taillefer's duel. They wereanxious to hear any detail about the affair, and to talk over theprobable change in Victorine's prospects. Father Goriot alone wasabsent, but the rest were chatting. No sooner did Eugene come into theroom, than his eyes met the inscrutable gaze of Vautrin. It was thesame look that had read his thoughts before--the look that had suchpower to waken evil thoughts in his heart. He shuddered. 

"Well, dear boy, " said the escaped convict, "I am likely to cheatdeath for a good while yet. According to these ladies, I have had astroke that would have felled an ox, and come off with flying colors. "

"A bull you might say, " cried the widow. 

"You really might be sorry to see me still alive, " said Vautrin inRastignac's ear, thinking that he guessed the student's thoughts. "Youmust be mighty sure of yourself. "

"Mlle. Michonneau was talking the day before yesterday about agentleman named _Trompe-la-Mort_, " said Bianchon; "and, upon my word, that name would do very well for you. "

Vautrin seemed thunderstruck. He turned pale, and staggered back. Heturned his magnetic glance, like a ray of vivid light, on Mlle. Michonneau; the old maid shrank and trembled under the influence ofthat strong will, and collapsed into a chair. The mask of good-naturehad dropped from the convict's face; from the unmistakable ferocity ofthat sinister look, Poiret felt that the old maid was in danger, andhastily stepped between them. None of the lodgers understood thisscene in the least, they looked on in mute amazement. There was apause. Just then there was a sound of tramping feet outside; therewere soldiers there, it seemed, for there was a ring of several rifleson the pavement of the street. Collin was mechanically looking roundthe walls for a way of escape, when four men entered by way of thesitting-room. 

"In the name of the King and the Law!" said an officer, but the wordswere almost lost in a murmur of astonishment. 

Silence fell on the room. The lodgers made way for three of the men, who had each a hand on a cocked pistol in a side pocket. Twopolicemen, who followed the detectives, kept the entrance to thesitting-room, and two more men appeared in the doorway that gaveaccess to the staircase. A sound of footsteps came from the garden, and again the rifles of several soldiers rang on the cobblestonesunder the window. All chance of salvation by flight was cut off forTrompe-la-Mort, to whom all eyes instinctively turned. The chiefwalked straight up to him, and commenced operations by giving him asharp blow on the head, so that the wig fell off, and Collin's facewas revealed in all its ugliness. There was a terrible suggestion ofstrength mingled with cunning in the short, brick-red crop of hair, the whole head was in harmony with his powerful frame, and at thatmoment the fires of hell seemed to gleam from his eyes. In that flashthe real Vautrin shone forth, revealed at once before them all; theyunderstood his past, his present, and future, his pitiless doctrines, his actions, the religion of his own good pleasure, the majesty withwhich his cynicism and contempt for mankind invested him, the physicalstrength of an organization proof against all trials. The blood flewto his face, and his eyes glared like the eyes of a wild cat. Hestarted back with savage energy and a fierce growl that drewexclamations of alarm from the lodgers. At that leonine start thepolice caught at their pistols under cover of the general clamor. Collin saw the gleaming muzzles of the weapons, saw his danger, andinstantly gave proof of a power of the highest order. There wassomething horrible and majestic in the spectacle of the suddentransformation in his face; he could only be compared to a cauldronfull of the steam that can send mountains flying, a terrific forcedispelled in a moment by a drop of cold water. The drop of water thatcooled his wrathful fury was a reflection that flashed across hisbrain like lightning. He began to smile, and looked down at his wig. 

"You are not in the politest of humors to-day, " he remarked to thechief, and he held out his hands to the policemen with a jerk of hishead. 

"Gentlemen, " he said, "put on the bracelets or the handcuffs. I callon those present to witness that I make no resistance. "

A murmur of admiration ran through the room at the sudden outpouringlike fire and lava flood from this human volcano, and its equallysudden cessation. 

"There's a sell for you, master crusher, " the convict added, lookingat the famous director of police. 

"Come, strip!" said he of the Petite Rue Saint-Anne, contemptuously. 

"Why?" asked Collin. "There are ladies present; I deny nothing, andsurrender. "

He paused, and looked round the room like an orator who is about tooverwhelm his audience. 

"Take this down, Daddy Lachapelle, " he went on, addressing a little, white-haired old man who had seated himself at the end of the table;and after drawing a printed form from the portfolio, was proceeding todraw up a document. "I acknowledge myself to be Jacques Collin, otherwise known as Trompe-la-Mort, condemned to twenty years' penalservitude, and I have just proved that I have come fairly by mynickname. --If I had as much as raised my hand, " he went on, addressingthe other lodgers, "those three sneaking wretches yonder would havedrawn claret on Mamma Vauquer's domestic hearth. The rogues have laidtheir heads together to set a trap for me. "

Mme. Vauquer felt sick and faint at these words. 

"Good Lord!" she cried, "this does give one a turn; and me at theGaite with him only last night!" she said to Sylvie. 

"Summon your philosophy, mamma, " Collin resumed. "Is it a misfortuneto have sat in my box at the Gaite yesterday evening? After all, areyou better than we are? The brand upon our shoulders is less shamefulthan the brand set on your hearts, you flabby members of a societyrotten to the core. Not the best man among you could stand up to me. "His eyes rested upon Rastignac, to whom he spoke with a pleasant smilethat seemed strangely at variance with the savage expression in hiseyes. --"Our little bargain still holds good, dear boy; you can acceptany time you like! Do you understand?" And he sang:

 "A charming girl is my Fanchette In her simplicity. "

"Don't you trouble yourself, " he went on; "I can get in my money. Theyare too much afraid of me to swindle me. "

The convicts' prison, its language and customs, its sudden sharptransitions from the humorous to the horrible, its appalling grandeur, its triviality and its dark depths, were all revealed in turn by thespeaker's discourse; he seemed to be no longer a man, but the type andmouthpiece of a degenerate race, a brutal, supple, clear-headed raceof savages. In one moment Collin became the poet of an inferno, wherein all thoughts and passions that move human nature (saverepentance) find a place. He looked about him like a fallen archangelwho is for war to the end. Rastignac lowered his eyes, andacknowledged this kinship claimed by crime as an expiation of his ownevil thoughts. 

"Who betrayed me?" said Collin, and his terrible eyes traveled roundthe room. Suddenly they rested on Mlle. Michonneau. 

"It was you, old cat!" he said. "That sham stroke of apoplexy was yourdoing, lynx eyes! . . . Two words from me, and your throat would becut in less than a week, but I forgive you, I am a Christian. You didnot sell me either. But who did?----Aha! you may rummage upstairs, " heshouted, hearing the police officers opening his cupboards and takingpossession of his effects. "The nest is empty, the birds flew awayyesterday, and you will be none the wiser. My ledgers are here, " hesaid tapping his forehead. "Now I know who sold me! It could only bethat blackguard Fil-de-Soie. That is who it was, old catchpoll, eh?"he said, turning to the chief. "It was timed so neatly to get thebanknotes up above there. There is nothing left for you--spies! As forFil-de-Soie, he will be under the daisies in less than a fortnight, even if you were to tell off the whole force to protect him. How muchdid you give the Michonnette?" he asked of the police officers. "Athousand crowns? Oh you Ninon in decay, Pompadour in tatters, Venus ofthe graveyard, I was worth more than that! If you had given mewarning, you should have had six thousand francs. Ah! you had nosuspicion of that, old trafficker in flesh and blood, or I should havehad the preference. Yes, I would have given six thousand francs tosave myself an inconvenient journey and some loss of money, " he said, as they fastened the handcuffs on his wrists. "These folks will amusethemselves by dragging out this business till the end of time to keepme idle. If they were to send me straight to jail, I should soon beback at my old tricks in spite of the duffers at the Quai desOrfevres. Down yonder they will all turn themselves inside out to helptheir general--their good Trompe-la-Mort--to get clear away. Is therea single one among you that can say, as I can, that he has tenthousand brothers ready to do anything for him?" he asked proudly. "There is some good there, " he said tapping his heart; "I have neverbetrayed any one!--Look you here, you slut, " he said to the old maid, "they are all afraid of me, do you see? but the sight of you turnsthem sick. Rake in your gains. "

He was silent for a moment, and looked round at the lodgers' faces. 

"What dolts you are, all of you! Have you never seen a convict before?A convict of Collin's stamp, whom you see before you, is a man lessweak-kneed than others; he lifts up his voice against the colossalfraud of the Social Contract, as Jean Jacques did, whose pupil he isproud to declare himself. In short, I stand here single-handed againsta Government and a whole subsidized machinery of tribunals and police, and I am a match for them all. "

"Ye gods!" cried the painter, "what a magnificent sketch one mightmake of him!"

"Look here, you gentlemen-in-waiting to his highness the gibbet, master of ceremonies to the widow" (a nickname full of sombre poetry, given by prisoners to the guillotine), "be a good fellow, and tell meif it really was Fil-de-Soie who sold me. I don't want him to sufferfor some one else, that would not be fair. "

But before the chief had time to answer, the rest of the partyreturned from making their investigations upstairs. Everything hadbeen opened and inventoried. A few words passed between them and thechief, and the official preliminaries were complete. 

"Gentlemen, " said Collin, addressing the lodgers, "they will take meaway directly. You have all made my stay among you very agreeable, andI shall look back upon it with gratitude. Receive my adieux, andpermit me to send you figs from Provence. "

He advanced a step or two, and then turned to look once more atRastignac. 

"Good-bye, Eugene, " he said, in a sad and gentle tone, a strangetransition from his previous rough and stern manner. "If you should behard up, I have left you a devoted friend, " and, in spite of hisshackles, he managed to assume a posture of defence, called, "One, two!" like a fencing-master, and lunged. "If anything goes wrong, apply in that quarter. Man and money, all at your service. "

The strange speaker's manner was sufficiently burlesque, so that noone but Rastignac knew that there was a serious meaning underlying thepantomime. 

As soon as the police, soldiers, and detectives had left the house, Sylvie, who was rubbing her mistress' temples with vinegar, lookedround at the bewildered lodgers. 

"Well, " said she, "he was a man, he was, for all that. "

Her words broke the spell. Every one had been too much excited, toomuch moved by very various feelings to speak. But now the lodgersbegan to look at each other, and then all eyes were turned at once onMlle. Michonneau, a thin, shriveled, dead-alive, mummy-like figure, crouching by the stove; her eyes were downcast, as if she feared thatthe green eye-shade could not shut out the expression of those facesfrom her. This figure and the feeling of repulsion she had so longexcited were explained all at once. A smothered murmur filled theroom; it was so unanimous, that it seemed as if the same feeling ofloathing had pitched all the voices in one key. Mlle. Michonneau heardit, and did not stir. It was Bianchon who was the first to move; hebent over his neighbor, and said in a low voice, "If that creature isgoing to stop here, and have dinner with us, I shall clear out. "

In the twinkling of an eye it was clear that every one in the room, save Poiret, was of the medical student's opinion, so that the latter, strong in the support of the majority, went up to that elderly person. 

"You are more intimate with Mlle. Michonneau than the rest of us, " hesaid; "speak to her, make her understand that she must go, and go atonce. "

"At once!" echoed Poiret in amazement. 

Then he went across to the crouching figure, and spoke a few words inher ear. 

"I have paid beforehand for the quarter; I have as much right to behere as any one else, " she said, with a viperous look at the boarders. 

"Never mind that! we will club together and pay you the money back, "said Rastignac. 

"Monsieur is taking Collin's part" she said, with a questioning, malignant glance at the law student; "it is not difficult to guesswhy. "

Eugene started forward at the words, as if he meant to spring upon herand wring her neck. That glance, and the depths of treachery that itrevealed, had been a hideous enlightenment. 

"Let her alone!" cried the boarders. 

Rastignac folded his arms and was silent. 

"Let us have no more of Mlle. Judas, " said the painter, turning toMme. Vauquer. "If you don't show the Michonneau the door, madame, weshall all leave your shop, and wherever we go we shall say that thereare only convicts and spies left there. If you do the other thing, wewill hold our tongues about the business; for when all is said anddone, it might happen in the best society until they brand them on theforehead, when they send them to the hulks. They ought not to letconvicts go about Paris disguised like decent citizens, so as to carryon their antics like a set of rascally humbugs, which they are. "

At this Mme. Vauquer recovered miraculously. She sat up and folded herarms; her eyes were wide open now, and there was no sign of tears inthem. 

"Why, do you really mean to be the ruin of my establishment, my dearsir? There is M. Vautrin----Goodness, " she cried, interruptingherself, "I can't help calling him by the name he passed himself offby for an honest man! There is one room to let already, and you wantme to turn out two more lodgers in the middle of the season, when noone is moving----"

"Gentlemen, let us take our hats and go and dine at Flicoteaux's inthe Place Sorbonne, " cried Bianchon. 

Mme. Vauquer glanced round, and saw in a moment on which side herinterest lay. She waddled across to Mlle. Michonneau. 

"Come, now, " she said; "you would not be the ruin of my establishment, would you, eh? There's a dear, kind soul. You see what a pass thesegentlemen have brought me to; just go up to your room for thisevening. "

"Never a bit of it!" cried the boarders. "She must go, and go thisminute!"

"But the poor lady has had no dinner, " said Poiret, with piteousentreaty. 

"She can go and dine where she likes, " shouted several voices. 

"Turn her out, the spy!"

"Turn them both out! Spies!"

"Gentlemen, " cried Poiret, his heart swelling with the courage thatlove gives to the ovine male, "respect the weaker sex. "

"Spies are of no sex!" said the painter. 

"A precious sexorama!"

"Turn her into the streetorama!"

"Gentlemen, this is not manners! If you turn people out of the house, it ought not to be done so unceremoniously and with no notice at all. We have paid our money, and we are not going, " said Poiret, putting onhis cap, and taking a chair beside Mlle. Michonneau, with whom Mme. Vauquer was remonstrating. 

"Naughty boy!" said the painter, with a comical look; "run away, naughty little boy!"

"Look here, " said Bianchon; "if you do not go, all the rest of uswill, " and the boarders, to a man, made for the sitting-room-door. 

"Oh! mademoiselle, what is to be done?" cried Mme. Vauquer. "I am aruined woman. You can't stay here; they will go further, do somethingviolent. "

Mlle. Michonneau rose to her feet. 

"She is going!--She is not going!--She is going!--No, she isn't. "

These alternate exclamations, and a suggestion of hostile intentions, borne out by the behavior of the insurgents, compelled Mlle. Michonneau to take her departure. She made some stipulations, speakingin a low voice in her hostess' ear, and then--"I shall go to Mme. Buneaud's, " she said, with a threatening look. 

"Go where you please, mademoiselle, " said Mme. Vauquer, who regardedthis choice of an opposition establishment as an atrocious insult. "Goand lodge with the Buneaud; the wine would give a cat the colic, andthe food is cheap and nasty. "

The boarders stood aside in two rows to let her pass; not a word wasspoken. Poiret looked so wistfully after Mlle. Michonneau, and soartlessly revealed that he was in two minds whether to go or stay, that the boarders, in their joy at being quit of Mlle. Michonneau, burst out laughing at the sight of him. 

"Hist!--st!--st! Poiret, " shouted the painter. "Hallo! I say, Poiret, hallo!" The _employe_ from the Museum began to sing:

 "Partant pour la Syrie, Le jeune et beau Dunois . . . "

"Get along with you; you must be dying to go, _trahit sua quemquevoluptas!_" said Bianchon. 

"Every one to his taste--free rendering from Virgil, " said the tutor. 

Mlle. Michonneau made a movement as if to take Poiret's arm, with anappealing glance that he could not resist. The two went out together, the old maid leaning upon him, and there was a burst of applause, followed by peals of laughter. 

"Bravo, Poiret!"

"Who would have thought it of old Poiret!"

"Apollo Poiret!"

"Mars Poiret!"

"Intrepid Poiret!"

A messenger came in at that moment with a letter for Mme. Vauquer, whoread it through, and collapsed in her chair. 

"The house might as well be burned down at once, " cried she, "if thereare to be any more of these thunderbolts! Young Taillefer died atthree o'clock this afternoon. It serves me right for wishing well tothose ladies at that poor man's expense. Mme. Couture and Victorinewant me to send their things, because they are going to live with herfather. M. Taillefer allows his daughter to keep old Mme. Couture asher lady companion. Four rooms to let! and five lodgers gone! . . . "

She sat up, and seemed about to burst into tears. 

"Bad luck has come to lodge here, I think, " she cried. 

Once more there came a sound of wheels from the street outside. 

"What! another windfall for somebody!" was Sylvie's comment. 

But it was Goriot who came in, looking so radiant, so flushed withhappiness, that he seemed to have grown young again. 

"Goriot in a cab!" cried the boarders; "the world is coming to anend. "

The good soul made straight for Eugene, who was standing wrapped inthought in a corner, and laid a hand on the young man's arm. 

"Come, " he said, with gladness in his eyes. 

"Then you haven't heard the news?" said Eugene. "Vautrin was anescaped convict; they have just arrested him; and young Taillefer isdead. "

"Very well, but what business is it of ours?" replied Father Goriot. "I am going to dine with my daughter in _your house_, do youunderstand? She is expecting you. Come!"

He carried off Rastignac with him by main force, and they departed inas great a hurry as a pair of eloping lovers. 

"Now, let us have dinner, " cried the painter, and every one drew hischair to the table. 

"Well, I never, " said the portly Sylvie. "Nothing goes right to-day!The haricot mutton has caught! Bah! you will have to eat it, burned asit is, more's the pity!"

Mme. Vauquer was so dispirited that she could not say a word as shelooked round the table and saw only ten people where eighteen shouldbe; but every one tried to comfort and cheer her. At first the dinnercontingent, as was natural, talked about Vautrin and the day's events;but the conversation wound round to such topics of interest as duels, jails, justice, prison life, and alterations that ought to be made inthe laws. They soon wandered miles away from Jacques Collin andVictorine and her brother. There might be only ten of them, but theymade noise enough for twenty; indeed, there seemed to be more of themthan usual; that was the only difference between yesterday and to-day. Indifference to the fate of others is a matter of course in thisselfish world, which, on the morrow of tragedy, seeks among the eventsof Paris for a fresh sensation for its daily renewed appetite, andthis indifference soon gained the upper hand. Mme. Vauquer herselfgrew calmer under the soothing influence of hope, and the mouthpieceof hope was the portly Sylvie. 

That day had gone by like a dream for Eugene, and the sense ofunreality lasted into the evening; so that, in spite of his energeticcharacter and clear-headedness, his ideas were a chaos as he satbeside Goriot in the cab. The old man's voice was full of unwontedhappiness, but Eugene had been shaken by so many emotions that thewords sounded in his ears like words spoken in a dream. 

