LIBRARY 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 SANTA BARBARA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 Mr. H. H. Kiliani
 
 UCSB LIBRARY
 
 H. DE BALZAC 
 
 THE COMEDIE HUMAINE
 
 j 
 

 
 THERE WAS A SPLENCilD CARRIAGE WAITING AND SHE 
 
 GOT INTO IT.
 
 H. DE BALZAC 
 
 FATHER GORIOT 
 
 (LE PERE GORIOT) 
 
 AND 
 
 M. GOBSECK 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 ELLEN MARRIAGE 
 
 WITH A PREFACE BY 
 
 GEORGE SAINTSBURY 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 THE tiKHBiE PUBLISHING Co., Ltd. 
 1898
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PREFACE ix 
 
 FATHER GORIOT I 
 
 M. GOBSECK 305
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 THERE WAS A SPLENDID CARRIAGE WAITING AND 
 
 she GOT INTO IT Frontispiece 
 
 PAGE 
 THE HORSE TOOK FRIGHT AT THE UMBRELLA .... 59 
 
 "AM I TO YOUR TASTE?" 1$! 
 
 VAUTRIN CAME IN IN HIGH SPIRITS . . . 183 
 
 CLOTHES AND PAPERS AND RAGS LAY TOSSED ABOUT IN 
 
 CONFUSION * v 363
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 " FATHER GORIOT " perhaps deserves to be ranked as that 
 one of Balzac's novels which has united the greatest number 
 of suffrages, and which exhibits his peculiar merits, not indeed 
 without any of his faults, but with the merits in eminent, and 
 the faults not in glaring, degree. It was written (the preface 
 is dated 1834) at the time when his genius was at its very 
 height, when it had completely burst the strange shell which 
 had so long enveloped and cramped it, when the scheme of the 
 " Com6die Humaine " was not quite finally settled (it never 
 was that), but elaborated to a very considerable extent, when 
 the author had already acquired most of the knowledge of the 
 actual world which he possessed, and when his physical powers 
 were as yet unimpaired by his enormous labor and his reckless 
 disregard of "burning the candle at both ends." Although 
 it exhibits, like nearly all his work, the complication of interest 
 and scheme which was almost a necessity to him, that compli- 
 cation is kept within reasonable bounds, and managed with 
 wonderful address. The history of Goriot and his daughters, 
 the fortunes of Eugene de Rastignac, and the mysterious per- 
 sonality and operations of Vautrin, not only all receive due 
 and unperplexed development, but work upon each other with 
 that correspondence and interdependence which form the 
 rarest gift of the novelist, and which, when present, too com- 
 monly have attached to them the curse of over-minuteness and 
 complexity. No piece of Balzac's Dutch painting is worked 
 out with such marvelous minuteness as the Maison Vauquer, 
 and hardly any book of his has more lifelike studies of 
 character. 
 
 (ix)
 
 x PREFACE. 
 
 It would, however, not be difficult to find books with an 
 almost, if not quite, equal accumulation of attractions, which 
 have somehow failed to make the mark that has been made 
 by " Father Goriot." And the practiced critic of novels 
 knows perfectly well why this is. It is almost invariably, and 
 perhaps quite invariably, because there is no sufficiently central 
 interest, or because that interest is not of the broadly human 
 kind. Had Goriot had no daughters, he would undoubtedly 
 have been a happier man (or a less happy, for it is possible to 
 take it both ways) ; but the history of his decadence and death 
 never could have been such a good novel. It is because this 
 history of the daughters not exactly unnatural, not wholly 
 without excuse, but as surely murderesses of their father as 
 Goneril and Regan at once unites and overshadows the 
 whole, because of its intensity, its simple and suasive appeal, 
 that " Father Goriot " holds the place it does hold. That it 
 owes something in point of suggestion to " Lear " does not in 
 the least impair its claims. The circumstances and treatment 
 have that entire difference which, when genius is indebted to 
 genius, pays all the score there is at once. And, besides, 
 "Lear" has offered its motive for three hundred years to 
 thousands and millions of people who have been writing plays 
 and novels, and yet there is only one " Father Goriot." 
 
 It is, however, a fair subject of debate for those who like 
 critical argument of the nicer kind, whether Balzac has or has 
 not made a mistake in representing the ex-dealer in floury com- 
 pounds as a sort of idiot outside his trade abilities and his love 
 for his daughters. That in doing so he was guided by a sense 
 of poetical justice and consistency the same sense which 
 made Shakespeare dwell on the ungovernable temper and the 
 undignified haste to get rid of the cares of sovereignty that 
 bring on and justify the woes of Lear is undeniable. But 
 it would perhaps not have been unnatural, and it would have 
 been even more tragic, if the ci-devant manufacturer had been 
 represented as more intellectually capable, and as ruining him-
 
 PREFACE. xi 
 
 self in spite of his better judgment. On this point, however, 
 both sides may be held with equal ease and cogency, and I do 
 not decide either way. Of the force and pathos of the actual 
 representation, no two opinions are possible. There is hardly 
 a touch of the one fault which can be urged against Balzac very 
 often with some, and sometimes with very great, justice the 
 fault of exaggeration and phantasmagoric excess. Here at 
 least the possibilities of actual life, as translatable into litera- 
 ture, are not one whit exceeded ; and the artist has his full 
 reward for being true to art. 
 
 Almost equally free from the abnormal and the gigantic is 
 the portraiture of Rastignac. Even those who demur to the 
 description of Balzac as an impeccable chronicler of society 
 must admit the extraordinary felicity of the pictures of the 
 young man's introduction to the drawing-rooms of Mesdames 
 de Restaud and de Beausdant. Neither Fielding nor Thack- 
 eray that is to say, no one else in the world of letters could 
 have drawn with more absolute vividness and more absolute 
 veracity a young man, not a parvenu in point of birth, not 
 devoid of native cleverness and "star," but hampered by the 
 consciousness of poverty and by utter ignorance of the actual 
 ways and current social fashions of the great world when he is 
 first thrown, to sink or swim, into this great world itself. We 
 may pass from the certain to the dubious, or at least the 
 debatable, when we pass from Rastignac's first appearance to 
 his later experiences. Here comes in what has been said in 
 the general introduction as to the somewhat fantastic and 
 imaginary, the conventional and artificial character of Balzac's 
 world. But it must be remembered that for centuries the 
 whole structure of Parisian society has been to a very great 
 extent fantastic and imaginary, conventional and artificial. 
 Men and women have always played parts there as they have 
 played them nowhere else. And it must be confessed that 
 some of the parts here, if planned to the stage, are played to 
 the life that of Madame de Beauseant especially.
 
 xii PREFACE. 
 
 It is Vautrin on whom Balzac's decriers, if they are so 
 hardy as to attack this most unattackable book of his at all, 
 must chiefly fasten. It was long ago noticed indeed, sober 
 eyes both in France and elsewhere noticed it at the time 
 that the criminal, more or less virtuous, more or less terrible, 
 more or less superhuman, exercised a kind of sorcery over 
 minds in France from the greatest to the least at this particular 
 time, and even later. Not merely Balzac, but Victor Hugo 
 and George Sand, succumbed to his fascinations; and after 
 these three names it is quite unnecessary to mention any 
 others. And Balzac's proneness to the enormous and gigant- 
 esque made the fascination peculiarly dangerous in his case. 
 Undoubtedly the Vautrin who talks to Rastignac in the arbor 
 is neither quite a real man nor quite the same man who is 
 somewhat ignominiously caught by the treachery of his board- 
 ing-house fellows ; undoubtedly we feel that with him we 
 have left Shakespeare a long way behind, and are getting 
 rather into the society of Bouchardy or Eugene Sue. But 
 the genius is here likewise, and, as usual, it saves everything. 
 
 How it extends to the minutest and even the least savory 
 details of Madame Vauquer's establishment, how it irradiates 
 the meannesses and the sordidnesses of the inhabitants thereof, 
 those who have read know, and those who are about to read 
 this new presentation in English will find. Let it only be 
 repeated, that if the rarest and strangest charms which Balzac 
 can produce are elsewhere, nowhere else is his charm pre- 
 sented in a more pervading and satisfactory manner. 
 
 In "M. Gobseck " we find the hero quite interesting, the 
 story of Derville and Fanny escapes mawkishness, and all the 
 scenes in which the Restauds and Maxime de Trailles figure 
 are admirably done and well worth reading. It is not neces- 
 sary to take into consideration the important part which the 
 Dutch Jew's grand-daughter or grandniece, Esther, afterwards 
 plays in the "Com6die." He is good in himself, and a
 
 PREFACE. xiii 
 
 famous addition to Balzac's gallery of misers, the most inter- 
 esting, if not the most authentic, ever arranged on that curious 
 subject. 
 
 " M. Gobseck " was a " Scene de la vie Priv6e " from the 
 first use of that title in 1830. Its own title, however, "Les 
 Dangers de 1'Inconduit," and "Papa Gobseck" varied a 
 little, and it once made an excursion to the " Scenes de la vie 
 Parisienne," but returned. 
 
 "Father Goriot " originally appeared as a book in 1835, 
 published by Werdet and Spahmann, in two volumes. It had, 
 however, appeared serially in the Revue de Paris during the 
 previous winter. The first and some subsequent editions had 
 seven chapter-divisions, six of them headed. These, accord- 
 ing to Balzac's usual practice, were swept away when the book 
 became, in 1843, P art f tne " Scenes de la vie Parisienne" 
 and the " Comedie " itself. The transferrence to the "Vie 
 Privee," which is accomplished in the " Edition Definitive," 
 was only executed in accordance with notes found after 
 Balzac's death, and is far from happy, the book being essen- 
 tially Parisian. 
 
 G. S.
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 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 
 for the past forty years has kept a lodging-house in the Rue 
 Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve, in the district that lies between the 
 Latin Quarter and the Faubourg-Saint-Marcel. Her house 
 (known in the neighborhood as the Maison Vanquer) receives 
 men and women, old and young, and no word has ever been 
 breathed against her respectable establishment ; but, at the 
 same time, it must be said that as a matter of fact no young 
 woman has been under her roof for thirty years, and that if a 
 young man stays there for any length of time it is a sure sign 
 that his allowance must be of the slenderest. In 1819, how- 
 ver, the time when this drama opens, there was an almost 
 penniless young girl among Mme. Vauquer's boarders. 
 
 That word drama has been somewhat discredited of late ; 
 it has been overworked and twisted to strange uses in these 
 days of dolorous literature ; but it must do service again here, 
 not because this story is dramatic in the restricted sense of 
 the word, but because some tears may perhaps be shed infra 
 et extra muros before it is over. 
 
 Will any one without the walls of Paris understand it ? It 
 is open to doubt. The only audience who could appreciate 
 the results of close observation, the careful reproduction of 
 minute detail and local color, are dwellers between the heights 
 of Montrouge and Montmartre, in a vale of crumbling stucco 
 watered by streams of black mud, a vale of sorrows which 
 are real and of joys too often hollow ; but this audience is so 
 (1)
 
 2 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 accustomed to terrible sensations, that only some unimaginable 
 and well-nigh impossible woe could produce any lasting 
 impression there. Now and again there are tragedies so 
 awful and so grand by reason of the complication of virtues 
 and vices that bring them about, that egoism and selfishness 
 are forced to pause and are moved to pity; but the impression 
 that they receive is like a luscious fruit, soon consumed. 
 Civilization, like the car of Juggernaut, is scarcely stayed 
 perceptibly in its progress by a heart less easy to break than 
 the others that lie in its course ; this also is broken, and 
 civilization continues on her course triumphant. And you, 
 too, will do the like ; you who with this book in your white 
 hand will sink back among the cushions of your armchair, 
 and say to yourself, "Perhaps this may amuse me." You 
 will read the story of Father Goriot's secret woes, and, dining 
 thereafter with an unspoiled appetite, will lay the blame of 
 your insensibility upon the writer, and accuse him of exagger- 
 ation, of writing romances. Ah ! once for all, this drama is 
 neither a fiction nor a romance ! All is true so true, that 
 every one can discern the elements of the tragedy in his own 
 house, perhaps in his own heart. 
 
 The lodging-house is Mme. Vauquer's own property. It is 
 still standing at the lower end of the Rue Neuve-Sainte- 
 Genevieve, just where the road slopes so sharply down to the 
 Rue de 1'Arbalete, that wheeled traffic seldom passes that 
 way, because it is so stony and steep. This position is suffi- 
 cient to account for the silence prevalent in the streets shut 
 in between the dome of the Pantheon and the dome of the 
 Val-de Grace, two conspicuous public buildings which give a 
 yellowish tone to the landscape and darken the whole district 
 that lies beneath the shadow of their leaden-hued cupolas. 
 
 In that district the pavements are clean and dry, there is 
 neither mud nor water in the gutters, grass grows in the chinks 
 of the walls. The most heedless passer-by feels the depressing 
 influences of a place where the sound of wheels creates a sen-
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 3 
 
 sation ; there is a grim look about the houses, a suggestion of 
 a jail about those high garden walls. A Parisian straying 
 into a suburb apparently composed of lodging-houses and 
 public institutions would see poverty and dulness, old age 
 lying down to die, and joyous youth condemned to drudgery. 
 It is the ugliest quarter of Paris, and, it may be added, the 
 least known. But, before all things, the Rue Neuve-Sainte- 
 Genevieve is like a bronze frame for a picture for which the 
 mind cannot be too well prepared by the contemplation of sad 
 hues and sober images. Even so, step by step the daylight 
 decreases, and the cicerone's droning voice grows hollower as 
 the traveler descends into the catacombs. The comparison 
 holds good ! Who shall say which is more ghastly, the sight 
 of the bleached skulls or of dried-up human hearts? 
 
 The front of the lodging-house is at right-angles to the 
 road, and looks out upon a little garden, so that you see the 
 side of the house in section, as it were, from the Rue Neuve- 
 Sainte-Genevieve. Beneath the wall of the house-front there 
 lies a channel, a fathom wide, paved with cobble-stones, and 
 beside it runs a graveled walk bordered by geraniums and 
 oleanders and pomegranates set in great blue and white glazed 
 earthenware pots. Access into the graveled walk is afforded 
 by a 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 a wicket to which a bell is attached. On the oppo- 
 site wall, at the farther end of the graveled walk, a green 
 marble arch was painted once upon a time by a local artist,, 
 and in this semblance of a shrine a statue representing Cupid 
 is installed ; a Parisian Cupid, so blistered and disfigured that 
 he looks like a candidate for one of the adjacent hospitals, and 
 might suggest an allegory to lovers of symbolism. The half- 
 obliterated inscription on the pedestal beneath determines the
 
 4 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 date of this work of art, for it bears witness to the wide- 
 spread enthusiasm 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 
 little garden is no wider than the front of the house ; it is shut 
 in between the wall of the street and the partition wall of the 
 neighboring house. A mantle of ivy conceals the bricks and 
 attracts the eyes of passers-by to an effect which is picturesque 
 in Paris, for each of the walls is covered with trellised vines 
 that yield a scanty, dusty crop of fruit, and furnish besides 
 a subject of conversation for Mme. Vauquer and her lodgers ; 
 every year the widow trembles for her vintage. 
 
 A straight path beneath the walls on either side of the 
 garden leads to a clump of lime trees at the farther end of 
 it ; line trees, as Mme. Vauquer persists in calling them, in 
 spite of the fact that she was a de Conflans, and regardless 
 of repeated corrections from her lodgers. 
 
 The central space between the walks is filled with artichokes 
 and rows of pyramid fruit-trees, and surrounded by a border 
 of lettuce, potherbs, and parsley. Under the lime trees there 
 are a few green- pain ted garden seats and a wooden table, and 
 hither, during the dog-days, such of the lodgers as are rich 
 enough to indulge in a cup of coffee come to take their pleasure, 
 though it is hot enough to roast eggs even in the shade. 
 
 The house itself is three stories high, without counting the 
 attics under the roof. It is built of rough stone, and covered 
 with the yellowish stucco that gives a mean appearance to 
 almost every house in Paris. There are five windows in each 
 story in the front of the house ; all the blinds visible through 
 tiie small square panes are drawn up awry, so that the lines 
 are all at cross-purposes. At the side of the house there are 
 but two windows on each floor, and the lowest of all are 
 adorned with a heavy iron grating.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 5 
 
 Behind the house a yard extends for some twenty feet, a 
 space inhabited by a happy family of pigs, poultry, and rab- 
 bits ; the wood-shed is situated on the farther side, and on the 
 wall between the wood-shed and the kitchen window hangs 
 the meat-safe, just above the place where the sink discharges 
 its greasy streams. The cook sweeps all the refuse out through 
 a little door into the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve, and fre- 
 quently cleanses the yard with copious 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 ground floor, a sitting-room which looks out upon the 
 street through the two barred windows already mentioned. 
 Another door opens out of it into the dining-room, which is 
 separated from the kitchen by the wall of the staircase, the 
 steps being constructed partly of wood, partly of tiles, which 
 are colored and beeswaxed. Nothing can be more depressing 
 than the sight of that sitting-room. The furniture is covered 
 with horsehair woven in alternate dull and glossy stripes. 
 There is a round table in the middle, with a purplish-red 
 marble top, on which there stands, by way of ornament, the 
 inevitable white china tea-service, covered with a half-effaced 
 gilt network. The floor is sufficiently uneven, the wainscot 
 rises to elbow height, and the rest of the wall space is deco- 
 rated with a varnished paper, on which the principal scenes 
 from Telemaque are depicted, the various classical personages 
 being colored. The subject between the two windows is the 
 banquet given by Calypso to the son of Ulysses, displayed 
 thereon for the admiration of the boarders, and has furnished 
 jokes these forty years to the young men who show themselves 
 superior to their position by making fun of the dinners to 
 which poverty condemns them. The hearth is always so clean 
 and neat that it is evident that a fire is only kindled there on 
 great occasions; the stone chimney-piece is adorned by a 
 couple of vases filled with faded artificial flowers imprisoned
 
 6 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 under glass shades, on either side of a bluish-marble clock in 
 the very worst taste. 
 
 The first room exhales an odor for which there is no name 
 in the language, and which should be called the odeur de pen- 
 sion. The damp atmosphere sends a chill through you as you 
 breathe it ; it has a stuffy, musty, and rancid quality ; it per- 
 meates your clothing ; after-dinner scents seem to be mingled 
 in it with smells from the kitchen and scullery and the reek 
 of a hospital. It might be possible to describe it if some one 
 should discover a process by which to distil from the atmo- 
 sphere all the nauseating elements with which it is charged by 
 the catarrhal exhalations of every individual lodger, young or 
 old. Yet, in spite of these stale horrors, the sitting-room is as 
 charming and as delicately perfumed as a boudoir, when com- 
 pared with the adjoining dining-room. 
 
 The paneled walls of that apartment were once painted 
 some color, now a matter of conjecture, for the surface is 
 incrusted with accumulated layers of grimy deposit, which 
 cover it with fantastic outlines. A collection of dim-ribbed 
 glass decanters, metal discs with a satin sheen on them, and 
 piles of blue-edged earthenware plates of Touraine ware cover 
 the sticky surfaces of the sideboards that line the room. In a 
 corner stands a box containing a set of numbered pigeon-holes, 
 in which the lodgers' table napkins, more or less soiled and 
 stained with wine, are kept. Here you see that indestructible 
 furniture never met with elsewhere, which finds its way into 
 lodging-houses much as the wrecks of our civilization drift 
 into hospitals for incurables. You expect in such places as 
 these to find the weather-house whence a Capuchin issues on 
 wet days ; you look to find the execrable engravings which 
 spoil your appetite, framed every one in a black varnished 
 frame, with a gilt beading round it ; you know the sort of 
 tortoise-shell clock-case, inlaid with brass; the green stove, the 
 Argand lamps, covered with oil and dust, have met your eyes 
 before. The oilcloth which covers the long table is so greasy
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 1 
 
 that a waggish outsider will write his name on the surface, 
 using his thumb-nail as a style. The chairs are broken-down 
 invalids ; the wretched little hempen mats 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 give 
 an idea of the old, rotten, shaky, cranky, worm-eaten, halt, 
 maimed, one-eyed, rickety, and ramshackle condition of the 
 furniture without an exhaustive description, which would 
 delay the progress of the story to an extent that impatient 
 people would not pardon. The red tiles of the floor are full 
 of depressions brought about by scouring and periodical 
 renewings of color. In short, there is no illusory grace left 
 to the poverty that reigns here ; it is dire, parsimonious, con- 
 centrated, threadbare poverty ; as yet it has not sunk into the 
 mire, it is only splashed by it, and, though not in rags as yet, 
 its clothing 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 his mistress, and jumps upon the sideboards 
 to sniff at the milk in the bowls, each protected by a plate, 
 while he purrs his morning greeting to the world. A moment 
 later the widow shows her face ; she is tricked out in a net 
 cap attached to a false front set on awry, and shuffles into the 
 room in her slipshod fashion. She is an oldish woman, with 
 a bloated countenance, and a nose like a parrot's beak set in 
 the middle of it ; her fat little hands (she is as sleek as a 
 church rat) and her shapeless, slouching figure are in keeping 
 with the room that reeks of misfortune, where hope is reduced 
 to speculate for the meanest stakes. Mme. Vauquer alone can 
 breathe that tainted air without being disheartened by it. 
 Her face is as fresh as a frosty morning in autumn ; there are 
 wrinkles about the eyes that vary in their expression from the 
 set smile of a ballet-dancer to the dark, suspicious scowl of a 
 discounter of bills ; in short, she is at once the embodiment
 
 8 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 and interpretation of her lodging-house, as surely as her 
 lodging-house implies the existence of its mistress. You can 
 no more imagine the one without the other, than you can 
 think of a jail without a turnkey. The unwholesome corpu- 
 lence of the little woman is produced by the life she leads, 
 just as typhus fever is bred in the tainted air of a hospital. 
 The very knitted woolen petticoat that she wears beneath a 
 skirt made of an old gown, with the wadding protruding 
 through the rents in the material, is a sort of epitome of the 
 sitting-room, the dining-room, and the little garden ; it dis- 
 covers the cook ; it foreshadows the lodgers the picture of 
 the house is completed by the portrait of its mistress. 
 
 Mme. Vauquer at the age of fifty is like all women who 
 "have seen a deal of trouble." She has the glassy eyes and 
 innocent air of a trafficker in flesh and blood, who will wax 
 virtuously indignant to obtain a higher price for her services, 
 but who is quite ready to betray a Georges or a Pichegru, if a 
 Georges or a Pichegru were in hiding and still to be be- 
 trayed, or for any other expedient that may alleviate her lot. 
 Still, "she is a good woman at bottom," said the lodgers, 
 who believed that the widow was wholly dependent upon the 
 money that they paid her, and sympathized when they heard 
 her cough and groan like one of themselves. 
 
 What had M. Vauquer been ? The lady was never very ex- 
 plicit on this head. Plow had she lost her money ? " Through 
 trouble," was her answer. He had treated her badly, had 
 left her nothing but her eyes to cry over his cruelty, the house 
 she lived in, and the privilege of pitying nobody, because, so 
 she was wont to say, she herself had been through every possi- 
 ble misfortune. 
 
 Sylvie, the stout cook, hearing her mistress' shuffling foot- 
 steps, hastened to serve the lodgers' breakfast. Besides those 
 who lived in the house, Mme. Vauquer took boarders who 
 came for their meals ; but these outsiders usually only came to 
 dinner, for which they paid thirty francs a month.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT, 9 
 
 At the time when this story begins, the lodging-house con- 
 tained seven inmates. The best rooms in the house were on 
 the first story, Mme. Vauquer herself occupying the least 
 important, while the rest were let to a Mme. Couture, the 
 widow of a commissary-general in the service of the Republic. 
 With her lived Victorine Taillefer, a school-girl, to whom she 
 filled the place of mother. These two ladies paid eighteen 
 hundred francs a year. 
 
 The two sets of rooms on the second floor were respectively 
 occupied by an old man named Poiret and a man of forty or 
 thereabouts, the wearer of a black wig and dyed whiskers, 
 who gave out that he was a retired merchant, and was addressed 
 as M. Vautrin. Two of the four rooms on the third floor 
 were also let one to an elderly spinster, a Mile. Michonneau, 
 and the other to a retired manufacturer of vermicelli, Italian 
 paste and starch, who allowed the others to address him as 
 "Father Goriot." The remaining rooms were allotted to 
 various birds of passage, to impecunious students, who, like 
 "Father Goriot" and Mile. Michonneau, could only muster 
 forty-five francs a month to pay for their board and lodging. 
 Mme. Vauquer had little desire for lodgers of this sort ; they 
 ate too much bread, and she only took them in default of 
 better. 
 
 At that time one of the rooms was tenanted by a law stu- 
 dent, a young man from the neighborhood of Angoul&me, one 
 of a large family who pinched and starved themselves to spare 
 twelve hundred francs a year for him. Misfortune had accus- 
 tomed Eugene de Rastignac, for that was his name, to work. 
 He belonged to the number of young men who know as 
 children that their parents' hopes are centred on them, and 
 deliberately prepare themselves for a great career, subordin- 
 ating their studies from the first to this end, carefully watch- 
 ing the indications of the course of events, calculating the 
 probable turn that affairs will take, that they may be the first 
 to profit by them. But for his observant curiosity, and the
 
 10 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 skill with which he managed to introduce himself into the 
 salons of Paris, this story would not have been colored by 
 the tones of truth which it certainly owes to him, for they 
 are entirely due to his penetrating sagacity and desire to fathom 
 the mysteries of an appalling condition of things which was 
 concealed as carefully by the victim as by those who had 
 brought it to pass. 
 
 Above the third story there was a garret where the linen was 
 hung to dry, and a couple of attics. Christophe, the man-of- 
 all-work, slept in one, and Sylvie, the stout cook, in the other. 
 Besides the seven inmates thus enumerated, taking one year 
 with another, some eight law or medical students dined in the 
 house, as well as two or three regular comers who lived in the 
 neighborhood. There were usually eighteen people at dinner, 
 and there was room, if need be, for twenty at Mme. Vauquer's 
 table ; at breakfast, however, only the seven lodgers appeared. 
 It was almost like a family party. Every one came down in 
 dressing-gown and slippers, and the conversation usually 
 turned on anything that had happened the evening before ; 
 comments on the dress or appearance of the dinner contin- 
 gent were exchanged in friendly confidence. 
 
 These seven lodgers were Mme. Vauquer's spoiled children. 
 Among them she distributed, with astronomical precision, the 
 exact proportion of respect and attention due to the varying 
 amounts they paid for their board. One single consideration 
 influenced all these human beings thrown together by chance. 
 The two second-floor lodgers only paid seventy-two francs a 
 month. Such prices as these are confined to the Faubourg 
 Saint-Marcel and the district between La Bourbe and the 
 Salpdtriere ; and, as might be expected, poverty, more or less 
 apparent, weighed upon them all, Mme. Couture being the 
 sole exception to the rule. 
 
 The dreary surroundings were reflected in the costumes of 
 the inmates of the house ; all were alike threadbare. The 
 color of the men's coats was problematical; such shoes, in
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 11 
 
 more fashionable quarters, are only to be seen lying in the 
 gutter ; the cuffs and collars were worn and frayed at the 
 edges; every limp article of clothing looked like the ghost of 
 its former self. The women's dresses were faded, old-fash- 
 ioned, dyed and re-dyed ; they wore gloves that were glazed 
 with hard wear, much-mended lace, dingy ruffles, crumpled 
 muslin fichus. So much for their clothing ; but, for the most 
 part, their frames were solid enough ; their constitutions had 
 weathered the storms of life ; their cold, hard faces were worn 
 like coins that have been withdrawn from circulation, but 
 there were greedy teeth behind the withered lips. Dramas 
 brought to a close or still in progress are foreshadowed by the 
 sight of such actors as these, not the dramas that are played 
 before the footlights and against a background of painted 
 canvas, but dumb dramas of life frost-bound dramas that sear 
 hearts like fire, dramas that do not end with the actors' lives. 
 Mile. Michonneau, that elderly young lady, screened her 
 weak eyes from the daylight by a soiled green silk shade with 
 a rim of brass, an object fit to scare away the Angel of Pity 
 himself. Her shawl, with its scanty, draggled fringe, might 
 have covered a skeleton, so meagre and angular was the form 
 beneath it. Yet she must have been pretty and shapely once. 
 What corrosive had destroyed the feminine outlines? Was it 
 trouble, or vice, or greed ? Had she loved too well ? Had 
 she been a second-hand clothes dealer, a frequenter of the 
 back -stairs of great houses, or had she been merely a courtesan ? 
 Was she expiating the flaunting triumphs of a youth over- 
 crowded with pleasures by an old age in which she was 
 shunned by every passer-by? Her vacant gaze sent a chill 
 through you ; her shriveled face seemed like a menace. Her 
 voice was like the shrill, thin note of the grasshopper sound- 
 ing from the thicket when winter is at hand. She said that she 
 had nursed an old gentleman, ill of catarrh of the bladder, 
 and left to die by his children, who thought that he had 
 nothing left. His bequest to her, a life annuity of a thousand
 
 12 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 francs, was periodically disputed by his heirs, who mingled 
 slander with their persecutions. In spite of the ravages of 
 conflicting passions, her face retained some traces of its former 
 fairness and fineness of tissue, some vestiges of the physical 
 charms of her youth still survived. 
 
 M. Poiret was a sort of automaton. He might be seen any 
 day sailing like a gray shadow along the walks of the Jardin 
 des Plantes, on his head a shabby cap, a cane with an old 
 yellow ivory handle in the tips of his thin fingers; the out- 
 spread skirts of his threadbare overcoat failed to conceal his 
 meagre figure; his breeches hung loosely on his shrunken 
 limbs; the thin, blue-stockinged legs trembled like those of a 
 drunken man ; there was a notable breach of continuity 
 between the dingy white waistcoat and crumpled shirt frills 
 and the cravat twisted about a throat like a turkey gobler's; 
 altogether, his appearance set people wondering whether this 
 outlandish ghost belonged to the audacious race of the sons 
 of Japhet who flutter about on the Boulevard Italien. What 
 kind of toil could have so shriveled him? 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 in the office to which the executioner sends in his ac- 
 counts so much for providing black veils for parricides, so 
 much for sawdust, so much for pulleys and cord for the knife. 
 Or he might have been a receiver at the door of a public 
 slaughter-house, or a sub-inspector of nuisances. Indeed, the 
 man appeared to have been one of the beasts of burden in our 
 great social mill ; one of those Parisian ratons whom their 
 Bertrands do not even know by sight ; a pivot in the obscure 
 machinery that disposes of misery and things unclean ; one 
 of those men, in short, at sight of whom we are prompted to 
 remark that, " After all, we cannot do without them." 
 
 Stately Paris ignores the existence of these faces bleached 
 by moral or physical suffering; but, then, Paris is in truth an
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 13 
 
 ocean that no line can fathom. You may survey its surface 
 and describe k ; but no matter what pains you take with your 
 investigations and recognizances, no matter how numerous 
 and painstaking the toilers in this sea, there will always be 
 lonely and unexplored regions in its depths, caverns unknown, 
 flowers and pearls and monsters of the deep overlooked or 
 forgotten by the divers of literature. The Maison Vauquer is 
 one of these curious monstrosities. 
 
 Two, however, of Mme. Vauquer's boarders formed a strik- 
 ing contrast to the rest. There was a sickly pallor, such as is 
 often seen in anaemic girls, in Mile. VictorineTaillefer's face ; 
 and her unvarying expression of sadness, like her embarrassed 
 manner and pinched look, was in keeping with the general 
 wretchedness of the establishment in the Rue Neuve-Sainte- 
 Genevieve, which forms a background to this picture ; but her 
 face was young, there was youthfulness in her voice and elas- 
 ticity in her movements. This young unfortunate was not 
 unlike a shrub, newly plan led in an uncongenial soil, where 
 its leaves have already begun to wither. The outlines of her 
 figure, revealed by her dress of the simplest and cheapest mate- 
 rials, were also youthful. There was the same kind of charm 
 about her too slender form, her faintly colored face and light- 
 brown hair, that modern poets find in mediaeval statuettes ; 
 and a sweet expression, a look of Christian resignation in the 
 dark-gray eyes. She was pretty by force of contrast ; if she 
 had been happy, she would have been charming. Happiness 
 is the poetry of woman, as the toilet is her tinsel. If the 
 delightful excitement of a ball had made the pale face glow 
 with color; if the delights of a luxurious life had brought 
 the color to the wan cheeks that were slightly hollowed 
 already ; if love had put light into the sad eyes, then Victo- 
 rine might have ranked among the fairest ; but she lacked the 
 two things which create woman a second time pretty dresses 
 and love-letters. 
 
 A book might have been made of her story. Her father
 
 14 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 was persuaded that he had sufficient reason for declin- 
 ing to acknowledge her, and allowed her a bare six hundred 
 francs a year ; he had further taken measures to disinherit his 
 daughter, and had converted all his real estate 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 
 the little orphan. Unluckily, the widow of the commissary- 
 general to the armies of the Republic had nothing in the 
 world but her jointure and her widow's pension, and some 
 day she might be obliged to leave the helpless, inexperienced 
 girl to the mercy of the world. The good soul, therefore, 
 took Victorine to mass every Sunday, and to confession once 
 a fortnight, thinking that, in any case, she would bring up her 
 ward to be devout. She was right ; religion offered a solution 
 of the problem of the young girl's future. The poor child 
 loved the father who refused to acknowledge her. Once every 
 year she tried to see him to deliver her mother's message of 
 forgiveness, but every year hitherto she had knocked at that 
 door in vain ; her father was inexorable. Her brother, her 
 only means of communication, had not come to see her for 
 four years, and had sent her no assistance ; yet she prayed to 
 God to unseal her father's eyes and to soften her brother's 
 heart, and no accusations mingled with her prayers. Mme. 
 Couture and Mme. Vanquer exhausted the vocabulary of 
 abuse, and failed to find words that did justice to the banker's 
 iniquitous conduct ; but while they heaped execrations on the 
 millionaire, Victorine's words were as gentle as the moan of 
 the wounded dove, and affection found expression even in 
 the cry drawn from her by pain. 
 
 Eugene de Rastignac was a thoroughly southern type ; he 
 had a fair complexion, blue eyes, black hair. In his figure, 
 manner, and his whole bearing it was easy to see that he 
 either came of a noble family, or that, from his earliest child- 
 hood, he had been gently bred. If he was careful of his
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 15 
 
 wardrobe, only taking last year's clothes into daily wear, still 
 upon occasion he could issue forth as a young man of fashion. 
 Ordinarily he wore a shabby coat and waistcoat, the limp 
 black cravat, untidily knotted, that students affect, trousers 
 that matched the rest of his costume, and boots that had been 
 re-soled. 
 
 Vautrin (the man of forty with the dyed whiskers) marked 
 a transition stage between these two young people and the 
 others. He was the kind of man that calls forth the remark : 
 "He looks a jovial sort ! " He had broad shoulders, a well- 
 developed chest, muscular arms, and strong square-fisted 
 hands ; the joints of his fingers were covered with tufts of 
 fiery red hair. His face was furrowed by premature wrinkles; 
 there was a certain hardness about it in spite of his bland and 
 insinuating manner. His bass voice was by no means un- 
 pleasant, and was in keeping with his boisterous laughter. 
 He was always obliging, always in good spirits ; if anything 
 went wrong with one of the locks, he would soon unscrew it, 
 take it to pieces, file it, oil and clean and set it in order, 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 rather more than usual, he would offer 
 his services at once. He had several times loaned money to 
 Mme. Vauquer, or to the boarders ; but, somehow, those whom 
 he obliged felt that they would sooner face death than fail to 
 repay him ; a certain resolute look, sometimes seen on his 
 face, inspired fear of him, for all his appearance of easy good- 
 nature. In the way he spat there was an imperturbable cool- 
 ness which seemed to indicate that this was a man who would 
 not stop at a crime to extricate himself from a false position. 
 His eyes, like those of a pitiless judge, seemed to go to the 
 very bottom of all questions, to read all natures, all feelings, 
 and thoughts. His habit of life was very regular ; he usually
 
 16 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 went out after breakfast, returning in time for dinner, and 
 disappeared for the rest of the evening, letting himself in 
 about midnight with a latch-key, a privilege that Mme. Vau- 
 quer accorded to no other boarder. But then he was on very 
 good terms with the widow; he used to call her " mamma," 
 and put his arm round her waist, a piece of flattery perhaps 
 not appreciated to the full ! The worthy woman might im- 
 agine this to be an easy feat ; but, as a matter of fact, no arm 
 but Vautrin's was long enough to encircle her. 
 
 It was a characteristic trait of his generosity to pay fifteen 
 francs a mOnth for the cup of coffee with a dash of brandy in 
 it, which he took after dinner. Less superficial observers 
 than young men engulfed by the whirlpool of Parisian life, 
 or old men, who took no interest in anything that did 
 not directly concern them, would not have stopped short 
 at the vaguely unsatisfactory impression that Vautrin made 
 upon them. He knew or guessed the concerns of every one 
 about him ; but none of them had been able to penetrate his 
 thoughts, or to discover his occupation. He had deliberately 
 made his apparent good-nature, his unfailing readiness to 
 oblige, and his high spirits into a barrier between himself and 
 the rest of them, but not seldom he gave glimpses of appalling 
 depths of character. He seemed to delight in scourging the 
 upper class of society with the lash of his tongue, to take 
 pleasure in convicting it of inconsistency, in mocking at law 
 and order with some grim jest worthy of Juvenal, as if some 
 grudge against the social system rankled in him, as if there 
 were some mystery carefully hidden away in his life. 
 
 Mile. Taillefer felt attracted, perhaps unconsciously by the 
 strength of the one man, and the good looks of the other ; 
 her stolen glances and secret thoughts were divided between 
 them ; but neither of them seemed to take any notice of her, 
 although some day a chance might alter her position and she 
 would be a wealthy heiress. For that matter, there was not a 
 soul in the house who took any trouble to investigate the vari-
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 17 
 
 ous chronicles of misfortunes, real or imaginary, related by the 
 rest. Each one regarded the others with indifference, tem- 
 pered by suspicion ; it was the natural result of their relative 
 positions. Practical assistance not one of them could give, 
 this they all knew, and they had long since exhausted their 
 stock of condolence over previous discussions of their griev- 
 ances. They were in something the same position as an 
 elderly couple who have nothing left to say to each other. 
 The routine of existence kept them in contact, but they were 
 parts of a mechanism which wanted oil. There was not one 
 of them but would have passed a blind man begging in the 
 street, not one that felt moved to pity by a tale of misfortune, 
 not one that did not see in death the solution of the all-absorb- 
 ing problem of misery which left them cold to the most 
 terrible anguish in others. 
 
 The happiest of these hapless beings was certainly Mme. 
 Vauquer, who reigned supreme over this hospital supported by 
 voluntary contributions. 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 of a back shop had 
 charms for her, and for her alone. Those cells belonged to 
 her. She fed those convicts condemned to penal servitude for 
 life, and her authority was recognized among them. Where 
 else in Paris would they have found wholesome food in suffi- 
 cient quantity at the prices she charged them, and rooms 
 which they were at liberty to make, if not exactly elegant 
 or comfortable, at any rate, clean and healthy? If she had 
 committed some flagrant act of injustice, the victim would 
 have borne it in silence. 
 
 Such a gathering contained, as might have been expected, 
 the elements out of which a complete society might be con- 
 structed. And, as in a school, as in the world itself, there 
 was among the eighteen men and women who met round the 
 dinner table a poor creature, despised by all the others, 
 2
 
 18 FATHER GO RIO T. 
 
 condemned to be the butt of all their jokes. At the beginning 
 oi Eugene de Rastignac's second twelvemonth, this figure 
 suddenly started out into bold relief against the background 
 of human forms and faces among which the law student was 
 yet to live for another two years to come. This laughing- 
 stock was the retired vermicelli-merchant, Father Goriot, 
 upon whose face a painter, like the historian, would have 
 concentrated all the light in his picture. 
 
 How had it come about that the boarders regarded him 
 with a half-malignant contempt ? Why did they subject the 
 oldest among their number to a kind of persecution, in which 
 there was mingled some pity, but no respect for his misfor- 
 tunes ? Had he brought it upon himself by some eccentricity 
 or absurdity, which is less easily forgiven or forgotten than 
 more serious defects? The question strikes at the root of 
 many a social injustice. Perhaps it is only human nature to 
 inflict suffering on anything that will endure suffering, whether 
 by reason of its genuine humility, or indifference, or sheer 
 helplessness. Do we not, one and all, like to feel our strength 
 even at the expense of some one or of something? The 
 poorest sample of humanity, the street arab, will pull the bell- 
 handle at every street-door in bitter weather, and scramble 
 up to write his name on the unsullied marble of a monument. 
 
 In the year 1813, at the age of sixty-nine or thereabouts, 
 " Father Goriot " had sold his business and retired to Mme. 
 Vauquer's boarding-house. When he first came there he had 
 taken the rooms now occupied by Mme. Couture; he had 
 paid twelve hundred francs a year like a man to whom five 
 louis more or less was a mere trifle. For him Mme. Vauquer 
 had made various improvements in the three rooms destined 
 for his use, in consideration of a certain sum paid in advance, 
 so it was said, for the miserable furniture, that is to say, for 
 some yellow cotton curtains, a few chairs of stained wood 
 covered with Utrecht velvet, several wretchedly colored prints 
 in frames, and v/all papers that a little suburban tavern would
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 19 
 
 have disdained. Possibly it was the careless generosity with 
 which Father Goriot allowed himself to be overreached at this 
 period of his life (they called him Monsieur Goriot very 
 respectfully then) that gave Mme. Vauquer the meanest 
 opinion of his business abilities ; she looked on him as an 
 imbecile where money was concerned. 
 
 Goriot had brought with him a considerable wardrobe, the 
 gorgeous outfit of a retired tradesman who denies himself 
 nothing. Mme. Vauquer's astonished eyes beheld no less 
 than eighteen cambric-fronted shirts, the splendor of their 
 fineness being enhanced by a pair of pins each bearing a large 
 diamond, and connected by a short chain, an ornament which 
 adorned the vermicelli-maker's shirt-front. He usually wore 
 a coat of cornflower blue ; his rotund and portly person 
 was still further set off by a clean white waistcoat, and a gold 
 chain and seals which dangled over that broad expanse. 
 When his hostess accused him of being "a. bit of a beau," he 
 smiled with the vanity of a citizen whose foible is gratified. 
 His cupboards (ormoires, as he called them in the popular 
 dialect) were filled with a quantity of plate that he brought 
 with him. The widow's eyes gleamed as she obligingly helped 
 him to unpack the soup ladles, tablespoons, forks, cruet-stands, 
 tureens, dishes, and breakfast services all of silver which 
 were duly arranged upon the shelves, beside a few more or less 
 handsome pieces of plate, all weighing no inconsiderable 
 number of ounces ; he could not bring himself to part with 
 these gifts that reminded him of past domestic festivals. 
 
 " This was my wife's present to me on the first anniversary 
 of our wedding-day," he said to Mme. Vauquer, as he put 
 away a little silver posset dish, with two turtle-doves billing 
 on the cover. " Poor dear ! she spent on it all the money 
 she had saved before we married. Do you 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 out 
 of it every morning for the rest of my days, thank the Lord !
 
 20 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 I am not to be pitied. There's not much fear of my starv- 
 ing for some time to come." 
 
 Finally, Mme. Vauquer's magpie's eye had discovered and 
 read certain entries in the list of shareholders in the funds, 
 and, after a rough calculation, was disposed to credit Goriot 
 (worthy man) with something like ten thousand francs a year. 
 From that day forward Mme. Vauquer (nee de Conflans), 
 who, as a matter of fact, had seen forty-eight summers, though 
 she would only own to thirty-nine of them Mme. Vauquer 
 had her own ideas. Though Goriot's eyes seemed to have 
 shrunk in their sockets, though they were weak and watery, 
 owing to some glandular affection which compelled him to 
 wipe them continually, she considered him to be a very 
 gentlemanly and pleasant-looking man. Moreover, the 
 widow saw favorable indications of character in the well- 
 developed calves of his legs and in his square-shaped nose, 
 indications still further borne out by the worthy man's full- 
 moon countenance and look of stupid good-nature. This, in 
 all probability, was a strongly-built animal, whose brains 
 mostly consisted in a capacity for affection. His hair, worn 
 in ailes de pigeon, and duly powdered every morning by the 
 barber from the Ecole Polytechnique, described five points on 
 his low forehead, and made an elegantly setting to his face. 
 Though his manners were somewhat boorish, he was always 
 as neat as a new pin, and he took his snuff in a lordly way, 
 like a man who knows that his snuff-box is always likely to be 
 filled with maccaboy ; so that when Mme. Vauquer lay down 
 to rest on the day of M. Goriot's installation, her heart, like 
 a larded partridge, sweltered before the fire of a burning 
 desire to shake off the shroud of Vauquer and rise again as 
 Goriot. She would marry again, sell her board ing-house, 
 give her hand to this fine flower of citizenship, become a lady 
 of consequence in the Quarter, and ask for subscriptions for 
 charitable purposes; she would make little Sunday excursions 
 to Choisy, Soisy, Gentilly; she would have a box at the
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 21 
 
 theatre when she liked, instead of waiting for the author's 
 tickets that one of her boarders sometimes gave her, in July ; 
 the whole Eldorado of a little Parisian household rose up 
 before Mme. Vauquer in her dreams. Nobody knew that she 
 herself possessed forty thousand francs, accumulated sou by 
 sou, that was her secret; surely as far as money was concerned 
 she was a very tolerable match. "And in other respects, I 
 am quite his equal," she said to herself, turning as if to assure 
 herself of the charms of a form that the portly Sylvie found 
 moulded in down feathers every morning. 
 
 For three months from that day Mme. Veuve Vauquer 
 availed herself of the services of M. Goriot's coiffeur, and 
 went to some expense over her toilet, expense justifiable on 
 the ground that she owed it to herself and her establishment to 
 pay some attention to appearances when such highly respectable 
 persons honored her house with their presence. She expended 
 no small amount of ingenuity in a sort of weeding process 
 of her lodgers, announcing her intention of receiving hence- 
 forward none but people who were in every way select. If a 
 stranger presented himself, she let him know that M. Goriot, 
 one of the best-known and most highly respected merchants 
 in Paris, had singled out her boarding-house for a residence. 
 She drew up a prospectus headed MAISON VAUQUER, in which 
 it was asserted that hers was " one of the oldest and most highly 
 recommended boarding-houses in the Latin Quarter. " " From 
 the windows of the house," thus ran the prospectus, "there 
 is a charming view of the Vallee des Gobelins (so there is 
 from the third floor), and a beautiful garden, extending down 
 to an avenue of lindens at the farther end." Mention was 
 made of the bracing air of the place and its quiet situation. 
 
 It was this prospectus that attracted Mme. la Comtesse de 
 1'Ambermesnil, a widow of six and thirty, who was awaiting 
 the final settlement of her husband's affairs, and of another 
 matter regarding a pension due to her as the wife of a general 
 who had died " on the field or battle." On this Mme. Vau-
 
 22 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 quer saw to her table, lighted a fire daily in the sitting-room 
 for nearly six months, and kept the promise of her prospectus, 
 even going to some expense to do so. And the Countess, on 
 her side, addressed Mme. Vauquer as "my dear,-" and prom- 
 ised her two more boarders, the Baronne de Vaumerland and 
 the widow of a colonel, the late Comte de Picquoisie, who 
 were about to leave a boarding-house in the Marais, where the 
 terms were higher than at the Maison Vauquer. Both these 
 ladies, moreover, would be very well to do when the people 
 at the War Office had come to an end of their formalities. 
 "But government departments are always so dilatory," the 
 lady 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 delicacies reserved for the mistress of the house. 
 Mme. Vauquer's ideas as to Goriot were cordially approved 
 by Mme. de I'Ambermesnil ; it was a capital notion, which 
 for that matter she had guessed from the very first ; in her 
 opinion the vermicelli-maker was an excellent man. 
 
 " Ah ! my dear lady, such a well-preserved man of his age, 
 as sound as my eyesight a man who might make a woman 
 happy ! " said the widow. 
 
 The good-natured Countess turned to the subject of Mme. 
 Vauquer's dress, which was not in harmony with her projects. 
 " You must put yourself on a war footing," said she. 
 
 After much serious consideration the two widows went 
 shopping together they purchased a hat adorned with ostrich 
 feathers and a cap at the Palais Royal, and the Countess took 
 her friend to the Magasin de la Petite Jeannette, where they 
 chose a dress and a scarf. Thus equipped for the campaign, 
 the widow looked exactly like the prize animal hung out for 
 a sign above an a la mode beef-shop ; but she herself was so 
 much pleased with the improvement, as she considered it, in 
 her appearance, that she felt that she lay under some obliga- 
 tion to the Countess ; and, though by no means open-handed,
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 23 
 
 she begged that lady to accept a hat that cost twenty francs. 
 The fact was that she needed the Countess' services on the 
 delicate mission of sounding Goriot ; the Countess must sing 
 her praises in his ears. Mme. de Ambermesnil lent herself 
 very good-naturedly to this manoeuvre, began her operations, 
 and succeeded in obtaining a private interview j but the over- 
 tures that she made, with a view to securing him for herself, 
 were received with embarrassment, not to say a repulse. She 
 left him, revolted by his coarseness. 
 
 " My angel," said she to her dear friend, " you will make 
 nothing of that man yonder. He is absurdly suspicious, and 
 he is a mean curmudgeon, an idiot, a fool ; you would never 
 be happy with him." 
 
 After what had passed between M. Goriot and Mme. de 
 1* Ambermesnil, the Countess would no longer live under the 
 same roof. She left the next day, forgot to pay for six 
 months' board, and left behind her her wardrobe, cast-off 
 clothing to the value of five francs. Eagerly and persistently 
 as Mme. Vauquer sought her quondam lodger, the Comtesse 
 de rAmbermesnil was never heard of again in Paris. The 
 widow often talked of this deplorable business, and regretted 
 her own too confiding disposition. As a matter of fact, she 
 was as suspicious as a cat ; but she was like many other 
 people, who cannot trust their own kin and put themselves at 
 the mercy of the next chance comer an odd but common 
 phenomenon, whose causes may readily be traced to the 
 depths of the human heart. 
 
 Perhaps there are people who know that they have nothing 
 more to look for from those with whom they live ; they have 
 shown the emptiness of their hearts to their housemates, and 
 in their secret selves they are conscious that they are severely 
 judged, and that they deserve to be judged severely ; but still 
 they feel an unconquerable craving for praises that they do 
 not hear, or they are consumed by a desire to appear to 
 possess, in the eyes of a new audience, the qualities which
 
 24 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 they have not, hoping to win the admiration or affection of 
 strangers at the risk of forfeiting it again some day. Or, once 
 more, there are other mercenary natures who never do a kind- 
 ness to a friend or a relation simply because these have a 
 claim upon them, while a service done to a stranger brings its 
 reward to self-love. Such natures feel but little affection for 
 those who are nearest to them ; they keep their kindness for 
 remoter circles of acquaintance, and show most to those who 
 dwell on its utmost limits. Mme. Vauquer belonged to both 
 these essentially mean, false, and execrable classes. 
 
 " If I had been here at the time," Vautrin would say at the 
 end of the story, " I would have shown her up, and that mis- 
 fortune would not have befallen you. I know that kind of 
 phiz!" 
 
 Like all narrow natures, Mme. Vauquer was wont to confine 
 her attention to events, and did not go very deeply into the 
 causes that brought them about ; she likewise preferred to 
 throw the blame of her own mistakes on other people, so she 
 chose to consider that the honest vermicelli-maker was respon- 
 sible for her misfortune. It had opened her eyes, so she said, 
 with regard to him. As soon as she saw that her blandish- 
 ments were in vain, and that her outlay on her toilet was 
 money thrown away, she was not slow to discover the reason 
 of his indifference. It became plain to her at once that there 
 was some other attraction, to use her own expression. In 
 short, it was evident that the hope she had so fondly cherished 
 was a baseless delusion, and that she would " never make 
 anything out of that man yonder," in the Countess' forcible 
 phrase. The Countess seemed to have been a judge of char- 
 acter. Mme. Vauquer's aversion was naturally more energetic 
 than her friendship, for her hatred was not in proportion to 
 her love, but to her disappointed expectations. The human 
 heart may find here and there a resting-place short of the 
 highest height of affection, but we seldom stop in the steep, 
 downward slope of hatred. Still, M. Goriot was a lodger,
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 26 
 
 and the widow's wounded self-love could not vent itself in an 
 explosion of wrath ; like a monk harassed by the prior of his 
 convent, she was forced to stifle her sighs of disappointment, 
 and to gulp down her cravings for revenge. Little minds find 
 gratification for their feelings, benevolent or otherwise, by a 
 constant exercise of petty ingenuity. The widow employed 
 her woman's malice to devise a system of covert persecution. 
 She began by a course of retrenchment various luxuries 
 which had found their way to the table appeared there no 
 more. 
 
 " No more gherkins, no more anchovies ; they have made 
 a fool of me ! " she said to Sylvie one morning, and they re- 
 turned to the old bill of fare. 
 
 The thrifty frugality necessary to those who mean to make 
 their way in the 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 to annoy a boarder 
 whose tastes were so simple. He was proof against her 
 malice, and in desperation she spoke to him and of him 
 slightingly before the other lodgers, who began to amuse 
 themselves greatly at his expense, and so deeply graitfied her 
 desire for revenge. 
 
 Towards the end of the first year the widow's suspicions 
 had reached such a pitch that she began to wonder how it was 
 that a retired merchant with a secure income of seven or eight 
 thousand livres, the owner of such magnificent plate and 
 jewelry handsome enough for a kept mistress, should be 
 living in her house. Why should he devote so small a 
 proportion of his money to his expenses ? Until the first year 
 was nearly at an end, Goriot had dined out once or twice 
 every week, but these occasion^ came less frequently, and at 
 last he was scarcely absent from the dinner table twice a 
 month. It was hardly to be expected that Mme. Vauquer 
 should regard the increased regularity of her boarder's habits
 
 26 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 with complacency, when those little excursions of his had been 
 so much to her interest. She attributed the change not so 
 much to a gradual diminution of fortune as to a spiteful wish 
 to annoy his hostess. It is one of the most detestable habits 
 of a liliputian mind to credit other people with its own 
 malignant pettiness. 
 
 Unluckily, towards the end of the second year, M. Goriot's 
 conduct gave some color to the idle talk about him. He 
 asked Mme. Vauquer to give him a room on the second floor, 
 and to make a corresponding reduction in her charges. Ap- 
 parently, such strict economy was called for, that he did with- 
 out a fire all through the winter. Mme. Vauquer asked to be 
 paid in advance, an arrangement to which M. Goriot con- 
 sented, and thenceforward she spoke of him as " Father 
 Goriot." 
 
 What had brought about this decline and fall ? Conjecture 
 was keen, but investigation was difficult. Father Goriot was 
 not communicative ; in the sham Countess' phrase, he was " a 
 curmudgeon." Empty-headed people who babble about their 
 own affairs because they have nothing else to occupy them, 
 naturally conclude that if people say nothing of their doings it 
 is because their doings will not bear being talked about ; so 
 the highly respectable merchant became a scoundrel, and the 
 late beau was an old rogue. Opinion fluctuated. Sometimes, 
 according to Vautrin, who came about this time to live in 
 the Maison Vauquer, Father Goriot was a man who went on 
 'Change and dabbled (\.Q use the sufficiently expressive language 
 of the Stock Exchange) in stocks and shares after he had 
 ruined himself by heavy speculation. Sometimes it was held 
 that he was one of those petty gamblers who nightly play for 
 small stakes until they win a few francs. A theory that he 
 was a detective in the employ of the Home Office found favor 
 at one time, but Vautrin urged that " Goriot was not sharp 
 enough for one of that sort." There were yet other solutions ; 
 Father Goriot was a skinflint, a shark of a money-lender, a man
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 27 
 
 who lived by selling lottery tickets. He was by turns all the 
 most mysterious brood of vice and shame and misery ; yet, 
 however vile his life might be, the feeling of repulsion which 
 he aroused in others was not so strong that he must be ban- 
 ished from their society he paid his way. Besides, Goriot 
 had his uses, every one vented his spleen or sharpened his wit 
 on him ; he was pelted with jokes and belabored with hard 
 words. The general consensus of opinion was in favor of a 
 theory which seemed the most likely; this was Mine. Vau- 
 quer's view. According to her, the man so well preserved at 
 his time of life, as sound as her eyesight, with whom a woman 
 might be very happy, was a libertine who had strange tastes. 
 These are the facts upon which Mme. Vauquer's slanders were 
 based. 
 