"It was finished this morning! All three of us are going to dine theretogether, together! Do you understand? I have not dined with myDelphine, my little Delphine, these four years, and I shall have herfor a whole evening! We have been at your lodging the whole time sincemorning. I have been working like a porter in my shirt sleeves, helping to carry in the furniture. Aha! you don't know what prettyways she has; at table she will look after me, 'Here, papa, just trythis, it is nice. ' And I shall not be able to eat. Oh, it is a longwhile since I have been with her in quiet every-day life as we shallhave her. "

"It really seems as if the world has been turned upside down. "

"Upside down?" repeated Father Goriot. "Why, the world has never beenso right-side up. I see none but smiling faces in the streets, peoplewho shake hands cordially and embrace each other, people who all lookas happy as if they were going to dine with their daughter, and gobbledown a nice little dinner that she went with me to order of the chefat the Cafe des Anglais. But, pshaw! with her beside you gall andwormwood would be as sweet as honey. "

"I feel as if I were coming back to life again, " said Eugene. 

"Why, hurry up there!" cried Father Goriot, letting down the window infront. "Get on faster; I will give you five francs if you get to theplace I told you of in ten minutes time. "

With this prospect before him the cabman crossed Paris with miraculouscelerity. 

"How that fellow crawls!" said Father Goriot. 

"But where are you taking me?" Eugene asked him. 

"To your own house, " said Goriot. 

The cab stopped in the Rue d'Artois. Father Goriot stepped out firstand flung ten francs to the man with the recklessness of a widowerreturning to bachelor ways. 

"Come along upstairs, " he said to Rastignac. They crossed a courtyard, and climbed up to the third floor of a new and handsome house. Therethey stopped before a door; but before Goriot could ring, it wasopened by Therese, Mme. De Nucingen's maid. Eugene found himself in acharming set of chambers; an ante-room, a little drawing-room, abedroom, and a study, looking out upon a garden. The furniture and thedecorations of the little drawing-room were of the most daintilycharming description, the room was full of soft light, and Delphinerose up from a low chair by the fire and stood before him. She set herfire-screen down on the chimney-piece, and spoke with tenderness inevery tone of her voice. 

"So we had to go in search of you, sir, you who are so slow tounderstand!"

Therese left the room. The student took Delphine in his arms and heldher in a tight clasp, his eyes filled with tears of joy. This lastcontrast between his present surroundings and the scenes he had justwitnessed was too much for Rastignac's over-wrought nerves, after theday's strain and excitement that had wearied heart and brain; he wasalmost overcome by it. 

"I felt sure myself that he loved you, " murmured Father Goriot, whileEugene lay back bewildered on the sofa, utterly unable to speak a wordor to reason out how and why the magic wand had been waved to bringabout this final transformation scene. 

"But you must see your rooms, " said Mme. De Nucingen. She took hishand and led him into a room carpeted and furnished like her own;indeed, down to the smallest details, it was a reproduction inminiature of Delphine's apartment. 

"There is no bed, " said Rastignac. 

"No, monsieur, " she answered, reddening, and pressing his hand. Eugene, looking at her, understood, young though he yet was, howdeeply modesty is implanted in the heart of a woman who loves. 

"You are one of those beings whom we cannot choose but to adore forever, " he said in her ear. "Yes, the deeper and truer love is, themore mysterious and closely veiled it should be; I can dare to say so, since we understand each other so well. No one shall learn oursecret. "

"Oh! so I am nobody, I suppose, " growled the father. 

"You know quite well that 'we' means you. "

"Ah! that is what I wanted. You will not mind me, will you? I shall goand come like a good fairy who makes himself felt everywhere withoutbeing seen, shall I not? Eh, Delphinette, Ninette, Dedel--was it not agood idea of mine to say to you, 'There are some nice rooms to let inthe Rue d'Artois; let us furnish them for him?' And she would not hearof it! Ah! your happiness has been all my doing. I am the author ofyour happiness and of your existence. Fathers must always be giving ifthey would be happy themselves; always giving--they would not befathers else. "

"Was that how it happened?" asked Eugene. 

"Yes. She would not listen to me. She was afraid that people wouldtalk, as if the rubbish that they say about you were to be comparedwith happiness! Why, all women dream of doing what she has done----"

Father Goriot found himself without an audience, for Mme. De Nucingenhad led Rastignac into the study; he heard a kiss given and taken, lowthough the sound was. 

The study was furnished as elegantly as the other rooms, and nothingwas wanting there. 

"Have we guessed your wishes rightly?" she asked, as they returned tothe drawing-room for dinner. 

"Yes, " he said, "only too well, alas! For all this luxury so wellcarried out, this realization of pleasant dreams, the elegance thatsatisfies all the romantic fancies of youth, appeals to me so stronglythat I cannot but feel that it is my rightful possession, but I cannotaccept it from you, and I am too poor as yet to----"

"Ah! ah! you say me nay already, " she said with arch imperiousness, and a charming little pout of the lips, a woman's way of laughing awayscruples. 

But Eugene had submitted so lately to that solemn self-questioning, and Vautrin's arrest had so plainly shown him the depths of the pitthat lay ready to his feet, that the instincts of generosity and honorhad been strengthened in him, and he could not allow himself to becoaxed into abandoning his high-minded determinations. Profoundmelancholy filled his mind. 

"Do you really mean to refuse?" said Mme. De Nucingen. "And do youknow what such a refusal means? That you are not sure of yourself, that you do not dare to bind yourself to me. Are you really afraid ofbetraying my affection? If you love me, if I--love you, why shouldyou shrink back from such a slight obligation? If you but knew what apleasure it has been to see after all the arrangements of thisbachelor establishment, you would not hesitate any longer, you wouldask me to forgive you for your hesitation. I had some money thatbelonged to you, and I have made good use of it, that is all. You meanthis for magnanimity, but it is very little of you. You are asking mefor far more than this. . . . Ah!" she cried, as Eugene's passionateglance was turned on her, "and you are making difficulties about themerest trifles. Of, if you feel no love whatever for me, refuse, byall means. My fate hangs on a word from you. Speak!--Father, " shesaid after a pause, "make him listen to reason. Can he imagine that Iam less nice than he is on the point of honor?"

Father Goriot was looking on and listening to this pretty quarrel witha placid smile, as if he had found some balm for all the sorrows oflife. 

"Child that you are!" she cried again, catching Eugene's hand. "Youare just beginning life; you find barriers at the outset that many aman finds insurmountable; a woman's hand opens the way and you shrinkback! Why, you are sure to succeed! You will have a brilliant future. Success is written on that broad forehead of yours, and will you notbe able to repay me my loan of to-day? Did not a lady in olden timesarm her knight with sword and helmet and coat of mail, and find him acharger, so that he might fight for her in the tournament? Well, then, Eugene, these things that I offer you are the weapons of this age;every one who means to be something must have such tools as these. Apretty place your garret must be if it is like papa's room! See, dinner is waiting all this time. Do you want to make me unhappy?--Whydon't you answer?" she said, shaking his hand. "_Mon Dieu!_ papa, makeup his mind for him, or I will go away and never see him any more. "

"I will make up your mind, " said Goriot, coming down from the clouds. "Now, my dear M. Eugene, the next thing is to borrow money of theJews, isn't it?"

"There is positively no help for it, " said Eugene. 

"All right, I will give you credit, " said the other, drawing out acheap leather pocket-book, much the worse for wear. "I have turned Jewmyself; I paid for everything; here are the invoices. You do not owe apenny for anything here. It did not come to very much--five thousandfrancs at most, and I am going to lend you the money myself. I am nota woman--you can refuse me. You shall give me a receipt on a scrap ofpaper, and you can return it some time or other. "

Delphine and Eugene looked at each other in amazement, tears sprang totheir eyes. Rastignac held out his hand and grasped Goriot's warmly. 

"Well, what is all this about? Are you not my children?"

"Oh! my poor father, " said Mme. De Nucingen, "how did you do it?"

"Ah! now you ask me. When I made up my mind to move him nearer to you, and saw you buying things as if they were wedding presents, I said tomyself, 'She will never be able to pay for them. ' The attorney saysthat those law proceedings will last quite six months before yourhusband can be made to disgorge your fortune. Well and good. I soldout my property in the funds that brought in thirteen hundred andfifty livres a year, and bought a safe annuity of twelve hundredfrancs a year for fifteen thousand francs. Then I paid your tradesmenout of the rest of the capital. As for me, children, I have a roomupstairs for which I pay fifty crowns a year; I can live like a princeon two francs a day, and still have something left over. I shall nothave to spend anything much on clothes, for I never wear anything out. This fortnight past I have been laughing in my sleeve, thinking tomyself, 'How happy they are going to be!' and--well, now, are you nothappy?"

"Oh papa! papa!" cried Mme. De Nucingen, springing to her father, whotook her on his knee. She covered him with kisses, her fair hairbrushed his cheek, her tears fell on the withered face that had grownso bright and radiant. 

"Dear father, what a father you are! No, there is not another fatherlike you under the sun. If Eugene loved you before, what must he feelfor you now?"

"Why, children, why Delphinette!" cried Goriot, who had not felt hisdaughter's heart beat against his breast for ten years, "do you wantme to die of joy? My poor heart will break! Come, Monsieur Eugene, weare quits already. " And the old man strained her to his breast withsuch fierce and passionate force that she cried out. 

"Oh! you are hurting me!" she said. 

"I am hurting you!" He grew pale at the words. The pain expressed inhis face seemed greater than it is given to humanity to know. Theagony of this Christ of paternity can only be compared with themasterpieces of those princes of the palette who have left for us therecord of their visions of an agony suffered for a whole world by theSaviour of men. Father Goriot pressed his lips very gently against thewaist than his fingers had grasped too roughly. 

"Oh! no, no, " he cried. "I have not hurt you, have I?" and his smileseemed to repeat the question. "YOU have hurt me with that cry justnow. --The things cost rather more than that, " he said in her ear, withanother gentle kiss, "but I had to deceive him about it, or he wouldhave been angry. "

Eugene sat dumb with amazement in the presence of this inexhaustiblelove; he gazed at Goriot, and his face betrayed the artless admirationwhich shapes the beliefs of youth. 

"I will be worthy of all this, " he cried. 

"Oh! my Eugene, that is nobly said, " and Mme. De Nucingen kissed thelaw student on the forehead. 

"He gave up Mlle. Taillefer and her millions for you, " said FatherGoriot. "Yes, the little thing was in love with you, and now that herbrother is dead she is as rich as Croesus. "

"Oh! why did you tell her?" cried Rastignac. 

"Eugene, " Delphine said in his ear, "I have one regret now thisevening. Ah! how I will love you! and for ever!"

"This is the happiest day I have had since you two were married!"cried Goriot. "God may send me any suffering, so long as I do notsuffer through you, and I can still say, 'In this short month ofFebruary I had more happiness than other men have in their wholelives. '--Look at me, Fifine!" he said to his daughter. "She is verybeautiful, is she not? Tell me, now, have you seen many women withthat pretty soft color--that little dimple of hers? No, I thought not. Ah, well, and but for me this lovely woman would never have been. Andvery soon happiness will make her a thousand times lovelier, happinessthrough you. I could give up my place in heaven to you, neighbor, ifneeds be, and go down to hell instead. Come, let us have dinner, " headded, scarcely knowing what he said, "everything is ours. "

"Poor dear father!"

He rose and went over to her, and took her face in his hands, and seta kiss on the plaits of hair. "If you only knew, little one, how happyyou can make me--how little it takes to make me happy! Will you comeand see me sometimes? I shall be just above, so it is only a step. Promise me, say that you will!"

"Yes, dear father. "

"Say it again. "

"Yes, I will, my kind father. "

"Hush! hush! I should make you say it a hundred times over if Ifollowed my own wishes. Let us have dinner. "

The three behaved like children that evening, and Father Goriot'sspirits were certainly not the least wild. He lay at his daughter'sfeet, kissed them, gazed into her eyes, rubbed his head against herdress; in short, no young lover could have been more extravagant ormore tender. 

"You see!" Delphine said with a look at Eugene, "so long as my fatheris with us, he monopolizes me. He will be rather in the waysometimes. "

Eugene had himself already felt certain twinges of jealousy, and couldnot blame this speech that contained the germ of all ingratitude. 

"And when will the rooms be ready?" asked Eugene, looking round. "Wemust all leave them this evening, I suppose. "

"Yes, but to-morrow you must come and dine with me, " she answered, with an eloquent glance. "It is our night at the Italiens. "

"I shall go to the pit, " said her father. 

It was midnight. Mme. De Nucingen's carriage was waiting for her, andFather Goriot and the student walked back to the Maison Vauquer, talking of Delphine, and warming over their talk till there grew up acurious rivalry between the two violent passions. Eugene could nothelp seeing that the father's self-less love was deeper and moresteadfast than his own. For this worshiper Delphine was always pureand fair, and her father's adoration drew its fervor from a whole pastas well as a future of love. 

They found Mme. Vauquer by the stove, with Sylvie and Christophe tokeep her company; the old landlady, sitting like Marius among theruins of Carthage, was waiting for the two lodgers that yet remainedto her, and bemoaning her lot with the sympathetic Sylvie. Tasso'slamentations as recorded in Byron's poem are undoubtedly eloquent, butfor sheer force of truth they fall far short of the widow's cry fromthe depths. 

"Only three cups of coffee in the morning, Sylvie! Oh dear! to haveyour house emptied in this way is enough to break your heart. What islife, now my lodgers are gone? Nothing at all. Just think of it! It isjust as if all the furniture had been taken out of the house, and yourfurniture is your life. How have I offended heaven to draw down allthis trouble upon me? And haricot beans and potatoes laid in fortwenty people! The police in my house too! We shall have to live onpotatoes now, and Christophe will have to go!"

The Savoyard, who was fast asleep, suddenly woke up at this, and said, "Madame, " questioningly. 

"Poor fellow!" said Sylvie, "he is like a dog. "

"In the dead season, too! Nobody is moving now. I would like to knowwhere the lodgers are to drop down from. It drives me distracted. Andthat old witch of a Michonneau goes and takes Poiret with her! Whatcan she have done to make him so fond of her? He runs about after herlike a little dog. "

"Lord!" said Sylvie, flinging up her head, "those old maids are up toall sorts of tricks. "

"There's that poor M. Vautrin that they made out to be a convict, " thewidow went on. "Well, you know that is too much for me, Sylvie; Ican't bring myself to believe it. Such a lively man as he was, andpaid fifteen francs a month for his coffee of an evening, paid youvery penny on the nail too. "

"And open-handed he was!" said Christophe. 

"There is some mistake, " said Sylvie. 

"Why, no there isn't! he said so himself!" said Mme. Vauquer. "And tothink that all these things have happened in my house, and in aquarter where you never see a cat go by. On my word as an honestwoman, it's like a dream. For, look here, we saw Louis XVI. Meet withhis mishap; we saw the fall of the Emperor; and we saw him come backand fall again; there was nothing out of the way in all that, butlodging-houses are not liable to revolutions. You can do without aking, but you must eat all the same; and so long as a decent woman, ade Conflans born and bred, will give you all sorts of good things fordinner, nothing short of the end of the world ought to--but there, itis the end of the world, that is just what it is!"

"And to think that Mlle. Michonneau who made all this mischief is tohave a thousand crowns a year for it, so I hear, " cried Sylvie. 

"Don't speak of her, she is a wicked woman!" said Mme. Vauquer. "Sheis going to the Buneaud, who charges less than cost. But the Buneaudis capable of anything; she must have done frightful things, robbedand murdered people in her time. _She_ ought to be put in jail for lifeinstead of that poor dear----"

Eugene and Goriot rang the door-bell at that moment. 

"Ah! here are my two faithful lodgers, " said the widow, sighing. 

But the two faithful lodgers, who retained but shadowy recollectionsof the misfortunes of their lodging-house, announced to their hostesswithout more ado that they were about to remove to the Chausseed'Antin. 

"Sylvie!" cried the widow, "this is the last straw. --Gentlemen, thiswill be the death of me! It has quite upset me! There's a weight on mychest! I am ten years older for this day! Upon my word, I shall go outof my senses! And what is to be done with the haricots!--Oh, well, ifI am to be left here all by myself, you shall go to-morrow, Christophe. --Good-night, gentlemen, " and she went. 

"What is the matter now?" Eugene inquired of Sylvie. 

"Lord! everybody is going about his business, and that has addled herwits. There! she is crying upstairs. It will do her good to snivel abit. It's the first time she has cried since I've been with her. "

By the morning, Mme. Vauquer, to use her own expression, had "made upher mind to it. " True, she still wore a doleful countenance, as mightbe expected of a woman who had lost all her lodgers, and whose mannerof life had been suddenly revolutionized, but she had all her witsabout her. Her grief was genuine and profound; it was real pain ofmind, for her purse had suffered, the routine of her existence hadbeen broken. A lover's farewell glance at his lady-love's window isnot more mournful than Mme. Vauquer's survey of the empty places roundher table. Eugene administered comfort, telling the widow thatBianchon, whose term of residence at the hospital was about to expire, would doubtless take his (Rastignac's) place; that the official fromthe Museum had often expressed a desire to have Mme. Couture's rooms;and that in a very few days her household would be on the old footing. 

"God send it may, my dear sir! but bad luck has come to lodge here. There'll be a death in the house before ten days are out, you'll see, "and she gave a lugubrious look round the dining-room. "Whose turnwill it be, I wonder?"

"It is just as well that we are moving out, " said Eugene to FatherGoriot in a low voice. 

"Madame, " said Sylvie, running in with a scared face, "I have not seenMistigris these three days. "

"Ah! well, if my cat is dead, if _he_ has gone and left us, I----"

The poor woman could not finish her sentence; she clasped her handsand hid her face on the back of her armchair, quite overcome by thisdreadful portent. 

By twelve o'clock, when the postman reaches that quarter, Eugenereceived a letter. The dainty envelope bore the Beauseant arms on theseal, and contained an invitation to the Vicomtesse's great ball, which had been talked of in Paris for a month. A little note forEugene was slipped in with the card. 

 "I think, monsieur, that you will undertake with pleasure to interpret my sentiments to Mme. De Nucingen, so I am sending the card for which you asked me to you. I shall be delighted to make the acquaintance of Mme. De Restaud's sister. Pray introduce that charming lady to me, and do not let her monopolize all your affection, for you owe me not a little in return for mine. 

 "VICOMTESSE DE BEAUSEANT. "

"Well, " said Eugene to himself, as he read the note a second time, "Mme. De Beauseant says pretty plainly that she does not want theBaron de Nucingen. "

He went to Delphine at once in his joy. He had procured this pleasurefor her, and doubtless he would receive the price of it. Mme. DeNucingen was dressing. Rastignac waited in her boudoir, enduring asbest he might the natural impatience of an eager temperament for thereward desired and withheld for a year. Such sensations are only knownonce in a life. The first woman to whom a man is drawn, if she isreally a woman--that is to say, if she appears to him amid thesplendid accessories that form a necessary background to life in theworld of Paris--will never have a rival. 

Love in Paris is a thing distinct and apart; for in Paris neither mennor women are the dupes of the commonplaces by which people seek tothrow a veil over their motives, or to parade a fine affectation ofdisinterestedness in their sentiments. In this country within acountry, it is not merely required of a woman that she should satisfythe senses and the soul; she knows perfectly well that she has stillgreater obligations to discharge, that she must fulfil the countlessdemands of a vanity that enters into every fibre of that livingorganism called society. Love, for her, is above all things, and byits very nature, a vainglorious, brazen-fronted, ostentatious, thriftless charlatan. If at the Court of Louis XIV. There was not awoman but envied Mlle. De la Valliere the reckless devotion of passionthat led the grand monarch to tear the priceless ruffles at his wristsin order to assist the entry of a Duc de Vermandois into the world--what can you expect of the rest of society? You must have youth andwealth and rank; nay, you must, if possible, have more than these, forthe more incense you bring with you to burn at the shrine of the god, the more favorably will he regard the worshiper. Love is a religion, and his cult must in the nature of things be more costly than those ofall other deities; Love the Spoiler stays for a moment, and thenpasses on; like the urchin of the streets, his course may be traced bythe ravages that he has made. The wealth of feeling and imagination isthe poetry of the garret; how should love exist there without thatwealth?

If there are exceptions who do not subscribe to these Draconian lawsof the Parisian code, they are solitary examples. Such souls live sofar out of the main current that they are not borne away by thedoctrines of society; they dwell beside some clear spring ofeverflowing water, without seeking to leave the green shade; happy tolisten to the echoes of the infinite in everything around them and intheir own souls, waiting in patience to take their flight for heaven, while they look with pity upon those of earth. 

Rastignac, like most young men who have been early impressed by thecircumstances of power and grandeur, meant to enter the lists fullyarmed; the burning ambition of conquest possessed him already; perhapshe was conscious of his powers, but as yet he knew neither the end towhich his ambition was to be directed, nor the means of attaining it. In default of the pure and sacred love that fills a life, ambition maybecome something very noble, subduing to itself every thought ofpersonal interest, and setting as the end--the greatness, not of oneman, but of a whole nation. 

But the student had not yet reached the time of life when a mansurveys the whole course of existence and judges it soberly. Hithertohe had scarcely so much as shaken off the spell of the fresh andgracious influences that envelop a childhood in the country, likegreen leaves and grass. He had hesitated on the brink of the ParisianRubicon, and in spite of the prickings of ambition, he still clung toa lingering tradition of an old ideal--the peaceful life of the noblein his chateau. But yesterday evening, at the sight of his rooms, those scruples had vanished. He had learned what it was to enjoy thematerial advantages of fortune, as he had already enjoyed the socialadvantages of birth; he ceased to be a provincial from that moment, and slipped naturally and easily into a position which opened up aprospect of a brilliant future. 

So, as he waited for Delphine, in the pretty boudoir, where he feltthat he had a certain right to be, he felt himself so far away fromthe Rastignac who came back to Paris a year ago, that, turning somepower of inner vision upon this latter, he asked himself whether thatpast self bore any resemblance to the Rastignac of that moment. 

"Madame is in her room, " Therese came to tell him. The woman's voicemade him start. 

He found Delphine lying back in her low chair by the fireside, lookingfresh and bright. The sight of her among the flowing draperies ofmuslin suggested some beautiful tropical flower, where the fruit isset amid the blossom. 

"Well, " she said, with a tremor in her voice, "here you are. "

"Guess what I bring for you, " said Eugene, sitting down beside her. Hetook possession of her arm to kiss her hand. 

Mme. De Nucingen gave a joyful start as she saw the card. She turnedto Eugene; there were tears in her eyes as she flung her arms abouthis neck, and drew him towards her in a frenzy of gratified vanity. 

"And I owe this happiness to you--to _thee_" (she whispered the moreintimate word in his ear); "but Therese is in my dressing-room, let usbe prudent. --This happiness--yes, for I may call it so, when it comesto me through _you_--is surely more than a triumph for self-love? No onehas been willing to introduce me into that set. Perhaps just now I mayseem to you to be frivolous, petty, shallow, like a Parisienne, butremember, my friend, that I am ready to give up all for you; and thatif I long more than ever for an entrance into the FaubourgSaint-Germain, it is because I shall meet you there. "

"Mme. De Beauseant's note seems to say very plainly that she does notexpect to see the _Baron_ de Nucingen at her ball; don't you thinkso?" said Eugene. 

"Why, yes, " said the Baroness as she returned the letter. "Those womenhave a talent for insolence. But it is of no consequence, I shall go. My sister is sure to be there, and sure to be very beautifullydressed. --Eugene, " she went on, lowering her voice, "she will go todispel ugly suspicions. You do not know the things that people aresaying about her. Only this morning Nucingen came to tell me that theyhad been discussing her at the club. Great heavens! on what does awoman's character and the honor of a whole family depend! I feel thatI am nearly touched and wounded in my poor sister. According to somepeople, M. De Trailles must have put his name to bills for a hundredthousand francs, nearly all of them are overdue, and proceedings arethreatened. In this predicament, it seems that my sister sold herdiamonds to a Jew--the beautiful diamonds that belonged to herhusband's mother, Mme. De Restaud the elder, --you have seen herwearing them. In fact, nothing else has been talked about for the lasttwo days. So I can see that Anastasie is sure to come to Mme. DeBeauseant's ball in tissue of gold, and ablaze with diamonds, to drawall eyes upon her; and I will not be outshone. She has tried toeclipse me all her life, she has never been kind to me, and I havehelped her so often, and always had money for her when she had none. --But never mind other people now, to-day I mean to be perfectlyhappy. "

At one o'clock that morning Eugene was still with Mme. De Nucingen. Inthe midst of their lovers' farewell, a farewell full of hope of blissto come, she said in a troubled voice, "I am very fearful, superstitious. Give what name you like to my presentiments, but I amafraid that my happiness will be paid for by some horriblecatastrophe. "

"Child!" said Eugene. 

"Ah! have we changed places, and am I the child to-night?" she asked, laughingly. 

Eugene went back to the Maison Vauquer, never doubting but that heshould leave it for good on the morrow; and on the way he fell todreaming the bright dreams of youth, when the cup of happiness hasleft its sweetness on the lips. 

"Well?" cried Goriot, as Rastignac passed by his door. 

"Yes, " said Eugene; "I will tell you everything to-morrow. "

"Everything, will you not?" cried the old man. "Go to bed. To-morrowour happy life will begin. "

Next day, Goriot and Rastignac were ready to leave the lodging-house, and only awaited the good pleasure of a porter to move out of it;but towards noon there was a sound of wheels in the RueNeuve-Sainte-Genevieve, and a carriage stopped before the door of theMaison Vauquer. Mme. De Nucingen alighted, and asked if her fatherwas still in the house, and, receiving an affirmative reply fromSylvie, ran lightly upstairs. 

It so happened that Eugene was at home all unknown to his neighbor. Atbreakfast time he had asked Goriot to superintend the removal of hisgoods, saying that he would meet him in the Rue d'Artois at fouro'clock; but Rastignac's name had been called early on the list atthe Ecole de Droit, and he had gone back at once to the RueNueve-Sainte-Genevieve. No one had seen him come in, for Goriot hadgone to find a porter, and the mistress of the house was likewise out. Eugene had thought to pay her himself, for it struck him that if heleft this, Goriot in his zeal would probably pay for him. As it was, Eugene went up to his room to see that nothing had been forgotten, andblessed his foresight when he saw the blank bill bearing Vautrin'ssignature lying in the drawer where he had carelessly thrown it on theday when he had repaid the amount. There was no fire in the grate, sohe was about to tear it into little pieces, when he heard a voicespeaking in Goriot's room, and the speaker was Delphine! He made nomore noise, and stood still to listen, thinking that she should haveno secrets from him; but after the first few words, the conversationbetween the father and daughter was so strange and interesting that itabsorbed all his attention. 

"Ah! thank heaven that you thought of asking him to give an account ofthe money settled on me before I was utterly ruined, father. Is itsafe to talk?" she added. 

"Yes, there is no one in the house, " said her father faintly. 

"What is the matter with you?" asked Mme. De Nucingen. 

"God forgive you! you have just dealt me a staggering blow, child!"said the old man. "You cannot know how much I love you, or you wouldnot have burst in upon me like this, with such news, especially if allis not lost. Has something so important happened that you must comehere about it? In a few minutes we should have been in the Rued'Artois. "

"Eh! does one think what one is doing after a catastrophe? It hasturned my head. Your attorney has found out the state of things now, but it was bound to come out sooner or later. We shall want your longbusiness experience; and I come to you like a drowning man who catchesat a branch. When M. Derville found that Nucingen was throwing allsorts of difficulties in his way, he threatened him with proceedings, and told him plainly that he would soon obtain an order from thePresident of the Tribunal. So Nucingen came to my room this morning, and asked if I meant to ruin us both. I told him that I knew nothingwhatever about it, that I had a fortune, and ought to be put intopossession of my fortune, and that my attorney was acting for me inthe matter; I said again that I knew absolutely nothing about it, andcould not possibly go into the subject with him. Wasn't that what youtold me to tell him?"

"Yes, quite right, " answered Goriot. 

"Well, then, " Delphine continued, "he told me all about his affairs. He had just invested all his capital and mine in businessspeculations; they have only just been started, and very large sums ofmoney are locked up. If I were to compel him to refund my dowry now, he would be forced to file his petition; but if I will wait a year, heundertakes, on his honor, to double or treble my fortune, by investingit in building land, and I shall be mistress at last of the whole ofmy property. He was speaking the truth, father dear; he frightened me!He asked my pardon for his conduct; he has given me my liberty; I amfree to act as I please on condition that I leave him to carry on mybusiness in my name. To prove his sincerity, he promised that M. Derville might inspect the accounts as often as I pleased, so that Imight be assured that everything was being conducted properly. Inshort, he put himself in my power, bound hand and foot. He wishes thepresent arrangements as to the expenses of housekeeping to continuefor two more years, and entreated me not to exceed my allowance. Heshowed me plainly that it was all that he could do to keep upappearances; he has broken with his opera dancer; he will be compelledto practise the most strict economy (in secret) if he is to bide histime with unshaken credit. I scolded, I did all I could to drive himto desperation, so as to find out more. He showed me his ledgers--hebroke down and cried at last. I never saw a man in such a state. Helost his head completely, talked of killing himself, and raved till Ifelt quite sorry for him. "

"Do you really believe that silly rubbish?" . . . Cried her father. "It was all got up for your benefit! I have had to do with Germans inthe way of business, honest and straightforward they are pretty sureto be, but when with their simplicity and frankness they are sharpersand humbugs as well, they are the worst rogues of all. Your husband istaking advantage of you. As soon as pressure is brought to bear on himhe shams dead; he means to be more the master under your name than inhis own. He will take advantage of the position to secure himselfagainst the risks of business. He is as sharp as he is treacherous; heis a bad lot! No, no; I am not going to leave my girls behind mewithout a penny when I go to Pere-Lachaise. I know something aboutbusiness still. He has sunk his money in speculation, he says; verywell then, there is something to show for it--bills, receipts, papersof some sort. Let him produce them, and come to an arrangement withyou. We will choose the most promising of his speculations, take themover at our own risk, and have the securities transferred into yourname; they shall represent the separate estate of Delphine Goriot, wife of the Baron de Nucingen. Does that fellow really take us foridiots? Does he imagine that I could stand the idea of your beingwithout fortune, without bread, for forty-eight hours? I would notstand it a day--no, not a night, not a couple of hours! If there hadbeen any foundation for the idea, I should never get over it. What! Ihave worked hard for forty years, carried sacks on my back, andsweated and pinched and saved all my life for you, my darlings, foryou who made the toil and every burden borne for you seem light; andnow, my fortune, my whole life, is to vanish in smoke! I should dieraving mad if I believed a word of it. By all that's holiest in heavenand earth, we will have this cleared up at once; go through the books, have the whole business looked thoroughly into! I will not sleep, norrest, nor eat until I have satisfied myself that all your fortune isin existence. Your money is settled upon you, God be thanked! and, luckily, your attorney, Maitre Derville, is an honest man. Good Lord!you shall have your snug little million, your fifty thousand francs ayear, as long as you live, or I will raise a racket in Paris, I willso! If the Tribunals put upon us, I will appeal to the Chambers. If Iknew that you were well and comfortably off as far as money isconcerned, that thought would keep me easy in spite of bad health andtroubles. Money? why, it is life! Money does everything. That greatdolt of an Alsatian shall sing to another tune! Look here, Delphine, don't give way, don't make a concession of half a quarter of afarthing to that fathead, who has ground you down and made youmiserable. If he can't do without you, we will give him a goodcudgeling, and keep him in order. Great heavens! my brain is on fire;it is as if there were something redhot inside my head. My Delphinelying on straw! You! my Fifine! Good gracious! Where are my gloves?Come, let us go at once; I mean to see everything with my own eyes--books, cash, and correspondence, the whole business. I shall haveno peace until I know for certain that your fortune is secure. "

"Oh! father dear, be careful how you set about it! If there is theleast hint of vengeance in the business, if you show yourself openlyhostile, it will be all over with me. He knows whom he has to dealwith; he thinks it quite natural that if you put the idea into myhead, I should be uneasy about my money; but I swear to you that hehas it in his own hands, and that he had meant to keep it. He is justthe man to abscond with all the money and leave us in the lurch, thescoundrel! He knows quite well that I will not dishonor the name Ibear by bringing him into a court of law. His position is strong andweak at the same time. If we drive him to despair, I am lost. "

"Why, then, the man is a rogue?"

"Well, yes, father, " she said, flinging herself into a chair, "Iwanted to keep it from you to spare your feelings, " and she burst intotears; "I did not want you to know that you had married me to such aman as he is. He is just the same in private life--body and soul andconscience--the same through and through--hideous! I hate him; Idespise him! Yes, after all that that despicable Nucingen has told me, I cannot respect him any longer. A man capable of mixing himself up insuch affairs, and of talking about them to me as he did, without theslightest scruple, --it is because I have read him through and throughthat I am afraid of him. He, my husband, frankly proposed to give memy liberty, and do you know what that means? It means that if thingsturn out badly for him, I am to play into his hands, and be hisstalking-horse. "

"But there is law to be had! There is a Place de Greve for sons-in-lawof that sort, " cried her father; "why, I would guillotine him myselfif there was no headsman to do it. "

"No, father, the law cannot touch him. Listen, this is what he says, stripped of all his circumlocutions--'Take your choice, you and no oneelse can be my accomplice; either everything is lost, you are ruinedand have not a farthing, or you will let me carry this businessthrough myself. ' Is that plain speaking? He _must_ have my assistance. He is assured that his wife will deal fairly by him; he knows that Ishall leave his money to him and be content with my own. It is anunholy and dishonest compact, and he holds out threats of ruin tocompel me to consent to it. He is buying my conscience, and the priceis liberty to be Eugene's wife in all but name. 'I connive at yourerrors, and you allow me to commit crimes and ruin poor families!' Isthat sufficiently explicit? Do you know what he means by speculations?He buys up land in his own name, then he finds men of straw to run uphouses upon it. These men make a bargain with a contractor to buildthe houses, paying them by bills at long dates; then in considerationof a small sum they leave my husband in possession of the houses, andfinally slip through the fingers of the deluded contractors by goinginto bankruptcy. The name of the firm of Nucingen has been used todazzle the poor contractors. I saw that. I noticed, too, that Nucingenhad sent bills for large amounts to Amsterdam, London, Naples, andVienna, in order to prove if necessary that large sums had been paidaway by the firm. How could we get possession of those bills?"

Eugene heard a dull thud on the floor; Father Goriot must have fallenon his knees. 

"Great heavens! what have I done to you? Bound my daughter to thisscoundrel who does as he likes with her!--Oh! my child, my child!forgive me!" cried the old man. 

"Yes, if I am in the depths of despair, perhaps you are to blame, "said Delphine. "We have so little sense when we marry! What do we knowof the world, of business, or men, or life? Our fathers should thinkfor us! Father dear, I am not blaming you in the least, forgive me forwhat I said. This is all my own fault. Nay, do not cry, papa, " shesaid, kissing him. 

"Do not cry either, my little Delphine. Look up and let me kiss awaythe tears. There! I shall find my wits and unravel this skein of yourhusband's winding. "

"No, let me do that; I shall be able to manage him. He is fond of me, well and good; I shall use my influence to make him invest my money assoon as possible in landed property in my own name. Very likely Icould get him to buy back Nucingen in Alsace in my name; that hasalways been a pet idea of his. Still, come to-morrow and go throughthe books, and look into the business. M. Derville knows little ofmercantile matters. No, not to-morrow though. I do not want to beupset. Mme. De Beauseant's ball will be the day after to-morrow, and Imust keep quiet, so as to look my best and freshest, and do honor tomy dear Eugene! . . . Come, let us see his room. "

But as she spoke a carriage stopped in the RueNueve-Sainte-Genevieve, and the sound of Mme. De Restaud's voice camefrom the staircase. "Is my father in?" she asked of Sylvie. 

This accident was luckily timed for Eugene, whose one idea had been tothrow himself down on the bed and pretend to be asleep. 

"Oh, father, have you heard about Anastasie?" said Delphine, when sheheard her sister speak. "It looks as though some strange things hadhappened in that family. "

"What sort of things?" asked Goriot. "This is like to be the death ofme. My poor head will not stand a double misfortune. "

"Good-morning, father, " said the Countess from the threshold. "Oh!Delphine, are you here?"

Mme. De Restaud seemed taken aback by her sister's presence. 

"Good-morning, Nasie, " said the Baroness. "What is there soextraordinary in my being here? _I_ see our father every day. "

"Since when?"

"If you came yourself you would know. "

"Don't tease, Delphine, " said the Countess fretfully. "I am verymiserable, I am lost. Oh! my poor father, it is hopeless this time!"

"What is it, Nasie?" cried Goriot. "Tell us all about it, child! Howwhite she is! Quick, do something, Delphine; be kind to her, and Iwill love you even better, if that were possible. "

"Poor Nasie!" said Mme. De Nucingen, drawing her sister to a chair. "We are the only two people in the world whose love is alwayssufficient to forgive you everything. Family affection is the surest, you see. "

The Countess inhaled the salts and revived. 