 Early one morning, some few months after the departure 
 of the unlucky Countess who had managed to live for six 
 months at the widow's expense, Mme. Vauquer (not yet 
 dressed) heard the rustle of a silk dress and a young woman's 
 light footstep on the stair ; some one was going to Goriot's 
 room. He seemed to expect the visit, for his door stood ajar. 
 The portly Sylvie presently came up to tell her mistress that 
 a girl too pretty to be honest, " dressed like a goddess," and 
 not a speck of mud on her laced cashmere boots, had glided 
 in from the street like a snake, had found the kitchen, and 
 asked for M. Goriot's room. Mme. Vauquer and the cook, 
 listening, overheard several words affectionately spoken during 
 the visit, which lasted for some time. When M. Goriot went 
 downstairs with the lady, the stout Sylvie forthwith took her 
 basket and followed the lover-like couple, under pretext of 
 going to do her marketing. 
 
 " M. Goriot must be awfully rich, all the same, madame," 
 she reported on her return, " > keep her in such style. Just 
 imagine it ! There was a splendid carriage waiting at the 
 corner of the Place de 1'Estrapade, and she got into it." 
 
 While they were at dinner that evening, Mme. Vauquer
 
 28 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 went to the window and drew the curtain, as the sun was 
 shining into Goriot's eyes. 
 
 " You are beloved of fair ladies, M. Goriot the sun seeks 
 you out," she said, alluding to his visitor. "Pestc / you have 
 good taste ; she was 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 who wishes to save appearances. 
 
 A month after this visit M. Goriot received another. The 
 same daughter who had come to see him that morning came 
 again after dinner, this time in evening dress. The boarders, 
 in deep discussion in the dining-room, caught a glimpe of a 
 lovely, fair-haired woman, slender, graceful, and much too 
 distinguished-looking to be a daughter of Father Goriot. 
 
 "Two of them !" cried the portly Sylvie, who did not 
 recognize the lady of the first visit. 
 
 A few days later, and another young lady a tall, well- 
 moulded brunette, 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 morn- 
 ing to see her father, 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. Sylvie saw not a trace of resemblance 
 between this great lady and the girl in her simple morning 
 dress who had entered her kitchen on the occasion of her 
 first visit. 
 
 At that time Goriot was paying twelve hundred francs a 
 year to his landlady, and Mme. Vauquer saw nothing out of 
 the common in the fact that a rich man had four or five mis- 
 tresses ; nay, she thought it very knowing of him to pass them 
 off as his daughters. She was not at all inclined to draw a 
 hard-and-fast line, or to take umbrage at his sending for them 
 to the Maison Vauquer; yet, inasmuch as these visits ex-
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 29 
 
 plained her boarder's indifference to her, she went so far (at 
 the end 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, she asked him very insolently what he 
 took her house to be, after meeting one of these ladies on the 
 stairs. Father Goriot answered that the lady was his eldest 
 daughter. 
 
 " So you have two or three dozen daughters, have you?" 
 said Mme. Vanquer sharply. 
 
 " I have only two," her boarder answered meekly, like a 
 ruined man who is broken in to all the cruel usage of mis- 
 fortune. 
 
 Towards the end of the third year Father Goriot reduced his 
 expenses still further ; he went up to the third story, and now 
 paid forty-five francs a month. He did without snuff, told 
 his hairdresser that he no longer required his services, and 
 gave up wearing powder. When Goriot appeared for the first 
 time in this condition, an exclamation of astonishment broke 
 from his hostess at the color of his hair a dingy olive gray. 
 He had grown sadder day by day under the influence of some 
 hidden trouble ; among all the faces round the table, his was 
 the most woe-begone. There was no longer any doubt. Go- 
 riot was an elderly libertine, whose eyes had only been pre- 
 served by the skill of the physician from the malign influence 
 of the remedies necessitated by the state of his health. The 
 disgusting color of his hair was a result of his excesses, and 
 of the drugs which he had tak^n that he might continue his 
 career. The poor old man's mental and physical condition 
 afforded some ground for the absurd rubbish talked about 
 him. When his outfit was worn out, he replaced the fine 
 linen by calico at fourteen sous the ell. His diamonds, his 
 old snuff-box, watch-chain and trinkets, disappeared one by 
 one. He had left off wearing the cornflower blue coat, and 
 was sumptuously arrayed, summer as winter, in a coarse chest-
 
 30 FATHER GORIOT, 
 
 nut-brown coat, a plush waistcoat, and doeskin breeches. He 
 grew thinner and thinner ; his legs were shrunken, his cheeks, 
 once so puffed out by contented bourgeois prosperity, were 
 covered with wrinkles, and the outlines of the jawbones were 
 distinctly visible; there were deep furrows in his forehead. 
 In the fourth year of his residence in the Rue Neuve-Sainte- 
 Genevieve he was no longer like his former self. The hale 
 vermicelli manufacturer, sixty-two years of age, who had 
 looked scarce forty, the stout, comfortable, prosperous trades- 
 man, with an almost bucolic air, and such a brisk demeanor 
 that it did you good to look at him ; the man with 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-gray color ; the red inflamed rims looked as though they 
 had shed tears of blood. He excited feelings of repulsion in 
 some, and of pity in others. The young medical students 
 who came to the house noticed the drooping of his lower lip 
 and the conformation of the facial angle ; and, after teasing 
 him for some time to no purpose, they declared that cretinism 
 was setting in. 
 
 One evening after dinner Mme. Vauquer said half-banter- 
 ingly 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 Goriot shrank 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 that followed on the words ; he had relapsed into the 
 dreamy state of mind that these superficial observers took for 
 senile torpor, due to his lack of intelligence. If they had 
 only known, they might have been deeply interested by the 
 problem of his condition ; but few problems were more
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 31 
 
 obscure. It was easy, of course, to find out whether Goriot 
 had really been a vermicelli manufacturer ; the amount of his 
 fortune was readily discoverable ; but the old people, who 
 were most inquisitive as to his concerns, never went beyond 
 the limits of the Quarter, and lived in the lodging-house 
 much as oysters cling to a rock. As for the rest, the current 
 of life in Paris daily awaited them, and swept them away with 
 it ; so soon as they left the Rue Neuve-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 were quite incom- 
 patible with wealth or any sort of intelligence. As for the 
 creatures whom he called his daughters, all Mme. Vauquer's 
 boarders were of her opinion. With the faculty for severe 
 logic sedulously cultivated by elderly women during long 
 evenings of gossip till they can always find an hypothesis to 
 fit all circumstances, she was wont to reason thus 
 
 " If Father Goriot had daughters of his own as rich as those 
 ladies who came here seemed to be, he would not be lodging 
 in my house, on the third floor, at forty-five francs a month ; 
 and he would not go about dressed like a poor man." 
 
 No objection could be raised to these inferences. So by 
 the end of the month of November, 1819, at the time when 
 the curtain rises on this drama, every one in the house had 
 come to have a very decided opinion as 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 of 
 human mollusc who should be classed among the capu//Vzfe, so 
 said one of the dinner contingent, an employ^ at the Museum, 
 who had a pretty wit of his own. Poiret was an eagle, a 
 gentleman, compared with Goriot. Poiret would join the 
 talk, argue, answer when he was spoken to ; as a matter of 
 fact, his talk, arguments, and responses contributed nothing 
 to the conversation, for Poiret had a habit of repeating what 
 the others said in different words ; still, he did join in the
 
 32 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 talk ; he was alive, and seemed capable of feeling ; while 
 Father Goriot (to quote the Museum official again) was invari- 
 ably at zero Reaumur. 
 
 Eugene de Rastignac had just returned to Paris in a 
 state of mind not unknown to young men who are conscious 
 of unusual powers, and to those whose faculties are so stim- 
 ulated by a difficult position, that for the time being they rise 
 above the ordinary level. 
 
 Rastignac's first year of study for the preliminary exam- 
 inations in law had left him free to see the sights of Paris 
 and to enjoy some of its amusements. A student has 
 not much time on his hands if he sets himself to learn the 
 repertory of every theatre, and to study the ins and outs 
 of the labyrinth of Paris. To know its customs ; to learn 
 the language, and become familiar with the amusements of 
 the capital, he must explore its recesses, good and bad, follow 
 the studies that please him best, and form some idea of the 
 treasures contained in galleries and museums. 
 
 At this stage of his career a student grows eager and excited 
 about all sorts of follies that seem to him to be of immense 
 importance. He has 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 atti- 
 tudes for the benefit of the women in "the first galleries at 
 the Opera-Comique. As he passes through all these suc- 
 cessive initiations, and breaks out of his sheath, the horizons 
 of life widen around him, and at length he grasps the plan 
 of society with the different human strata of which it is 
 composed. 
 
 If he begins by admiring the procession of carriages on 
 sunny afternoons in the Champs-Elysees, he soon reaches 
 the further stage of envying their owners. Unconsciously, 
 Eugene had served his apprenticeship before he went back 
 to Angoulgme for the long vacation after taking his degrees 
 as bachelor of arts and bachelor of law. The illusions of
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 33 
 
 childhood had vanished, so also had the ideas he brought with 
 him from the provinces ; he had returned thither with an intel- 
 ligence developed, with loftier ambitions, and saw things as 
 they were at home in the old manor house. His father and 
 mother, his two brothers and two sisters, with an aged aunt, 
 whose whole fortune consisted in annuities, lived on the little 
 estate of Rastignac. The whole property brought in about 
 three thousand francs ; and though the amount varied with 
 the season (as must always be the case in a vine-growing 
 district), they were obliged to spare an unvarying twelve hun- 
 dred francs out of their income for him. He saw how con- 
 stantly the poverty, which they had generously hidden from 
 him, weighed upon them ; he could not help comparing the 
 sisters, who had seemed so beautiful to his boyish eyes, with 
 women in Paris, who had realized the beauty of his dreams. 
 The uncertain future of the whole family depended upon him. 
 It did not escape his eyes that not a crumb was wasted in the 
 house, 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 detail here, made him burn to distinguish himself, 
 and his ambition to succeed increased tenfold. 
 
 He meant, like all great souls, that his success should be 
 owing entirely to his merits ; but his was pre-eminently a 
 southern temperament, the execution of his plans was sure to 
 be marred by the vertigo that sejzes on youth when youth 
 sees itself alone in a wide sea, uncertain how to spend its 
 energies, whither to steer its course, how to adapt its sails to 
 the winds. At first he determined to fling himself heart and 
 soul into his work, but he was diverted from this purpose by 
 the need of society and connections ; then he saw how great 
 an influence women exert in social life, and suddenly made 
 up his mind to go out into this world to seek a protectress 
 there. Surely a clever and high-spirited young man, whose 
 wit and courage were set off to advantage by a graceful 
 figure, and the vigorous kind of beauty that readily strikes 
 3
 
 34 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 a woman's imagination, need not despair of finding a pro- 
 tectress. These ideas occurred to him in his country walks 
 with his sisters, whom he had once joined so gaily. The 
 girls thought him very much changed. 
 
 His aunt, Mme. de Marcillac, had been presented at court, 
 and had moved among the highest heights of that lofty region. 
 Suddenly the young man's ambition discerned in those recol- 
 lections of hers, which had been like nursery fairy tales to her 
 nephews and nieces, the elements of a social success at least 
 as important as the success which he had achieved at the 
 Ecole de droit. He began to ask his aunt about those rela- 
 tions ; some of the old ties might still hold good. After much 
 shaking of the branches of the family tree, the old lady came 
 to the conclusion that of all persons who could be useful to 
 her nephew among the selfish genius of rich relations, the 
 Vicomtesse de Beauseant was the least likely to refuse. To 
 this lady, therefore, she wrote in the old-fashioned style, 
 recommending Eugene to her; pointing out to her nephew 
 that if he succeeded in pleasing Mme. de Beauseant, the 
 Vicomtesse would introduce him to other relations. A few 
 days after his return to Paris, therefore, Rastignac sent his 
 aunt's letter to Mme. de Beauseant. The Vicomtesse replied 
 by an invitation to a ball for the following evening. This 
 was the position of affairs at the Maison Vauquer at the end 
 of November, 1819. 
 
 A few days later, after Mme. de Beaus6ant's ball, Eugene 
 came in at two o'clock in the morning. The persevering 
 student meant to make up for the lost time by working until 
 daylight. It was the first time that he had attempted to 
 spend the night in this way in that silent quarter. The spell 
 of a factitious energy was upon him ; he had beheld the pomp 
 and splendor of the world. He had not dined at the Maison 
 Vauquer ; the boarders probably would think that he would 
 walk home at daybreak from the dance, as he had done some- 
 times on former occasions, after a fete at the Prado, or a ball
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 35 
 
 at the Odeon, splashing his silk stockings thereby, and ruining 
 his pumps. 
 
 It so happened that Christophe took a look into the street 
 before drawing the bolts of the door ; and Rastignac, coming 
 in at that moment, could go up to his room without making 
 any noise, followed by Christophe, who made a great deal. 
 Eugene exchanged his dress suit for a shabby overcoat and 
 slippers, kindled a fire with some blocks of patent fuel, and 
 prepared for his night's work in such a way that the faint 
 sounds he made were drowned by Christophe's heavy tramp 
 on the stairs. 
 
 Eugene sat absorbed in thought for a few moments before 
 plunging into his law books. He had just become aware of 
 the fact that the Vicomtesse de Beauseant was one of the 
 queens of fashion, that her house was thought to be the pleas- 
 antest in the Faubourg Saint-Germain. And not only so, she 
 was, by right of her fortune, and the name she bore, one of 
 the most conspicuous figures in that aristocratic world. 
 Thanks to his aunt, thanks to Mme. de Marcillac's letter of 
 introduction, the poor student had been kindly received in 
 that house before he knew the extent of the favor thus shown 
 to him. It was almost like a patent of nobility to be admitted 
 to those gilded salons ; he had appeared in the most exclusive 
 circle in Paris, and now all doors were open for him. Eugene 
 had been dazzled at first by the brilliant assembly, and had 
 scarcely exchanged a few words with the Vicomtesse ; he had 
 been content to single out a goddess from among this throng 
 of Parisian divinities, one of those women who are sure to 
 attract a young man's fancy. 
 
 The Comtesse Anastasie de Restaud was tall and gracefully 
 made ; she had one of the prettiest figures in Paris. Imagine 
 a pair of great dark eyes, a magnificently moulded hand, a 
 shapely foot. There was a fiery energy in her movements ; 
 the Marquis de Ronquerolles had called her a " thorough- 
 bred," but this fineness of nervous organization had brought
 
 36 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 no accompanying defect ; the outlines of her form were full 
 and rounded, without any tendency to stoutness. "A thor- 
 oughbred," "a pure pedigree," these figures of speech have 
 replaced the "heavenly angel" and Ossianic nomenclature; 
 the old mythology of love is extinct, doomed to perish by 
 modern dandyism. But for Rastignac, Mme. Anastasie de 
 Restaud was the woman for whom he had sighed. He had 
 contrived to write his name twice upon the list of partners 
 upon her fan, and had snatched a few words with her during 
 the first quadrille. 
 
 "Where shall I meet you again, madame?" he asked 
 abruptly, and the tones of his voice were full of the vehement 
 energy that women like so well. 
 
 " Oh, everywhere ! " said she, " in the Bois, at the Bouf- 
 fons, in my own house." 
 
 With the impetuosity of his adventurous southern temper, 
 he did all he could to cultivate an acquaintance with this 
 lovely Countess, making the best of his opportunities in the 
 quadrille and during a waltz that she gave him. When he 
 had told her that he was a cousin of Mme. de Beauseant, 
 the Countess, whom he took for a great lady, asked him to 
 call at her house, and, after her parting smile, Rastignac felt 
 convinced that he must make this visit. He was so lucky as 
 to light upon some one who did not laugh at his ignorance, 
 a fatal defect among the gilded and insolent youth of that 
 period ; the coterie of Maulincourts, Maximes de Trailles, de 
 Marsays, Ronquerolles, Ajuda-Pintos, and Vandenesses, who 
 shone there in all the glory of coxcombry among the best- 
 dressed women of fashion in Paris Lady Brandon, the Duchesse 
 de Langeais, the Comtesse de Kergarouet, Mme. de Serizy, 
 the Duchesse de Carigliano, the Comtesse Ferraud, Mme. de 
 Lanty, the Marquise d'Aiglemont, Mme. Firmiani, the Mar- 
 quise de Listomere and the Marquise d'Espard, the Duchesse 
 de Maufrigneuse and the Grandlieus. Luckily, therefore, for 
 him, the novice happened upon the Marquis de Montriveau,
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 37 
 
 the lover of the Duchesse de Langeais, a general as simple as a 
 child ; from him Rastignac learned that the Comtesse lived in 
 the Rue du Helder. 
 
 Ah, what it is to be young, eager to see the world, greedily 
 on the watch 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 the Vicomtesse de Beauseant's house in 
 the Faubourg Saint-Germain ; to fall on your knees before a 
 Comtesse de Restaud in the Chaussee d'Antin ; to look at 
 one glance across a vista of Paris drawing-rooms, conscious 
 that, possessing sufficient good looks, you may hope to find 
 aid and protection there in a feminine heart ! To feel ambi- 
 tious enough to spurn the tight-rope on which you must walk 
 with the steady head of an acrobat for whom a fall is impossi- 
 ble, and to find in a charming woman the best of all balancing 
 poles. 
 
 He sat there with his thoughts for a while, law on the one 
 hand and poverty on the other, beholding a radiant vision 
 of a woman rise above the dull, smoldering fire. Who would 
 not have paused and questioned the fuiure as Eugene was do- 
 ing ? who would not have pictured it full of success ? His 
 wandering thoughts took wings ; he was transported out of 
 the present into that blissful future ; he was sitting by Mme. 
 de Restaud's side, when a sort of sigh, like the grunt of an 
 overburdened St. Joseph, broke the silence of the night. It 
 vibrated through the student, who took the sound for a death- 
 groan. He opened his door noiselessly, went out upon the 
 landing, and saw a thin streak of light under Father Goriot's 
 door. Eugene feared that his neighbor had been taken ill ; 
 he went over and looked through the key-hole ; the old man 
 was busily engaged in an occupation so singular and so sus- 
 picious that Rastignac thought he was only doing a piece of 
 necessary service to society to watch the self-styled vermicelli- 
 maker's nocturnal industries. 
 
 The table was upturned, and Goriot had doubtless in some
 
 38 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 way secured a silver plate and cup to the bar before knotting 
 a thick rope round them ; he was pulling at this rope with 
 such enormous force that they were being crushed and twisted 
 out of shape ; to all appearance he meant to convert the 
 richly wrought metal into ingots. 
 
 " Peste .' what a man!" said Rastignac, as he watched 
 Goriot's muscular arms ; there was not a sound in the room 
 while the old man, with the aid of the rope, was kneading the 
 silver like dough. "Was he, then, indeed, a thief, or a receiver 
 of stolen goods, who affected imbecility and decrepitude, and 
 lived like a beggar that he might carry on his pursuits the 
 more securely ? " Eugene stood for a moment revolving these 
 questions in his mind, then he looked again through the 
 keyhole as before. 
 
 Father Goriot had unwound his coil of rope ; he had covered 
 the table with a blanket, and was now employed in rolling the 
 flattened mass of silver into a bar, an operation which he per- 
 formed with marvelous dexterity. 
 
 " Why, he must be as strong as Augustus, King of Poland ! " 
 said Eugene to 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 he manipulated the silver, and Eugene heard him sigh 
 as he lay down again. 
 
 " He is mad," thought the student. 
 
 " Poor child ! ' ' Father Goriot said aloud. Rastignac, hear- 
 ing those words, concluded to keep silence; he would not hastily 
 condemn his neighbor. He was just in the doorway of his 
 room when a strange sound from the staircase below reached 
 his ears ; it might have been made by two men coming up in 
 list slippers. Eugene listened ; two men there certainly were, 
 he could hear their breathing. Yet there had been no sound 
 of opening the street-door, no footsteps in the passage. Sud- 
 denly, too, he saw a faint gleam of light on the second story ; 
 it came from M. Vautrin's room.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 39 
 
 " There are a good many mysteries here for a lodging- 
 house ! " he said to himself. 
 
 He went part of the way downstairs and listened again. 
 The rattle of gold reached his ears. In another moment the 
 light was put out, and again he distinctly heard the breathing 
 of two men, but no sound of a door being opened or shut. 
 The two men went downstairs, the faint sounds growing 
 fainter as they went. 
 
 " Who is there? " cried Mme. Vauquer out of her bedroom 
 window, she having heard slight sounds of the departing 
 footsteps and the closing of the outer door. 
 
 "I, Mme. Vauquer," answered Vautrin's deep bass voice. 
 " I am coming in." 
 
 "That is odd ! Christophe drew the bolts," said Eugene, 
 going back to his room. " You have to sit up at night, it 
 seems, if you really mean to know all that is going on about 
 you in Paris." 
 
 These incidents turned his thoughts from his ambitious 
 dreams ; he betook himself to his work, but his thoughts wan- 
 dered back to Father Goriot's suspicious occupation ; Mme. 
 de Restaud's face swam again and again before his eyes like a 
 vision of a brilliant future, and at last he lay down and slept 
 with clenched fists. When a young man makes up his mind 
 that he will work all night, the chances are that seven times 
 out of ten he will sleep till morning. Such vigils do not 
 begin before we are turned twenty. 
 
 The next morning Paris was wrapped in one of the dense 
 fogs that throw the most punctual people out in their calcula- 
 tions as to the time ; even the most business-like folk fail to 
 keep their appointments in such weather, and ordinary mortals 
 wake up at noon and fancy it is eight o'clock. On this morn- 
 ing it was half-past nine, and Mme. Vauquer still lay abed. 
 Christophe was late, Sylvie was late, but the two sat comfort- 
 ably taking their coffee as usual. It was Sylvie's custom to 
 take the cream off the milk destined for the boarders' break-
 
 40 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 fast for her own, and to boil the remainder for some time, so 
 that madame should not discover this illegal exaction. 
 
 "Sylvie," said Christophe, as he dipped a piece of toast 
 into the coffee, " M. Vautrin, who is not such a bad sort, all 
 the same, had two people come to see him again last night. 
 If madame says anything, mind you 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 don't look twice at 
 every penny, there's no one in the house that doesn't try to 
 get back with the left hand all that they give with the right at 
 New Year," said Sylvie. 
 
 " And, after all," said Christophe, " what do they give you? 
 A miserable five-franc piece. There is Father Goriot, who 
 has cleaned his shoes himself these two years past. There is 
 that old beggar Poiret, who goes without blacking altogether ; 
 he would sooner drink it than put it on his boots. Then there 
 is that whipper-snapper of a student, who gives 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 are 
 worth. Oh! they're a shabby lot !" 
 
 "Pooh ! " said Sylvie, sipping her coffee, "our places are 
 the best in the 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 tome, ' There's a gentleman at your place, isn't there? 
 a tall man that dyes his whiskers ? ' I told him, ' No, 
 sir; they aren't dyed. A gay fellow like him hasn't the 
 time to do it.' And when I told M. Vautrin about it after- 
 wards, he said, ' Quite right, my boy. That is the way to 
 answer them. There is nothing more unpleasant than to have 
 your little weaknesses known ; it might spoil many a match.' ' 
 
 "Well, and for my part," said Sylvie, "a man tried to
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 41 
 
 humbug me at the market wanting to know if I had seen him 
 put on his shirt. Such bosh ! There," she cried, interrupt- 
 ing herself, " that's a quarter to ten striking at the Val-de- 
 Grace, and not a soul stirring ! " 
 
 " Pooh ! they are all gone out. Mme. Couture and the 
 girl went out at eight o'clock to take the wafer at Saint- 
 Etienne. Father Goriot started off somewhere with a parcel, 
 and the student won't be back from his lecture till ten o'clock. 
 I saw them go while I was sweeping the stairs ; Father Goriot 
 knocked up against me, and his parcel was as hard as iron. 
 What is the old fellow up to I wonder? He is as good as a 
 plaything for the rest of them ; they can never let him alone; 
 but he is a good man, all the same, and worth more than all 
 of them put together. He doesn't give you much himself, 
 but he sometimes sends you with a message to ladies who fork 
 out famous tips; they are dressed grandly, too." 
 
 " His daughters, as he calls them, e$? 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 will raise a fine racket. Just keep an eye on the milk, 
 Christophe ! don't let 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 sleep on like a dormouse ! Such a thing has never 
 happened before." 
 
 "It is 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 out before there was a wink of daylight." 
 
 "Do speak properly, Sylvie," Mme. Vauquer retorted; 
 " say a blink of daylight." 
 
 " Ah, well, madame, whichever you please. Anyhow, you
 
 42 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 can have breakfast at ten o'clock. La Michonnette and 
 Poireau have neither of them stirred. There are only those 
 two upstairs, and they are sleeping like 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 them make a pair. ' ' 
 
 "It is a strange thing, isn't it, Sylvie, how M. Vautrin got 
 in last night after Christophe had bolted the door? " 
 
 " Not at all, madame. Christophe heard M. Vautrin, and 
 went down and undid the door for him. And here are you 
 imagining that " 
 
 "Give me my bodice, and be quick and get breakfast 
 ready. Dish up the rest of the mutton with the potatoes, 
 and you can put the stewed pears on the table, those at five a 
 penny." 
 
 A few moments later Mme. Vauquer came down, just in 
 time to see the cat knock down a plate that covered a bowl of 
 milk, and begin to lap in 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 lay the table. What has become of him? Don't 
 you worry, madame ; Father Goriot shall have it. I will fill 
 it up with water, and he won't know the 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."
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 43 
 
 The door- bell rang at that moment, and Vautrin came 
 through the sitting-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 his hostess, and he put his arm gaily round her waist. 
 
 " There ! have done " 
 
 " ' Impertinence ! ' Say it ! " he answered. " Come, say 
 it ! Now isn't that what 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 lock-; of brown and the golden hair 
 A sighing lover.' 
 
 " Oh ! I have just seen something so "runny 
 
 " ' led by chance.' " 
 
 " What ? " asked the widow. 
 
 " Father Goriot in the goldsmith's shop in the Rue Dau- 
 phine at half-past eight this morning. They buy old spoons 
 and forks and gold lace there, and Goriot sold a piece of 
 silver plate for a good round sum. It had been twisted out of 
 shape very neatly for a man that's not used to the trade." 
 
 "Really? You don't say so ?" 
 
 "Yes. One of my friends is expatriating himself; I had 
 been to see him off on board the Royal Mail steamer, and 
 was coming back here. I waited after that to see what Father 
 Goriot would do ; it is a comical affair. He came back to 
 this quarter of the world, to the Rue des Gres, and went into 
 a money-lender's house ; everybody knows him, Gobseck, a 
 stuck-up rascal, that would make dominoes out of his father's 
 bones ; a Turk, a heathen, an old Jew, a Greek ; it would be 
 a difficult matter to rob him, for he puts all his coin into the 
 bank." 
 
 " Then what was Father Goriot doing there ? "
 
 44 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 11 Doing ? " said Vautrin. " Nothing ; he was bent on his 
 own undoing. He is a simpleton, stupid enough to ruin him- 
 self by running after " 
 
 " There he is ! " said 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's hand. " Mme. la Comtessc Anastasie de Res- 
 taud" he read. " Where are you going with it ? " he added, 
 as he gave the letter back to Christophe. 
 
 "To the Rue du Helder. I have orders to give this into 
 her hands myself." 
 
 " What is there inside it ? " said Vautrin, holding the letter 
 up to the light. "A bank-note? No." He peered into 
 the envelope. "A receipted account !" he cried. "My 
 word! 'tis a gallant old dotard. Off with you, old chap," 
 he said, bringing down a hand on Christophe's head, and 
 spinning 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 from Vautrin, who kept on humming to him- 
 self 
 
 " The same old story everywhere, 
 
 A roving heart and a roving glance" 
 
 When everything was ready, Mme. Couture and Mile. 
 Taillefer came in. 
 
 "Where have you been this morning, fair lady?" said 
 Mme. Vauquer, turning to Mme. Couture.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 45 
 
 " We have just been to say our prayers at Saint-Etienne du 
 Mont. To-day is the day when we must go to see M. Taillefer. 
 Poor little thing ! She is trembling like a leaf," Mme. Cou- 
 ture went on, as she seated herself before 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 to soften your father's heart," said Vautrin, as he drew 
 a chair nearer to the orphan girl; "but that is not enough. 
 What you want is a friend who will give the monster a piece 
 of his mind ; a barbarian that has three millions (so they say), 
 and will not give you a dowry; and a pretty girl needs a 
 dowry nowadays." 
 
 "Poor child ! " said Mme. Vauquer. "Never mind, my 
 pet, your wretch of a father is going just the way to bring 
 trouble upon himself." 
 
 Victorine's eyes filled with tears at the words, and the 
 widow checked herself at a sign from Mme. Couture. 
 