"This will kill me!" said their father. "There, " he went on, stirringthe smouldering fire, "come nearer, both of you. It is cold. What isit, Nasie? Be quick and tell me, this is enough to----"

"Well, then, my husband knows everything, " said the Countess. "Justimagine it; do you remember, father, that bill of Maxime's some timeago? Well, that was not the first. I had paid ever so many beforethat. About the beginning of January M. De Trailles seemed very muchtroubled. He said nothing to me; but it is so easy to read the heartsof those you love, a mere trifle is enough; and then you feel thingsinstinctively. Indeed, he was more tender and affectionate than ever, and I was happier than I had ever been before. Poor Maxime! in himselfhe was really saying good-bye to me, so he has told me since; he meantto blow his brains out! At last I worried him so, and begged andimplored so hard; for two hours I knelt at his knees and prayed andentreated, and at last he told me--that he owed a hundred thousandfrancs. Oh! papa! a hundred thousand francs! I was beside myself! Youhad not the money, I knew, I had eaten up all that you had----"

"No, " said Goriot; "I could not have got it for you unless I hadstolen it. But I would have done that for you, Nasie! I will do ityet. "

The words came from him like a sob, a hoarse sound like the deathrattle of a dying man; it seemed indeed like the agony of death whenthe father's love was powerless. There was a pause, and neither of thesisters spoke. It must have been selfishness indeed that could hearunmoved that cry of anguish that, like a pebble thrown over aprecipice, revealed the depths of his despair. 

"I found the money, father, by selling what was not mine to sell, " andthe Countess burst into tears. 

Delphine was touched; she laid her head on her sister's shoulder, andcried too. 

"Then it is all true, " she said. 

Anastasie bowed her head, Mme. De Nucingen flung her arms about her, kissed her tenderly, and held her sister to her heart. 

"I shall always love you and never judge you, Nasie, " she said. 

"My angels, " murmured Goriot faintly. "Oh, why should it be troublethat draws you together?"

This warm and palpitating affection seemed to give the Countesscourage. 

"To save Maxime's life, " she said, "to save all my own happiness, Iwent to the money-lender you know of, a man of iron forged inhell-fire; nothing can melt him; I took all the family diamonds thatM. De Restaud is so proud of--his and mine too--and sold them to thatM. Gobseck. _Sold them!_ Do you understand? I saved Maxime, but I amlost. Restaud found it all out. "

"How? Who told him? I will kill him, " cried Goriot. 

"Yesterday he sent to tell me to come to his room. I went. . . . 'Anastasie, ' he said in a voice--oh! such a voice; that wasenough, it told me everything--'where are your diamonds?'--'In myroom----'--'No, ' he said, looking straight at me, 'there they are onthat chest of drawers----' and he lifted his handkerchief and showedme the casket. 'Do you know where they came from?' he said. I fell athis feet. . . . I cried; I besought him to tell me the death he wishedto see me die. "

"You said that!" cried Goriot. "By God in heaven, whoever lays a handon either of you so long as I am alive may reckon on being roasted byslow fires! Yes, I will cut him in pieces like . . . "

Goriot stopped; the words died away in his throat. 

"And then, dear, he asked something worse than death of me. Oh! heavenpreserve all other women from hearing such words as I heard then!"

"I will murder that man, " said Goriot quietly. "But he has only onelife, and he deserves to die twice. --And then, what next?" he added, looking at Anastasie. 

"Then, " the Countess resumed, "there was a pause, and he looked at me. 'Anastasie, ' he said, 'I will bury this in silence; there shall be noseparation; there are the children. I will not kill M. De Trailles. Imight miss him if we fought, and as for other ways of getting rid ofhim, I should come into collision with the law. If I killed him inyour arms, it would bring dishonor on _those_ children. But if you donot want to see your children perish, nor their father nor me, youmust first of all submit to two conditions. Answer me. Have I a childof my own?' I answered, 'Yes, '--'Which?'--'Ernest, our eldest boy. '--'Very well, ' he said, 'and now swear to obey me in this particularfrom this time forward. ' I swore. 'You will make over your property tome when I require you to do so. '"

"Do nothing of the kind!" cried Goriot. "Aha! M. De Restaud, you couldnot make your wife happy; she has looked for happiness and found itelsewhere, and you make her suffer for your own ineptitude? He willhave to reckon with me. Make yourself easy, Nasie. Aha! he cares abouthis heir! Good, very good. I will get hold of the boy; isn't he mygrandson? What the blazes! I can surely go to see the brat! I willstow him away somewhere; I will take care of him, you may be quiteeasy. I will bring Restaud to terms, the monster! I shall say to him, 'A word or two with you! If you want your son back again, give mydaughter her property, and leave her to do as she pleases. '"

"Father!"

"Yes. I am your father, Nasie, a father indeed! That rogue of a greatlord had better not ill-treat my daughter. _Tonnerre!_ What is it inmy veins? There is the blood of a tiger in me; I could tear those twomen to pieces! Oh! children, children! so this is what your lives are!Why, it is death! . . . What will become of you when I shall be hereno longer? Fathers ought to live as long as their children. Ah! LordGod in heaven! how ill Thy world is ordered! Thou hast a Son, if whatthey tell us is true, and yet Thou leavest us to suffer so through ourchildren. My darlings, my darlings! to think that trouble only shouldbring you to me, that I should only see you with tears on your faces!Ah! yes, yes, you love me, I see that you love me. Come to me and pourout your griefs to me; my heart is large enough to hold them all. Oh!you might rend my heart in pieces, and every fragment would make afather's heart. If only I could bear all your sorrows for you!. . . Ah! you were so happy when you were little and still withme. . . . "

"We have never been happy since, " said Delphine. "Where are the olddays when we slid down the sacks in the great granary?"

"That is not all, father, " said Anastasie in Goriot's ear. The old mangave a startled shudder. "The diamonds only sold for a hundredthousand francs. Maxime is hard pressed. There are twelve thousandfrancs still to pay. He has given me his word that he will be steadyand give up play in future. His love is all that I have left in theworld. I have paid such a fearful price for it that I should die if Ilose him now. I have sacrificed my fortune, my honor, my peace ofmind, and my children for him. Oh! do something, so that at the leastMaxime may be at large and live undisgraced in the world, where hewill assuredly make a career for himself. Something more than myhappiness is at stake; the children have nothing, and if he is sent toSainte-Pelagie all his prospects will be ruined. "

"I haven't the money, Nasie. I have _nothing_--nothing left. This isthe end of everything. Yes, the world is crumbling into ruin, I amsure. Fly! Save yourselves! Ah!--I have still my silver buckles left, and half-a-dozen silver spoons and forks, the first I ever had in mylife. But I have nothing else except my life annuity, twelve hundredfrancs . . . "

"Then what has become of your money in the funds?"

"I sold out, and only kept a trifle for my wants. I wanted twelvethousand francs to furnish some rooms for Delphine. "

"In your own house?" asked Mme. De Restaud, looking at her sister. 

"What does it matter where they were?" asked Goriot. "The money isspent now. "

"I see how it is, " said the Countess. "Rooms for M. De Rastignac. PoorDelphine, take warning by me!"

"M. De Rastignac is incapable of ruining the woman he loves, dear. "

"Thanks! Delphine. I thought you would have been kinder to me in mytroubles, but you never did love me. "

"Yes, yes, she loves you, Nasie, " cried Goriot; "she was saying soonly just now. We were talking about you, and she insisted that youwere beautiful, and that she herself was only pretty!"

"Pretty!" said the Countess. "She is as hard as a marble statue. "

"And if I am?" cried Delphine, flushing up, "how have you treated me?You would not recognize me; you closed the doors of every houseagainst me; you have never let an opportunity of mortifying me slipby. And when did I come, as you were always doing, to drain our poorfather, a thousand francs at a time, till he is left as you see himnow? That is all your doing, sister! I myself have seen my father asoften as I could. I have not turned him out of the house, and thencome and fawned upon him when I wanted money. I did not so much asknow that he had spent those twelve thousand francs on me. I ameconomical, as you know; and when papa has made me presents, it hasnever been because I came and begged for them. "

"You were better off than I. M. De Marsay was rich, as you have reasonto know. You always were as slippery as gold. Good-bye; I have neithersister nor----"

"Oh! hush, hush, Nasie!" cried her father. 

"Nobody else would repeat what everybody has ceased to believe. Youare an unnatural sister!" cried Delphine. 

"Oh, children, children! hush! hush! or I will kill myself before youreyes. "

"There, Nasie, I forgive you, " said Mme. De Nucingen; "you are veryunhappy. But I am kinder than you are. How could you say _that_ justwhen I was ready to do anything in the world to help you, even to bereconciled with my husband, which for my own sake I----Oh! it is justlike you; you have behaved cruelly to me all through these nineyears. "

"Children, children, kiss each other!" cried the father. "You areangels, both of you. "

"No. Let me alone, " cried the Countess shaking off the hand that herfather had laid on her arm. "She is more merciless than my husband. Any one might think she was a model of all the virtues herself!"

"I would rather have people think that I owed money to M. De Marsaythan own that M. De Trailles had cost me more than two hundredthousand francs, " retorted Mme. De Nucingen. 

"_Delphine!_" cried the Countess, stepping towards her sister. 

"I shall tell you the truth about yourself if you begin to slanderme, " said the Baroness coldly. 

"Delphine! you are a ----"

Father Goriot sprang between them, grasped the Countess' hand, andlaid his own over her mouth. 

"Good heavens, father! What have you been handling this morning?" saidAnastasie. 

"Ah! well, yes, I ought not to have touched you, " said the poorfather, wiping his hands on his trousers, "but I have been packing upmy things; I did not know that you were coming to see me. "

He was glad that he had drawn down her wrath upon himself. 

"Ah!" he sighed, as he sat down, "you children have broken my heartbetween you. This is killing me. My head feels as if it were on fire. Be good to each other and love each other! This will be the death ofme! Delphine! Nasie! come, be sensible; you are both in the wrong. Come, Dedel, " he added, looking through his tears at the Baroness, "she must have twelve thousand francs, you see; let us see if we canfind them for her. Oh, my girls, do not look at each other like that!"and he sank on his knees beside Delphine. "Ask her to forgive you--just to please me, " he said in her ear. "She is more miserable thanyou are. Come now, Dedel. "

"Poor Nasie!" said Delphine, alarmed at the wild extravagant grief inher father's face, "I was in the wrong, kiss me----"

"Ah! that is like balm to my heart, " cried Father Goriot. "But how arewe to find twelve thousand francs? I might offer myself as asubstitute in the army----"

"Oh! father dear!" they both cried, flinging their arms about him. "No, no!"

"God reward you for the thought. We are not worth it, are we, Nasie?"asked Delphine. 

"And besides, father dear, it would only be a drop in the bucket, "observed the Countess. 

"But is flesh and blood worth nothing?" cried the old man in hisdespair. "I would give body and soul to save you, Nasie. I would do amurder for the man who would rescue you. I would do, as Vautrin did, go to the hulks, go----" he stopped as if struck by a thunderbolt, andput both hands to his head. "Nothing left!" he cried, tearing hishair. "If I only knew of a way to steal money, but it is so hard to doit, and then you can't set to work by yourself, and it takes time torob a bank. Yes, it is time I was dead; there is nothing left me to dobut to die. I am no good in the world; I am no longer a father! No. She has come to me in her extremity, and, wretch that I am, I havenothing to give her. Ah! you put your money into a life annuity, oldscoundrel; and had you not daughters? You did not love them. Die, diein a ditch, like the dog that you are! Yes, I am worse than a dog; abeast would not have done as I have done! Oh! my head . . . It throbsas if it would burst. "

"Papa!" cried both the young women at once, "do, pray, be reasonable!"and they clung to him to prevent him from dashing his head against thewall. There was a sound of sobbing. 

Eugene, greatly alarmed, took the bill that bore Vautrin's signature, saw that the stamp would suffice for a larger sum, altered thefigures, made it into a regular bill for twelve thousand francs, payable to Goriot's order, and went to his neighbor's room. 

"Here is the money, madame, " he said, handing the piece of paper toher. "I was asleep; your conversation awoke me, and by this means Ilearned all that I owed to M. Goriot. This bill can be discounted, andI shall meet it punctually at the due date. "

The Countess stood motionless and speechless, but she held the bill inher fingers. 

"Delphine, " she said, with a white face, and her whole frame quiveringwith indignation, anger, and rage, "I forgave you everything; God ismy witness that I forgave you, but I cannot forgive this! So thisgentleman was there all the time, and you knew it! Your petty spitehas let you to wreak your vengeance on me by betraying my secrets, mylife, my children's lives, my shame, my honor! There, you are nothingto me any longer. I hate you. I will do all that I can to injure you. I will . . . "

Anger paralyzed her; the words died in her dry parched throat. 

"Why, he is my son, my child; he is your brother, your preserver!"cried Goriot. "Kiss his hand, Nasie! Stay, I will embrace him myself, "he said, straining Eugene to his breast in a frenzied clasp. "Oh myboy! I will be more than a father to you; if I had God's power, Iwould fling worlds at your feet. Why don't you kiss him, Nasie? He isnot a man, but an angel, a angel out of heaven. "

"Never mind her, father; she is mad just now. "

"Mad! am I? And what are you?" cried Mme. De Restaud. 

"Children, children, I shall die if you go on like this, " cried theold man, and he staggered and fell on the bed as if a bullet hadstruck him. --"They are killing me between them, " he said to himself. 

The Countess fixed her eyes on Eugene, who stood stock still; all hisfaculties were numbed by this violent scene. 

"Sir? . . . " she said, doubt and inquiry in her face, tone, andbearing; she took no notice now of her father nor of Delphine, who washastily unfastening his waistcoat. 

"Madame, " said Eugene, answering the question before it was asked, "Iwill meet the bill, and keep silence about it. "

"You have killed our father, Nasie!" said Delphine, pointing toGoriot, who lay unconscious on the bed. The Countess fled. 

"I freely forgive her, " said the old man, opening his eyes; "herposition is horrible; it would turn an older head than hers. ComfortNasie, and be nice to her, Delphine; promise it to your poor fatherbefore he dies, " he asked, holding Delphine's hand in a convulsiveclasp. 

"Oh! what ails you, father?" she cried in real alarm. 

"Nothing, nothing, " said Goriot; "it will go off. There is somethingheavy pressing on my forehead, a little headache. . . . Ah! poorNasie, what a life lies before her!"

Just as he spoke, the Countess came back again and flung herself onher knees before him. "Forgive me!" she cried. 

"Come, " said her father, "you are hurting me still more. "

"Monsieur, " the Countess said, turning to Rastignac, "misery made meunjust to you. You will be a brother to me, will you not?" and sheheld out her hand. Her eyes were full of tears as she spoke. 

"Nasie, " cried Delphine, flinging her arms round her sister, "mylittle Nasie, let us forget and forgive. "

"No, no, " cried Nasie; "I shall never forget!"

"Dear angels, " cried Goriot, "it is as if a dark curtain over my eyeshad been raised; your voices have called me back to life. Kiss eachother once more. Well, now, Nasie, that bill will save you, won't it?"

"I hope so. I say, papa, will you write your name on it?"

"There! how stupid of me to forget that! But I am not feeling at allwell, Nasie, so you must not remember it against me. Send and let meknow as soon as you are out of your strait. No, I will go to you. No, after all, I will not go; I might meet your husband, and I should killhim on the spot. And as for signing away your property, I shall have aword to say about that. Quick, my child, and keep Maxime in order infuture. "

Eugene was too bewildered to speak. 

"Poor Anastasie, she always had a violent temper, " said Mme. DeNucingen, "but she has a good heart. "

"She came back for the endorsement, " said Eugene in Delphine's ear. 

"Do you think so?"

"I only wish I could think otherwise. Do not trust her, " he answered, raising his eyes as if he confided to heaven the thoughts that he didnot venture to express. 

"Yes. She is always acting a part to some extent. "

"How do you feel now, dear Father Goriot?" asked Rastignac. 

"I should like to go to sleep, " he replied. 

Eugene helped him to bed, and Delphine sat by the bedside, holding hishand until he fell asleep. Then she went. 

"This evening at the Italiens, " she said to Eugene, "and you can letme know how he is. To-morrow you will leave this place, monsieur. Letus go into your room. --Oh! how frightful!" she cried on the threshold. "Why, you are even worse lodged than our father. Eugene, you havebehaved well. I would love you more if that were possible; but, dearboy, if you are to succeed in life, you must not begin by flingingtwelve thousand francs out of the windows like that. The Comte deTrailles is a confirmed gambler. My sister shuts her eyes to it. Hewould have made the twelve thousand francs in the same way that hewins and loses heaps of gold. "

A groan from the next room brought them back to Goriot's bedside; toall appearances he was asleep, but the two lovers caught the words, "They are not happy!" Whether he was awake or sleeping, the tone inwhich they were spoken went to his daughter's heart. She stole up tothe pallet-bed on which her father lay, and kissed his forehead. Heopened his eyes. 

"Ah! Delphine!" he said. 

"How are you now?" she asked. 

"Quite comfortable. Do not worry about me; I shall get up presently. Don't stay with me, children; go, go and be happy. "

Eugene went back with Delphine as far as her door; but he was not easyabout Goriot, and would not stay to dinner, as she proposed. He wantedto be back at the Maison Vauquer. Father Goriot had left his room, andwas just sitting down to dinner as he came in. Bianchon had placedhimself where he could watch the old man carefully; and when the oldvermicelli maker took up his square of bread and smelled it to findout the quality of the flour, the medical student, studying himclosely, saw that the action was purely mechanical, and shook hishead. 

"Just come and sit over here, hospitaller of Cochin, " said Eugene. 

Bianchon went the more willingly because his change of place broughthim next to the old lodger. 

"What is wrong with him?" asked Rastignac. 

"It is all up with him, or I am much mistaken! Something veryextraordinary must have taken place; he looks to me as if he were inimminent danger of serous apoplexy. The lower part of his face iscomposed enough, but the upper part is drawn and distorted. Then thereis that peculiar look about the eyes that indicates an effusion ofserum in the brain; they look as though they were covered with a filmof fine dust, do you notice? I shall know more about it by to-morrowmorning. "

"Is there any cure for it?"

"None. It might be possible to stave death off for a time if a waycould be found of setting up a reaction in the lower extremities; butif the symptoms do not abate by to-morrow evening, it will be all overwith him, poor old fellow! Do you know what has happened to bring thison? There must have been some violent shock, and his mind has givenway. "

"Yes, there was, " said Rastignac, remembering how the two daughtershad struck blow on blow at their father's heart. 

"But Delphine at any rate loves her father, " he said to himself. 

That evening at the opera Rastignac chose his words carefully, lest heshould give Mme. De Nucingen needless alarm. 