 " If we could only see him ! " said the commissary-general's 
 widow ; " if I could speak to him myself and give him his 
 wife's last letter ! I have never dared to run the risk of send- 
 ing it by post; he knew my handwriting " 
 
 "'Oh woman, persecuted and injured innocent!' ' ex- 
 claimed 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, you shall 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 of communicating with my father, please 
 be sure and tell him that his affection and my mother's honor 
 are more to me than all the money in the world. If you can 
 induce him to relent a little towards me, I will pray to God 
 for you. You may be sure of my gratitude " 
 
 " The same old story everywhere ," sang Vautrin, with a sa- 
 tirical intonation. At this juncture, Goriot, Mile. Michonneau,
 
 46 FATHER GOR1OT. 
 
 and Poiret came downstairs together; possibly the scent of 
 the gravy which Sylvie was making to serve with the mutton 
 had announced breakfast. The seven people thus assembled 
 bade each other good-morning, and took their places at the 
 table ; the clock struck ten, and the student's footsteps were 
 heard outside. 
 
 "Ah! here you are, M. Eugene," said Sylvie; "every 
 one is breakfasting at home to-day." 
 
 The student exchanged greetings with the lodgers, and sat 
 down beside Goriot. 
 
 " I have just met with a queer adventure," he said, as he 
 helped himself abundantly to the mutton, and cut a slice 
 of bread, which Madame Vauquer's sharp and watchful eyes 
 gauged as usual. 
 
 " An adventure ?" queried Poiret. 
 
 " Well, and what is there to astonish you in that, old boy?" 
 Vautrin asked of Poiret. " M. Eugene is cut out for that 
 kind of thing." 
 
 Mile. Taillefer stole a timid glance at the young student. 
 
 " Tell us about your adventure," said Mme. Vauquer. 
 
 "Yesterday evening I went to a ball given by a cousin of 
 mine, the Vicomtesse de Beauseant. She has a magnificent 
 house ; the rooms were hung with silk in short, it was a 
 splendid affair, and I was as happy as 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 than kings." 
 
 "Quite true; I would much rather be the little careless 
 bird than a king," said Poiret the ditto-ist, "because " 
 
 "In fact" the law student cut him short " I danced 
 with one of the handsomest women in the room, a charming 
 countess, the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. There 
 was peach blossom in her hair, and she had the loveliest bou- 
 quet of flowers real flowers, that scented the air but
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 47 
 
 there ! it is no use trying to describe a woman glowing 
 with the dance. You ought to have seen her ! Well, and 
 this morning I met this divine countess about nine o'clock, 
 on foot in the Rue des Gres. Oh ! how my heart beat ! I 
 began to think " 
 
 "That she was coming here," said Vautrin, with a keen 
 look at the student. " I expect that she was going to call on 
 old Gobseck, a money-lender. If ever you explore a Parisian 
 woman's heart, you will find the money-lender first, and the 
 lover afterwards. Your countess is called Anastasie de Res- 
 taud, and she lives in the Rue de Helder." 
 
 The student stared hard at Vautrin. Father Goriot raised 
 his head at the words, and gave the two speakers a glance so 
 full of intelligence and uneasiness that the lodgers beheld him 
 with astonishment. 
 
 " Then Christophe was too late, and she must have gone to 
 him ! " cried Goriot, with anguish in his voice. 
 
 "It is just as I guessed," said Vautrin, leaning over to 
 whisper in Mme. Vauquer's ear. 
 
 Goriot went on with his breakfast, but seemed unconscious 
 of what he was doing, He had never looked more stupid 
 nor more taken up with his own thoughts than he did at that 
 moment. 
 
 " Who the devil could have told you her name, M. Vau- 
 trin ? " asked Eugene. 
 
 "Aha! there you are!" answered Vautrin. Old Father 
 Goriot there knew it quite well ! and why should not I know 
 it too?" 
 
 "M. Goriot?" the student cried. 
 
 " What is it ? " said the old man. " So she was very beau- 
 tiful, was she, yesterday night? " 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Mme. de Restaud." 
 
 "Look at the old wretch," said Mme. Vauquer, speaking 
 to Vautrin ; " how his eyes light up ! "
 
 48 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 " Then does he really keep her? " said Mile. Michonneau, 
 in a whisper to the student. 
 
 " Oh ! yes, she was tremendously pretty," Eugene an- 
 swered. Father Goriot watched 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 the younger 
 men had eyes for any one else. I was the twelfth on her list, 
 and she danced every quadrille. The other women were furi- 
 ous. She must have enjoyed herself, if ever creature did ! 
 It is a true saying that there is no more beautiful sight than a 
 frigate in full sail, a galloping 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 of the ladder just like a Parisienne ! If their 
 husbands cannot afford to pay for their frantic extravagance, 
 they will sell themselves. Or if they cannot do that, they 
 will tear out their mothers' hearts to find something to pay 
 for their splendor. They will turn the world upside down. 
 Just a Parisienne through and through ! " 
 
 Father Goriot's face, which had shone at the student's 
 words like the sun on a bright day, clouded over all at once 
 at this cruel speech of Vautrin's. 
 
 "Well," said Mme. Vauquer, " but where is your adven- 
 ture ? Did you speak to her ? Did you ask her if she wanted 
 to study law? " 
 
 " She did not see me," said Eugene. " But only think of 
 meeting one of the prettiest women in Paris in the Rue des 
 Gres at nine o'clock ! She could not have reached home 
 after the ball till two o'clock this morning. Wasn't it queer? 
 There is no place like Paris for these sort of adventures." 
 
 "Pshaw! much funnier things than that happen here! " 
 exclaimed Vautrin. 
 
 Mile. Taillefer had scarcely heeded the talk, she was so 
 absorbed by the thought of the new attempt that she was 
 about to make. Mme. Couture made a sign that it was time
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 49 
 
 to go upstairs and dress ; the two ladies went out, and Father 
 Goriot followed their example. 
 
 "Well, did you see?" said Mme. Vauquer, addressing 
 Vautrin and the rest of the circle. " He is ruining himself 
 for those women, that is plain." 
 
 " Nothing will ever make me believe that that beautiful 
 Comtesse de Restaud is anything to Father Goriot," cried the 
 student. 
 
 "Well, and if you don't," broke in Vautrin, "we are not 
 set on convincing you. You are too young to know Paris 
 thoroughly yet ; later on you will find &it that there are 
 what we call men with a passion " 
 
 Mile. Michonneau gave Vautrin a quick glance at these 
 words. They seemed 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 their heads, they cannot drop it. They must drink the 
 water from some particular spring it is stagnant as often as 
 not ; but they will sell their wives and families, they will sell 
 their own souls to the devil to get it. For some this spring is 
 play, or the stock exchange, or music, or a collection of pic- 
 tures or insects ; for others it is some woman who can give 
 them the dainties they like. You might offer these last all 
 the women on earth they would turn up their noses ; they 
 will have the only one who can gratify their passion. It often 
 happens that the woman does not care for them at all, and 
 treats them cruelly ; they buy their morsels of satisfaction 
 very dear ; but no matter, the fools are never tired of it ; they 
 will take their last blanket to the pawnbroker to give their 
 last five-franc piece to her. Father Goriot here is one of that 
 sort. He is discreet, so the Countess exploits him just the 
 way of the gay world. The poor old fellow thinks of her and 
 4
 
 50 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 of nothing else. In all other respects you see he is a stupid 
 animal; but get him on that subject, and his eyes sparkle like 
 diamonds. That secret is not difficult to guess. He took 
 some plate himself this morning to the melting-pot, and I saw 
 him at Daddy Gobseck's in the Rue des Gres. And now, 
 mark what follows he came back here, and gave a letter for 
 the Comtesse de Restaud to that noodle of a Christophe, who 
 showed us the address ; there was a receipted bill inside it. 
 It is clear that it was an urgent matter if the Countess also 
 went herself to the old money-lender. Father Goriot has 
 financed her handsomely. There is no need to tack a tale 
 together ; the thing is self-evident. So that shows you, sir 
 student, that all the time your countess was smiling, dancing, 
 flirting, swaying her peach-flower crowned head, with her 
 gown gathered into her hand, her slippers were pinching her, 
 as they say ; she was thinking of her protested bills, or her 
 lover's protested bills." 
 
 "You have made me wild to know the truth," cried 
 Eugene de Rastignac ; " I will go to call 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 payment for 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 mud splashes you as you drive through it in your 
 carriage you are a respectable person ; you go afoot and 
 are splashed you are a scoundrel. You are so unlucky as 
 to walk off" with something or other belonging to somebody 
 else, and they exhibit you as a curiosity in the Place du 
 Palais-de-Justice ; you steal a million, and you are pointed 
 out in every salon as a model of virtue. And you pay thirty 
 millions for the police and the courts of justice, for the
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 51 
 
 maintenance of law and order ! A pretty state of things 
 it is!" 
 
 " What," cried Mme. Vauquer, " has Father Goriot really 
 melted down his silver posset-dish?" 
 
 " There were two turtle-doves on the lid, were there 
 not? " asked Eugene. 
 
 " Yes, that there were." 
 
 " Then, was he fond of it ! " said Eugene. "He cried 
 while he was breaking 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. " The woman yonder can coax the soul out of him." 
 
 The student went up to his room. Vautrin went out, and 
 a few minutes later Mme. Couture and Victorine drove away 
 in a cab which Sylvie had called for them. Poiret gave 
 his arm to Mile. Michonneau, and they went together to 
 spend the two sunniest hours of the day in the Jardin des 
 Plantes. 
 
 "Well, those two are as good as married," was the portly 
 Sylvie's comment. " They are going out together to-day 
 for the first time. They are such a couple of dry sticks 
 that if they happen to strike against each other they will 
 draw sparks like flint and steel." 
 
 "Keep clear of Mile. 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 the light of two smoky lamps, that Victorine's eyes 
 were red. Mme. Vauquer was listening to the history of 
 the visit made that morning to M. Taillefer ; it had been made 
 in vain. Taillefer was tired of the annual application made 
 by his daughter and her elderly friend ; he gave them a per- 
 sonal interview in order to arrive at an understanding with 
 them.
 
 52 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 "My dear lady," said Mme. Couture, addressing Mme. 
 Vauquer, "just imagine it; he did not even ask Victorine to 
 sit down, she was standing the whole time. He said to me 
 quite coolly, without putting himself in a passion, that we 
 might spare ourselves the trouble of going 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 
 married her, Victorine ought not to expect anything from 
 him ; in fact, he said the most cruel things, that made the 
 poor child burst out crying. The little 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 
 to read her poor dead mother's farewell letter. She took it 
 up and gave it to him, saying the most beautiful things in the 
 world, most beautifully expressed ; I do not know where she 
 learned them ; God must have put them into her head, for 
 the poor child was inspired to speak so nicely that it made 
 me cry like a fool to hear her talk. And what do you think 
 the monster was doing all the time? Cutting his nails ! He 
 took the letter that poor Mme. Taillefer had soaked with tears, 
 and flung it on to the chimney-piece. ' That is all right,' he 
 said. He held out his hands to raise his daughter, but she 
 covered them with kisses, and he drew them away again. Scan- 
 dalous, isn't it? And his great booby of a son came in and 
 took no notice of his sister." 
 
 "Very singular conduct, indeed!" exclaimed Mme. Vauquer. 
 
 "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 ex- 
 clamation ; " father and son bowed to me, and asked me to 
 excuse them on account of urgent business ! That is the 
 history of our call. Well, he has seen his daughter at any rate.
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 53 
 
 How he can refuse to acknowledge her I cannot think, for 
 they are as like as two peas." 
 
 The boarders dropped in one after another, interchanging 
 greetings and the empty jokes that certain classes of Parisians 
 regard as humorous and witty. Dulness is their prevailing 
 ingredient, and the whole point consists in mispronouncing a 
 word or in a gesture This kind of argot is always changing. 
 The essence of the jest consists in some catchword suggested by 
 a political event, an incident in the police courts, a street song, 
 or a bit of burlesque at some theatre, and forgotten in a month. 
 Anything and everything serves to keep up a game of battle- 
 dore and shuttlecock with words and ideas. The diorama, a 
 recent invention, which carried an optical illusion, a degree 
 farther than panoramas, had given rise to a mania among art 
 students for ending every word with rama. The Maison 
 Vauquer had caught the infection from a young artist among 
 the boarders. 
 
 "Well, Monsieur-r-r Poiret," said the employ^ from the 
 Museum, " how is your health-orama ? " Then, without wait- 
 ing for an answer, he turned to Mme. Couture and Victorine 
 with a " Ladies, you seem melancholy." 
 
 "Is dinner ready?" cried Horace Bianchon, a medical 
 student, and a friend of Rastignac's ; " my stomach is sinking 
 usque ad t atones. " 
 
 " There is an uncommon frozerama outside ! " said Vautrin. 
 " Make room there, Father Goriot ! Confound it ! your foot 
 covers the whole front of the stove. Let somebody else have 
 a show." 
 
 "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 is right by the same rule that you say ' My feet 
 are froze. ' ' ' 
 
 "Ah! ah!" 
 
 " Here is his excellency the Marquis de Rastignac, Doctor
 
 54 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 of the Law of Contraries," cried Bianchon, seizing Eugene 
 by the throat, and almost throttling him. 
 
 "Hallo there! hallo! " 
 
 Mile. 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 Mile. 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 maid looks 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 the dyed whiskers 
 
 " The rose has lived the life of a rose 
 A morning's space" 
 
 "Aha ! here is a magnificent soupe-au-rama," cried Poiret 
 as Christophe came in bearing the soup with cautious heed. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, sir," said Mme. Vauquer; "it is 
 soupe aux choux. ' ' 
 
 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 anyone 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 thing in it."
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 56 
 
 " Hey ! Milord Gaoriotte, they air talking about yoo-o- 
 ou." 
 
 Father Goriot, seated at the lower end of the table, close 
 to the door through which the servant entered, raised his 
 face; he had smelt at a scrap of bread that lay under his 
 table napkin, an old trick acquired in his commercial capa- 
 city, that still showed itself at times. 
 
 "Well," Mme. Vauquer cried in sharp tones, that rang 
 above the rattle of spoons and plates and the sound of other 
 voices, "and is there anything the matter with the bread?" 
 
 " Nothing whatever, madame," he answered ; " on the 
 contrary, it is made of 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. "You have grown so economical, you will find 
 out how to live on the smell of cooking at last." 
 
 " Take out a patent for it then," cried the Museum official ; 
 "you would make a handsome fortune." 
 
 " Never mind him," said the artist ; "he does that sort of 
 thing to delude us into thinking that he was a vermicelli- 
 maker." 
 
 " Your nose is a corn-sampler, it appears?" inquired the 
 official. 
 
 " Corn what? 11 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
 
 56 FATHER GOKIOT. 
 
 of the room, and the laughter that followed was the more 
 uproarious because poor Father Goriot stared at the other with 
 a puzzled look, like a foreigner trying to catch the meaning 
 of words in a language that he does not understand. 
 
 "Corn? " he said, turning to Vautrin, his next 
 
 neighbor. 
 
 "Corn on your foot, old man!" said Vautrin, and he 
 drove Father Goriot's cap down over his eyes by a blow on 
 the crown. 
 
 The poor old man thus suddenly attacked was for a moment 
 too bewildered to do anything. Christophe carried off his 
 plate, thinking that he had finished his soup, so that when 
 Goriot had pushed back his cap from his eyes his spoon 
 encountered the table. Every one burst out laughing. "You 
 are a disagreeable joker, sir," said the old man, "and if 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 where they put naughty boys." 
 
 "Well, mademoiselle," Vautrin said, turning to Victorine, 
 " you are eating nothing. So papa was refractory, was he? " 
 
 " A monster ! " said Mme. Couture. 
 
 " Mademoiselle might make application for aliment pending 
 her suit ; she is not eating anything. Eh ! eh ! just see how 
 Father Goriot is staring at Mile. Victorine." 
 
 The old man had forgotten his dinner, he was so absorbed 
 in gazing at the poor girl ; the sorrow in her face was unmis- 
 takable the slighted love of a child whose father would not 
 recognize her. 
 
 " We are mistaken about Father Goriot, my dear boy," 
 said Eugene in a low voice. " He is not an idiot, nor want- 
 ing in energy. Try your Gall system on him, and let me 
 know what you think. I saw him crush a silver dish last 
 night as if it had been made of wax ; there seems to be some-
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 57 
 
 thing extraordinary going on in his mind just now, to judge 
 by his 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 will dissect him if he will give me a chance." 
 
 " No ; feel his bumps." 
 
 " Hm ! his stupidity might perhaps be contagious." 
 
 The next day Rastignac dressed himself very elegantly, and 
 about three o'clock in the afternoon went to call on Mme. de 
 Restaud. On the way thither he indulged in the wild intox- 
 icating dreams which fill a young head so full of delicious 
 excitement. Young men at his age take no account of obsta- 
 cles nor of dangers; they see success in every direction ; imag- 
 ination has free play, and turns their lives into a romance ; 
 they are saddened or discouraged by the collapse of one of the 
 wild visionary schemes that have no existence save in their 
 heated fancy. If youth were not ignorant and timid, civiliza- 
 tion would be impossible. 
 
 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. de Restaud and what he should say to her. 
 He equipped himself with wit, rehearsed repartees in the course 
 of an imaginary conversation, and prepared certain neat 
 speeches a la Talleyrand, conjuring up a series of small events 
 which should prepare the way for the declaration on which he 
 had based his future ; and during these musings the law student 
 was bespattered with mud, and by the time he reached the 
 Palais Royal he was obliged to have his boots blacked and his 
 trousers brushed. 
 
 "If I were rich," he said, as he changed the five-franc 
 piece he had brought 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 de Helder, and asked for the 
 Comtesse de Restaud. He bore the contemptuous glances of
 
 58 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 the servants, who had seen him cross the court on foot, with 
 the cold fury of a man who knows that he will succeed some 
 day. He understood the meaning of their glances at once, 
 for he had felt his inferiority as soon as he entered the court, 
 where a smart cab was waiting. All the delights of life in 
 Paris seemed to be implied by this visible and manifest sign 
 of luxury and extravagance. A fine horse, in magnificent 
 harness, was pawing the ground, and all at once the law 
 student felt out of humor with himself. Every compartment 
 in his brain which he had thought to find so full of wit was 
 bolted fast ; he grew positively stupid. He sent 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 
 before him. The time seemed long ; he would have left the 
 house but for the southern tenacity of purpose which works 
 miracles when it is single-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 the dining-room, there is some one 
 already there." 
 
 Rastignac was impressed with a sense of the formidable 
 power of the lackey who can accuse or condemn his masters 
 by a word ; he coolly opened the door by which the man had 
 just entered the ante-chamber, meaning, no doubt, to show 
 these insolent flunkeys that he was familiar with the house ; 
 but he found that he had thoughtlessly precipitated himself 
 into a small room full of dressers, where lamps were standing, 
 and hot-water pipes, on which towels were being dried ; a 
 dark passage and a back staircase lay beyond it. Stifled 
 laughter from the ante-chamber added to his confusion. 
 
 "This way to the drawing-room, sir," said the servant, 
 with the exaggerated respect which seemed to be one more 
 jest at his expense. 
 
 Eugene turned so quickly that he stumbled against a bath.
 
 THE HORSE TOOK FRIGHT AT THE UMBRELLA.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 59 
 
 By good luck, he managed to keep his hat on his head, and 
 saved it from immersion in the water j but just as he turned, 
 a door opened at the farther end of the dark passage, dimly 
 lighted by a small lamp. Rastignac heard voices and the 
 sound of a kiss ; one of the speakers was Mme. de Restaud, 
 the other was Father Goriot. Eugene followed the servant 
 through the dining-room into the drawing-room ; he went to a 
 window that looked out into the courtyard, and stood there 
 for a while. He meant to know whether this Goriot was 
 really the Goriot that he knew. His heart beat unwontedly 
 fast ; he remembered Vautrin's hideous insinuations. A well- 
 dressed young man suddenly emerged from the room almost 
 as Eugene entered it, saying impatiently to the servant who 
 stood at the door: "I am going, Maurice. Tell Madame la 
 Comtesse that I waited more than half an hour for her." 
 
 Whereupon this insolent being, who, doubtless, had a right 
 to be insolent, sang an Italian trill, and went towards the 
 window where Eugene was standing, moved thereto quite as 
 much by a desire to see the student's face as by a wish to look 
 out into the courtyard. 
 
 " But M. le Comte had better wait a moment longer ; 
 madame is disengaged," said Maurice, as he returned to the 
 ante-chamber. 
 
 Just at that moment Father Goriot appeared close to the 
 gate ; he had emerged from a door at the foot of the back 
 staircase. The worthy soul was preparing to open his um- 
 brella regardless of the fact that the great gate had opened to 
 admit a tilbury, in which a young man with a ribbon at his 
 button-hole was seated. Father Goriot had scarcely time to 
 start back and save himself. The horse took fright at the um- 
 brella, swerved, and dashed forward towards the flight of steps. 
 The young man looked round in annoyance, saw Father Goriot, 
 and greeted him as he went out with constrained courtesy, such 
 as people usually show to a money-lender so long as they require 
 his services, or the sort of respect they feel it necessary to
 
 60 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 show for some one whose reputation has been blown upon, so 
 that they blush to acknowledge his acquaintance. Father 
 Goriot gave him a little friendly nod and a good-natured 
 smile. All this happened with lightning speed. Eugene was 
 so deeply interested that he forgot that he was not alone till 
 he suddenly heard the Countess' voice. 
 
 " Oh ! Maxime, were you going away?" she said reproach- 
 fully, with a shade of pique in her manner. The Countess 
 had not seen the incident nor the entrance of the tilbury. 
 Rastignac turned abruptly and saw her standing before him, 
 coquettishly dressed in a loose white cashmere gown with knots 
 of rose-colored ribbon here and there ; her hair was carelessly 
 coiled about her head, as is the wont of Parisian women in 
 the morning ; there was a soft fragrance about her doubtless 
 she was fresh from a bath her graceful form seemed more 
 flexible, her beauty more luxuriant. Her eyes glistened. A 
 young man can see everything at a glance ; he feels the radi- 
 ant influence of woman as a plant discerns and absorbs its 
 nutriment from the air ; he did not need to touch her hands 
 to feel their cool freshness. He saw faint rose tints through 
 the cashmere of the dressing-gown ; it had fallen slightly 
 open, giving glimpses of a bare throat, on which the student's 
 eyes rested. The Countess had no need of the adventitious 
 aid of corsets ; her girdle defined the outlines of her slender 
 waist ; her throat was a challenge to love ; her feet, thrust into 
 slippers, were daintily small. As Maxime took her hand and 
 kissed it, Eugene became aware of Maxime's existence, and 
 the Countess saw Eugene. 
 
 "Oh! is that you M. de Rastignac? I am very glad to 
 see you," she said, but there was something in her manner 
 that a shrewd observer would have taken as a hint to depart. 
 
 Maxime, as the Countess Anastasie had called the young 
 man with the haughty insolence of bearing, looked from 
 Eugene to the lady, and from the lady to Eugene ; it was 
 sufficiently evident that he wished to be rid of the latter,
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 61 
 
 An exact and faithful rendering of the glance might be given 
 in the words : "Look here, my dear ; I hope you intend to 
 send this little whipper-snapper about his business." 
 
 The Countess consulted the young man's face with an intent 
 submissiveness that betrays all the secrets of a woman's heart, 
 and Rastignac all at once began to hate him violently. To 
 begin with, the sight of the fair carefully arranged curls on 
 the other's comely head had convinced him that his own crop 
 was hideous ; Maxime's boots, moreover, were elegant and 
 spotless, while his own, in spite of all his care, bore some 
 traces of his recent walk ; and, finally, Maxime's overcoat 
 fitted the outline of his figure gracefully, he looked like a 
 pretty woman, while Eugene was wearing a black coat at half- 
 past two. The quick-witted child of the Charente felt the 
 disadvantage at which he was placed beside this tall, slender 
 dandy, with the clear gaze and the pale face, one of those 
 men who would ruin orphan children without scruple. 
 Mme. de Restaud fled into the next room without waiting for 
 Eugene to speak ; shaking out the skirts of her dressing-gown 
 in her flight, so that she looked like a white butterfly, and 
 Maxime hurried after her. Eugene, in a fury, followed Max- 
 ime and the Countess, and the three stood once more face to 
 face by the hearth in the large drawing-room. The law student 
 felt quite sure that the odious Maxime found him in the way, 
 and even at the risk of displeasing Mme. de Restaud, he 
 meant to annoy the dandy. It had struck him all at once 
 that he had seen the young man before at Mine, de Beauseant's 
 ball ; he guessed the relation between Maxime and Mme. de 
 Restaud ; and with the youthful audacity that commits pro- 
 digious blunders or achieves signal success, he said to himself, 
 "This is my rival ; I mean to cut him out." 
 
 Rash resolve ! He did not know that M. le Comte Maxime 
 de Trailles would 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 the bull's eye twenty times out of twenty-
 
 62 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 two. The young Count dropped into a low chair by the 
 hearth, took up the tongs, and made up the fire so violently 
 and so sulkily, that Anastasie's fair face suddenly clouded 
 over. She turned to Eugene with a cool, questioning glance 
 that asked plainly, " Why do you not go? " a glance which 
 well-bred people 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 
 tilbury suddenly appeared. He had left his hat outside, and 
 did not greet the Countess ; he looked meditatively at Ras- 
 tignac, and held out his hand to Maxime with a cordial 
 "Good-morning," that astonished Eugene not a little. The 
 young provincial did not understand the amenities of a triple 
 alliance. 
 
 " M. de Restaud," said the Countess, introducing her 
 husband to the law student. 
 
 Eugene bowed profoundly. 
 
 "This gentleman," she continued, presenting Eugene to 
 her husband, " is M. de Rastignac ; he is related to Mme. la 
 Vicomtesse de Beaus6ant through the Marcillacs ; I had the 
 pleasure of meeting him at her last ball." 
 . 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 the house takes in showing that she only receives people 
 of distinction as visitors in her house, produced a magical 
 effect. The Count's stiff manner relaxed at once as he re- 
 turned the student's bow. 
 
 " Delighted to have an opportunity of making your ac- 
 quaintance," he said. 
 
 Maxime de Trailles himself gave Eugene an uneasy glance, 
 and suddenly dropped his insolent manner. The mighty 
 name had all the power of a fairy's wand ; those closed com- 
 partments in the southern brain flew open again ; Rastignac's
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 63 
 
 carefully drilled faculties returned. It was as if a sudden 
 light had pierced the obscurity of this upper world of Paris, 
 and he began to see, though everything was indistinct as 
 yet. Mme. Vauquer's lodging-house and Father Goriot were 
 very far remote from his thoughts. 
 
 "I thought that the Marcillacs were extinct," the Comte 
 de Restaud said, addressing Eugene. 
 
 "Yes, they are extinct," answered the law student. " My 
 great uncle, the Chevalier de Rastignac, married the heiress 
 of the Marcillac family. They had only one daughter, who 
 married the Marechal de Clarimbault, Mme. de Beauseant's 
 grandfather on the mother's side. We are the younger 
 branch of the family, and the younger branch is all the 
 poorer because my great-uncle, the vice-admiral, lost all that 
 he had in the King's service. The government during the 
 Revolution refused to admit our claims when the Compagnie 
 des Indes was liquidated." 
 
 "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 much as to say, "If he is going to discuss 
 nautical matters with that fellow, it is all over with us." 
 Anastasie understood the glance that M. de Trailles gave her. 
 With a woman's admirable tact and shrdewness, she began to 
 smile and said : 
 
 " Come with me, Maxime ; I have something to say to you. 
 We will leave you 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 and mischief in her whole attitude, and the two went 
 in the direction of the boudoir. The morganatic couple (to 
 use a convenient German expression which has no exact
 
 64 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 equivalent) had reached the door, when the Count inter- 
 rupted himself in his talk with Eugene. 
 
 " Anastasie ! " he cried pettishly, "just stay a moment, 
 dear; you know very well that " 
 
 " I am coming back in a minute," she interrupted ; " I 
 have a commission for Maxime to execute, and I want to 
 tell him about it." 
 
 She came back almost immediately. She had noticed 
 the inflection in her husband's voice, and knew that it would 
 not be safe to retire to the boudoir : like all women who are 
 compelled to study their husband's characters in order to 
 have their own way, and whose business it is to know exactly 
 how far they can go without endangering a good understand- 
 ing, she was very careful to avoid petty collisions in domestic 
 life. It was Eugene who had brought about this untoward 
 incident ; so the Countess looked at Maxime and indicated 
 the law student with an air of exasperation. M. de Trailles 
 addressed the Count, the Countess, and Eugene with the 
 pointed remark, "You are busy, 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 Eu- 
 gene and her husband together once more. She followed 
 Maxime into the little drawing-room, where they sat together 
 sufficiently long to feel sure that Rastignac had taken his 
 leave. 
 
 The law student heard their laughter, and their voices, and 
 the pauses in their talk ; he grew malicious, exerted his con- 
 versational powers for M. de Restaud, flattered him, and 
 drew him into discussions, to the end that he might see the 
 Countess again and discover the nature of her relations with 
 Father Goriot. This countess, with a husband and a lover, 
 for Maxime clearly was her lover, was a mystery. What was 
 the secret tie that bound her to the old tradesman ? This
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 65 
 
 mystery he meant to penetrate, hoping by its means to gain a 
 sovereign ascendancy over this fair typical Parisian. 
 
 " Anastasie ! " the Count called again to his wife. 
 
 "Poor Maxime ! " she said, addressing the young man. 
 " Come, we must resign ourselves. This evening " 
 
 "I hope, Nasie," he said in her ear, " that you will give 
 orders not to admit that youngster, whose eyes light up like 
 live coals when he looks at you. He will make you a declara- 
 tion, and compromise you, and then you will compel me to 
 kill him." 
 
 " Are you mad, Maxime? " she said. "A young lad of a 
 student is, on the contrary, a capital lightning-conductor; 
 is not that so ? Of course, I mean to make Restaud furiously 
 jealous of him." 
 
 Maxime burst out laughing, and went out, followed by 
 the Countess, who stood 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 had been closed after 
 him. 
 
 "What do you think, dear?" cried the Count, her hus- 
 band, " this gentleman'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 com- 
 mon," said the Countess, 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 gentle- 
 man go out at the gate, Father Goriot, my next-door neigh- 
 bor in the house where I am lodging." 
 
 At the sound of this name, and the prefix that embellished 
 it, the Count, who was stirring the fire, let the tongs fall as 
 though they had burned his fingers, and rose to his feet. 
 
 "Sir," he cried, "you might have called him 'Monsieur 
 Goriot I ' " 
 5
 
 66 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 The Countess turned pale at first at the sight of her hus- 
 band's vexation, then she reddened ; clearly she was embar- 
 rassed, her answer was made in a tone that she tried to make 
 natural, and with an air of assumed 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 her mind, and asked, " Are you fond of music, M. 
 de Rastignac?" 
 
 "Exceedingly," answered Eugene, flushing, and discon- 
 certed by a dim suspicion that he had somehow been guilty 
 of a clumsy piece of folly. 
 
 "Do you sing?" she cried, going to the piano, and, sit- 
 ting down before it, she swept her fingers over the keyboard 
 from end to end. R-r-r-r-ah ! 
 
 "No, madame." 
 
 The Comte de Restaud walked to and fro. 
 
 " That is a pity ; you are without one great means of suc- 
 cess. Ca-ro, ca-a-ro, ca-a-a-ro, non du-bi-ta~rc" sang the 
 Countess. 
 
 Eugene had a second time waved a magic wand when he 
 uttered Goriot's name, but the effect seemed to be entirely 
 opposite to that produced by the formula " related to Mme. 
 de Beauseant." His position was not unlike that of some 
 visitor permitted as a favor to inspect a private collection of 
 curiosities, when by inadvertence he comes into collision with 
 a glass case full of sculptured figures, and three or four heads, 
 imperfectly secured, fall at the shock. He wished the earth 
 would open and swallow him. Mme. de Restaud's expression 
 was reserved and chilly, her eyes had grown indifferent, and 
 sedulously avoided meeting those of the unlucky student of 
 law. 
 
 " Madame," he said, " you wish to talk with M. de Res- 
 taud ; permit me to wish you good-day ' ' 
 
 The Countess interrupted him by a gesture, saying hastily,
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 67 
 
 *' Whenever you come to see us, both M. de Restaud and I 
 shall be delighted to see you." 
 
 Eugene made a profound bow and took his leave, followed 
 by M. de Restaud, who insisted, in spite of his remonstrances, 
 on accompanying him into the hall. 
 
 " Neither your mistress nor I are at home to that gentle- 
 man when he calls," the Count said to Maurice, his servant, 
 when the door had closed after Eugene. 
 
 As Eugene set foot on the steps, he saw that it was raining. 
 
 " Come," said he to himself, " somewhow I have just made 
 a mess of it, I do not know how. And now I am going to 
 spoil my hat and coat into the bargain. I ought to stop in 
 my corner, grind away at law, and never look to be anything 
 but a boorish country magistrate. How can I go into society, 
 when to manage properly you want a lot of cabs, varnished 
 boots, gold watch-chains, and all sorts of things ; you have 
 to wear white doeskin gloves that cost six francs in the morn- 
 ing, and primrose kid gloves every evening? A fig for that 
 old humbug of a Goriot ! " 
 
 When he reached the street-door, the driver of a hackney 
 coach, who had probably just deposited a wedding party at 
 their door, and asked nothing better than a chance of making 
 a little money for himself without his employer's knowledge, 
 saw that Eugene had no umbrella, remarked his black coat, 
 white waistcoat, yellow gloves, and varnished boots, and 
 stopped and looked at him inquiringly. Eugene, in the blind 
 desperation that drives a young man to plunge deeper and 
 deeper into an abyss, as if he might hope to find a fortunate 
 issue in its lowest depths, nodded in reply to the driver's 
 signal, and stepped into the cab ; a few stray petals of orange 
 blossom and scraps of wire bore witness to its recent occupa- 
 tion by a wedding party. 
 
 " Where am I to drive, sir? " demanded the man, who, by 
 this time, had taken off his white gloves. 
 
 "Confound it!" Eugene said to himself, "I am in for
 
 68 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 it now, and at least I will not spend cab-hire for nothing ! 
 Drive to the Hotel Beauseant," he said aloud. 
 
 " Which? " asked the man, a portentous word that reduced 
 Eugene to confusion. This young man of fashion, species 
 incerta, did not know that there were two Hotels Beauseant ; 
 he was not aware how rich he was in relations who did not 
 care about him. 
 
 "The Vicomte de Beauseant, Rue " 
 
 " De Crenelle," interrupted the driver, with a jerk of his 
 head. " You see, there are the hotels of the Marquis and 
 Comte de Beauseant in the Rue Saint-Dominique," he added, 
 drawing up the step. 
 
 " I know all about that," said Eugene, severely. " Every- 
 body is laughing at me to-day, it seems ! " he said to himself, 
 as he deposited his hat on the opposite seat. " This escapade 
 will cost me a king's ransom, but, at any rate, I shall call 
 on my so-called cousin in a thoroughly aristocratic fashion. 
 Goriot has cost me ten francs already, the old scoundrel ! 
 My word ! I will tell Mme. de Beauseant about my adventure ; 
 perhaps it may amuse her. Doubtless she will know the secret 
 of the criminal relation between that handsome woman and 
 the old rat without a tail. It would be better to find favor in 
 my cousin's eyes than to come in contact with that shameless 
 woman, who seems to me to have very expensive tastes. Surely 
 the beautiful Vicomtesse's personal interest would turn the 
 scale for me, when the mere mention of her name produces 
 such an effect. Let us look higher. If you set yourself to 
 carry the heights of heaven, you must face God." 
 
 The innumerable thoughts that surged through his brain 
 might be summed up in these phrases. He grew calmer, and 
 recovered something of his assurance as he watched the falling 
 rain. He told himself that though he was about to squander 
 two of the precious five-franc pieces that remained 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," almost put
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 69 
 
 him in spirits. A Swiss, in scarlet and gold, appeared, the 
 great door groaned on its hinges, and Rastignac, with sweet 
 satisfaction, beheld his equipage pass under the archway and 
 stop before the flight of 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, he heard smothered laughter 
 from the peristyle. Three or four lackeys were making merry 
 over the festal appearance of the vehicle. In another moment 
 the law student was enlightened as to the cause of their hilar- 
 ity ; he felt the full force of the contrast between his equipage 
 and one of the smartest broughams in Paris ; a coachman, with 
 powdered hair, seemed to find it difficult to hold a pair of 
 spirited horses, who stood chafing the bit. In Mme. de Res- 
 taud's courtyard, in the Chaussee d'Antin, he had seen the 
 neat turnout of a young man of six-and-twenty ; in the Fau- 
 bourg Saint-Germain he found the luxurious equipage of a man 
 of rank ; thirty thousand francs would not have purchased it. 
 
 " Who can be here?" said Euge"ne to himself. He began 
 to understand, though somewhat tardily, that he must not 
 expect to find many women in Paris who were not already 
 appropriated, and that the capture of one of 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 glass door was opened for him; the servants were as 
 solemn as jackasses under the currycomb. So far, Eugene 
 had only been in the ballroom on the ground floor of the 
 Hotel Beaus6ant ; the fete had followed so closely on the in- 
 vitation that he had not had time to call on his cousin, and 
 had therefore never seen Mme. de Beauseant's apartments; 
 he was about to behold for the first time a great lady among 
 the wonderful and elegant surroundings that reveal her char- 
 acter and reflect her daily life. He was the more curious, 
 because Mme. de Restaud's drawing-room had provided him 
 with a standard of comparison.
 
 70 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 At half-past four the Vicomtesse de Beauseant was visible. 
 Five minutes earlier she would not have received her cousin, 
 but Eugene knew nothing of the recognized routine of various 
 houses in Paris. He was conducted up the wide, white- 
 painted, crimson-carpeted staircase, between the gilded balus- 
 ters and masses of flowering plants, to Mme. de Beausdant's 
 apartments. He did not know the rumor current about Mme. 
 de Beaus6ant, one of the biographies told, with variations, in 
 whispers, every evening in the salons of Paris. 
 
 For three years past her name had been spoken of in con- 
 nection with that of one of the most wealthy and distinguished 
 Portuguese nobles, the Marquis d'Ajuda-Pinto. It was one 
 of those innocent liaisons which possess so much charm for 
 the two thus attached to each other that they find the presence 
 of a third person intolerable. The Vicomte de Beauseant, 
 therefore, had himself set an example to the rest of the world 
 by respecting, with as good a grace as might be, this morgan- 
 atic union. Any one who came to call on the Vicomtesse in 
 the early days of this friendship was sure to find the Marquis 
 d'Ajuda-Pinto there. As, under the circumstances, Mme. de 
 Beauseant could not very well shut her door against these 
 visitors, she gave them such a cold reception, and showed so 
 much interest in the study of the ceiling, that no one could 
 fail to understand how much he bored her; and when it 
 became known in Paris that Mme. de Beauseant was bored 
 by callers between two and four o'clock, she was left in per- 
 fect solitude during that interval. She went to the Bouffons 
 or to the Ope>a with M. de Beaus6ant and M. d'Ajuda-Pinto ; 
 and M. de Beauseant, like a well-bred man of the world, 
 always left his wife and the Portuguese as soon as he had 
 installed them. But M. d'Ajuda-Pinto must marry, and a 
 Mile, de Rochefide was the young lady. In the whole fash- 
 ionable world there was but one person who as yet knew 
 nothing of the arrangement, and that was Mme. de Beaus6ant. 
 Some of her friends had hinted at the possibility, and she had
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 71 
 
 laughed at them, believing that envy had prompted those 
 ladies to try to make mischief. And now, though the banns 
 were about to be published, and although the handsome 
 Portuguese had come that day to break the news to the 
 Vicomtesse, he had not found courage as yet to say one word 
 about his treachery. How was it ? Nothing is doubtless more 
 difficult than the notification of an ultimatum of this kind. 
 There are men who feel more at their ease when they stand 
 up before another man who threatens their lives with sword 
 or pistol than in the presence of a woman who, after two 
 hours of lamentations and reproaches, falls into a dead swoon 
 and requires salts. At this moment, therefore, M. d'Ajuda- 
 Pinto was on thorns, and anxious to take his leave. He told 
 himself that in some way or other the news would reach Mme. 
 de Beausant ; he would write, it would be much better to do 
 it by letter, and not to utter the words that should stab her 
 to the heart. 
 
 So when the servant announced M. Eugene de Rastignac, 
 the Marquis d'Ajuda-Pinto trembled with joy. To be sure, 
 a loving woman shows even more ingenuity in inventing 
 doubts of her lover than in varying the monotony of his 
 happiness; and when she is about to be forsaken, she instinc- 
 tively interprets every gesture as rapidly as Virgil's courser 
 detected the presence of his companion by snuffing the breeze. 
 It was impossible, therefore, that Mme. de Beauseant should 
 not detect that involuntary thrill of satisfaction ; slight though 
 it was, it was appalling in its artlessness. 
 
 Eugene had yet to learn that no one in Paris should present 
 himself in any house without first making himself acquainted 
 with the whole history of its owner, and of its owner's wife 
 and family, so that he may avoid making any of the terrible 
 blunders which in Poland draw forth the picturesque exclama- 
 tion, " Harness five bullocks to your cart ! " probably because 
 you will need them all to pull you out of the quagmire into 
 which a false step has plunged you. If, down to the present
 
 72 FATHER GO RIOT, 
 
 day, our language has no name for these conversational dis- 
 asters, it is probably because they are believed to be impos- 
 sible, the publicity given in Paris to every scandal is so 
 prodigious. After the awkward incident at Mme. de Restaud's, 
 no one but Eugene could have reappeared in his character of 
 bullock-driver in Mme. de Beauseant 's drawing-room. But 
 if Mme. de Restaud and M. de Trailles had found him hor- 
 ribly in the way, M. d'Ajuda-Pinto hailed his coming with 
 relief. 
 
 "Good-bye," said the Portuguese, hurrying to the door, 
 as Eugene made his entrance into a dainty little pink-and-gray 
 drawing-room, where luxury seemed nothing more than good 
 taste. 
 
 "Until this evening," said Mme. de Beauseant, turning 
 her head to give the 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 pay the slightest attention to Eugene, who stood 
 there dazzled by the sparkling marvels around him ; he began 
 to think that this was some story out of the " Arabian Nights " 
 made real, and did not know where to hide himself, when the 
 woman before him seemed to be unconscious of his existence. 
 The Vicomtesse had raised the forefinger of her right hand, 
 and gracefully signed to the Marquis to seat himself beside 
 her. The Marquis felt the imperious sway of passion in her 
 gesture ; he came back towards her. Eugene watched him, 
 not without a feeling of envy. 
 
 " That is the owner of the brougham ! " he said to himself. 
 " But is it necessary to have a pair of spirited horses, servants 
 in livery, and torrents 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.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 73 
 
 He had a hundred and thirty francs every quarter. His 
 father, mother, brothers, sisters, and aunt did not spend two 
 hundred francs a month among them. This swift comparison 
 between his present condition and the aims he had in view 
 helped to benumb his faculties. 
 
 " Why not?" the Vicomtesse was saying, as she smiled at 
 the Portuguese. " Why can you not 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 to add lie to lie. M. d'Ajuda therefore said, 
 smiling, " Do you lay your commands 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 any other woman. 
 
 He took the Vicomtesse's hand, kissed it, and went. 
 
 Eugene ran his fingers through his hair, and constrained 
 himself to bow. He thought that now Mme. de Beauseant 
 would give him her attention ; but suddenly she sprang for- 
 ward, rushed to a window in the gallery, and watched 
 M. d'Ajuda step into his carriage ; she listened to the order 
 that he gave, and heard the Swiss repeat it to the coachman 
 
 " To M. de Rochefide's house." 
 
 Those words, and the way in which M. d'Ajuda flung him- 
 self back in the carriage, were like a lightning flash and a 
 thunderbolt for her; she walked back again with a deadly 
 fear gnawing at her heart. The most terrible catastrophes 
 only happen among the heights. The Vicomtesse went to her 
 own room, sat down at a table, and took up a sheet of dainty 
 note-paper. 
 
 "When, instead of dining with the English ambassador," 
 she wrote, " you go to the Rochefides, you owe me an ex- 
 planation, which I am waiting to hear."
 
 74 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 She retraced several of the letters, for her hand was trem- 
 bling so that they were indistinct ; then she signed the note 
 with an initial C. for " Claire de Bourgogne," and rang the 
 bell. 
 
 "Jacques," she said to the servant, who appeared imme- 
 diately, " take this note to M. de Rochefide's house at half- 
 past seven, and ask for the Marquis d' Ajuda. If M. d' Ajuda 
 is there, leave the note without waiting for an answer ; if he 
 is not there, bring the note back to me." 
 
 " Madame la Vicomtesse, 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 the Vicomtesse appeared ; she spoke to him, and the 
 tremulous tones of her voice vibrated through his heart. 
 
 " Pardon me, monsieur," she said ; "I had a letter to write. 
 Now I am quite at liberty." 
 
 She scarcely knew what she was saying, for even as she 
 spoke she thought, " Ah ! he means to marry Mile, de Roche- 
 fide ! But is he still free? This evening the marriage shall 
 
 be broken off, or else But before to-morrow I shall 
 
 know." 
 
 " Cousin " the student replied. 
 
 "Eh?" said the Countess, with an insolent glance that 
 sent a cold shudder through Eugene ; he understood what 
 that "Eh?" meant; he had learned 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 protec- 
 tion that the merest scrap of relationship could do me no 
 harm." 
 
 Mme. de Beauseant smiled, but there was sadness in her 
 smile ; even now she felt forebodings of the coming pain, 
 the air she breathed was heavy with the storm that was about 
 to burst.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 75 
 
 11 If you knew how my family are situated," he went on, 
 " you would love to play the part of a beneficent fairy god- 
 mother who graciously clears the obstacles from the path of 
 her protegeV' 
 
 " Well, cousin," she said laughing, "and how can I be of 
 service to you?" 
 
 " But do I know even that ? I am distantly related to you, 
 and this obscure and remote relationship is even now a per- 
 fect godsend to me. You have confused my ideas ; I cannot 
 remember the things that I meant to say to you. I know no 
 
 one else here in Paris Ah ! if I could only ask you to 
 
 counsel me, ask you to look upon me as a poor child who 
 would fain cling to the hem of your dress, who would lay 
 down his life for you." 
 
 " Would you kill a man for me ? " 
 
 "Two," said Eugene. 
 
 "You, child ! Yes, you are a child," she said, keeping 
 back the tears that came to her eyes ; " you would love 
 sincerely." 
 
 " Oh ! " he cried, flinging up his head. 
 
 The audacity of the student's answer interested the Vicom- 
 tesse in him. The southern brain was beginning to scheme 
 for the first time. Between Mme. de Restaud's blue boudoir 
 and Mme. de Beauseant's rose-colored drawing-room he had 
 made a three years' advance in a kind of law which is not a 
 recognized study in Paris, although it is a sort of higher juris- 
 prudence, and, when well understood, is a high-road to suc- 
 cess of every kind. 
 
 "Ah! this is what I meant to say! " said Eugene. "I 
 met Mme. de Restaud at 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 one against me, if you do not give me your counsel. I
 
 76 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 believe that in Paris it is very difficult to meet with a young, 
 beautiful, and wealthy woman of fashion who would be will- 
 ing to teach me, what you women can explain so well life. 
 I shall find a M. de Trailles everywhere. So I have come to 
 you to ask you to give me a key to a puzzle, to entreat you to 
 tell me what sort of blunder I made this morning. I men- 
 tioned an old man " 
 
 " Madame la Duchesse de Langeais ! " Jacques cut the student 
 short ; Eugene gave expression to his intense annoyance by a 
 gesture. 
 
 "If you mean to succeed," said the Vicomtesse in a low- 
 voice, " in the first place you must not be so demonstrative." 
 
 " Ah ! good-morning, dear," she continued, and, rising and 
 crossing the room, she grasped the Duchess' hand as affec- 
 tionately as if they had been sisters ; the Duchess responded 
 in the prettiest and most gracious way. 
 
 "Two intimate friends!" said Rastignac to himself. 
 " Henceforward I shall have two protectresses ; those two 
 women are great friends, no doubt, and this new-comer will 
 doubtless interest herself in her friend's cousin." 
 
 "To what happy inspiration do I owe this piece of good 
 fortune, dear Antoinette ?" asked Mme. de Beauseant. 
 
 "Well, I saw M. d'Ajuda-Pinto at M. de Rochefide's door, 
 so I thought that if I came I should find you alone." 
 
 Mme. de Beaus6ant's mouth did not tighten, her color did 
 not rise, her expression did not alter, or rather, her brow 
 seemed to clear as the Duchess uttered those deadly words. 
 
 " If I had known that you were engaged " the speaker 
 
 added, glancing at Eugene. 
 
 " This gentleman is M. Eugene de Rastignac, one of my 
 cousins," said the Vicomtesse. "Have you any news of 
 General de Montriveau ?" she continued. "Serizytold 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
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 77 
 
 with M. de Montriveau, and that he was a faithless lover ; 
 she felt the question in 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 glances she threw at Mme. de Beauseant ; " of course you 
 know that M. d'Ajuda-Pinto is going to marry Mile, de Roche- 
 fide ; the banns will be published to-morrow." 
 
 This thrust was too cruel ; the Vicomtesse's face grew 
 white, but she answered, laughing, "One of those rumors 
 that fools amuse themselves with. What should induce M. 
 d'Ajuda to take one of the noblest names in Portugal to the 
 Rochefides ? The Rochefides were only ennobled yesterday." 
 
 " 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, Mile, de Rochefide is a charming girl." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 " And, as a matter of fact, he is dining with them to-day; 
 the thing is settled. It is very surprising to me that you 
 should know so little about it." 
 
 Mme. de Beauseant turned to Rastignac. " What was the 
 blunder that you made, monsieur?" she asked. "The poor 
 boy is only just launched into the world, Antoinette, so that 
 he understands nothing of all this that we are speaking of. 
 Be merciful to him, and let us finish our talk to-morrow. 
 Everything will be announced to-morrow, you know, and 
 your kind informal communication can be accompanied by 
 official confirmation." 
 
 The Duchess gave Eugene one of those insolent glances 
 that measure a man from head to foot and leave him crushed 
 and annihilated. 
 
 " Madame, I have unwittingly plunged a dagger into Mme. 
 de Restaud's heart ; unwittingly therein lies my offense,"
 
 78 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 said the student of law, whose keen brain had served him suf- 
 ficiently well, for he had detected the biting epigrams that 
 lurked beneath this friendly talk. " You continue to receive, 
 possibly you fear, those who know the amount of pain that 
 they deliberately inflict ; but a clumsy blunderer who has no 
 idea how deeply he wounds is looked upon as a fool who does 
 not know how to make use of his opportunities, and every 
 one despises him." 
 
 Mme. de Beauseant gave the student a glance, one of those 
 glances in which a great soul can mingle dignity and grati- 
 tude. It was like balm to the law student, who was still 
 smarting under the Duchess' insolent scrutiny ; she had looked 
 at him as an auctioneer might look at some article to appraise 
 its value. 
 
 " Imagine, too, that I had just made some progress with the 
 Comte de Restaud; for I should tell you, madame," he went 
 on, turning to the Duchess with a mixture of humility and 
 malice in his manner, " that as yet 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 care about anything that no one else will take." 
 
 "Bah!" said Eugene. "I am only two-and-twenty, and 
 I must make up my mind to the drawbacks of my time of 
 life. Besides, I am confessing my sins, and it would be im- 
 possible to kneel in a more charming confessional ; you com- 
 mit your sins in one drawing-room, and receive absolution for 
 them in another." 
 
 The Duchess' expression grew colder ; she did not like the 
 flippant tone of these remarks, and showed that she considered 
 them to be in bad taste by turning to the Vicomtesse with 
 " This gentleman has only just come " 
 
 Mme. de Beaus6ant began to laugh outright at her cousin 
 and at the Duchess both. 
 
 " He has only just come to Paris, dear, and is in search of 
 some one who will give him lessons in good taste."
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 79 
 
 "Mme. la Duchesse," said Eugene, "is it not natural to 
 wish to be initiated into the mysteries which charm us?" 
 ("Come, now," he said to himself, "my language is super- 
 finely 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 stu- 
 dent, "so I rashly came between them. In fact, I got on 
 very well with the lady's husband, and his wife tolerated me 
 for a time until I took it into my head to tell them that I 
 knew some one of whom I had just caught a glimpse as he 
 went out by a back staircase, a man who had given the Coun- 
 tess 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 Faubourg Saint-Marceau, where I, a poor student, lodge 
 likewise. He is a truly unfortunate creature, everybody laughs 
 at him we call him Father Goriot." 
 
 "Why, child that you are," cried the Vicomtesse, "Mme. 
 de Restaud was a Mile. Goriot ! " 
 
 " The daughter of a vermicelli manufacturer," the Duchess 
 added ; "and when the little creature went to court, the daugh- 
 ter of a pastry-cook was presented on the same day. Do you 
 remember, Claire? The King began to laugh, and made 
 some joke in Latin about flour. People what was it? 
 people " 
 
 "Ejusdem farina" said Eugene. 
 
 "Yes, that was it," said the Duchess. 
 
 "Ohl is that her father?" the law student continued, 
 aghast. 
 
 " Yes, certainly ; the old man had two daughters ; he dotes 
 on them, so to speak, though they will scarcely acknowledge 
 him." 
 
 "Didn't the second daughter marry a banker with a Ger- 
 man name?" the Vicomtesse asked, turning to Mme. de
 
 80 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 Langeais, "a Baron de Nucingen? And her name is Del- 
 phine, is it not? Isn't she a fair-haired woman who has a 
 side-box at the Opera ? She comes sometimes to the Bouffons, 
 and laughs loudly to attract attention." 
 
 The Duchess smiled and said 
 
 "I wonder at you, dear. Why do you take so much in- 
 terest in people of that kind ? One must have been as madly 
 in love as Restaud was, to be infatuated with Mile. Anastasie 
 and her flour-sacks. Oh ! he will not find her a good bar- 
 gain ! She is in M. de Trailles' hands, and he will ruin 
 her." 
 
 "And they do not acknowledge their father!" Eugene 
 repeated. 
 
 "Oh! well, yes, their father, the father, a father," replied 
 the Vicomtesse, "a kind father who gave them each five or 
 six hundred thousand francs, it is said, to secure their happi- 
 ness by marrying them well ; while he only kept eight or ten 
 thousand livres a year for himself, thinking that his daughters 
 would always be his daughters, thinking that in them he 
 would live his life twice over again, that in their houses he 
 should find two homes, where he would be loved and looked 
 up to, and made much of. And in two years' time both his 
 sons-in-law had turned him out of their houses as if he were 
 one of the lowest outcasts." 
 
 Tears came into Eugene's eyes. He was still under the 
 spell of youthful beliefs, he had but just left home, pure and 
 sacred feelings had been stirred within him, and this was his 
 first day on the battlefield of civilization in Paris. Genuine 
 feeling is so infectious that for a moment the three looked at 
 each other in silence. 
 
 " Eh, nton Dicu!" 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 ? A son-in-law is the man 
 for whom we bring up, you and I, a dear little one, bound to
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 81 
 
 us very closely in innumerable ways ; for seventeen years she 
 will be the joy of her family, its 'white soul,' as Lamartine 
 says, and suddenly she will become its scourge. When he 
 comes and takes her from us, his love from the very begin- 
 ning is like an axe laid to the root of all the old affection in 
 our darling's heart, and all the ties that bound her to her 
 family are severed. But yesterday our little daughter thought 
 of no one but her mother and father, as we had no thought 
 that was not for her ; by to-morrow she will have become a 
 hostile stranger. The tragedy is always going on under our 
 eyes. On the 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 the other hand, it is the son-in-law 
 who turns his wife's mother out of the house. I sometimes 
 hear it said that there is nothing dramatic about society in 
 these days ; but the Drama of the Son-in-law is appalling, to 
 say nothing of our marriages, which have come to be very 
 poor farces. I can explain how it all came about in the old 
 vermicelli-maker's case. I think I recollect that Foriot " 
 
 " Goriot, madame." 
 