"Do not be anxious about him, " she said, however, as soon as Eugenebegan, "our father has really a strong constitution, but this morningwe gave him a shock. Our whole fortunes were in peril, so the thingwas serious, you see. I could not live if your affection did not makeme insensible to troubles that I should once have thought too hard tobear. At this moment I have but one fear left, but one misery todread--to lose the love that has made me feel glad to live. Everythingelse is as nothing to me compared with our love; I care for nothingelse, for you are all the world to me. If I feel glad to be rich, itis for your sake. To my shame be it said, I think of my lover beforemy father. Do you ask why? I cannot tell you, but all my life is inyou. My father gave me a heart, but you have taught it to beat. Thewhole world may condemn me; what does it matter if I stand acquittedin your eyes, for you have no right to think ill of me for the faultswhich a tyrannous love has forced me to commit for you! Do you thinkme an unnatural daughter? Oh! no, no one could help loving such a dearkind father as ours. But how could I hide the inevitable consequencesof our miserable marriages from him? Why did he allow us to marry whenwe did? Was it not his duty to think for us and foresee for us? To-dayI know he suffers as much as we do, but how can it be helped? And asfor comforting him, we could not comfort him in the least. Ourresignation would give him more pain and hurt him far more thancomplaints and upbraidings. There are times in life when everythingturns to bitterness. "

Eugene was silent, the artless and sincere outpouring made animpression on him. 

Parisian women are often false, intoxicated with vanity, selfish andself-absorbed, frivolous and shallow; yet of all women, when theylove, they sacrifice their personal feelings to their passion; theyrise but so much the higher for all the pettiness overcome in theirnature, and become sublime. Then Eugene was struck by the profounddiscernment and insight displayed by this woman in judging of naturalaffection, when a privileged affection had separated and set her at adistance apart. Mme. De Nucingen was piqued by the silence, "What are you thinking about?" she asked. 

"I am thinking about what you said just now. Hitherto I have alwaysfelt sure that I cared far more for you than you did for me. "

She smiled, and would not give way to the happiness she felt, lesttheir talk should exceed the conventional limits of propriety. She hadnever heard the vibrating tones of a sincere and youthful love; a fewmore words, and she feared for her self-control. 

"Eugene, " she said, changing the conversation, "I wonder whether youknow what has been happening? All Paris will go to Mme. De Beauseant'sto-morrow. The Rochefides and the Marquis d'Ajuda have agreed to keepthe matter a profound secret, but to-morrow the king will sign themarriage-contract, and your poor cousin the Vicomtesse knows nothingof it as yet. She cannot put off her ball, and the Marquis will not bethere. People are wondering what will happen?"

"The world laughs at baseness and connives at it. But this will killMme. De Beauseant. "

"Oh, no, " said Delphine, smiling, "you do not know that kind of woman. Why, all Paris will be there, and so shall I; I ought to go there foryour sake. "

"Perhaps, after all, it is one of those absurd reports that people setin circulation here. "

"We shall know the truth to-morrow. "

Eugene did not return to the Maison Vauquer. He could not forego thepleasure of occupying his new rooms in the Rue d'Artois. Yesterdayevening he had been obliged to leave Delphine soon after midnight, butthat night it was Delphine who stayed with him until two o'clock inthe morning. He rose late, and waited for Mme. De Nucingen, who cameabout noon to breakfast with him. Youth snatches eagerly at these rosymoments of happiness, and Eugene had almost forgotten Goriot'sexistence. The pretty things that surrounded him were growingfamiliar; this domestication in itself was one long festival for him, and Mme. De Nucingen was there to glorify it all by her presence. Itwas four o'clock before they thought of Goriot, and of how he hadlooked forward to the new life in that house. Eugene said that the oldman ought to be moved at once, lest he should grow too ill to move. Heleft Delphine and hurried back to the lodging-house. Neither FatherGoriot nor young Bianchon was in the dining-room with the others. 

"Aha!" said the painter as Eugene came in, "Father Goriot has brokendown at last. Bianchon is upstairs with him. One of his daughters--theComtesse de Restaurama--came to see the old gentleman, and he wouldget up and go out, and made himself worse. Society is about to loseone of its brightest ornaments. "

Rastignac sprang to the staircase. 

"Hey! Monsieur Eugene!"

"Monsieur Eugene, the mistress is calling you, " shouted Sylvie. 

"It is this, sir, " said the widow. "You and M. Goriot should by rightshave moved out on the 15th of February. That was three days ago;to-day is the 18th, I ought really to be paid a month in advance; butif you will engage to pay for both, I shall be quite satisfied. "

"Why can't you trust him?"

"Trust him, indeed! If the old gentleman went off his head and died, those daughters of his would not pay me a farthing, and his thingswon't fetch ten francs. This morning he went out with all the spoonsand forks he has left, I don't know why. He had got himself up to lookquite young, and--Lord, forgive me--but I thought he had rouge on hischeeks; he looked quite young again. "

"I will be responsible, " said Eugene, shuddering with horror, for heforesaw the end. 

He climbed the stairs and reached Father Goriot's room. The old manwas tossing on his bed. Bianchon was with him. 

"Good-evening, father, " said Eugene. 

The old man turned his glassy eyes on him, smiled gently, and said:

"How is _she_?"

"She is quite well. But how are you?"

"There is nothing much the matter. "

"Don't tire him, " said Bianchon, drawing Eugene into a corner of theroom. 

"Well?" asked Rastignac. 

"Nothing but a miracle can save him now. Serous congestion has set in;I have put on mustard plasters, and luckily he can feel them, they areacting. "

"Is it possible to move him?"

"Quite out of the question. He must stay where he is, and be kept asquiet as possible----"

"Dear Bianchon, " said Eugene, "we will nurse him between us. "

"I have had the head physician round from my hospital to see him. "

"And what did he say?"

"He will give no opinion till to-morrow evening. He promised to lookin again at the end of the day. Unluckily, the preposterous creaturemust needs go and do something foolish this morning; he will not saywhat it was. He is as obstinate as a mule. As soon as I begin to talkto him he pretends not to hear, and lies as if he were asleep insteadof answering, or if he opens his eyes he begins to groan. Some timethis morning he went out on foot in the streets, nobody knows where hewent, and he took everything that he had of any value with him. He hasbeen driving some confounded bargain, and it has been too much for hisstrength. One of his daughters has been here. "

"Was it the Countess?" asked Eugene. "A tall, dark-haired woman, withlarge bright eyes, slender figure, and little feet?"

"Yes. "

"Leave him to me for a bit, " said Rastignac. "I will make him confess;he will tell me all about it. "

"And meanwhile I will get my dinner. But try not to excite him; thereis still some hope left. "

"All right. "

"How they will enjoy themselves to-morrow, " said Father Goriot whenthey were alone. "They are going to a grand ball. "

"What were you doing this morning, papa, to make yourself so poorlythis evening that you have to stop in bed?"

"Nothing. "

"Did not Anastasie come to see you?" demanded Rastignac. 

"Yes, " said Father Goriot. 

"Well, then, don't keep anything from me. What more did she want ofyou?"

"Oh, she was very miserable, " he answered, gathering up all hisstrength to speak. "It was this way, my boy. Since that affair of thediamonds, Nasie has not had a penny of her own. For this ball she hadordered a golden gown like a setting for a jewel. Her mantuamaker, awoman without a conscience, would not give her credit, so Nasie'swaiting-woman advanced a thousand francs on account. Poor Nasie!reduced to such shifts! It cut me to the heart to think of it! Butwhen Nasie's maid saw how things were between her master and mistress, she was afraid of losing her money, and came to an understanding withthe dressmaker, and the woman refuses to send the ball-dress until themoney is paid. The gown is ready, and the ball is to-morrow night!Nasie was in despair. She wanted to borrow my forks and spoons to pawnthem. Her husband is determined that she shall go and wear thediamonds, so as to contradict the stories that are told all overParis. How can she go to that heartless scoundrel and say, 'I owe athousand francs to my dressmaker; pay her for me!' She cannot. I sawthat myself. Delphine will be there too in a superb toilette, andAnastasie ought not to be outshone by her younger sister. And then--she was drowned in tears, poor girl! I felt so humbled yesterday whenI had not the twelve thousand francs, that I would have given the restof my miserable life to wipe out that wrong. You see, I could haveborne anything once, but latterly this want of money has broken myheart. Oh! I did not do it by halves; I titivated myself up a bit, andwent out and sold my spoons and forks and buckles for six hundredfrancs; then I went to old Daddy Gobseck, and sold a year's intereston my annuity for four hundred francs down. Pshaw! I can live on drybread, as I did when I was a young man; if I have done it before, Ican do it again. My Nasie shall have one happy evening, at any rate. She shall be smart. The banknote for a thousand francs is under mypillow; it warms me to have it lying there under my head, for it isgoing to make my poor Nasie happy. She can turn that bad girl Victoireout of the house. A servant that cannot trust her mistress, did anyone ever hear the like! I shall be quite well to-morrow. Nasie iscoming at ten o'clock. They must not think that I am ill, or they willnot go to the ball; they will stop and take care of me. To-morrowNasie will come and hold me in her arms as if I were one of herchildren; her kisses will make me well again. After all, I might havespent the thousand francs on physic; I would far rather give them tomy little Nasie, who can charm all the pain away. At any rate, I amsome comfort to her in her misery; and that makes up for my unkindnessin buying an annuity. She is in the depths, and I cannot draw her outof them now. Oh! I will go into business again, I will buy wheat inOdessa; out there, wheat fetches a quarter of the price it sells forhere. There is a law against the importation of grain, but the goodfolk who made the law forgot to prohibit the introduction of wheatproducts and food stuffs made from corn. Hey! hey! . . . That struckme this morning. There is a fine trade to be done in starch. "

Eugene, watching the old man's face, thought that his friend waslight-headed. 

"Come, " he said, "do not talk any more, you must rest----" Just thenBianchon came up, and Eugene went down to dinner. 

The two students sat up with him that night, relieving each other inturn. Bianchon brought up his medical books and studied; Eugene wroteletters home to his mother and sisters. Next morning Bianchon thoughtthe symptoms more hopeful, but the patient's condition demandedcontinual attention, which the two students alone were willing togive--a task impossible to describe in the squeamish phraseology ofthe epoch. Leeches must be applied to the wasted body, the poulticesand hot foot-baths, and other details of the treatment required thephysical strength and devotion of the two young men. Mme. De Restauddid not come; but she sent a messenger for the money. 

"I expected she would come herself; but it would have been a pity forher to come, she would have been anxious about me, " said the father, and to all appearances he was well content. 

At seven o'clock that evening Therese came with a letter fromDelphine. 

 "What are you doing, dear friend? I have been loved for a very little while, and I am neglected already? In the confidences of heart and heart, I have learned to know your soul--you are too noble not to be faithful for ever, for you know that love with all its infinite subtle changes of feeling is never the same. Once you said, as we were listening to the Prayer in _Mose in Egitto_, 'For some it is the monotony of a single note; for others, it is the infinite of sound. ' Remember that I am expecting you this evening to take me to Mme. De Beauseant's ball. Every one knows now that the King signed M. D'Ajuda's marriage-contract this morning, and the poor Vicomtesse knew nothing of it until two o'clock this afternoon. All Paris will flock to her house, of course, just as a crowd fills the Place de Greve to see an execution. It is horrible, is it not, to go out of curiosity to see if she will hide her anguish, and whether she will die courageously? I certainly should not go, my friend, if I had been at her house before; but, of course, she will not receive society any more after this, and all my efforts would be in vain. My position is a very unusual one, and besides, I am going there partly on your account. I am waiting for you. If you are not beside me in less than two hours, I do not know whether I could forgive such treason. "

Rastignac took up a pen and wrote:

 "I am waiting till the doctor comes to know if there is any hope of your father's life. He is lying dangerously ill. I will come and bring you the news, but I am afraid it may be a sentence of death. When I come you can decide whether you can go to the ball. --Yours a thousand times. "

At half-past eight the doctor arrived. He did not take a very hopefulview of the case, but thought that there was no immediate danger. Improvements and relapses might be expected, and the good man's lifeand reason hung in the balance. 

"It would be better for him to die at once, " the doctor said as hetook leave. 

Eugene left Goriot to Bianchon's care, and went to carry the sad newsto Mme. De Nucingen. Family feeling lingered in her, and this must putan end for the present to her plans of amusement. 

"Tell her to enjoy her evening as if nothing had happened, " criedGoriot. He had been lying in a sort of stupor, but he suddenly satupright as Eugene went out. 

Eugene, half heartbroken, entered Delphine's. Her hair had beendressed; she wore her dancing slippers; she had only to put on herball-dress; but when the artist is giving the finishing stroke to hiscreation, the last touches require more time than the whole groundworkof the picture. 

"Why, you are not dressed!" she cried. 

"Madame, your father----"

"My father again!" she exclaimed, breaking in upon him. "You need notteach me what is due to my father, I have known my father this longwhile. Not a word, Eugene. I will hear what you have to say when youare dressed. My carriage is waiting, take it, go round to your roomsand dress, Therese has put out everything in readiness for you. Comeback as soon as you can; we will talk about my father on the way toMme. De Beauseant's. We must go early; if we have to wait our turn ina row of carriages, we shall be lucky if we get there by eleveno'clock. "

"Madame----"

"Quick! not a word!" she cried, darting into her dressing-room for anecklace. 

"Do go, Monsieur Eugene, or you will vex madame, " said Therese, hurrying him away; and Eugene was too horror-stricken by this elegantparricide to resist. 

He went to his rooms and dressed, sad, thoughtful, and dispirited. Theworld of Paris was like an ocean of mud for him just then; and itseemed that whoever set foot in that black mire must needs sink intoit up to the chin. 

"Their crimes are paltry, " said Eugene to himself. "Vautrin wasgreater. "

He had seen society in its three great phases--Obedience, Struggle, and Revolt; the Family, the World, and Vautrin; and he hesitated inhis choice. Obedience was dull, Revolt impossible, Struggle hazardous. His thoughts wandered back to the home circle. He thought of the quietuneventful life, the pure happiness of the days spent among those wholoved him there. Those loving and beloved beings passed their lives inobedience to the natural laws of the hearth, and in that obediencefound a deep and constant serenity, unvexed by torments such as these. Yet, for all his good impulses, he could not bring himself to makeprofession of the religion of pure souls to Delphine, nor to prescribethe duties of piety to her in the name of love. His education hadbegun to bear its fruits; he loved selfishly already. Besides, histact had discovered to him the real nature of Delphine; he divinedinstinctively that she was capable of stepping over her father'scorpse to go to the ball; and within himself he felt that he hadneither the strength of mind to play the part of mentor, nor thestrength of character to vex her, nor the courage to leave her to goalone. 

"She would never forgive me for putting her in the wrong over it, " hesaid to himself. Then he turned the doctor's dictum over in his mind;he tried to believe that Goriot was not so dangerously ill as he hadimagined, and ended by collecting together a sufficient quantity oftraitorous excuses for Delphine's conduct. She did not know how illher father was; the kind old man himself would have made her go to theball if she had gone to see him. So often it happens that this one orthat stands condemned by the social laws that govern family relations;and yet there are peculiar circumstances in the case, differences oftemperament, divergent interests, innumerable complications of familylife that excuse the apparent offence. 

Eugene did not wish to see too clearly; he was ready to sacrifice hisconscience to his mistress. Within the last few days his whole lifehad undergone a change. Woman had entered into his world and thrown itinto chaos, family claims dwindled away before her; she hadappropriated all his being to her uses. Rastignac and Delphine foundeach other at a crisis in their lives when their union gave them themost poignant bliss. Their passion, so long proved, had only gained instrength by the gratified desire that often extinguishes passion. Thiswoman was his, and Eugene recognized that not until then had he lovedher; perhaps love is only gratitude for pleasure. This woman, vile orsublime, he adored for the pleasure she had brought as her dower; andDelphine loved Rastignac as Tantalus would have loved some angel whohad satisfied his hunger and quenched the burning thirst in hisparched throat. 

"Well, " said Mme. De Nucingen when he came back in evening dress, "howis my father?"

"Very dangerously ill, " he answered; "if you will grant me a proof ofyour affections, we will just go in to see him on the way. "

"Very well, " she said. "Yes, but afterwards. Dear Eugene, do be nice, and don't preach to me. Come. "

They set out. Eugene said nothing for a while. 

"What is it now?" she asked. 

"I can hear the death-rattle in your father's throat, " he said almostangrily. And with the hot indignation of youth, he told the story ofMme. De Restaud's vanity and cruelty, of her father's final act ofself-sacrifice, that had brought about this struggle between life anddeath, of the price that had been paid for Anastasie's goldenembroideries. Delphine cried. 

"I shall look frightful, " she thought. She dried her tears. 

"I will nurse my father; I will not leave his bedside, " she saidaloud. 

"Ah! now you are as I would have you, " exclaimed Rastignac. 

The lamps of five hundred carriages lit up the darkness about theHotel de Beauseant. A gendarme in all the glory of his uniform stoodon either side of the brightly lighted gateway. The great world wasflocking thither that night in its eager curiosity to see the greatlady at the moment of her fall, and the rooms on the ground floor werealready full to overflowing, when Mme. De Nucingen and Rastignacappeared. Never since Louis XIV. Tore her lover away from La grandMademoiselle, and the whole court hastened to visit that unfortunateprincess, had a disastrous love affair made such a sensation in Paris. But the youngest daughter of the almost royal house of Burgundy hadrisen proudly above her pain, and moved till the last moment like aqueen in this world--its vanities had always been valueless for her, save in so far as they contributed to the triumph of her passion. Thesalons were filled with the most beautiful women in Paris, resplendentin their toilettes, and radiant with smiles. Ministers andambassadors, the most distinguished men at court, men bedizened withdecorations, stars, and ribbons, men who bore the most illustriousnames in France, had gathered about the Vicomtesse. 

The music of the orchestra vibrated in wave after wave of sound fromthe golden ceiling of the palace, now made desolate for its queen. 

Madame de Beauseant stood at the door of the first salon to receivethe guests who were styled her friends. She was dressed in white, andwore no ornament in the plaits of hair braided about her head; herface was calm; there was no sign there of pride, nor of pain, nor ofjoy that she did not feel. No one could read her soul; she stood therelike some Niobe carved in marble. For a few intimate friends there wasa tinge of satire in her smile; but no scrutiny saw any change in her, nor had she looked otherwise in the days of the glory of herhappiness. The most callous of her guests admired her as young Romeapplauded some gladiator who could die smiling. It seemed as ifsociety had adorned itself for a last audience of one of itssovereigns. 

"I was afraid that you would not come, " she said to Rastignac. 

"Madame, " he said, in an unsteady voice, taking her speech as areproach, "I shall be the last to go, that is why I am here. "

"Good, " she said, and she took his hand. "You are perhaps the only oneI can trust here among all these. Oh, my friend, when you love, love awoman whom you are sure that you can love always. Never forsake awoman. "

She took Rastignac's arm, and went towards a sofa in the card-room. 

"I want you to go to the Marquis, " she said. "Jacques, my footman, will go with you; he has a letter that you will take. I am asking theMarquis to give my letters back to me. He will give them all up, Ilike to think that. When you have my letters, go up to my room withthem. Some one shall bring me word. "

She rose to go to meet the Duchesse de Langeais, her most intimatefriend, who had come like the rest of the world. 

Rastignac went. He asked for the Marquis d'Ajuda at the HotelRochefide, feeling certain that the latter would be spending hisevening there, and so it proved. The Marquis went to his own housewith Rastignac, and gave a casket to the student, saying as he did so, "They are all there. "

He seemed as if he was about to say something to Eugene, to ask aboutthe ball, or the Vicomtesse; perhaps he was on the brink of theconfession that, even then, he was in despair, and knew that hismarriage had been a fatal mistake; but a proud gleam shone in hiseyes, and with deplorable courage he kept his noblest feelings asecret. 

"Do not even mention my name to her, my dear Eugene. " He graspedRastignac's hand sadly and affectionately, and turned away from him. Eugene went back to the Hotel Beauseant, the servant took him to theVicomtesse's room. There were signs there of preparations for ajourney. He sat down by the fire, fixed his eyes on the cedar woodcasket, and fell into deep mournful musings. Mme. De Beauseant loomedlarge in these imaginings, like a goddess in the Iliad. 

"Ah! my friend! . . . " said the Vicomtesse; she crossed the room andlaid her hand on Rastignac's shoulder. He saw the tears in hiscousin's uplifted eyes, saw that one hand was raised to take thecasket, and that the fingers of the other trembled. Suddenly she tookthe casket, put it in the fire, and watched it burn. 

"They are dancing, " she said. "They all came very early; but deathwill be long in coming. Hush! my friend, " and she laid a finger onRastignac's lips, seeing that he was about to speak. "I shall neversee Paris again. I am taking my leave of the world. At five o'clockthis morning I shall set out on my journey; I mean to bury myself inthe remotest part of Normandy. I have had very little time to make myarrangements; since three o'clock this afternoon I have been busysigning documents, setting my affairs in order; there was no one whomI could send to . . . "

She broke off. 

"He was sure to be . . . "

Again she broke off; the weight of her sorrow was more than she couldbear. In such moments as these everything is agony, and some words areimpossible to utter. 

"And so I counted upon you to do me this last piece of service thisevening, " she said. "I should like to give you some pledge offriendship. I shall often think of you. You have seemed to me to bekind and noble, fresh-hearted and true, in this world where suchqualities are seldom found. I should like you to think sometimes ofme. Stay, " she said, glancing about her, "there is this box that hasheld my gloves. Every time I opened it before going to a ball or tothe theatre, I used to feel that I must be beautiful, because I was sohappy; and I never touched it except to lay some gracious memory init: there is so much of my old self in it, of a Madame de Beauseantwho now lives no longer. Will you take it? I will leave directionsthat it is to be sent to you in the Rue d'Artois. --Mme. De Nucingenlooked very charming this evening. Eugene, you must love her. Perhapswe may never see each other again, my friend; but be sure of this, that I shall pray for you who have been kind to me. --Now, let us godownstairs. People shall not think that I am weeping. I have all timeand eternity before me, and where I am going I shall be alone, and noone will ask me the reason of my tears. One last look round first. "

She stood for a moment. Then she covered her eyes with her hands foran instant, dashed away the tears, bathed her face with cold water, and took the student's arm. 

"Let us go!" she said. 

This suffering, endured with such noble fortitude, shook Eugene with amore violent emotion than he had felt before. They went back to theballroom, and Mme. De Beauseant went through the rooms on Eugene's arm--the last delicately gracious act of a gracious woman. In anothermoment he saw the sisters, Mme. De Restaud and Mme. De Nucingen. TheCountess shone in all the glory of her magnificent diamonds; everystone must have scorched like fire, she was never to wear them again. Strong as love and pride might be in her, she found it difficult tomeet her husband's eyes. The sight of her was scarcely calculated tolighten Rastignac's sad thoughts; through the blaze of those diamondshe seemed to see the wretched pallet-bed on which Father Goriot waslying. The Vicomtesse misread his melancholy; she withdrew her handfrom his arm. 

"Come, " she said, "I must not deprive you of a pleasure. "

Eugene was soon claimed by Delphine. She was delighted by theimpression that she had made, and eager to lay at her lover's feet thehomage she had received in this new world in which she hoped to liveand move henceforth. 

"What do you think of Nasie?" she asked him. 

"She has discounted everything, even her own father's death, " saidRastignac. 

Towards four o'clock in the morning the rooms began to empty. A littlelater the music ceased, and the Duchesse de Langeais and Rastignacwere left in the great ballroom. The Vicomtesse, who thought to findthe student there alone, came back there at last. She had taken leaveof M. De Beauseant, who had gone off to bed, saying again as he went, "It is a great pity, my dear, to shut yourself up at your age! Praystay among us. "

Mme. De Beauseant saw the Duchesse, and, in spite of herself, anexclamation broke from her. 

"I saw how it was, Clara, " said Mme. De Langeais. "You are going fromamong us, and you will never come back. But you must not go until youhave heard me, until we have understood each other. "

She took her friend's arm, and they went together into the next room. There the Duchess looked at her with tears in her eyes; she held herfriend in close embrace and kissed her cheek. 

"I could not let you go without a word, dearest; the remorse wouldhave been too hard to bear. You can count upon me as surely as uponyourself. You have shown yourself great this evening; I feel that I amworthy of our friendship, and I mean to prove myself worthy of it. Ihave not always been kind; I was in the wrong; forgive me, dearest; Iwish I could unsay anything that may have hurt you; I take back thosewords. One common sorrow has brought us together again, for I do notknow which of us is the more miserable. M. De Montriveau was not hereto-night; do you understand what that means?--None of those who sawyou to-night, Clara, will ever forget you. I mean to make one lasteffort. If I fail, I shall go into a convent. Clara, where are yougoing?"

"Into Normandy, to Courcelles. I shall love and pray there until theday when God shall take me from this world. --M. De Rastignac!" calledthe Vicomtesse, in a tremulous voice, remembering that the young manwas waiting there. 

The student knelt to kiss his cousin's hand. 

"Good-bye, Antoinette!" said Mme. De Beauseant. "May you be happy. "--She turned to the student. "You are young, " she said; "you have somebeliefs still left. I have been privileged, like some dying people, tofind sincere and reverent feeling in those about me as I take my leaveof this world. "

It was nearly five o'clock that morning when Rastignac came away. Hehad put Mme. De Beauseant into her traveling carriage, and receivedher last farewells, spoken amid fast-falling tears; for no greatnessis so great that it can rise above the laws of human affection, orlive beyond the jurisdiction of pain, as certain demagogues would havethe people believe. Eugene returned on foot to the Maison Vauquerthrough the cold and darkness. His education was nearly complete. 

"There is no hope for poor Father Goriot, " said Bianchon, as Rastignaccame into the room. Eugene looked for a while at the sleeping man, then he turned to his friend. "Dear fellow, you are content with themodest career you have marked out for yourself; keep to it. I am inhell, and I must stay there. Believe everything that you hear said ofthe world, nothing is too impossibly bad. No Juvenal could paint thehorrors hidden away under the covering of gems and gold. "

At two o'clock in the afternoon Bianchon came to wake Rastignac, andbegged him to take charge of Goriot, who had grown worse as the daywore on. The medical student was obliged to go out. 

"Poor old man, he has not two days to live, maybe not many hours, " hesaid; "but we must do our utmost, all the same, to fight the disease. It will be a very troublesome case, and we shall want money. We cannurse him between us, of course, but, for my own part, I have not apenny. I have turned out his pockets, and rummaged through hisdrawers--result, nix. I asked him about it while his mind was clear, and he told me he had not a farthing of his own. What have you?"

"I have twenty francs left, " said Rastignac; "but I will take them tothe roulette table, I shall be sure to win. "

"And if you lose?"

"Then I shall go to his sons-in-law and his daughters and ask them formoney. "

"And suppose they refuse?" Bianchon retorted. "The most pressing thingjust now is not really money; we must put mustard poultices, as hot asthey can be made, on his feet and legs. If he calls out, there isstill some hope for him. You know how to set about doing it, andbesides, Christophe will help you. I am going round to the dispensaryto persuade them to let us have the things we want on credit. It is apity that we could not move him to the hospital; poor fellow, he wouldbe better there. Well, come along, I leave you in charge; you muststay with him till I come back. "

The two young men went back to the room where the old man was lying. Eugene was startled at the change in Goriot's face, so livid, distorted, and feeble. 

"How are you, papa?" he said, bending over the pallet-bed. Goriotturned his dull eyes upon Eugene, looked at him attentively, and didnot recognize him. It was more than the student could bear; the tearscame into his eyes. 

"Bianchon, ought we to have the curtains put up in the windows?"

"No, the temperature and the light do not affect him now. It would bea good thing for him if he felt heat or cold; but we must have a firein any case to make tisanes and heat the other things. I will sendround a few sticks; they will last till we can have in some firewood. I burned all the bark fuel you had left, as well as his, poor man, yesterday and during the night. The place is so damp that the waterstood in drops on the walls; I could hardly get the room dry. Christophe came in and swept the floor, but the place is like astable; I had to burn juniper, the smell was something horrible. 

"_Mon Dieu!_" said Rastignac. "To think of those daughters of his. "

"One moment, if he asks for something to drink, give him this, " saidthe house student, pointing to a large white jar. "If he begins togroan, and the belly feels hot and hard to the touch, you know what todo; get Christophe to help you. If he should happen to grow muchexcited, and begin to talk a good deal and even to ramble in his talk, do not be alarmed. It would not be a bad symptom. But send Christopheto the Hospice Cochin. Our doctor, my chum, or I will come and applymoxas. We had a great consultation this morning while you were asleep. A surgeon, a pupil of Gall's came, and our house surgeon, and the headphysician from the Hotel-Dieu. Those gentlemen considered that thesymptoms were very unusual and interesting; the case must be carefullywatched, for it throws a light on several obscure and rather importantscientific problems. One of the authorities says that if there is morepressure of serum on one or other portion of the brain, it shouldaffect his mental capacities in such and such directions. So if heshould talk, notice very carefully what kind of ideas his mind seemsto run on; whether memory, or penetration, or the reasoning facultiesare exercised; whether sentiments or practical questions fill histhoughts; whether he makes forecasts or dwells on the past; in fact;you must be prepared to give an accurate report of him. It is quitelikely that the extravasation fills the whole brain, in which case hewill die in the imbecile state in which he is lying now. You cannottell anything about these mysterious nervous diseases. Suppose thecrash came here, " said Bianchon, touching the back of the head, "verystrange things have been known to happen; the brain sometimespartially recovers, and death is delayed. Or the congested matter maypass out of the brain altogether through channels which can only bedetermined by a post-mortem examination. There is an old man at theHospital for Incurables, an imbecile patient, in his case the effusionhas followed the direction of the spinal cord; he suffers horridagonies, but he lives. "

"Did they enjoy themselves?" It was Father Goriot who spoke. He hadrecognized Eugene. 

"Oh! he thinks of nothing but his daughters, " said Bianchon. "Scoresof times last night he said to me, 'They are dancing now! She has herdress. ' He called them by their names. He made me cry, the devil takeit, calling with that tone in his voice, for 'Delphine! my littleDelphine! and Nasie!' Upon my word, " said the medical student, "it wasenough to make any one burst out crying. "

"Delphine, " said the old man, "she is there, isn't she? I knew she wasthere, " and his eyes sought the door. 

"I am going down now to tell Sylvie to get the poultices ready, " saidBianchon. "They ought to go on at once. "

Rastignac was left alone with the old man. He sat at the foot of thebed, and gazed at the face before him, so horribly changed that it wasshocking to see. 

"Noble natures cannot dwell in this world, " he said; "Mme de Beauseanthas fled from it, and there he lies dying. What place indeed is therein the shallow petty frivolous thing called society for noble thoughtsand feelings?"

Pictures of yesterday's ball rose up in his memory, in strangecontrast to the deathbed before him. Bianchon suddenly appeared. 

"I say, Eugene, I have just seen our head surgeon at the hospital, andI ran all the way back here. If the old man shows any signs of reason, if he begins to talk, cover him with a mustard poultice from the neckto the base of the spine, and send round for us. "

"Dear Bianchon, " exclaimed Eugene. 

"Oh! it is an interesting case from a scientific point of view, " saidthe medical student, with all the enthusiasm of a neophyte. 

"So!" said Eugene. "Am I really the only one who cares for the poorold man for his own sake?"

"You would not have said so if you had seen me this morning, " returnedBianchon, who did not take offence at this speech. "Doctors who haveseen a good deal of practice never see anything but the disease, but, my dear fellow, I can see the patient still. "

He went. Eugene was left alone with the old man, and with anapprehension of a crisis that set in, in fact, before very long. 

"Ah! dear boy, is that you?" said Father Goriot, recognizing Eugene. 

"Do you feel better?" asked the law student, taking his hand. 

"Yes. My head felt as if it were being screwed up in a vise, but nowit is set free again. Did you see my girls? They will be heredirectly; as soon as they know that I am ill they will hurry here atonce; they used to take such care of me in the Rue de la Jussienne!Great Heavens! if only my room was fit for them to come into! Therehas been a young man here, who has burned up all my bark fuel. "

"I can hear Christophe coming upstairs, " Eugene answered. "He isbringing up some firewood that that young man has sent you. "

"Good, but how am I to pay for the wood. I have not a penny left, dearboy. I have given everything, everything. I am a pauper now. Well, atleast the golden gown was grand, was it not? (Ah! what pain this is!)Thanks, Christophe! God will reward you, my boy; I have nothing leftnow. "

Eugene went over to Christophe and whispered in the man's ear, "I willpay you well, and Sylvie too, for your trouble. "

"My daughters told you that they were coming, didn't they, Christophe?Go again to them, and I will give you five francs. Tell them that I amnot feeling well, that I should like to kiss them both and see themonce again before I die. Tell them that, but don't alarm them morethan you can help. "

Rastignac signed to Christophe to go, and the man went. 

"They will come before long, " the old man went on. "I know them sowell. My tender-hearted Delphine! If I am going to die, she will feelit so much! And so will Nasie. I do not want to die; they will cry ifI die; and if I die, dear Eugene, I shall not see them any more. Itwill be very dreary there where I am going. For a father it is hell tobe without your children; I have served my apprenticeship alreadysince they married. My heaven was in the Rue de la Jussienne. Eugene, do you think that if I go to heaven I can come back to earth, and benear them in spirit? I have heard some such things said. It is true?It is as if I could see them at this moment as they used to be when weall lived in the Rue de la Jussienne. They used to come downstairs ofa morning. 'Good-morning, papa!' they used to say, and I would takethem on my knees; we had all sorts of little games of play together, and they had such pretty coaxing ways. We always had breakfasttogether, too, every morning, and they had dinner with me--in fact, Iwas a father then. I enjoyed my children. They did not think forthemselves so long as they lived in the Rue de la Jussienne; they knewnothing of the world; they loved me with all their hearts. _Mon Dieu!_why could they not always be little girls? (Oh! my head! this rackingpain in my head!) Ah! ah! forgive me, children, this pain is fearful;it must be agony indeed, for you have used me to endure pain. _MonDieu!_ if only I held their hands in mine, I should not feel it atall. --Do you think that they are on the way? Christophe is so stupid;I ought to have gone myself. _He_ will see them. But you went to theball yesterday; just tell me how they looked. They did not know that Iwas ill, did they, or they would not have been dancing, poor littlethings? Oh! I must not be ill any longer. They stand too much in needof me; their fortunes are in danger. And such husbands as they arebound to! I must get well! (Oh! what pain this is! what pain this is!. . . Ah! ah!)--I must get well, you see; for they _must_ have money, and I know how to set about making some. I will go to Odessa andmanufacture starch there. I am an old hand, I will make millions. (Oh!this is agony!)"

Goriot was silent for a moment; it seemed to require his wholestrength to endure the pain. 

"If they were here, I should not complain, " he said. "So why should Icomplain now?"

He seemed to grow drowsy with exhaustion, and lay quietly for a longtime. Christophe came back; and Rastignac, thinking that Goriot wasasleep, allowed the man to give his story aloud. 

"First of all, sir, I went to Madame la Comtesse, " he said; "but sheand her husband were so busy that I couldn't get to speak to her. WhenI insisted that I must see her, M. De Restaud came out to me himself, and went on like this: 'M. Goriot is dying, is he? Very well, it isthe best thing he can do. I want Mme. De Restaud to transact someimportant business, when it is all finished she can go. ' The gentlemanlooked angry, I thought. I was just going away when Mme. De Restaudcame out into an ante-chamber through a door that I did not notice, and said, 'Christophe, tell my father that my husband wants me todiscuss some matters with him, and I cannot leave the house, the lifeor death of my children is at stake; but as soon as it is over, I willcome. ' As for Madame la Baronne, that is another story! I could notspeak to her either, and I did not even see her. Her waiting-womansaid, 'Ah yes, but madame only came back from a ball at a quarter tofive this morning; she is asleep now, and if I wake her before mid-dayshe will be cross. As soon as she rings, I will go and tell her thather father is worse. It will be time enough then to tell her badnews!' I begged and I prayed, but, there! it was no good. Then I askedfor M. Le Baron, but he was out. "

"To think that neither of his daughters should come!" exclaimedRastignac. "I will write to them both. "

"Neither of them!" cried the old man, sitting upright in bed. "Theyare busy, they are asleep, they will not come! I knew that they wouldnot. Not until you are dying do you know your children. . . . Oh! myfriend, do not marry; do not have children! You give them life; theygive you your deathblow. You bring them into the world, and they sendyou out of it. No, they will not come. I have known that these tenyears. Sometimes I have told myself so, but I did not dare to believeit. "

The tears gathered and stood without overflowing the red sockets. 

"Ah! if I were rich still, if I had kept my money, if I had not givenall to them, they would be with me now; they would fawn on me andcover my cheeks with their kisses! I should be living in a greatmansion; I should have grand apartments and servants and a fire in myroom; and _they_ would be about me all in tears, and their husbandsand their children. I should have had all that; now--I have nothing. Money brings everything to you; even your daughters. My money. Oh!where is my money? If I had plenty of money to leave behind me, theywould nurse me and tend me; I should hear their voices, I should seetheir faces. Ah, God! who knows? They both of them have hearts ofstone. I loved them too much; it was not likely that they should loveme. A father ought always to be rich; he ought to keep his childrenwell in hand, like unruly horses. I have gone down on my knees tothem. Wretches! this is the crowning act that brings the last tenyears to a proper close. If you but knew how much they made of me justafter they were married. (Oh! this is cruel torture!) I had just giventhem each eight hundred thousand francs; they were bound to be civilto me after that, and their husbands too were civil. I used to go totheir houses: it was 'My kind father' here, 'My dear father' there. There was always a place for me at their tables. I used to dine withtheir husbands now and then, and they were very respectful to me. Iwas still worth something, they thought. How should they know? I hadnot said anything about my affairs. It is worth while to be civil to aman who has given his daughters eight hundred thousand francs apiece;and they showed me every attention then--but it was all for my money. Grand people are not great. I found that out by experience! I went tothe theatre with them in their carriage; I might stay as long as Icared to stay at their evening parties. In fact, they acknowledged metheir father; publicly they owned that they were my daughters. But Iwas always a shrewd one, you see, and nothing was lost upon me. Everything went straight to the mark and pierced my heart. I saw quitewell that it was all sham and pretence, but there is no help for suchthings as these. I felt less at my ease at their dinner-table than Idid downstairs here. I had nothing to say for myself. So these grandfolks would ask in my son-in-law's ear, 'Who may that gentleman be?'--'The father-in-law with the money bags; he is very rich. '--'Thedevil, he is!' they would say, and look again at me with the respectdue to my money. Well, if I was in the way sometimes, I paid dearlyfor my mistakes. And besides, who is perfect? (My head is one sore!)Dear Monsieur Eugene, I am suffering so now, that a man might die ofthe pain; but it is nothing to be compared with the pain I endured whenAnastasie made me feel, for the first time, that I had said somethingstupid. She looked at me, and that glance of hers opened all my veins. I used to want to know everything, to be learned; and one thing I didlearn thoroughly--I knew that I was not wanted here on earth. 