 "Yes, that Moriot was once president of his section dur- 
 ing the Revolution. He was in the secret of the famous 
 scarcity of grain, and laid the foundation of his fortune in 
 those days by selling flour for ten times its cost. He had as 
 much flour as he wanted. My grandmother's steward sold 
 him immense quantities. No doubt Noriot shared the plunder 
 with the Committee of Public Salvation, as that sort of per- 
 son always did. I recollect the steward telling my grand- 
 mother that she might liveatGrandvilliersin 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 one passion, they say he idolizes his daughters. He 
 settled one of them under Restaud's roof, and grafted the 
 other into the Nucingen family tree, the Baron de Nucingen 
 being a rich banker who had turned Royalist. You can quite 
 6
 
 82 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 understand that so long as Bonaparte was Emperor, the two 
 sons-in-law could manage to put up with old Ninety-three ; 
 but after the restoration of the Bourbons, M. de Restaud felt 
 bored by the old man's society, and the banker was still more 
 tired of it. His daughters were still fond of him; they 
 wanted 'to keep the goat and the cabbage,' so they used to 
 see the Joriot whenever there was no one there, under pre- 
 tense of affection. 'Come to-day, papa, we shall have you 
 all to ourselves, and that will be much nicer ! ' and all that 
 sort of thing. As for me, dear, I believe that love has second 
 sight : poor Ninety-three, his heart must have bled ! He saw 
 that his daughters were ashamed of him, that if they loved their 
 husbands his visits must make mischief. So he immolated 
 himself. He made the sacrifice because he was a father ; he 
 went into voluntary exile. His daughters were satisfied, so 
 he thought that he had done the best thing he could ; but it was 
 a family crime, and father and daughters were accomplices. 
 You see this sort of thing everywhere. What could this Father 
 Doriot have been but a splash of mud in his daughters' draw- 
 ing-rooms? He would only have been in the way and bored 
 other people, besides being bored himself. And this that 
 happened between father and daughters may happen to the 
 prettiest woman in Paris and the man she loves best; if 
 her love grows tiresome, he will go ; he will descend to the 
 basest trickery to leave her. It is the same with all love 
 and friendship. Our heart is a treasury ; if you pour out all 
 its wealth at once, you are bankrupt. We show no more 
 mercy to the affection that reveals its utmost extent than we do 
 to another kind of prodigal who has not a penny left. Their 
 father had given them all he had. For twenty years he had 
 given his whole 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 threads of her shawl. See did not raise her eyes as
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 83 
 
 she spoke; the words that Mme. de Langeais had meant for 
 her in the course of the story had cut her 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 not duped by it. I think as you do," 
 she said, pressing the Vicomtesse's hand. "The world is a 
 slough ; let us try to live on the heights above it." 
 
 She rose to her feet and kissed Mme. de Beauseant on the 
 forehead as she said : " You look very charming to-day, dear. 
 I have never seen such a 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 remembered how he had watched his neighbor work the 
 silver vessel into a shapeless mass that night. 
 
 Mme. de Beauseant did not hear him ; she was absorbed in 
 her own thoughts. For several minutes the silence remained 
 unbroken till the law student became almost paralyzed with 
 embarrassment, and was equally afraid to go or stay or speak 
 a word. 
 
 " The world is basely ungrateful and ill-natured," said the 
 Vicomtesse at last. " No sooner does a trouble befall you 
 than a friend is ready to bring the tidings and to probe your 
 heart with the point of a dagger while calling on you to 
 admire the handle. Epigrams and sarcasms already ! Ah ! 
 I will defend myself! " 
 
 She raised her head like the great lady that she was, and 
 lightnings flashed 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. You are determined to succeed ? I will help you. 
 You shall sound the depths of corruption in woman ; you 
 shall measure the extent of man's pitiful vanity. Deeply as I 
 am versed in such learning, there were pages in the book of
 
 84 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 life that I had not read. Now I know all. The more cold- 
 blooded your calculations, the farther you will go. Strike 
 ruthlessly ; you will be feared. Men and women for you 
 must be nothing more than post-horses ; take a fresh relay, 
 and leave the last to drop by 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 in you; 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 trea- 
 sure ; do not let any one suspect it, or you will be lost ; you 
 would cease to be the executioner, you would take the victim's 
 place. And if ever you should love, never let your secret 
 escape you ! Trust no one until you are very sure of the heart 
 to which you open your heart. Learn to mistrust every one ; 
 take every precaution for the sake of the love which does not 
 exist as yet. Listen, Miguel " the name slipped from her so 
 naturally that she did not notice her mistake" there is some- 
 thing still more appalling than the ingratitude of daughters 
 who have cast off their old father and wish that he were dead, 
 and that is a rivalry between the two sisters. Restaud comes 
 of a good family ; his wife has been received into their circle; 
 she has been presented at court ; and her sister, her wealthy 
 sister, Mme. Delphine de Nucingen, the wife of a great 
 capitalist, is consumed with envy, and ready to die of spleen. 
 There is a gulf set between the sisters indeed, they are 
 sisters no longer the two women who refuse to acknowledge 
 their father do not acknowledge each other. So Mme. de 
 Nucingen would lap all the mud that lies between the Rue 
 Saint-Lazare and the Rue de Crenelle to gain admittance to 
 my salon. She fancied that she should gain her end through 
 de Marsay ; she has made herself de Marsay's slave, and she 
 bores him. De Marsay cares very little about her. If you 
 will introduce her to me, you will be her darling, her Ben- 
 jamin ; she will idolize you. If, after that, you can love her, 
 do so ; if not, make her useful. I will ask her to come once
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 85 
 
 or twice to one of my great crushes, but I will never receive 
 her here in the morning. I will bow to her when I see her, 
 and that will be quite sufficient. You have shut the Comtesse 
 de Restaud's door against you by mentioning Father Goriot's 
 name. Yes, my good friend, you may call at her house 
 twenty times, and every time out of the twenty you will find 
 that she is not at home. The servants have their orders, and 
 will not admit you. Very well, then, now let Father Goriot 
 gain the right of entry into her sister's house for you. The 
 beautiful Mme. de Nucingen will give the signal for a battle. 
 As soon as she singles you out, other women will begin to lose 
 their heads about you, and her enemies and rivals and inti- 
 mate friends will all try to take you from her. There are 
 women who will fall in love with a man because another 
 woman has chosen him ; like the city madames, poor things, 
 who copy our millinery, and hope thereby to acquire our 
 manners. You will have a success, and in Paris success is 
 everything ; it is the key of power. If the women credit you 
 with wit and talent, the men will follow suit so long as you 
 do not undeceive them yourself. There will be nothing you 
 may not aspire to ; you will go everywhere, and you will find 
 out what the world is an assemblage of fools and knaves. 
 But you must be neither the one nor the other. I am giving 
 you my name like Ariadne's clue of thread to take with you 
 into this labyrinth ; make no unworthy use of it," she said, 
 with a queenly glance and curve of her throat ; " give it back 
 to me unsullied. And now, go ; leave me. We women also 
 have our battles to fight." 
 
 "And if you should ever need some one who would gladly 
 set a match to a 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 he should not be in time for dinner, a misgiving which
 
 86 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 made him feel that it was pleasant to be borne so quickly 
 across Paris. This sensation of physical comfort left his 
 mind free to grapple with the thoughts that assailed him. A 
 mortification usually sends a young man of his age into a 
 furious rage ; he shakes his fists at society, and vows ven- 
 geance when his belief in himself is shaken. Just then Ras- 
 tignac was overwhelmed by the words, "You have shut the 
 Countess' door against you." 
 
 "I shall call!" he said to himself, "and if Mme. de 
 
 Beauseant is right, if I never find her at home I well, 
 
 Mme. de Restaud shall meet me in every salon in Paris. I 
 will learn to fence, and have some pistol practice, and kill 
 that Maxime of hers ! " 
 
 "And money?" cried an inward monitor. "How about 
 money, where is that to come from ? " And all at once the 
 wealth displayed in the Comtesse de Restaud's drawing-room 
 rose before his eyes. That was the luxury which Goriot's 
 daughter had loved too well ; the gilding, the ostentatious 
 splendor, the unintelligent luxury of the parvenu, the riotous 
 extravagance of a courtesan. Then the attractive vision sud- 
 denly went under an eclipse as he remembered the stately 
 grandeur of the Hotel de Beauseant. As his fancy wandered 
 among these lofty regions in the great world of Paris, innu- 
 merable dark thoughts gathered in his heart ; his ideas wid- 
 ened, and his conscience grew more elastic. He saw the 
 world as it is ; saw how the rich lived beyond the jurisdiction 
 of law and 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 room for ten francs wherewith to satisfy the demands of 
 the cabman, and went in to dinner. He glanced round the 
 squalid room, saw the eighteen poverty-stricken creatures 
 about to feed like cattle in their stalls, and the sight filled
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 87 
 
 him with loathing. The transition was too sudden, and the 
 contrast was so violent that it could not but act as a power- 
 ful stimulant ; his ambition developed and grew beyond all 
 bounds. On the one hand, he beheld a vision of social life 
 in its most charming and refined forms, of quick-pulsed youth, 
 of fair, impassioned faces invested with all the charm of poe- 
 try, framed in a marvelous setting of luxury or art ; and, on 
 the other hand, he saw a sombre picture, the miry verge be- 
 yond these faces, in which passion was extinct and nothing 
 was left of the drama but the cords and pulleys and bare 
 mechanism. Mme. de Beauseant's counsels, the words uttered 
 in anger by the forsaken lady, her petulant offer, came to his 
 mind, and poverty was a ready expositor. Rastignac deter- 
 mined to open two parallel trenches, so as to insure success ; 
 he would be a learned doctor 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 the shrewd glances that seem to read the innermost 
 secrets of another mind. 
 
 " I am not in the humor to stand jokes from people who 
 call me 'my lord marquis,' " answered Eugene. "A marquis 
 here in Paris, if he is not the veriest sham, ought to have a 
 hundred thousand livres a year at least ; and a lodger in the 
 Maison Vauquer is not exactly fortune's favorite." 
 
 Vautrin's glance at Rastignac was half-paternal, half-con- 
 temptuous. " Puppy ! " it seemed to say; " I should make 
 one mouthful of him ! " Then he answered 
 
 "Your are in a bad humor; perhaps your visit to the 
 beautiful Comtesse de Restaud was not a success." 
 
 " She has shut her door against me because I told her that 
 her father dined 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
 
 88 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 neighbor, turning a little aside to rub his hand over his 
 face. 
 
 "Any one who molests Father Goriot will have hencefor- 
 ward to reckon with me," said Eugene, looking at the old 
 man's neighbor ; " he is worth all the rest of us put together 
 I am not speaking of the ladies," he added, turning in the 
 direction of Mile. Taillefer. 
 
 Eugene's remarks produced a sensation, and his tone silenced 
 the dinner table. Vautrin alone spoke. " If you are going 
 to champion Father 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," he said, banteringly. 
 
 " So I intend," said Eugene. 
 
 " Then are you taking the field to-day ? " 
 
 "Perhaps," Rastignac answered. " But I owe no account 
 of myself to any one, especially as I do not try to find out 
 what other people do of a night." 
 
 Vautrin looked askance at Rastignac. 
 
 "If you do not mean to be deceived by the puppets, my 
 boy, you must go behind and see the whole show, and not 
 peep through holes in the curtain. That is enough," he 
 added, seeing that Eugene was about to fly into a passion. 
 " We can have a little talk whenever you like." 
 
 There was a general feeling of gloom and constraint. 
 Father Goriot was so deeply dejected by the student's remark 
 that he did not notice the change in the disposition of his 
 fellow-lodgers, nor know that he had met 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 ; " I have taken a look at his head ; there is only one 
 bump the bump of paternity ; he must be an eternal father." 
 
 Eugene was too intent on his thoughts to laugh at Bianchon's
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 89 
 
 joke. He determined to profit by Mme. de Beauseant's coun- 
 sels, and was asking himself how he could obtain the necessary 
 money. He grew grave. The wide savannahs of the world 
 stretched before his eyes ; all things lay before 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 trem- 
 ulously, and the sound of his voice broke in upon Eugene's 
 dreams. The young man took the elder's hand, and looked 
 at him with something like kindness in his eyes. 
 
 " You are a good and noble man," he said. " We will 
 have some talk about your 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 for- 
 tune, 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 influ- 
 ence 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,
 
 90 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 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 
 they despoil themselves for him, and keep the sacrifice a secret 
 from the family ? To his request he knew that they would 
 not fail to respond gladly, and he added to it an appeal to 
 their delicacy by touching the chord of honor that vibrates so 
 loudly in young and highly strung natures. 
 
 Yet when he had written the letters, he could not help 
 feeling misgivings in spite of his youthful ambition ; his heart 
 beat fast, and he trembled. He knew the spotless nobleness 
 of the lives buried away in the lonely manor house ; he knew 
 what trouble and what joy his request would cause his sisters, 
 and how happy they would be as they talked at the bottom of 
 the orchard of that dear brother of theirs in Paris. Visions 
 rose before his eyes ; a sudden strong light revealed his sisters 
 secretly counting over their little store, devising some girlish 
 stratagem by which the money could be sent to him incognito, 
 essaying, for the first time in their lives, a piece of deceit that 
 reached 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
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 91 
 
 hearts ; how pure the fervor that bears their souls to heaven 
 in prayer ! What exquisite joy they would find in self-sacri- 
 fice ! What a pang for his mother's heart if she could not 
 send him all that he asked for ! And this noble affection, 
 these sacrifices made at such terrible cost, were to serve as the 
 ladder by which he meant to climb to Delphine de Nucingen. 
 A few tears, like the last grains of incense flung upon the 
 sacred altar fire of the hearth, fell from his eyes. He walked 
 up and down, and despair mingled with his emotion. Father 
 Goriot saw him through 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 a father. You do well to fear for the Comtesse 
 Anastasie ; there is one M. Maxime de Trailles, who will be 
 her ruin." 
 
 Father Goriot withdrew, stammering some words, but 
 Eugene failed to catch their meaning. 
 
 The next morning Rastignac went out to post his letters. 
 Up to the last moment he wavered and doubted, but he ended 
 by flinging them into the box. " I shall succeed ! " he said 
 to himself. So says the gambler ; so says the great captain ; 
 but the three words that have been the salvation of some few 
 have been the ruin of many more. 
 
 A few days after this Eugene called at Mme. de Restaud's 
 house ; she was not at home. Three times he tried the exper- 
 iment, and three times he found her doors closed against him, 
 though he was careful to choose an hour when M. de Trailles 
 was not there. The Vicomtesse was right. 
 
 The student studied no longer. He put in an appearance 
 at lectures simply to answer to his name, and, after thus attest- 
 ing his presence, departed forthwith. He had been through 
 a reasoning process familiar to most students. He had seen 
 the advisability of deferring his studies to the last moment 
 before going up for his examinations ; he made up his mind 
 to cram his second and third year's work into the third year,
 
 92 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 when he meant to begin to work in earnest and to complete 
 his studies in law with one great effort. In the meantime he 
 had fifteen months in which to navigate the ocean of Paris, to 
 spread the nets and set the lines that should bring him a 
 protectress and a fortune. Twice during that week he saw 
 Mme. de Beauseant j he did not go 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 
 most poetic figure in the Faubourg Saint-Germain ; and the 
 marriage of the Marquis d'Ajuda-Pinto with Mile, de Roche- 
 fide was postponed. The dread of losing her happiness filled 
 those days with a fever of joy unknown before, but the end 
 was only so much the nearer. The Marquis d'Ajuda and the 
 Rochefides agreed that this quarrel and reconciliation was a 
 very fortunate thing ; Mme. de Beauseant (so they hoped) 
 would gradully become reconciled to the idea of the marriage, 
 and in the end would be brought to sacrifice d'Ajuda's morn- 
 ing visits to the exigencies of a man's career, exigencies 
 which she must have foreseen. In spite of the most solemn 
 promises, daily renewed, M. d'Ajuda was playing a part, and 
 the Vicomtesse was eager to be deceived. " Instead of taking 
 the leap heroically from the window, she is falling headlong 
 down the staircase," said her most intimate friend, the 
 Duchesse de Langeais. Yet this after-glow of happiness lasted 
 long enough for the Vicomtesse to be of service to her young 
 cousin. She had a half-superstitious affection for him. Eugene 
 had shown her sympathy and devotion at a crisis when a 
 woman sees no pity, no real comfort in any eyes; when if a 
 man is ready with soothing flatteries, it is because he has an 
 interested motive. 
 
 Rastignac made up his mind that he must learn the whole of 
 Goriot's previous history; he would come to his bearings 
 before attempting to board the Maison de Nucingen. The 
 results of his inquiries may be given briefly as follows : 
 
 In the days before the Revolution, Jean-Joachim Goriot
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 98 
 
 was simply a workman in the employ of a vermicelli-maker. 
 He was a skillful, thrifty workman, sufficiently enterprising to 
 buy his master's business when the latter fell a chance victim 
 to the disturbances of 1789. Goriot established himself in 
 the Rue de la Jussienne, close to the Corn Exchange. His 
 plain good sense led him to accept the position of president 
 of the section, so as to secure for his business the protection 
 of those in power at that dangerous epoch. This prudent step 
 had led to success ; the foundations of his fortune were laid 
 in the time of the scarcity (real or artificial), when the price 
 of grain of all kinds rose enormously in Paris. People used 
 to fight for bread at the bakers' doors ; while other persons 
 went to the grocers' shops and bought Italian paste foods 
 without brawling over it. It was during this year that Goriot 
 made the money, which, at a later time, was to give him all 
 the advantage of the great capitalist over the small buyer ; he 
 had, moreover, the usual luck of average ability ; his medi- 
 ocrity was the salvation of him. He excited no one's envy ; 
 it was not even suspected that he was rich till the peril of 
 being rich was over, and all his intelligence was concentrated, 
 not on political, but on commercial speculations. Goriot was 
 an authority second to none on all questions relating to corn, 
 flour, and " middlings ; " and the production, storage, and 
 quality of grain. He could estimate the yield of the harvest, 
 and foresee market prices ; he bought his cereals in Sicily, 
 and imported Russian wheat. Any one who had heard him 
 hold forth on the regulations that control the importation and 
 exportation of grain, who had seen his grasp of the subject, 
 his clear insight into the principles involved, his appreciation 
 of weak points in the way that the system worked, would have 
 thought that here was the stuff of which a minister is made. 
 Patient, active, and persevering, energetic and prompt in 
 action, he surveyed his business horizon with an eagle's eye. 
 Nothing there took him by surprise ; he foresaw all things, 
 knew all that was happening, and kept his own counsel ; he
 
 94 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 was a diplomatist in his quick comprehension of a situation ; 
 and in the routine of business he was as patient and plodding 
 as a soldier on the march. But beyond this business horizon 
 he could not see. He used to spend his hours of leisure on 
 the threshold of his shop, leaning against the framework of 
 the door. Take him from his dark little counting-house, and 
 he became once more the rough, slow-witted workman, a man 
 who cannot understand a piece of reasoning, who is indifferent 
 to all intellectual pleasures, and falls asleep at the play, 
 a Parisian Dolibom in short, against whose stupidity other 
 minds are powerless. 
 
 Natures of this kind are nearly all alike ; in almost all of 
 them you will find some hidden depth of sublime affection. 
 Two all-absorbing affections filled the vermicelli-maker's 
 heart to the exclusion of every other feeling ; into them he 
 seemed to put all the forces of his nature, as he put the whole 
 power of his brain into the corn trade. He had regarded his 
 wife, the only daughter of a rich farmer of La Brie, with a 
 devout admiration ; his love for her had been boundless. 
 Goriot had felt the charm of a lovely and sensitive nature, 
 which, in its delicate strength, was the very opposite of his 
 own. Is there any instinct more deeply implanted in the 
 heart of man than the pride of protection, a protection which 
 is constantly exerted for a fragile and defenseless creature? 
 Join love thereto, the warmth of gratitude that all generous 
 souls feel for the source of their pleasures, and you have the 
 explanation of many strange incongruities in human nature. 
 
 After seven years of unclouded happiness, Goriot lost his 
 wife. It was very unfortunate for him. She was beginning 
 to gain an ascendancy over him in other ways ; possibly she 
 might have brought that barren soil under cultivation, she 
 might have widened his ideas and given other directions to 
 his thoughts. But when she was dead, the instinct of father- 
 hood developed in him till it almost became a mania. All 
 the affection balked by death seemed to turn to his daughters,
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 95 
 
 and he found full satisfaction for his heart in loving them. 
 More or less brilliant proposals were made to him from time 
 to time ; wealthy merchants or farmers with daughters vied 
 with each other in offering inducements to him to marry 
 again ; but he determined to remain a widower. His father- 
 in-law, the only man for whom he felt a decided friendship, 
 gave out that Goriot had made a vow to be faithful to his 
 wife's memory. The frequenters of the Corn Exchange, who 
 could not comprehend this sublime piece of folly, joked about 
 it among themselves, and found a ridiculous nickname for 
 him. One of them ventured (after a glass over a bargain) to 
 call him by it, and a blow from the vermicelli-maker's fist 
 sent him headlong into a gutter in the Rue Oblin. He could 
 think of nothing else when his children were concerned ; his 
 love for them made him fidgety and anxious ; and this was 
 so well known, that one day a competitor, who wished to get 
 rid of him to secure the field to himself, told Goriot that Del- 
 phine had just been knocked down by a cab. The vermicelli- 
 maker turned ghastly pale, left the Exchange at once, and did 
 not return for several days afterwards ; he was ill in conse- 
 quence of the shock and the subsequent relief on discovering 
 that it was a false alarm. This time, however, the offender 
 did not escape with a bruised shoulder ; at a critical moment 
 in the man's affairs, Goriot drove him into bankruptcy, and 
 forced him to disappear from the Corn Exchange. 
 
 As might have been expected, the two girls were spoiled. 
 With an income of sixty thousand francs, Goriot scarcely 
 spent twelve hundred on himself, and found all his happiness 
 in satisfying the whims of the two girls. The best masters 
 were engaged, that Anastasie and Delphine might be endowed 
 with all the accomplishments which distinguish a good educa- 
 tion. They had a chaperon luckily for them, she was a 
 woman who had sense and good taste ; they learned to ride; 
 they had a carriage for their use ; they lived as the mistress 
 of a rich old lord might live ; they had only to express a wish,
 
 96 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 their father would hasten to give them their most extravagant 
 desires, and asked nothing of them in return but a kiss. Go- 
 riot had raised the two girls to the level of the 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 to choose for themselves. Each had half her father's 
 fortune as her dowry ; and when the Comte de Restaud came 
 to woo Anastasie for her beauty, her social aspirations led her 
 to leave her father's house for a more exalted sphere. Del- 
 phine wished for money ; she married Nucingen, a banker of 
 German extraction, who became a baron of the Holy Roman 
 Empire. Goriot remained a vermicelli-maker as before. His 
 daughters and his sons-in-law began to demur ; they did not 
 like to see him still engaged in trade, though his whole life 
 was bound up with his business. For five years he stood out 
 against their entreaties, then he yielded, and consented to 
 retire on the amount realized by the sale of his business and 
 the savings of the last few years. It was this capital that 
 Mme. Vauquer, in the early days of his residence with her, 
 had calculated would bring in eight or ten thousand livres in 
 a year. He had taken refuge in her lodging-house, driven 
 there by despair when he knew that his daughters were com- 
 pelled by their husbands not only to refuse to receive him as 
 an inmate in their houses, but even to see him no more except 
 in private. 
 
 This was all the information which Rastignac gained from 
 a M. Muret who had purchased Goriot's business, information 
 which confirmed the Duchesse de Langeais' suppositions, and 
 herewith the preliminary explanation of this obscure but terri- 
 ble Parisian tragedy comes to an end. 
 
 Towards the end of the first week in December Rastignac 
 received two letters one from his mother and one from his 
 eldest sister. His heart beat fast, half with happiness, half
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 97 
 
 with fear, at the sight of the familiar handwriting. Those two 
 little scraps of paper contained life or death for his hopes, 
 But while he felt a shiver of dread as he remembered their 
 dire poverty at home, he knew their love for him so well that 
 he could not help fearing that he was draining their very life- 
 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 some- 
 thing that you are not, and your whole life and success de- 
 pends upon this ? You are about to see a society into which 
 you cannot enter without rushing into expense that you can- 
 not 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 endur- 
 ance 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 your 
 purity of heart, and how good your intentions are ; so I can 
 7
 
 98 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 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 
 w mid 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 sake ? 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 to 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 thought of Father Goriot crushing his silver keepsake
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 99 
 
 into a shapeless mass before 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 be- 
 fore she sold them for your sake. What right have you to 
 heap execrations on Anastasie ? You have followed her 
 example; you have selfishly sacrificed others to your own 
 future, and she sacrifices her father to her lover ; and of you 
 two, which is the worse? " 
 
 He was ready to renounce his attempts ; he could not bear 
 to take that money. The fires of remorse burned in his 
 heart, and gave him intolerable pain, -the generous secret re- 
 morse which men seldom take into account when they sit in 
 judgment upon their fellow-men ; but perhaps the angels in 
 heaven, beholding it, pardon the criminal whom our justice 
 condemns. Rastignac opened his sister's letter ; its simplic- 
 ity 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 spend- 
 ing 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 needed most, and we 
 were always quarreling about it, never thinking, dear Eugene, 
 of a way of spending our money which would satisfy us com- 
 pletely. Agathe jumped for joy. 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 dole- 
 ful and cross in the midst of all my joy. I shall make a bad
 
 100 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 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 command- 
 ments? 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 AngoulSme, and the aunt went with her, not with- 
 out 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 Infants are embroider- 
 ing a muslin robe with open-work sprigs for her majesty the 
 Queen ; the work progresses in the most profound secrecy. 
 There are 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
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 101 
 
 may sustain some disappointment of fruit and espaliers, but 
 strangers will enjoy a fair prospect. Should the heir-presump- 
 tive 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 Her- 
 culaneum), 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 stuff- 
 ing themselves with grape-jelly, of teasing their sisters, of 
 taking their pleasure by going a-birdnesting, and of cutting 
 switches for themselves from the osier-beds, maugre the laws 
 of the realm. Moreover, they list not to learn aught, where- 
 fore 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 canons, 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 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 begin- 
 ning 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
 
 102 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 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 pro.uised not to read a 
 word that I have written ; but, all the same, I mean to sit by 
 her 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 ! Riches could not repay such devotion as this. 
 I wish I could give them every sort of happiness ! Fifteen 
 hundred and fifty francs," he went on after a pause. " Every 
 shot must go to the mark ! Laure is right. Trust a woman ! 
 I have only calico shirts. Where some one else's welfare is 
 concerned, a young girl becomes as ingenious as a thief. 
 Guileless where she herself is in question, and full of fore- 
 sight for me she is like a heavenly angel forgiving the strange 
 incomprehensible sins of earth." 
 
 The world lay before him. His tailor had been summoned 
 and sounded, and had finally surrendered. When Rastignac 
 met M. de Trailles, he had seen at once how great a part the 
 tailor plays in a young man's career ; a tailor is either a deadly 
 enemy or a staunch friend, with an invoice for a bond of 
 friendship ; between these two extremes there is, alack ! no 
 middle term. In this representative of his craft Eugene dis- 
 covered a man who understood that his was a sort of paternal 
 function for young men at their entrance into life, who re- 
 garded himself 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 a kind 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 match of twenty thousand livres a year ! " 
 
 Fifteen hundred francs, and as many suits of clothes as he 
 chose to order ! At that moment the poor child of the south
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 103 
 
 felt no more doubts of any kind. The young man went down 
 to breakfast with the indefinable air which the consciousness 
 of the possession of money gives to youth. No sooner are 
 the coins slipped into a student's pocket than his wealth, in 
 imagination at least, is piled into a fantastic column, which 
 affords him a moral support. He begins to hold up his head 
 as he walks ; he is conscious that he has a means of bringing 
 his power to bear on a given point ; he looks you straight in 
 the face ; his gestures are quick and decided ; only yesterday 
 he was diffident and shy, any one might have pushed him 
 aside; to-morrow he will take the walk of a prime minister. 
 A miracle has been wrought in him. Nothing is beyond the 
 reach of his ambition, and his ambition soars at random ; he 
 is light-hearted, generous, and enthusiastic ; in short, the 
 fledgling bird has discovered that he has wings. A poor 
 student snatches at every chance pleasure much as a dog runs 
 all sorts of risks to steal a bone, cracking it and sucking the 
 marrow as he flies from pursuit ; but a young man who can 
 rattle a few runaway gold coins in his pocket can take his 
 pleasure deliberately, can taste the whole of the sweets of 
 secure possession ; he soars far above earth ; he has forgotten 
 what the word poverty means ; all Paris is his. Those are 
 days when the whole world' shines radiant with light, when 
 everything glows and sparkles before the eyes of youth, days 
 that bring joyous energy that is never brought into harness, 
 days of debts and of painful fears that go hand-in-hand with 
 every delight. Those who do not know the left bank of the 
 Seine between the Rue Saint-Jacques and the Rue des Saints- 
 Peres know nothing of life. 
 
 "Ah! if the women of Paris but knew," said Rastignac, 
 as he devoured Mme. Vauquer's stewed pears (at five for a 
 penny), " they would come here in search of a lover." 
 
 Just then a porter from the Messageries Royales appeared 
 at the door of the room ; they had previously heard the bell 
 ring as the wicket opened to admit him. The man asked for
 
 104 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 M. Eugene de Rastignac, holding out 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 the shooting gallery," he said. 
 