"The next day I went to Delphine for comfort, and what should I dothere but make some stupid blunder that made her angry with me. I waslike one driven out of his senses. For a week I did not know what todo; I did not dare to go to see them for fear they should reproach me. And that was how they both turned me out of the house. 

"Oh God! Thou knowest all the misery and anguish that I have endured;Thou hast counted all the wounds that have been dealt to me in theseyears that have aged and changed me and whitened my hair and drainedmy life; why dost Thou make me to suffer so to-day? Have I not morethan expiated the sin of loving them too much? They themselves havebeen the instruments of vengeance; they have tortured me for my sin ofaffection. 

"Ah, well! fathers know no better; I loved them so; I went back tothem as a gambler goes to the gaming table. This love was my vice, yousee, my mistress--they were everything in the world to me. They werealways wanting something or other, dresses and ornaments, and whatnot; their maids used to tell me what they wanted, and I used to givethem the things for the sake of the welcome that they bought for me. But, at the same time, they used to give me little lectures on mybehavior in society; they began about it at once. Then they began tofeel ashamed of me. That is what comes of having your children wellbrought up. I could not go to school again at my time of life. (Thispain is fearful! _Mon Dieu!_ These doctors! these doctors! If theywould open my head, it would give me some relief!) Oh, my daughters, my daughters! Anastasie! Delphine! If I could only see them! Send forthe police, and make them come to me! Justice is on my side, the wholeworld is on my side, I have natural rights, and the law with me. Iprotest! The country will go to ruin if a father's rights are trampledunder foot. That is easy to see. The whole world turns on fatherlylove; fatherly love is the foundation of society; it will crumble intoruin when children do not love their fathers. Oh! if I could only seethem, and hear them, no matter what they said; if I could simply heartheir voices, it would soothe the pain. Delphine! Delphine most ofall. But tell them when they come not to look so coldly at me as theydo. Oh! my friend, my good Monsieur Eugene, you do not know that it iswhen all the golden light in a glance suddenly turns to a leaden gray. It has been one long winter here since the light in their eyes shoneno more for me. I have had nothing but disappointments to devour. Disappointment has been my daily bread; I have lived on humiliationand insults. I have swallowed down all the affronts for which theysold me my poor stealthy little moments of joy; for I love them so!Think of it! a father hiding himself to get a glimpse of his children!I have given all my life to them, and to-day they will not give me onehour! I am hungering and thirsting for them, my heart is burning inme, but they will not come to bring relief in the agony, for I amdying now, I feel that this is death. Do they not know what it meansto trample on a father's corpse? There is a God in heaven who avengesus fathers whether we will or no. 

"Oh! they will come! Come to me, darlings, and give me one more kiss;one last kiss, the Viaticum for your father, who will pray God for youin heaven. I will tell Him that you have been good children to yourfather, and plead your cause with God! After all, it is not theirfault. I tell you they are innocent, my friend. Tell every one that itis not their fault, and no one need be distressed on my account. It isall my own fault, I taught them to trample upon me. I loved to have itso. It is no one's affair but mine; man's justice and God's justicehave nothing to do in it. God would be unjust if He condemned them foranything they may have done to me. I did not behave to them properly;I was stupid enough to resign my rights. I would have humbled myselfin the dust for them. What could you expect? The most beautifulnature, the noblest soul, would have been spoiled by such indulgence. I am a wretch, I am justly punished. I, and I only, am to blame forall their sins; I spoiled them. To-day they are as eager for pleasureas they used to be for sugar-plums. When they were little girls Iindulged them in every whim. They had a carriage of their own whenthey were fifteen. They have never been crossed. I am guilty, and notthey--but I sinned through love. 

"My heart would open at the sound of their voices. I can hear them;they are coming. Yes! yes! they are coming. The law demands that theyshould be present at their father's deathbed; the law is on my side. It would only cost them the hire of a cab. I would pay that. Write tothem, tell them that I have millions to leave to them! On my word ofhonor, yes. I am going to manufacture Italian paste foods at Odessa. Iunderstand the trade. There are millions to be made in it. Nobody hasthought of the scheme as yet. You see, there will be no waste, nodamage in transit, as there always is with wheat and flour. Hey! hey!and starch too; there are millions to be made in the starch trade! Youwill not be telling a lie. Millions, tell them; and even if theyreally come because they covet the money, I would rather let themdeceive me; and I shall see them in any case. I want my children! Igave them life; they are mine, mine!" and he sat upright. The headthus raised, with its scanty white hair, seemed to Eugene like athreat; every line that could still speak spoke of menace. 

"There, there, dear father, " said Eugene, "lie down again; I willwrite to them at once. As soon as Bianchon comes back I will go forthem myself, if they do not come before. "

"If they do not come?" repeated the old man, sobbing. "Why, I shall bedead before then; I shall die in a fit of rage, of rage! Anger isgetting the better of me. I can see my whole life at this minute. Ihave been cheated! They do not love me--they have never loved me alltheir lives! It is all clear to me. They have not come, and they willnot come. The longer they put off their coming, the less they arelikely to give me this joy. I know them. They have never cared toguess my disappointments, my sorrows, my wants; they never cared toknow my life; they will have no presentiment of my death; they do noteven know the secret of my tenderness for them. Yes, I see it all now. I have laid my heart open so often, that they take everything I do forthem as a matter of course. They might have asked me for the very eyesout of my head and I would have bidden them to pluck them out. Theythink that all fathers are like theirs. You should always make yourvalue felt. Their own children will avenge me. Why, for their ownsakes they should come to me! Make them understand that they arelaying up retribution for their own deathbeds. All crimes are summedup in this one. . . . Go to them; just tell them that if they stayaway it will be parricide! There is enough laid to their chargealready without adding that to the list. Cry aloud as I do now, 'Nasie! Delphine! here! Come to your father; the father who has beenso kind to you is lying ill!'--Not a sound; no one comes! Then am I dodie like a dog? This is to be my reward--I am forsaken at the last. They are wicked, heartless women; curses on them, I loathe them. Ishall rise at night from my grave to curse them again; for, after all, my friends, have I done wrong? They are behaving very badly to me, eh?. . . What am I saying? Did you not tell me just now that Delphine isin the room? She is more tender-hearted than her sister. . . . Eugene, you are my son, you know. You will love her; be a father to her! Hersister is very unhappy. And there are their fortunes! Ah, God! I amdying, this anguish is almost more than I can bear! Cut off my head;leave me nothing but my heart. "

"Christophe!" shouted Eugene, alarmed by the way in which the old manmoaned, and by his cries, "go for M. Bianchon, and send a cab here forme. --I am going to fetch them, dear father; I will bring them back toyou. "

"Make them come! Compel them to come! Call out the Guard, themilitary, anything and everything, but make them come!" He looked atEugene, and a last gleam of intelligence shone in his eyes. "Go to theauthorities, to the Public Prosecutor, let them bring them here; comethey shall!"

"But you have cursed them. "

"Who said that!" said the old man in dull amazement. "You know quitewell that I love them, I adore them! I shall be quite well again if Ican see them. . . . Go for them, my good neighbor, my dear boy, youare kind-hearted; I wish I could repay you for your kindness, but Ihave nothing to give you now, save the blessing of a dying man. Ah! ifI could only see Delphine, to tell her to pay my debt to you. If theother cannot come, bring Delphine to me at any rate. Tell her thatunless she comes, you will not love her any more. She is so fond ofyou that she will come to me then. Give me something to drink! Thereis a fire in my bowels. Press something against my forehead! If mydaughters would lay their hands there, I think I should get better. . . . _Mon Dieu!_ who will recover their money for them when I amgone? . . . I will manufacture vermicelli out in Odessa; I will go toOdessa for their sakes. "

"Here is something to drink, " said Eugene, supporting the dying man onhis left arm, while he held a cup of tisane to Goriot's lips. 

"How you must love your own father and mother!" said the old man, andgrasped the student's hand in both of his. It was a feeble, tremblinggrasp. "I am going to die; I shall die without seeing my daughters; doyou understand? To be always thirsting, and never to drink; that hasbeen my life for the last ten years. . . . I have no daughters, mysons-in-law killed them. No, since their marriages they have been deadto me. Fathers should petition the Chambers to pass a law againstmarriage. If you love your daughters, do not let them marry. Ason-in-law is a rascal who poisons a girl's mind and contaminates herwhole nature. Let us have no more marriages! It robs us of ourdaughters; we are left alone upon our deathbeds, and they are not withus then. They ought to pass a law for dying fathers. This is awful!It cries for vengeance! They cannot come, because my sons-in-lawforbid them! . . . Kill them! . . . Restaud and the Alsatian, killthem both! They have murdered me between them! . . . Death or mydaughters! . . . Ah! it is too late, I am dying, and they are nothere! . . . Dying without them! . . . Nasie! Fifine! Why do you notcome to me? Your papa is going----"

"Dear Father Goriot, calm yourself. There, there, lie quietly andrest; don't worry yourself, don't think. "

"I shall not see them. Oh! the agony of it!"

"You _shall_ see them. "

"Really?" cried the old man, still wandering. "Oh! shall I see them; Ishall see them and hear their voices. I shall die happy. Ah! well, after all, I do not wish to live; I cannot stand this much longer;this pain that grows worse and worse. But, oh! to see them, to touchtheir dresses--ah! nothing but their dresses, that is very little;still, to feel something that belongs to them. Let me touch their hairwith my fingers . . . Their hair . . . "

His head fell back on the pillow, as if a sudden heavy blow had struckhim down, but his hands groped feebly over the quilt, as if to findhis daughters' hair. 

"My blessing on them . . . " he said, making an effort, "myblessing . . . "

His voice died away. Just at that moment Bianchon came into the room. 

"I met Christophe, " he said; "he is gone for your cab. "

Then he looked at the patient, and raised the closed eyelids with hisfingers. The two students saw how dead and lustreless the eyes beneathhad grown. 

"He will not get over this, I am sure, " said Bianchon. He felt the oldman's pulse, and laid a hand over his heart. 

"The machinery works still; more is the pity, in his state it would bebetter for him to die. "

"Ah! my word, it would!"

"What is the matter with you? You are as pale as death. "

"Dear fellow, the moans and cries that I have just heard. . . . Thereis a God! Ah! yes, yes, there is a God, and He has made a better worldfor us, or this world of ours would be a nightmare. I could have criedlike a child; but this is too tragical, and I am sick at heart. 

"We want a lot of things, you know; and where is the money to comefrom?"

Rastignac took out his watch. 

"There, be quick and pawn it. I do not want to stop on the way to theRue du Helder; there is not a moment to lose, I am afraid, and I mustwait here till Christophe comes back. I have not a farthing; I shallhave to pay the cabman when I get home again. "

Rastignac rushed down the stairs, and drove off to the Rue du Helder. The awful scene through which he had just passed quickened hisimagination, and he grew fiercely indignant. He reached Mme. DeRestaud's house only to be told by the servant that his mistress couldsee no one. 

"But I have brought a message from her father, who is dying, "Rastignac told the man. 

"The Count has given us the strictest orders, sir----"

"If it is M. De Restaud who has given the orders, tell him that hisfather-in-law is dying, and that I am here, and must speak with him atonce. "

The man went out. 

Eugene waited for a long while. "Perhaps her father is dying at thismoment, " he thought. 

Then the man came back, and Eugene followed him to the littledrawing-room. M. De Restaud was standing before the fireless grate, and did not ask his visitor to seat himself. 

"Monsieur le Comte, " said Rastignac, "M. Goriot, your father-in-law, is lying at the point of death in a squalid den in the Latin Quarter. He has not a penny to pay for firewood; he is expected to die at anymoment, and keeps calling for his daughter----"

"I feel very little affection for M. Goriot, sir, as you probably areaware, " the Count answered coolly. "His character has been compromisedin connection with Mme. De Restaud; he is the author of themisfortunes that have embittered my life and troubled my peace ofmind. It is a matter of perfect indifference to me if he lives ordies. Now you know my feelings with regard to him. Public opinion mayblame me, but I care nothing for public opinion. Just now I have otherand much more important matters to think about than the things thatfools and chatterers may say about me. As for Mme. De Restaud, shecannot leave the house; she is in no condition to do so. And, besides, I shall not allow her to leave it. Tell her father that as soon as shehas done her duty by her husband and child she shall go to see him. Ifshe has any love for her father, she can be free to go to him, if shechooses, in a few seconds; it lies entirely with her----"

"Monsieur le Comte, it is no business of mine to criticise yourconduct; you can do as you please with your wife, but may I count uponyour keeping your word with me? Well, then, promise me to tell herthat her father has not twenty-four hours to live; that he looks invain for her, and has cursed her already as he lies on his deathbed, --that is all I ask. "

"You can tell her yourself, " the Count answered, impressed by thethrill of indignation in Eugene's voice. 

The Count led the way to the room where his wife usually sat. She wasdrowned in tears, and lay crouching in the depths of an armchair, asif she were tired of life and longed to die. It was piteous to seeher. Before venturing to look at Rastignac, she glanced at her husbandin evident and abject terror that spoke of complete prostration ofbody and mind; she seemed crushed by a tyranny both mental andphysical. The Count jerked his head towards her; she construed this asa permission to speak. 

"I heard all that you said, monsieur. Tell my father that if he knewall he would forgive me. . . . I did not think there was such torturein the world as this; it is more than I can endure, monsieur!--But Iwill not give way as long as I live, " she said, turning to herhusband. "I am a mother. --Tell my father that I have never sinnedagainst him in spite of appearances!" she cried aloud in her despair. 

Eugene bowed to the husband and wife; he guessed the meaning of thescene, and that this was a terrible crisis in the Countess' life. M. De Restaud's manner had told him that his errand was a fruitless one;he saw that Anastasie had no longer any liberty of action. He cameaway mazed and bewildered, and hurried to Mme. De Nucingen. Delphinewas in bed. 

"Poor dear Eugene, I am ill, " she said. "I caught cold after the ball, and I am afraid of pneumonia. I am waiting for the doctor to come. "

"If you were at death's door, " Eugene broke in, "you must be carriedsomehow to your father. He is calling for you. If you could hear thefaintest of those cries, you would not feel ill any longer. "

"Eugene, I dare say my father is not quite so ill as you say; but Icannot bear to do anything that you do not approve, so I will do justas you wish. As for _him_, he would die of grief I know if I went out tosee him and brought on a dangerous illness. Well, I will go as soon asI have seen the doctor. --Ah!" she cried out, "you are not wearing yourwatch, how is that?"

Eugene reddened. 

"Eugene, Eugene! if you have sold it already or lost it. . . . Oh! itwould be very wrong of you!"

The student bent over Delphine and said in her ear, "Do you want toknow? Very well, then, you shall know. Your father has nothing left topay for the shroud that they will lay him in this evening. Your watchhas been pawned, for I had nothing either. "

Delphine sprang out of bed, ran to her desk, and took out her purse. She gave it to Eugene, and rang the bell, crying:

"I will go, I will go at once, Eugene. Leave me, I will dress. Why, Ishould be an unnatural daughter! Go back; I will be there before you. --Therese, " she called to the waiting-woman, "ask M. De Nucingen tocome upstairs at once and speak to me. "

Eugene was almost happy when he reached the RueNueve-Sainte-Genevieve; he was so glad to bring the news to the dyingman that one of his daughters was coming. He fumbled in Delphine'spurse for money, so as to dismiss the cab at once; and discovered thatthe young, beautiful, and wealthy woman of fashion had only seventyfrancs in her private purse. He climbed the stairs and found Bianchonsupporting Goriot, while the house surgeon from the hospital wasapplying moxas to the patient's back--under the direction of thephysician, it was the last expedient of science, and it was tried invain. 

"Can you feel them?" asked the physician. But Goriot had caught sightof Rastignac, and answered, "They are coming, are they not?"

"There is hope yet, " said the surgeon; "he can speak. "

"Yes, " said Eugene, "Delphine is coming. "

"Oh! that is nothing!" said Bianchon; "he has been talking about hisdaughters all the time. He calls for them as a man impaled calls forwater, they say----"

"We may as well give up, " said the physician, addressing the surgeon. "Nothing more can be done now; the case is hopeless. "

Bianchon and the house surgeon stretched the dying man out again onhis loathsome bed. 

"But the sheets ought to be changed, " added the physician. "Even ifthere is no hope left, something is due to human nature. I shall comeback again, Bianchon, " he said, turning to the medical student. "If hecomplains again, rub some laudanum over the diaphragm. "

He went, and the house surgeon went with him. 

"Come, Eugene, pluck up heart, my boy, " said Bianchon, as soon as theywere alone; "we must set about changing his sheets, and put him into aclean shirt. Go and tell Sylvie to bring some sheets and come and helpus to make the bed. "

Eugene went downstairs, and found Mme. Vauquer engaged in setting thetable; Sylvie was helping her. Eugene had scarcely opened his mouthbefore the widow walked up to him with the acidulous sweet smile of acautious shopkeeper who is anxious neither to lose money nor to offenda customer. 

"My dear Monsieur Eugene, " she said, when he had spoken, "you knowquite as well as I do that Father Goriot has not a brass farthingleft. If you give out clean linen for a man who is just going to turnup his eyes, you are not likely to see your sheets again, for one issure to be wanted to wrap him in. Now, you owe me a hundred andforty-four francs as it is, add forty francs for the pair of sheets, and then there are several little things, besides the candle thatSylvie will give you; altogether it will all mount up to at least twohundred francs, which is more than a poor widow like me can afford tolose. Lord! now, Monsieur Eugene, look at it fairly. I have lost quiteenough in these five days since this run of ill-luck set in for me. Iwould rather than ten crowns that the old gentlemen had moved out asyou said. It sets the other lodgers against the house. It would nottake much to make me send him to the workhouse. In short, just putyourself in my place. I have to think of my establishment first, for Ihave my own living to make. "

Eugene hurried up to Goriot's room. 

"Bianchon, " he cried, "the money for the watch?"

"There it is on the table, or the three hundred and sixty odd francsthat are left of it. I paid up all the old scores out of it beforethey let me have the things. The pawn ticket lies there under themoney. "

Rastignac hurried downstairs. 

"Here, madame" he said in disgust, "let us square accounts. M. Goriotwill not stay much longer in your house, nor shall I----"

"Yes, he will go out feet foremost, poor old gentleman, " she said, counting the francs with a half-facetious, half-lugubrious expression. 

"Let us get this over, " said Rastignac. 

"Sylvie, look out some sheets, and go upstairs to help the gentlemen. "

"You won't forget Sylvie, " said Mme. Vauquer in Eugene's ear; "she hasbeen sitting up these two nights. "

As soon as Eugene's back was turned, the old woman hurried after herhandmaid. 

"Take the sheets that have had the sides turned into the middle, number 7. Lord! they are plenty good enough for a corpse, " she said inSylvie's ear. 

Eugene, by this time, was part of the way upstairs, and did notoverhear the elderly economist. 

"Quick, " said Bianchon, "let us change his shirt. Hold him upright. "

Eugene went to the head of the bed and supported the dying man, whileBianchon drew off his shirt; and then Goriot made a movement as if hetried to clutch something to his breast, uttering a low inarticulatemoaning the while, like some dumb animal in mortal pain. 

"Ah! yes!" cried Bianchon. "It is the little locket and the chain madeof hair that he wants; we took it off a while ago when we put theblisters on him. Poor fellow! he must have it again. There it lies onthe chimney-piece. "

Eugene went to the chimney-piece and found the little plait of fadedgolden hair--Mme. Goriot's hair, no doubt. He read the name on thelittle round locket, ANASTASIE on the one side, DELPHINE on the other. It was the symbol of his own heart that the father always wore on hisbreast. The curls of hair inside the locket were so fine and soft thatis was plain they had been taken from two childish heads. When the oldman felt the locket once more, his chest heaved with a long deep sighof satisfaction, like a groan. It was something terrible to see, forit seemed as if the last quiver of the nerves were laid bare to theireyes, the last communication of sense to the mysterious point withinwhence our sympathies come and whither they go. A delirious joylighted up the distorted face. The terrific and vivid force of thefeeling that had survived the power of thought made such an impressionon the students, that the dying man felt their hot tears falling onhim, and gave a shrill cry of delight. 

"Nasie! Fifine!"

"There is life in him yet, " said Bianchon. 

"What does he go on living for?" said Sylvie. 

"To suffer, " answered Rastignac. 

Bianchon made a sign to his friend to follow his example, knelt downand pressed his arms under the sick man, and Rastignac on the otherside did the same, so that Sylvie, standing in readiness, might drawthe sheet from beneath and replace it with the one that she hadbrought. Those tears, no doubt, had misled Goriot; for he gathered upall his remaining strength in a last effort, stretched out his hands, groped for the students' heads, and as his fingers caught convulsivelyat their hair, they heard a faint whisper:

"Ah! my angels!"

Two words, two inarticulate murmurs, shaped into words by the soulwhich fled forth with them as they left his lips. 

"Poor dear!" cried Sylvie, melted by that exclamation; the expressionof the great love raised for the last time to a sublime height by thatmost ghastly and involuntary of lies. 

The father's last breath must have been a sigh of joy, and in thatsigh his whole life was summed up; he was cheated even at the last. They laid Father Goriot upon his wretched bed with reverent hands. Thenceforward there was no expression on his face, only the painfultraces of the struggle between life and death that was going on in themachine; for that kind of cerebral consciousness that distinguishesbetween pleasure and pain in a human being was extinguished; it wasonly a question of time--and the mechanism itself would be destroyed. 

"He will lie like this for several hours, and die so quietly at last, that we shall not know when he goes; there will be no rattle in thethroat. The brain must be completely suffused. "

As he spoke there was a footstep on the staircase, and a young womanhastened up, panting for breath. 

"She has come too late, " said Rastignac. 

But it was not Delphine; it was Therese, her waiting-woman, who stoodin the doorway. 

"Monsieur Eugene, " she said, "monsieur and madame have had a terriblescene about some money that Madame (poor thing!) wanted for herfather. She fainted, and the doctor came, and she had to be bled, calling out all the while, 'My father is dying; I want to see papa!'It was heartbreaking to hear her----"

"That will do, Therese. If she came now, it would be trouble thrownaway. M. Goriot cannot recognize any one now. "

"Poor, dear gentleman, is he as bad at that?" said Therese. 

"You don't want me now, I must go and look after my dinner; it ishalf-past four, " remarked Sylvie. The next instant she all butcollided with Mme. De Restaud on the landing outside. 

There was something awful and appalling in the sudden apparition ofthe Countess. She saw the bed of death by the dim light of the singlecandle, and her tears flowed at the sight of her father's passivefeatures, from which the life had almost ebbed. Bianchon withthoughtful tact left the room. 

"I could not escape soon enough, " she said to Rastignac. 

The student bowed sadly in reply. Mme. De Restaud took her father'shand and kissed it. 

"Forgive me, father! You used to say that my voice would call you backfrom the grave; ah! come back for one moment to bless your penitentdaughter. Do you hear me? Oh! this is fearful! No one on earth willever bless me henceforth; every one hates me; no one loves me but youin all the world. My own children will hate me. Take me with you, father; I will love you, I will take care of you. He does not hear me. . . I am mad . . . "

She fell on her knees, and gazed wildly at the human wreck before her. 

"My cup of misery is full, " she said, turning her eyes upon Eugene. "M. De Trailles has fled, leaving enormous debts behind him, and Ihave found out that he was deceiving me. My husband will never forgiveme, and I have left my fortune in his hands. I have lost all myillusions. Alas! I have forsaken the one heart that loved me (shepointed to her father as she spoke), and for whom? I have held hiskindness cheap, and slighted his affection; many and many a time Ihave given him pain, ungrateful wretch that I am!"

"He knew it, " said Rastignac. 

Just then Goriot's eyelids unclosed; it was only a muscularcontraction, but the Countess' sudden start of reviving hope was noless dreadful than the dying eyes. 

"Is it possible that he can hear me?" cried the Countess. "No, " sheanswered herself, and sat down beside the bed. As Mme. De Restaudseemed to wish to sit by her father, Eugene went down to take a littlefood. The boarders were already assembled. 

"Well, " remarked the painter, as he joined them, "it seems that thereis to be a death-orama upstairs. "

"Charles, I think you might find something less painful to jokeabout, " said Eugene. 

"So we may not laugh here?" returned the painter. "What harm does itdo? Bianchon said that the old man was quite insensible. "

"Well, then, " said the _employe_ from the Museum, "he will die as hehas lived. "

"My father is dead!" shrieked the Countess. 

The terrible cry brought Sylvie, Rastignac, and Bianchon; Mme. DeRestaud had fainted away. When she recovered they carried herdownstairs, and put her into the cab that stood waiting at the door. Eugene sent Therese with her, and bade the maid take the Countess toMme. De Nucingen. 

Bianchon came down to them. 

"Yes, he is dead, " he said. 

"Come, sit down to dinner, gentlemen, " said Mme. Vauquer, "or the soupwill be cold. "

The two students sat down together. 

"What is the next thing to be done?" Eugene asked of Bianchon. 

"I have closed his eyes and composed his limbs, " said Bianchon. "Whenthe certificate has been officially registered at the Mayor's office, we will sew him in his winding sheet and bury him somewhere. What doyou think we ought to do?"

"He will not smell at his bread like this any more, " said the painter, mimicking the old man's little trick. 

"Oh, hang it all!" cried the tutor, "let Father Goriot drop, and letus have something else for a change. He is a standing dish, and wehave had him with every sauce this hour or more. It is one of theprivileges of the good city of Paris that anybody may be born, orlive, or die there without attracting any attention whatsoever. Let usprofit by the advantages of civilization. There are fifty or sixtydeaths every day; if you have a mind to do it, you can sit down at anytime and wail over whole hecatombs of dead in Paris. Father Goriot hasgone off the hooks, has he? So much the better for him. If youvenerate his memory, keep it to yourselves, and let the rest of usfeed in peace. "

"Oh, to be sure, " said the widow, "it is all the better for him thathe is dead. It looks as though he had had trouble enough, poor soul, while he was alive. "

And this was all the funeral oration delivered over him who had beenfor Eugene the type and embodiment of Fatherhood. 

The fifteen lodgers began to talk as usual. When Bianchon and Eugenehad satisfied their hunger, the rattle of spoons and forks, theboisterous conversation, the expressions on the faces that bespokevarious degrees of want of feeling, gluttony, or indifference, everything about them made them shiver with loathing. They went out tofind a priest to watch that night with the dead. It was necessary tomeasure their last pious cares by the scanty sum of money thatremained. Before nine o'clock that evening the body was laid out onthe bare sacking of the bedstead in the desolate room; a lightedcandle stood on either side, and the priest watched at the foot. Rastignac made inquiries of this latter as to the expenses of thefuneral, and wrote to the Baron de Nucingen and the Comte de Restaud, entreating both gentlemen to authorize their man of business to defraythe charges of laying their father-in-law in the grave. He sentChristophe with the letters; then he went to bed, tired out, andslept. 

Next day Bianchon and Rastignac were obliged to take the certificateto the registrar themselves, and by twelve o'clock the formalitieswere completed. Two hours went by, no word came from the Count norfrom the Baron; nobody appeared to act for them, and Rastignac hadalready been obliged to pay the priest. Sylvie asked ten francs forsewing the old man in his winding-sheet and making him ready for thegrave, and Eugene and Bianchon calculated that they had scarcelysufficient to pay for the funeral, if nothing was forthcoming from thedead man's family. So it was the medical student who laid him in apauper's coffin, despatched from Bianchon's hospital, whence heobtained it at a cheaper rate. 

"Let us play those wretches a trick, " said he. "Go to the cemetery, buy a grave for five years at Pere-Lachaise, and arrange with theChurch and the undertaker to have a third-class funeral. If thedaughters and their husbands decline to repay you, you can carve thison the headstone--'_Here lies M. Goriot, father of the Comtesse deRestaud and the Baronne de Nucingen, interred at the expense of twostudents_. '"

Eugene took part of his friend's advice, but only after he had gone inperson first to M. And Mme. De Nucingen, and then to M. And Mme. DeRestaud--a fruitless errand. He went no further than the doorstep ineither house. The servants had received strict orders to admit no one. 

"Monsieur and Madame can see no visitors. They have just lost theirfather, and are in deep grief over their loss. "

Eugene's Parisian experience told him that it was idle to press thepoint. Something clutched strangely at his heart when he saw that itwas impossible to reach Delphine. 

"Sell some of your ornaments, " he wrote hastily in the porter's room, "so that your father may be decently laid in his last resting-place. "

He sealed the note, and begged the porter to give it to Therese forher mistress; but the man took it to the Baron de Nucingen, who flungthe note into the fire. Eugene, having finished his errands, returnedto the lodging-house about three o'clock. In spite of himself, thetears came into his eyes. The coffin, in its scanty covering of blackcloth, was standing there on the pavement before the gate, on twochairs. A withered sprig of hyssop was soaking in the holy water bowlof silver-plated copper; there was not a soul in the street, not apasser-by had stopped to sprinkle the coffin; there was not even anattempt at a black drapery over the wicket. It was a pauper who laythere; no one made a pretence of mourning for him; he had neitherfriends nor kindred--there was no one to follow him to the grave. 

Bianchon's duties compelled him to be at the hospital, but he had lefta few lines for Eugene, telling his friend about the arrangements hehad made for the burial service. The house student's note toldRastignac that a mass was beyond their means, that the ordinary officefor the dead was cheaper, and must suffice, and that he had sent wordto the undertaker by Christophe. Eugene had scarcely finished readingBianchon's scrawl, when he looked up and saw the little circular goldlocket that contained the hair of Goriot's two daughters in Mme. Vauquer's hands. 

"How dared you take it?" he asked. 

"Good Lord! is that to be buried along with him?" retorted Sylvie. "Itis gold. "

"Of course it shall!" Eugene answered indignantly; "he shall at anyrate take one thing that may represent his daughters into the gravewith him. "

When the hearse came, Eugene had the coffin carried into the houseagain, unscrewed the lid, and reverently laid on the old man's breastthe token that recalled the days when Delphine and Anastasie wereinnocent little maidens, before they began "to think for themselves, "as he had moaned out in his agony. 

Rastignac and Christophe and the two undertaker's men were the onlyfollowers of the funeral. The Church of Saint-Etienne du Mont was onlya little distance from the Rue Nueve-Sainte-Genevieve. When the coffinhad been deposited in a low, dark, little chapel, the law studentlooked round in vain for Goriot's two daughters or their husbands. Christophe was his only fellow-mourner; Christophe, who appeared tothink it was his duty to attend the funeral of the man who had put himin the way of such handsome tips. As they waited there in the chapelfor the two priests, the chorister, and the beadle, Rastignac graspedChristophe's hand. He could not utter a word just then. 

"Yes, Monsieur Eugene, " said Christophe, "he was a good and worthyman, who never said one word louder than another; he never did any oneany harm, and gave nobody any trouble. "

The two priests, the chorister, and the beadle came, and said and didas much as could be expected for seventy francs in an age whenreligion cannot afford to say prayers for nothing. 

The ecclesiatics chanted a psalm, the _Libera nos_ and the _Deprofundis_. The whole service lasted about twenty minutes. There wasbut one mourning coach, which the priest and chorister agreed to sharewith Eugene and Christophe. 

"There is no one else to follow us, " remarked the priest, "so wemay as well go quickly, and so save time; it is half-past five. "

But just as the coffin was put in the hearse, two empty carriages, with the armorial bearings of the Comte de Restaud and the Baron deNucingen, arrived and followed in the procession to Pere-Lachaise. Atsix o'clock Goriot's coffin was lowered into the grave, his daughters'servants standing round the while. The ecclesiastic recited the shortprayer that the students could afford to pay for, and then both priestand lackeys disappeared at once. The two grave diggers flung inseveral spadefuls of earth, and then stopped and asked Rastignac fortheir fee. Eugene felt in vain in his pocket, and was obliged toborrow five francs of Christophe. This thing, so trifling in itself, gave Rastignac a terrible pang of distress. It was growing dusk, thedamp twilight fretted his nerves; he gazed down into the grave and thetears he shed were drawn from him by the sacred emotion, asingle-hearted sorrow. When such tears fall on earth, their radiancereaches heaven. And with that tear that fell on Father Goriot's grave, Eugene Rastignac's youth ended. He folded his arms and gazed at theclouded sky; and Christophe, after a glance at him, turned and went--Rastignac was left alone. 

He went a few paces further, to the highest point of the cemetery, andlooked out over Paris and the windings of the Seine; the lamps werebeginning to shine on either side of the river. His eyes turned almosteagerly to the space between the column of the Place Vendome and thecupola of the Invalides; there lay the shining world that he hadwished to reach. He glanced over that humming hive, seeming to draw aforetaste of its honey, and said magniloquently:

"Henceforth there is war between us. "

And by way of throwing down the glove to Society, Rastignac went todine with Mme. De Nucingen. 

ADDENDUM

The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. 

Ajuda-Pinto, Marquis Miguel d' Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Secrets of a Princess Beatrix

Beauseant, Marquis An Episode under the Terror

Beauseant, Vicomte de The Deserted Woman

Beauseant, Vicomtesse de The Deserted Woman Albert Savarus

Bianchon, Horace The Atheist's Mass Cesar Birotteau The Commission in Lunacy Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris A Bachelor's Establishment The Secrets of a Princess The Government Clerks Pierrette A Study of Woman Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Honorine The Seamy Side of History The Magic Skin A Second Home A Prince of Bohemia Letters of Two Brides The Muse of the Department The Imaginary Mistress The Middle Classes Cousin Betty The Country ParsonIn addition, M. Bianchon narrated the following: Another Study of Woman La Grande Breteche

Bibi-Lupin (chief of secret police, called himself Gondureau) Scenes from a Courtesan's Life

Carigliano, Marechal, Duc de Sarrasine

Collin, Jacques Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Member for Arcis

Derville Gobseck A Start in Life The Gondreville Mystery Colonel Chabert Scenes from a Courtesan's Life

Franchessini, Colonel The Member for Arcis

Galathionne, Princess A Daughter of Eve

Gobseck, Jean-Esther Van Gobseck Cesar Birotteau The Government Clerks The Unconscious Humorists

Jacques (M. De Beauseant's butler) The Deserted Woman

Langeais, Duchesse Antoinette de The Thirteen

Marsay, Henri de The Thirteen The Unconscious Humorists Another Study of Woman The Lily of the Valley Jealousies of a Country Town Ursule Mirouet A Marriage Settlement Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Letters of Two Brides The Ball at Sceaux Modest Mignon The Secrets of a Princess The Gondreville Mystery A Daughter of Eve

Maurice (de Restaud's valet) Gobseck

Montriveau, General Marquis Armand de The Thirteen Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Another Study of Woman Pierrette The Member for Arcis

Nucingen, Baron Frederic de The Firm of Nucingen Pierrette Cesar Birotteau Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Another Study of Woman The Secrets of a Princess A Man of Business Cousin Betty The Muse of the Department The Unconscious Humorists

Nucingen, Baronne Delphine de The Thirteen Eugenie Grandet Cesar Birotteau Melmoth Reconciled Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris The Commission in Lunacy Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Modeste Mignon The Firm of Nucingen Another Study of Woman A Daughter of Eve The Member for Arcis

Poiret The Government Clerks A Start in Life Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Middle Classes

Poiret, Madame (nee Christine-Michelle Michonneau) Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Middle Classes

Rastignac, Baron and Baronne de (Eugene's parents) Lost Illusions

Rastignac, Eugene de A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Ball at Sceaux The Interdiction A Study of Woman Another Study of Woman The Magic Skin The Secrets of a Princess A Daughter of Eve The Gondreville Mystery The Firm of Nucingen Cousin Betty The Member for Arcis The Unconscious Humorists

Rastignac, Laure-Rose and Agathe de Lost Illusions The Member for Arcis

Rastignac, Monseigneur Gabriel de The Country Parson A Daughter of Eve

Restaud, Comte de Gobseck

Restaud, Comtesse Anastasie de Gobseck

Selerier Scenes from a Courtesan's Life

Taillefer, Jean-Frederic The Firm of Nucingen The Magic Skin The Red Inn

Taillefer, Victorine The Red Inn

Therese A Daughter of Eve

Tissot, Pierre-Francois A Prince of Bohemia

Trailles, Comte Maxime de Cesar Birotteau Gobseck Ursule Mirouet A Man of Business The Member for Arcis The Secrets of a Princess Cousin Betty The Member for Arcis Beatrix The Unconscious Humorists