 "Your ship has come in," said Mme. Vauquer, eyeing 
 the bags. 
 
 Mile. Michonneau did not dare to look at the money, for 
 fear her eyes should 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 have your fling, go into society, and fish for 
 heiresses, and dance with countesses 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 antag- 
 onist. Rastignac, meaning to give the porter a tip, felt in 
 his pockets and found nothing. Vautrin flung down a franc- 
 piece on the table. 
 
 " Your credit is good," he remarked, eyeing the student, 
 and Rastignac was forced to thank him, though, since the 
 sharp encounter of wits at dinner that day, after Eugene came 
 in from calling on Mme. de Beauseant, he had made up his 
 mind that Vautrin was insufferable. For a week, in fact, they 
 had both kept silence in each other's presence, and watched 
 each other. The student tried in vain to account to himself 
 for this attitude. 
 
 An idea, of course, gains in force by the energy with which 
 it is expressed ; it strikes where the brain sends it, by a law 
 as mathematically exact as the law that determines the course 
 of a shell from a mortar. The amount of impression it 
 makes is not to be determined so exactly. Sometimes, in an 
 impressible nature, the idea works havoc, but there are, no 
 less, natures so robustly protected, that this sort of projectile
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 105 
 
 falls flat and harmless on skulls of triple brass, as cannon-shot 
 against solid masonry; then there are flaccid and spongy- 
 fibred natures into which ideas from without sink like spent 
 bullets into the earthworks of a redoubt. Rastignac's head 
 was something of the powder-magazine order ; the least shock 
 sufficed to bring about an explosion. He was too quick, too 
 young, not to be readily accessible to ideas ; and open to that 
 subtle influence of thought and feeling in others which causes 
 so many strange phenomena that make an impression upon 
 us of which we are all unconscious at the time. Nothing 
 escaped his mental vision ; he was lynx-eyed ; in him the 
 mental powers of perception, which seem like duplicates of 
 the senses, had the mysterious power of swift projection that 
 astonishes us in intellects of a high order slingers who are 
 quick to detect the weak spot in any armor. 
 
 In the past month Eugene's good qualities and defects had 
 rapidly developed with his character. Intercourse with the 
 world and the endeavor to satisfy his growing desires had 
 brought out his defects. But Rastignac came from the south 
 side of the Loire, and had the good qualities of his country- 
 men. He had the impetuous courage of the south, that 
 rushes to the attack of a difficulty, as well as the southern 
 impatience of delay or suspense. These traits are held to be 
 defects in the north ; they made the fortune of Murat, but 
 they likewise cut short his career. The moral would appear 
 to be that when the dash and boldness of the south side of the 
 Loire meets, in a southern temperament, with the guile of 
 the north, the character is complete, and such a man will 
 gain (and keep) the crown of Sweden. 
 
 Rastignac, therefore, could not stand the fire from Vautrin's 
 batteries for long without discovering whether this was a 
 friend or a foe. He felt as if this strange being was reading 
 his inmost soul and dissecting his feelings, while Vautrin 
 himself was so close and secretive that he seemed to have 
 something of the profound and unmoved serenity of a sphinx,
 
 106 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 seeing and hearing all things and saying nothing. Eugene, 
 conscious of that money in his pocket, grew rebellious. 
 
 " Be so good as to wait a moment," he said to Vautrin, as 
 the latter rose, after slowly emptying his coffee-cup, sip 
 by sip. 
 
 "What for?" inquired the older man, as he put on his 
 large-brimmed hat and took up the sword-cane that he was 
 wont to twirl like a man who will face three or four footpads 
 without flinching. 
 
 " I will repay you in a minute," returned Eugene. He 
 unsealed one of the bags as he spoke, counted out a hundred 
 and forty francs, and pushed them towards Mme. Vauquer. 
 " Short reckonings make good friends," he added, turning to 
 the widow; "that clears our accounts till the end of the 
 year. Can you give me change for a five-franc piece ? " 
 
 " Good friends make short reckonings," echoed Poiret, 
 with a glance at Vautrin. 
 
 " Here is your franc," said Rastignac, holding out the coin 
 to the sphinx in the black wig. 
 
 "Any one might think. that you were afraid to owe me a 
 trifle," exclaimed the latter, with a searching glance that 
 seemed to read the young man's inmost thoughts ; there was 
 a satirical and cynical smile on 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 the student turned to go through the second door 
 that opened into the square lobby at the foot of the staircase. 
 
 " Do you know, Monsieur le Marquis de Rastignacorama, 
 that what you were saying just now was not exactly polite ? " 
 Vautrin remarked, as he rattled his sword-cane across the panels 
 of the sitting-room door, and r-nme up to the student. 
 
 Rastignac looked coolly at Vautrin, drew him to the foot
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 107 
 
 of the staircase, and shut the dining-room door. They were 
 standing in the little square lobby between the kitchen and 
 the dining-room ; the place was lighted by an iron-barred 
 fanlight above a door that gave access into the garden. Sylvie 
 came out of her kitchen, and Eugene chose that moment to 
 say 
 
 " Monsieur Vautrin, I am not a marquis, and my name is 
 not Rastignacorama." 
 
 " They will fight," said Mile. Michonneau, in an indiffer- 
 ent tone. 
 
 " Fight ! " echoed Poiret. 
 
 " Not they," replied Mme. Vauquer, lovingly fingering 
 her pile of coins. 
 
 "But there they are under the lime trees," cried Mile. 
 Victorine, who had 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 business of ours." 
 
 At the door, however, Mme. Couture and Victorine found 
 their progress barred 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, and there they are, out among the 
 artichokes." 
 
 Vautrin came in while she was speaking. " Mamma 
 Vauquer," he said, smiling, "don't frighten yourself at all. 
 I am only going to try my pistols under the lime trees." 
 
 " Oil ! monsieur," cried Victorine, clasping her hands as 
 she spoke, " why do 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 banter- 
 ing tone, that brought the color into the poor girl's face. 
 " That young fellow yonder is very nice, isn't he ? " he went 
 on. " You have given me a notion, my pretty child ; I will 
 make you both happy."
 
 108 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 Mme. Couture laid her hand on the arm of her ward, and 
 drew the girl away, as she said in her ear 
 
 " Why, Victorine, I cannot imagine what has come over 
 you this morning." 
 
 " I don't want any shots fired in my garden," said Mme. 
 Vauquer. " You will frighten the neighborhood and bring 
 the police up here all in a moment." 
 
 " 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 young man's arm. 
 
 " When I have given you ocular demonstrations of the fact 
 that I can put a bullet through the ace on a card five times 
 running at thirty-five paces," he said, " that won't take away 
 your appetite, I suppose. You look to me to be inclined to 
 be a trifle quarrelsome this morning, and as 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 cold this morning. Let us go and sit over there," 
 he added, pointing to the green-painted garden seats ; " no 
 one can overhear us. I want a little talk with you. You are 
 not a bad sort of youngster, and I have no quarrel with you. 
 I like you, take Tromp (confound it !) take Vautrin's word 
 for it. What makes me like you ? I will tell you by-and-by. 
 Meantime, I can tell you that I know you as well as if I had 
 made you myself, as I will prove to you in a minute. Put 
 down your bags," he continued, pointing to the round table. 
 
 Rastignac deposited his money on the table, and sat down. 
 He was consumed with curiosity, which the sudden change in 
 the manner of the man before him had excited to the highest 
 pitch. Here was a strange being who, a moment ago, had 
 talked of killing him, and now posed as his protector. 
 
 "You would like to know who I really am, what I was,
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 109 
 
 and what I do now," Vautrin went on "You want to know 
 too much, youngster. Come ! come ! keep cool ! You will 
 hear more astonishing things than that. I have had my mis- 
 fortunes. Just hear me out first, and you shall have your 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 a good turn, or to those whose 
 hearts speak to mine. These last may do anything they like 
 with me ; they may bruise my shins, and I shall not tell them 
 to 'mind what they are about;' but, nom d'une pipe, the 
 devil himself is not an uglier customer than I can be if people 
 annoy me, or if I don't happen to take to them ; and you 
 may just as well know at once that I think no more of killing 
 a man than of that," and he spat before him as he spoke. 
 " Only when it is absolutely necessary to do so, I do my best 
 to kill him properly. I am what you call an artist. I have 
 read Benvenuto Cellini's "Memoirs," such as you see me j 
 and, what is more, in Italian ! A fine-spirited fellow he was ! 
 From him I learned to follow the example set us by Provi- 
 dence, who strikes us down at random, and to admire the 
 beautiful whenever and wherever it is found. And, setting 
 other questions aside, is it not a glorious part to play, when 
 you pit yourself against mankind, and the luck is on your 
 side? I have thought a good deal about the constitution of 
 your present social dis-order. A duel is downright childish, 
 my boy ! utter nonsense and folly ! When one of two living 
 men must be gotten out of the way, none but an idiot would 
 leave chance to decide which it is to be ; and in a duel it is a 
 toss-up heads or tails and there you are ! Now I, for in- 
 stance, can hit the ace in the middle of a card five times run- 
 ning, send one bullet after another through the same hole, 
 and at thirty-five paces, moreover ! With that little accom- 
 plishment you might think yourself certain of killing your 
 man, mightn't you ? Well, I have fired at twenty paces and
 
 110 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 missed, and the rogue who had never handled a pistol in his 
 life look here ! " (he unbuttoned his waistcoat and ex- 
 posed his chest, covered, like a bear's back, with a shaggy 
 fell ; the student gave a startled shudder) " he was a raw lad, 
 but he made his mark on me," the extraordinary man went 
 on, drawing Rastignac's fingers over a deep scar on his breast. 
 "But that happened when I myself was a mere boy; I wa.> 
 one-and-twenty then (your age), and I had some beliefs left 
 in a woman's love, and in a pack of rubbish that you will be 
 over head and ears in directly. You and I were 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 would have 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 to your real position, that is what 
 I am going to do ; but I shall do it from the point of view 
 of a man who, after studying the world very closely, sees that 
 there are but two alternatives stupid obedience or revolt. 
 I obey nobody ; is that clear ? Now, do you know how much 
 you will want at the pace you are going ? A million ; and 
 promptly, too, or that little head of ours will be swaying to 
 and fro in the drag-nets at Saint-Cloud, while we are gone to 
 find out whether or no there is a Supreme 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 of the million you look like a young girl when 
 somebody has said, ' I will come for you this evening ! ' and 
 she betakes herself to her toilet as a cat licks its whiskers 
 over a saucer of milk. All right. Come, now, let us go into 
 the question, young man ; all between ourselves, you know. 
 We have a papa and a mamma down yonder, a great-aunt, 
 two sisters (aged eighteen and seventeen), two young brothers 
 (one fifteen and the other ten), that is about the roll-call of 
 the crew. The aunt brings up the two sisters ; the cur6 comes
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. Ill 
 
 and teaches the boys Latin. Boiled chestnuts are oftener on 
 the table than white bread. Papa makes a suit of clothes last 
 a long while ; if mamma has a different dress winter and sum- 
 mer, it is about as much as she has ; the sisters manage as 
 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 a year, and the whole property only brings in 
 three thousand francs all told. We have a cook and a man- 
 servant ; papa is a baron, and we must keep up appearances. 
 Then we have our ambitions ; we are connected with the 
 Beauseants, and we go afoot through the streets ; we want to 
 be rich, and we have not a penny ; we eat Mme. Vauquer's 
 messes, and we like grand dinners in the Faubourg Saint- 
 Germain ; we sleep on a truckle-bed, and dream of a mansion ! 
 I do not blame you for wanting these things. It is not given 
 to every one to have ambition, my little trump. What sort 
 of men do the women run after ? Men of ambition. Men 
 of ambition have stronger frames, their blood is richer in 
 iron, their hearts are warmer than those of ordinary men. 
 Women feel that when their power is greatest they look their 
 best, and that those are their happiest hours ; they like power 
 in men, and prefer the strongest even if it is a power that may 
 be their own destruction. I am going to make an inventory 
 of your desires in order to put the question at issue before 
 you. Here it is 
 
 " We are as hungry as a wolf, and those newly-cut teeth of 
 ours are sharp; 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 none the wiser for it, but that cannot 
 be helped. So far so good. We mean to make an advocate 
 of ourselves with a prospect of one day being made president 
 of a court of assize, when we shall send poor devils, our 
 betters, to the galleys with a T. F.* on their shoulders, so that 
 the rich may be convinced that they can sleep in peace. 
 * Travaux foreis.
 
 112 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 There is no fun in that ; and you are a long while coming to 
 it ; for, to begin with, there are two years of nauseous 
 drudgery in Paris, we see all the lollipops that we long for 
 out of our reach. It is tiresome to want things and never to 
 have them. If you were a pallid creature of the mollusc 
 order, you would have nothing to fear, but it is different when 
 you have the hot blood of a lion and are ready to get into a 
 score of scrapes every day of your life. This is the ghastliest 
 form of torture known in this inferno of God's making, and 
 you will give in to it. Or suppose that you are a good boy, 
 drink nothing stronger than milk, and bemoan your hard lot ; 
 you, with your generous nature, will endure hardships that 
 would drive a dog mad, and make a start, after long waiting, 
 as deputy to some rascal or other in a hole of a place where 
 the government will fling you a thousand francs a year like 
 the scraps that are thrown to the butcher's dog. Bark at 
 thieves, plead the cause of 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 provincial tribunal. At 
 thirty you will be a justice with twelve hundred francs a year 
 (if you have not flung off the gown for good before then). 
 By the time you are forty you may look to marry a miller's 
 daughter, an heiress with some six thousand livres a year. 
 Much obliged ! If you have influence, you may possibly be 
 public prosecutor by the time you are thirty ; with a salary of 
 a thousand crowns, you could look to marry 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 
 procureur general 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 a little damaged in the process, 
 and that we shall endure twenty years of drudgery and hidden 
 poverty, and that our sisters are wearing Dian's livery. I 
 have the honor to call your attention to another fact, to wit :
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 113 
 
 that there are but twenty procureurs generaux at a time in all 
 France, while there are some twenty thousand of you young 
 men who aspire to that elevated position ; that there are some 
 mountebanks among you who would sell their family to screw 
 their fortunes a peg higher. If this sort of thing sickens you, 
 try another course. The Baron de Rastignac thinks of becom- 
 ing an advocate, does he ? There's a nice prospect for you ! 
 Ten years of drudgery straight away. You are obliged to 
 live at the rate of a thousand francs a month ; you must have 
 a library of law-books, live in chambers, go into society, go 
 down on your knees to ask a solicitor for briefs, lick the dust 
 off the floor of the Palais de Justice. If this kind of business 
 led to anything, I should not say no ; but just give me the 
 names of five advocates here in Paris who by the time that 
 they are fifty are making fifty thousand francs a year ! Bah ! 
 I would sooner turn pirate on the high-seas than have my soul 
 shrivel up inside me like that. How will you find the capital ? 
 There is but one way, marry a woman who has money. There 
 is no fun in it. Have you a mind to marry? You hang a 
 stone round your neck ; for if you marry for money, what 
 becomes of our exalted notions of honor and so forth ? You 
 might as well fly in the face of social conventions at once. 
 Is it nothing to crawl like a serpent before your wife, to lick 
 her mother's feet, to descend to dirty actions that would 
 sicken swine faugh ! never mind if you at least make your 
 fortune. But you will be as doleful as a dripstone if you 
 marry for money. It is better to wrestle with men than to 
 wrangle at home with your wife. You are at the crossway of 
 the roads of life, my boy ; choose your way. 
 
 " But you have chosen already. You have gone to see your 
 cousin of Beauseant, and you have had an inkling of luxury ; 
 you have been to Madame de Restaud's house, and in Father 
 Goriot's daughter you have seen a glimpse of the Parisienne 
 for the first time. That day you came back with a word 
 written upon your forehead. I knew it, I could read it 
 8
 
 114 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 ' Success ! ' Yes, success at any price. 'Bravo,' said I to 
 myself, 'here is the sort of fellow for me.' You wanted 
 money. Where was it to come from ? You have drained 
 your sisters' little hoards (all brothers sponge more or less on 
 their sisters). Those fifteen hundred francs of yours (got 
 together, God knows how ! in a country where there are more 
 chestnuts than five-franc pieces) will slip away like soldiers 
 after pillage. And, then, what will you do ? Shall you begin 
 to 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's lodging-house. There are fifty thousand 
 young men in your position at this 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 that aggregate. You 
 can guess, therefore, what efforts you must make, how desperate 
 the struggle is. There are not fifty thousand good positions 
 for 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 by skillful corruption. You must either 
 cut your way through these masses of men like a cannon- 
 ball or steal among them like a plague. Honesty is nothing 
 to the purpose. Men bow before the power of genius ; they 
 hate it, and try to slander it, because genius does not divide 
 the spoil ; but if genius persists, they bow before it. To 
 sum it all up in a phrase, if they fail to smother genius in the 
 mud, they fall on their knees and worship it. Corruption is 
 a great power in the world, and talent is scarce. So corruption 
 is the weapon of superfluous mediocrity ; you will be made to 
 feel the point of it everywhere. You will see women who 
 spend more than ten thousand francs a year on dress, while 
 their husband's salary (his whole income) is but six thousand 
 francs. You will see officials buying estates on twelve hundred 
 francs a year. You will see women who sell themselves body 
 and soul to drive in a carriage belonging to a son of a 
 peer of France, who has a right to drive in the middle
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 115 
 
 rank at Longchamp. You have seen that poor simpleton of 
 a Goriot obliged to meet a bill with his daughter's name 
 at the back of it, though her husband has fifty thousand 
 francs a year. I defy you to walk a couple of yards any- 
 where in Paris without stumbling on some infernal compli- 
 cation. I'll bet my head to a head of that salad that you 
 will stir up a hornet's nest by taking a fancy to the first 
 young, rich, and pretty woman you meet. They are all 
 dodging the law, all at loggerheads with their husbands. 
 If I were to begin to tell you all that vanity or necessity 
 (virtue is not often mixed up in it, you may be sure), all 
 that vanity and necessity drive them to do for lovers, 
 finery, housekeeping, or children, I should never come to an 
 end. So an honest man is the common enemy. 
 
 " But do you know what an honest man is? Here, in Paris, 
 an honest man is 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 the world without a 
 reward for their toil God Almighty's outcasts, I call them. 
 Among them, I grant you, is virtue in all the flower of its 
 stupidity, but poverty is no less their portion. At this mo- 
 ment, I think I see the long faces those good folk would pull 
 if God played a practical joke on them and stayed away at 
 the last judgment. 
 
 "Well, then, if you mean to make a fortune quickly, you 
 must either be rich to begin with, or make people believe that 
 you are rich. It is no use playing here except for high stakes ; 
 once take to low play, it is all 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 them thieves. You 
 can draw your own conclusions. Such is life. It is no 
 cleaner than a kitchen ; it reeks like a kitchen ; and if you 
 mean to cook your dinner, you must expect to soil your hands; 
 the real art is in getting them clean again, and therein lies 
 the whole morality of our epoch. If I take this tone in
 
 116 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 speaking of the world to you, I have the 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' stric- 
 tures will never change it. Mankind is not perfect, but one 
 age is more or less hypocritical than another, and then simple- 
 tons say that its morality is high or low. I do not think that 
 the rich are any worse than the poor ; man is much the same, 
 high or low, or wherever he is. In a million of these human 
 cattle there may be half a score of bold spirits who rise above 
 the rest, above the laws ; I am one of them. And you, if 
 you are cleverer than your fellows, make straight to your end, 
 and hold your head high. But you must lay your account with 
 envy and slander and mediocrity, and every man's hand will 
 be against you. Napoleon met with a minister of war, Aubry 
 by name, who all but sent 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 an offer that no one would decline. 
 Listen attentively. You see, I have an idea of my own. My 
 idea is to live a patriarchal life on a vast estate, say a hundred 
 thousand acres, somewhere in the Southern States of America. 
 I mean to be a planter, to have slaves, to make a few snug 
 millions by selling my cattle, timber, and tobacco ; I want to 
 live an absolute monarch, and to do just as I please ; to lead 
 such a life as no one here in these squalid dens of lath and 
 plaster ever imagines. I am 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 buy forty negroes. 
 I want two hundred thousand francs, because I want to have 
 two hundred negroes to carry out my notions of the patriarchal 
 life properly. Negroes, you see, are like a sort of family 
 ready grown, and there are no inquisitive public prosecutors 
 out there to interfere with you. That investment in ebony 
 ought to mean three or four million francs in ten years' time. 
 If I am successful, no one will ask me who I am. I shall be
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 117 
 
 Mr. Four Millions, an American citizen. I shall be fifty years 
 old by then, and sound and hearty still ; I shall enjoy life 
 after my own fashion. In two words, if I find you an heiress 
 with a million, will you give me two hundred thousand francs? 
 Twenty per cent, commission, eh? Is that too much? Your 
 little wife will be very much in love with you. Once married, 
 you will show signs of uneasiness and remorse ; for a couple 
 of weeks you will be depressed. Then, some night, after 
 sundry grimacings, comes the confession, between two kisses, 
 ' Two hundred thousand francs of debts, my darling ! ' This 
 sort of farce is played every day in Paris, and by young men of 
 the highest fashion. When a young wife has given her heart, she 
 will not refuse her purse. Perhaps you are thinking that you 
 will lose the money for good ? Not you. You will make two 
 hundred thousand francs again by some stroke of business. With 
 your capital and your brains you should be able to accumulate 
 as large a fortune as you could wish. Ergo, in six months you 
 will have made your own fortune, and your old friend Vau- 
 trin's, and made an amiable woman very happy, to say noth- 
 ing of your people at home, who must blow on their fingers 
 to warm them, in the winter, for lack of firewood. You need 
 not be surprised at my proposal, nor at the demand I make. 
 Forty-seven out of every sixty great matches here in Paris are 
 made after just such a bargain as this. The Chamber of 
 Notaries compels my gentlemen to " 
 
 "What must I do?" said Rastignac, eagerly interrupting 
 Vautrin's speech. 
 
 " Next to nothing," returned the other, with a slight in- 
 voluntary movement, the suppressed exultation of the angler 
 when he feels a bite at the end of his line. " Follow me 
 carefully ! The heart of a girl whose life is wretched and 
 unhappy is a sponge that will thirstily absorb 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 of lone- 
 liness, despair, and poverty, and who has no suspicion that
 
 118 FA 7 HER GORIOT. 
 
 she will come into a fortune, good Lord ! it is quint and 
 quatorze at piquet ; it is knowing the numbers of the lottery 
 beforehand ; it is speculating in the' funds when you have 
 news from a sure source ; it is building up a marriage on an 
 indestructible foundation. The girl may come in for millions, 
 and she will fling them, as if they were so many pebbles, at 
 your feet. ' Take it, my beloved ! Take it, Alfred, Adolphe, 
 Eugene ! ' or whoever it was that showed his sense by sacri- 
 ficing himself for her. And as for sacrificing himself, this is 
 how I understand it. You sell a coat that is getting shabby, 
 so that you can take her to the Cadran bleu, treat her to 
 mushrooms on toast, and then go to the Ambigu-Comique in 
 the evening ; you pawn your watch to buy her a shawl. I 
 need not remind you of the fiddle-faddle sentimentality that 
 goes down so well with all women ; you spill a few drops of 
 water on your stationery, for instance ; those are the tears 
 you shed while far away from her. You look to me as if you 
 were perfectly acquainted with the argot of the heart. Paris, 
 you see, is like a forest in the New World, where you have to 
 deal with a score of varieties of savages Iroquois and Hurons 
 who live on the proceeds of their social hunting. You are a 
 hunter of millions ; you set your snares ; you use lures and 
 nets ; there are many ways of hunting. Some hunt heiresses, 
 others a legacy ; some fish for souls, yet others sell their 
 clients, bound hand and foot. Every one who comes back 
 from the chase with his game-bag well filled meets with a 
 warm welcome in good society. In justice to this hospitable 
 part of the world, it must be said that you have to do with 
 the most easy and good-natured of great cities. If the proud 
 aristocracies of the rest of Europe refuse admittance among 
 their ranks to a disreputable millionaire, Paris stretches out a 
 hand to him, goes to his banquets, eats his dinners, and hob- 
 nobs with his infamy." 
 
 " But where is such a girl to be found? " asked Eugene. 
 
 "Under your eyes ; she is yours already."
 
 FATHER GO RIOT 119 
 
 "Mile. 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 mysti- 
 fied. 
 
 "Ah ! now we are coming to it ! Just another word or 
 two, and it will all be clear enough. Her father, Taillefer, is 
 an old scoundrel ; it is said that he murdered one of his 
 friends at the time of the Revolution. He is one of your 
 comedians that sets up to have opinions of his own. He is a 
 banker senior partner in the house of Frederic Taillefer and 
 Company. He has one son, and means to leave all he has to 
 the boy, to the prejudice of Victorine. For my part, I don't 
 like to see injustice of this sort. I am like Don Quixote, I 
 have a fancy for defending the weak against the strong. If it 
 should please God to take that youth away from him, Taillefer 
 would only have his daughter left ; he would want to leave his 
 money to some one or other ; an absurd notion, but it is only 
 human nature, and he is not likely to have any more chil- 
 dren, as I know. Victorine is gentle and amiable ; she will 
 soon twist her father round her fingers, and set his head spin- 
 ning like a German top by plying him with sentiment ! She 
 will be too much touched by your devotion to forget you; 
 you will marry her. I mean to play Providence for you, and 
 Providence is to do my will. I have a friend whom I have 
 attached closely to myself, a colonel in the Army of the Loire, 
 who has just been transferred into the garde royale. He has 
 taken my advice and turned ultra-royalist ; he is not one of 
 those fools who never change their opinions. Of all pieces 
 of advice, my cherub, I would give you this don't stick to 
 your opinions any more than 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 line through life is an
 
 120 FATHER GOR.'OT. 
 
 idiot who believes in infallibility. There are no such things 
 as principles; there are only events, and there are no laws 
 but those of expediency : a man of talent accepts events and 
 the circumstances in which he finds himself, and turns every- 
 thing to his own ends. If laws and principles were fixed and 
 invariable, nations would not change them as readily as we 
 change our shirts. The individual is not obliged to be more 
 particular than the nation. A man whose services to France 
 have been of the very slightest is a fetich looked on with 
 superstitious awe because he has always seen everything in red ; 
 but he is good, at the most, to be put into the Museum of 
 Arts and Crafts, among the automatic machines, and labeled 
 La Fayette ; while the prince at whom everybody flings a 
 stone, the man who despises humanity so much that he spits 
 as many oaths as he is asked for in the face of humanity, 
 saved France from being torn in pieces at the Congress of 
 Vienna ; and they who should have given him laurels fling 
 mud at him. Oh ! I know something of affairs, I can tell 
 you ; I have the secrets of many men ! Enough. When I 
 find three minds in agreement as to the application of a prin- 
 ciple, I shall have a fixed and immovable opinion I shall 
 have to wait a long while first. In the Tribunals you will not 
 find three judges of the same opinion on a single point of 
 law. To return to the man I was telling you of. He would 
 crucify Jesus Christ again, if I bade him. At a word from 
 his old chum Vautrin he will pick a quarrel with a scamp that 
 will not send so much as five francs to his sister, poor girl, 
 and " (here Vautrin rose to his feet and stood like a fencing- 
 master about to lunge) " turn him off into the dark !" he 
 added. 
 
 "How frightful!" said Eugene. "You do not really 
 mean it ? M. Vautrin, you are joking ! I cannot believe 
 that you are sincere in what your are saying." 
 
 " There ! there ! Keep cool ! " said the other. " Don't 
 behave like a baby. But if you find any amusement in it, be
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 121 
 
 indignant, flare up ! Say that I am a scoundrel, a rascal, a 
 rogue, a bandit ; but do not call me a blackleg nor a spy ! 
 There, out with it, fire away! I forgive you; it is quite 
 natural at your age. I was like that myself once. Only re- 
 member this, you will do worse things yourself some day. 
 You will flirt with some pretty woman and take her money. 
 You have thought of that, of course," said Vautrin, " for how 
 are you to succeed unless love 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 for your sins ! 
 It is a nice system of business, when you pay for your crime 
 by an act of contrition ! You seduce a woman that you may 
 set your foot on such and such a rung of the social ladder ; 
 you sow dissension among the children of a family ; you 
 descend, in short, to every base action that can be committed 
 at home or abroad to gain your own ends for your own 
 pleasure or your profit ; and can you imagine that these are 
 acts of faith, hope, or charity? How is it that a dandy, who 
 in a night has robbed a boy of half his fortune, gets only a 
 couple of months in prison ; while a poor devil who steals a 
 bank-note for a thousand francs, with aggravating circum- 
 stances, is condemned to penal servitude? Those are your 
 laws. Not a single provision but lands you in some absurdity. 
 That man with yellow gloves and a golden tongue commits 
 many a murder ; he sheds no blood, but he drains his victim's 
 veins as surely ; a desperado forces open a door with a crow- 
 bar, dark deeds both of them ! You yourself will do every 
 one of the things that I suggest to you to-day, bar the blood- 
 shed. Do you believe that there is any absolute standard in 
 this world? Despise mankind and find out the meshes that 
 you can slip through in the net of the Code. The secret of a 
 great success for which you are at a loss to account is a crime 
 that has never been found out, because it was properly 
 executed." 
 
 "Silence, sir! I will not hear anymore; you make me
 
 122 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 doubt myself. At this moment my sentiments are all my 
 science." 
 
 ''Just as you please, my fine fellow; I did not think you 
 were so weak-minded," said Vautrin, "I shall say no more 
 about it. One last word, however" and he looked hard 
 at the student " you have my secret," 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 else might not be so scrupulous, you see. Keep 
 in mind what I want to do for you. I will give you a 
 fortnight. The offer is still open." 
 
 " What a head of iron the man has ! " said Eugene to him- 
 self as he watched Vautrin walk unconcernedly away with his 
 cane under his arm. " Yet Mme. de Beauseant said as much 
 more gracefully ; he has only stated the case in cruder lan- 
 guage. He would tear my heart with claws of steel. What 
 made me think of going to Mme. de Nucingen ? He guessed 
 my motives before I knew them myself. To sum it up, that 
 outlaw has told me more about virtue than all I have learned 
 from men and books. If virtue admits of no compromises, I 
 have certainly robbed my sisters," he said, throwing down 
 the bags on the table. 
 
 He sat down again and fell, unconscious of his surround- 
 ings, into deep thought. 
 
 "To be faithful to an ideal of virtue ! A heroic martyr- 
 dom ! Pshaw ! every one believes in virtue, but who is 
 virtuous? Nations have made an 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 to obtain wealth 
 or power, does it not mean that I must make up my mind to 
 lie, and fawn, and cringe, and swagger, and flatter, and dis- 
 semble? To consent to be the servant of others who have 
 likewise fawned, and lied, and flattered ? Must I cringe 
 to them before I can hope to be their accomplice ? Well,
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. . 123 
 
 then, I decline. I mean to work nobly and with a single 
 heart. I will work day and night ; I will owe my fortune to 
 nothing but my own exertions. It may be the slowest of all 
 roads to success, but I shall lay my head on the pillow at 
 night untroubled by evil thoughts. Is there a greater or a 
 better thing than this to look back over your life and know 
 that it is stainless as a lily ! I and my life are like a young 
 man and his betrothed. Vautrin has put before me all that 
 comes after ten years of marriage. The devil ! my head is 
 swimming. I do 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 his appearance before the man with 
 the two money-bags, and was not ill pleased that it should be 
 so. When he had tried on his dress suit, he put on his new 
 morning costume, which completely metamorphosed him. 
 
 " I am quite equal to M. de Trailles," he said to himself. 
 " In short, I look like a gentleman." 
 
 "You asked me, sir, if I knew the houses where Mme. de 
 Nncingen goes," Father Goriot's voice spoke from the door- 
 way of Eugene's room. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Very well then, she is going to the Duchesse de Carigliano's 
 ball on Monday. If you can manage to be there, I shall 
 hear from you whether my two girls enjoyed themselves, and 
 how they were dressed, and all about it, in fact." 
 
 " How did you find that out, my good Goriot? " said Eu- 
 gene, putting a chair by the fire for his visitor. 
 
 "Her maid told me. I hear all about their doings from 
 Therese and Constance," he added gleefully. 
 
 The old man looked like a lover who is still young enough 
 to be made happy by the discovery of some little stratagem 
 which brings him information of his lady-love without her 
 knowledge.
 
 124 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 " You will see them both ! " he said, giving artless expres- 
 sion to a pang of jealousy. 
 
 "I do not know," answered Eugene. "I will go to Mme. 
 de Beauseant and ask her to give me an introduction to the 
 Duchesse." 
 
 Eugene felt a thrill of pleasure at the thought of appearing 
 before the Vicomtesse, dressed as henceforward he always 
 meant to be. The "abysses of the human heart," in the 
 moralists' phrase, are only insidious thoughts, involuntary 
 promptings of personal interest. The instinct of enjoyment 
 turns the scale; those rapid changes of purpose which have 
 furnished the text for so much rhetoric are calculations 
 prompted by the hope of pleasure. Rastignac, beholding 
 himself well dressed and impeccable as to gloves and boots, 
 forgot his virtuous resolutions. Youth, moreover, when bent 
 upon wrong-doing does not dare to behold itself in the mirror 
 of consciousness ; mature age has seen itself; and therein 
 lies the whole difference between these two phases of life. 
 
 A friendship between Eugene and his neighbor, Father 
 Goriot, had been growing up for several days past. This 
 secret friendship and the antipathy that the student had begun 
 to entertain for Vautrin arose from the same psychological 
 causes. The bold philosopher who shall investigate the effects 
 of mental action upon the physical world will doubtless find 
 more than one proof of the material nature of our sentiments 
 in the relations which they create between human beings and 
 other animals. What physiognomist is as quick to discern char- 
 acter as a dog is to discover from a stranger's face whether 
 this is a friend or no? Those by-words "atoms," "affini- 
 ties" are facts surviving in modern languages for the con- 
 fusion of philosophic wiseacres who amuse themselves by 
 winnowing the chaff of language to find its grammatical roots. 
 We feel that we are loved. Our sentiments make themselves 
 felt in everything, even at a great distance. A letter is a 
 living soul, and so faithful an echo of the voice that speaks
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 125 
 
 in it that finer natures look upon a letter as one of love's 
 most precious treasures. Father Goriot's affection was of the 
 instinctive order, a canine affection raised to a sublime pitch ; 
 he had scented compassion in the air, and the kindly respect 
 and youthful sympathy in the student's heart. This friend- 
 ship had, however, scarcely reached the stage at which confi- 
 dences are made. Though Eugene had spoken of his wish 
 to meet Mme. de Nucingen, it was not 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. All that 
 Father Goriot had said as yet about his daughters had referred 
 to the remarks that the student had made so freely in public 
 on that day of the two visits. 
 
 " How could you think that Mme. de Restaud bore you a 
 grudge for mentioning my name? " he had said on the day 
 following that scene at dinner. " My daughters are very fond 
 of me ; I am a happy father ; but my sons-in-law have be- 
 haved badly to me, and rather than make trouble between my 
 darlings and their husbands, I choose to see my daughters 
 secretly. Fathers who can see their daughters at any time 
 have no idea of all the pleasure that this mystery gives me ; 
 I cannot always see mine when I wish, do you understand? 
 So when it is fine I walk out in the Champs-Elysees, after 
 finding out from their waiting-maids whether my daughters 
 mean to go out. I wait near the entrance; my heart beats 
 fast when the carriages begin to come ; I admire them in their 
 dresses, and as they pass they give me a little smile, and it 
 seems that everything was lighted up for me by a ray of bright 
 sunlight. I wait, for they always go back the same way, and 
 then I see them again ; the fresh air has done them good and 
 brought color into their cheeks ; all about me, people say, 
 ' What a beautiful woman that is ! ' and it does my heart good 
 to hear them. 
 
 "Are they not my own flesh and blood ? I love the very 
 horses that draw them ; I envy the little lap-dog on their
 
 126 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 knees. Their happiness is my life. Every one loves after his 
 own fashion, and mine does no one any harm ; why should 
 people trouble their heads about me ? I am happy in my own 
 way. Is there any law against my going to see my girls in 
 the evening when they are going out to a ball ? And what a 
 disappointment it is when 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 not seen her for two 
 whole days. I was so pleased that it was almost too much for 
 me ! Please do not speak of me unless it is to say how good 
 my daughters 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. ' What should I do with it? I want 
 nothing.' And what ami, sir, after all? An old carcass, 
 whose soul is always where my daughters are. When you 
 have seen Mme. de Nucingen, tell me which you like the 
 most," said the old man after a moment's pause, while Eugene 
 put the last touches to his toilet. The student was about to 
 go out to walk in the Garden of the 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 
 women noticed him ; he looked so handsome, so young, and 
 so well dressed. This almost admiring attention gave a new 
 turn to his thoughts. He forgot his sisters and the aunt who 
 had robbed herself for him ; he no longer remembered his 
 own virtuous scruples. He had seen hovering above his head 
 the fiend so easy to mistake for an angel, the devil with rainbow 
 wings, who scatters rubies, and aims his golden shafts at palace 
 fronts, who invests women with purple, and thrones with a 
 glory that dazzles the eyes of fools till they forget the simple 
 origins of royal dominion ; he had heard the rustle of that 
 vanity whose tinsel seems to us to be the symbol of power. 
 However cynical Vautrin's words had been, they had made an 
 impression on his mind, as the sordid features of the old crone
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 127 
 
 who whispers, " A lover, and gold in torrents, remain 
 engraven on a young girl's memory. 
 
 Eugene lounged about the walks till it was nearly five 
 o'clock, then he went to Mme. de Beauseant's, and received 
 one of the terrible blows against which young hearts are 
 defenseless. Hitherto the Vicomtesse had received him with 
 the kindly urbanity, the bland grace of manner that is the 
 result of fine breeding, but is only complete when it comes 
 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 this moment. I am engaged " 
 
 An observer, and Rastignac instantly became an observer, 
 could read the whole history, the character and customs of 
 caste, in the phrase, in the tones of her voice, in her glance 
 and bearing. He caught a glimpse 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 plumed 
 canopy of the throne, and finds its last echo under the crest 
 of the simplest gentleman. 
 
 Eugene had trusted too implicitly to the generosity of a 
 woman ; he could not believe in her haughtiness. Like all 
 the unfortunate, he had subscribed, in all good faith, the gen- 
 erous compact which should bind the benefactor to the recip- 
 ient, and the first article in that bond, between two large- 
 hearted natures, is a perfect equality. The kindness which 
 knits two souls together is as rare, as divine, and as little 
 understood as the passion of love, for both love and kindness 
 are the lavish generosity of noble natures. Rastignac was 
 set upon going to the Duchesse de Carigliano's ball, so he 
 meekly swallowed down this rebuff, and concealed any mani- 
 festation of his disappointment. 
 
 " Madame," he faltered out, "I would not have come to
 
 128 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 trouble you about a trifling matter ; be so kind as to permit 
 me to see you later, I can wait." 
 
 "Very well, come and dine with me," she said, a little 
 confused by the harsh way in which she had spoken, for this 
 lady was as genuinely kind-hearted as she was high-born. 
 
 Eugene was touched by this sudden relenting, but none the 
 less he said to himself as he went away, " Crawl in the dust, 
 put up with every kind of treatment. What must the rest of 
 the world be like when one of the kindest of women forgets 
 all her promises of befriending me in a moment, and tosses 
 me aside like an old shoe? So it is every one for himself? 
 It is true that her house is not a shop, and I have put myself 
 in the wrong by needing her help. You should cut your way 
 through the world like a cannon-ball, as Vautrin said." 
 
 But the student's bitter thoughts were soon dissipated by 
 the pleasure which he promised himself in this dinner with 
 the Vicomtesse. Fate seemed to determine that the smallest 
 accidents in his life should combine to urge him into a career, 
 which the terrible sphinx of the Maison Vauquer had described 
 as a field of battle where you must either slay or be slain, and 
 cheat to avoid being cheated. You leave your conscience 
 and your heart at the barriers, and wear a mask on entering 
 into this game of grim earnest, where, as in ancient Sparta, 
 you must snatch your prize without being detected if you 
 would deserve the crown. 
 
 On his return he found the Vicomtesse gracious and kindly, 
 as she had always been to him. They went together to the 
 dining-room, where the Vicomte was waiting for his wife. In 
 the time of the Restoration the luxury of the table was car- 
 ried, as is well known, to the highest degree, and M. de 
 Beaus6ant, like many jaded men of the world, had few plea- 
 sures left but those of good-cheer ; in this matter, in fact, he 
 was a gourmand of the schools of Louis XVIII. and of the 
 Due d'Escars, and luxury was supplemented by splendor. 
 Eugene dining for the first time in a house where the tradi-
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 129 
 
 tions of grandeur had descended through many generations, 
 had never seen any spectacle like this that at this time met 
 his eyes. 
 
 In the time of the Empire, balls had always ended with a 
 supper, because the officers who took part in them must be 
 fortified for immediate service, and even in Paris might be 
 called upon to leave the ballroom for the battlefield. This 
 arrangement had gone out of fashion under the Monarchy, 
 and Eugene had so far only been asked to dances. The self- 
 possession which pre-eminently distinguished him in later life 
 already stood him in good stead, and he did not betray his 
 amazement. Yet as he saw for the first time the finely 
 wrought silver-plate, the completeness of every detail, the 
 sumptuous dinner, noiselessly served, it was difficult for such 
 an ardent imagination not to prefer this life of studied and 
 refined luxury to the hardships of the life which he had 
 chosen only that morning. 
 
 His thoughts went back for a moment to the lodging-house, 
 and, with a feeling of profound loathing, he vowed to himself 
 that at New Year he would go ; prompted at least as much 
 by a desire to live among cleaner surroundings as by a wish 
 to shake off Vautrin, whose huge hand he seemed to feel on 
 his shoulder at that moment. When you consider the num- 
 berless forms, clamorous or mute, that corruption takes in 
 Paris, common-sense begins to wonder what mental aberra- 
 tion prompted the state to establish great colleges and schools 
 there, and assemble young men in the capital ; how it is that 
 pretty women are respected, or that the gold coin displayed 
 in the money-changer's wooden saucers does not take to itself 
 wings in the twinkling of an eye ; and when you come to 
 think further, how comparatively few cases of crime there are, 
 and to count up the misdemeanors committed by youth, is 
 there not a certain amount of respect due to these patient 
 Tantaluses who wrestle with themselves and nearly always 
 come off victorious ? The struggles of the poor student in 
 9
 
 130 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 Paris, if skillfully drawn, would furnish a most dramatic pic- 
 ture of modern civilization. 
 
 In vain Mme. de Beaus6ant 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 ? " 
 the Vicomtesse 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 not detect, " 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?" in- 
 quired the Vicomte. 
 
 "No," she answered, petulantly. 
 
 " Very well, then, if you really must have an arm, take 
 that of M. de Rastignac." 
 
 The Vicomtesse 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,' to quote M. de Chateaubriand," said Rastignac, with 
 a bow. 
 
 A few moments later he was sitting beside Mme. de Beau- 
 s6ant in a brougham, that whirled them through the streets of 
 Paris to a fashionable theatre. It seemed to him that some 
 fairy magic had suddenly transported him into a box facing 
 the stage. All the lorgnettes of the house were pointed at 
 him as he entered, and at the Vicomtesse in her charming 
 toilet. He went from enchantment to enchantment. 
 
 "You must talk to me, you know," said Mme. de Beau- 
 seant. " Ah ! look ! There is Mme. de Nucingen in the 
 third box from ours. Her sister and M. de Trailles are on 
 the other side." 
 
 The Vicomtesse glanced as she spoke at the box where
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 131 
 
 Mile, de Rochefide should have been ; M. d'Ajuda was not 
 there, and Mme. de Beauseant's face lighted up in a marvel- 
 ous 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. Just see how she fidgets with her opera-glass ! The 
 Goriot blood shows itself in every movement," said the 
 Vicomtesse, much to Eugene's astonishment. 
 
 Indeed, Mme. de Beauseant seemed to be engaged in mak- 
 ing a survey of the house, and to be unconscious of Mme. 
 Nucingen's existence ; but no movement made by the latter 
 was lost upon the Vicomtesse. The house was full of the 
 loveliest women in Paris, so that Delphine de Nucingen was 
 not a little flattered to receive the undivided attention of 
 Mme. de Beauseant's young, handsome, and well-dressed 
 cousin, who seemed to have no eyes for any one else. 
 
 " If you look at her so persistently, you will make people 
 talk, M. de Rastignac. You will never succeed if you fling 
 yourself at any one's head 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 favor which will cost you but little, and be 
 of very great service to me. I have 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
 
 132 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 Duchesse de Carigliano is a friend of the Duchesse de Berri," 
 he went on, after a-pause ; " you are sure to see her, will you 
 be so kind as to present me to her, and to take me with you 
 to her ball on Monday? I shall meet Mme. de Nucingen 
 there, and enter upon my first skirmish." 
 
 "Willingly," she said. "If you have a liking for her 
 already, your affairs of the heart are likely to prosper. That is 
 de Marsay over there in the Princesse Galathionne's box. 
 Mme. de Nucingen is racked with jealousy. There is no 
 better time for approaching a woman, especially if she hap- 
 pens to be a banker's wife. All those ladies of the Chausee- 
 d' An tin 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 I am 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 that this was love, and learned the difference between 
 love and the affectations 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 said to himself. " And he could forsake her for a 
 doll ! Oh ! how could any one forsake her ? " 
 
 There was a boy's passionate indignation in his heart. He 
 could have flung himself at Mme. de Beauseant's feet ; he 
 longed for the power of the devil if he could snatch her 
 away and hide her in his heart, as an eagle snatches up some 
 white yeanling from the plains and bears it to his eyrie. It 
 was humiliating to him to think that in all this gallery of fair 
 pictures he had not one picture of his own. " To have a 
 mistress and an almost royal position is a sign of power," he
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 133 
 
 said to himself. And he looked at Mme. de Nucingen as a 
 man measures another who has insulted him. 
 
 The Vicomtesse turned to him, and the expression of her 
 eyes thanked him a thousand times for his discretion. The 
 first act came to an end just then. 
 
 " Do you know Mme. de Nucingen well enough to present 
 M. de Rastignac to her?" she asked of the Marquis d'Ajuda. 
 
 " She will be delighted," said the Marquis. The handsome 
 Portuguese rose as he spoke and took the student's arm, 
 and in another moment Eugene found himself in Mme. de 
 Nucingen 's box. 
 
 "Madame," said the Marquis, " I have the honor of pre- 
 senting to you the Chevalier Eugene de Rastignac ; he is a 
 cousin of Mme. de Beaus6ant's. You have made so deep an 
 impression upon him, that I thought I would fill up the 
 measure of his happiness by bringing him nearer to his 
 divinity." 
 
 Words spoken half-jestingly to cover their somewhat dis- 
 respectful import ; but such an implication, if carefully 
 disguised, never gives offense to a woman. Mme. de Nucin- 
 gen smiled, and offered Eugene the place 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's company seldom desire to soon 
 leave it." 
 
 "Madame," Eugene said, lowering his voice, "I think 
 that to please my cousin I should remain with you. Before 
 my Lord Marquis came we were speaking of you and of your 
 exceedingly distinguished appearance," he added 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 acquaint- 
 ance. Mme. de Restaud told me about you, and has made 
 me anxious to meet you."
 
 134 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 " 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 crave your indulgence before confiding such a secret to 
 you. I am your father's neighbor ; I had no idea that Mine, 
 de Restaud was his daughter. I was rash enough to mention 
 his name ; I meant no harm, but I annoyed your sister and 
 her husband very much. You cannot think how severely the 
 Duchesse de Langeais and my cousin blamed this apostasy on 
 a daughter's part, as a piece of bad taste. I told them all 
 about it, and they both burst out laughing. Then Mme. de 
 Beauseant made some comparison 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 passionately that I 
 am jealous already. We talked about you this morning for 
 two hours. So this evening I was quite full of all that your 
 father had told me, and while I was dining with my cousin I 
 said that you could not be as beautiful as affectionate. Mme. 
 de Beauseant meant to gratify 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, mon- 
 sieur," said the banker's wife. " We shall be quite old friends 
 in a little while." 
 
 " Although a friendship with you could only be like an ordi- 
 nary friendship," said Rastignac; " I should ever wish to be 
 your friend." 
 
 Such stereotyped phrases as these, in the mouths of begin- 
 ners, possess an unfailing charm for women, and are insipid 
 only when read coldly ; for a young man's tone, glance, and 
 attitude give a surpassing eloquence to the banal phrases. 
 Mme. de Nucingen thought that Rastignac was adorable. 
 Then, woman-like, being at a loss how to reply to the
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 135 
 
 student's outspoken admiration, she answered a previous re- 
 mark. 
 
 " Yes, it is very wrong of my sister to treat our poor father 
 as she does," 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 mornings that I yielded the point. But I 
 have been unhappy about it for a long while ; I have shed 
 many tears over it. This violence to my feelings, with my 
 husband's brutal treatment, have been the two causes of my 
 unhappy married life. There is certainly no woman in Paris 
 whose lot seems more enviable than mine, and yet, in 
 reality, there is not one so much to be pitied. You will think 
 I must be out of my senses to talk to you like this ; but you 
 know my father, and I cannot very well regard you as a 
 stranger." 
 
 "You will find no one," said Eugene, "who longs as 
 eagerly as I do to be yours. What do all women seek? 
 Happiness." (He answered his own question in low, vibrating 
 tones.) "And if happiness for a woman means that she is to 
 be loved and adored, to have a friend to whom she can pour 
 out her wishes, her fancies, her sorrows and joys; to whom she 
 can lay bare her heart and soul, and all her fair defects and her 
 gracious virtues, without fear of a betrayal ; believe me, the 
 devotion and the warmth that never fail can only be found 
 in the heart of a young man who, at a bare sign from you, 
 would go to his death, who neither knows nor cares to know 
 anything as yet of the world, because you will be all the 
 world to him. I myself, you see (you will laugh at my 
 simplicity), have just come from a remote country district ; I 
 am quite new to this world of Paris ; I have only known true 
 and loving hearts ; and I made up my mind that here I should 
 find no love. Then I chanced to meet my cousin, and to 
 see my cousin's heart from very near ; I have divined the in- 
 exhaustible treasures of passion, and, like Cherubino, I am 
 the lover of all women, until the day comes when I find
 
 136 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 the woman to whom I may devote myself. As soon as I 
 saw you, as soon as I came into the theatre this evening, 
 I felt myself borne towards you as if by the current of a 
 stream. I had so often thought of you already, but I had 
 never dreamed that you would be so beautiful ! Mme. de 
 Beause'ant told me that I must not look so much at you. 
 She does not know the charm of your red lips, your fair 
 
 face, nor see how soft your eyes are I also am beginning 
 
 to talk nonsense; but let me talk." 
 
 Nothing pleases women better than to listen to such whis- 
 pered words as these ; the most puritanical among them 
 listens even when she ought not to reply to them ; and Ras- 
 tignac, having once begun, continued to pour out his story, 
 dropping his voice, that she might lean and listen ; and Mme. 
 de Nucingen, smiling, glanced from time to time at de Marsay, 
 who still sat in the Princesse Galathionne's box. 
 
 Rastignac did not leave Mme. de Nucingen till her husband 
 came to take her home. 
 
 " Madame," Eugene said, " I shall have the pleasure of 
 calling upon you before the Duchesse de Carigliano's ball." 
 
 "If matame infites you to come," said the Baron, a thick- 
 set 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 is in the horse's mouth, and I have 
 only to mount and ride ; " and with that he went to pay his 
 respects to Mme. de Beaus6ant, who was leaving the theatre 
 on d'Ajuda's arm. 
 
 The student did not know that the Baroness' thoughts had 
 been wandering; that she was even then expecting a letter 
 from de Marsay, one of those letters that bring about a rup- 
 ture that rends the soul ; so, happy in his delusion, Eugene
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 137 
 
 went with the Vicomtesse to the peristyle, where people were 
 waiting till their carriages were announced. 
 
 " That cousin of yours is hardly recognizable for the same 
 man," said the Portuguese laughingly to the Vicomtesse, 
 when Eugene had taken leave of them. " He will break the 
 bank. He is as supple as an eel ; he will go a long way, of 
 that I am sure. Who else could have picked out a woman 
 for him, as you did, just when she needed consolation?" 
 
 "But it is not certain that she does not still love the faith- 
 less lover," said Mme. de Beauseant. 
 
 The student meanwhile walked back from the Theatre- 
 Italien to the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve, making the most 
 delightful plans as he went. He had noticed how closely 
 Mme. de Restaud had scrutinized him when he appeared in 
 the Vicomtesse' s box, and again when he sat beside Mme. de 
 Nucingen, and inferred that the Countess* doors would not 
 be closed in future. Four important houses were now open 
 to him for he meant to stand well with the Duchesse ; he 
 had four supporters in the inmost circle of society in Paris. 
 Even now it was clear to him that, once involved in this in- 
 tricate social machinery, he must attach himself to a spoke of 
 the wheel that was to turn and raise his fortunes ; he would 
 not examine himself too curiously as to the methods, but he 
 was certain of the end, and conscious of the power to gain 
 and keep his hold. 
 
 " If Mme. de Nucingen takes an interest in me, I will teach 
 her how to manage her husband. That husband of hers is a 
 great speculator ; he might 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, in- 
 deed, he was not sufficient of a diplomatist to sum up a situa- 
 tion, to see its possibilities at a glance, and calculate the 
 chances in his favor. These were nothing but hazy ideas that 
 floated over his mental horizon ; they were less cynical than 
 Vautrin's notions ; but if they had been tried in the crucible
 
 138 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 of conscience, no very pure result would have issued from 
 the test. It is by a succession of such like transactions that 
 men sink at last to the level of the relaxed morality of this 
 epoch, when there have never been so few of those who square 
 their courses with their theories, so few of those noble charac- 
 ters who do not yield to temptation, for whom the slightest 
 deviation from the line of rectitude is a crime. To these mag- 
 nificent types of uncompromising right we owe two master- 
 pieces the Alceste of Moliere, and, in our own day, the 
 characters of Jeanie Deans and her father in Sir Walter Scott's 
 novel. Perhaps a work which should chronicle the opposite 
 course, which should trace out all the devious courses through 
 which a man of the world, a man of ambitions, drags his con- 
 science, just steering clear of crime that he may gain his end 
 and yet save appearances, such a chronicle would be no less 
 edifying and no less dramatic. 
 
 Rastignac went home. He was fascinated by Mme. de 
 Nucingen ; he seemed to see her before him, slender and 
 graceful as a swallow. He recalled the intoxicating sweetness 
 of her eyes, her fair hair, the delicate silken tissue of the skin, 
 beneath which it almost seemed to him that he could see the 
 blood coursing ; the tones of her voice still exerted a spell 
 over him ; he had forgotten nothing ; his walk perhaps heated 
 his imagination by sending a glow of warmth through his 
 veins. He knocked 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 his bed, 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 contrast between the den in which the father lived and 
 the costume of the daughter whom he had just beheld. The
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 139 
 
 window was curtainless, the walls were damp, in places the 
 varnished wall-paper had come away and gave glimpses of the 
 grimy yellow plaster beneath. The wretched bed on which 
 the old man lay boasted but one thin blanket, and a wadded 
 quilt made out of large pieces of Mme. Vauquer's old dresses. 
 The floor was damp and gritty. Opposite the window stood 
 a chest of drawers made of rosewood, one of the old-fashioned 
 kind with a curving front and brass handles, shaped like rings 
 of twisted vine stems covered with flowers and leaves. On a 
 venerable piece of furniture with a wooden shelf stood an ewer 
 and basin and shaving apparatus. A pair of shoes stood in 
 one corner ; a night-table by the bed had neither a door nor 
 marble slab. There was not a trace of a fire in the empty 
 grate ; the square walnut table with the cross-bar against 
 which Father Goriot had crushed and twisted his posset-dish 
 stood near the hearth. The old man's hat was lying on a 
 broken-down bureau. An arm-chair stuffed with straw and 
 a couple of chairs completed the list of ramshackle furniture. 
 From the tester of the bed, tied to the ceiling by a piece of 
 rag, hung a strip of some cheap material in large red and 
 black checks. No poor drudge in a garret could be worse 
 lodged than Father Goriot in Mme. Vauquer's lodging-house. 
 The mere sight of the room sent a chill through you and a 
 sense of oppression ; it was like the worst cell in a prison. 
 Luckily, Goriot could not see the effect that his surroundings 
 produced on Eugene as the latter deposited his candle on the 
 night-table. The old man turned round, keeping the bed- 
 clothes huddled up to his chin. 
 
 "Well," he said, "and which do you like the best, Mme. 
 de Restaud or Mme. de Nucingen ?" 
 
 " I like Mme. Delphine the best," said the law student, 
 " because she loves you the best." 
 
 At the words so heartily spoken the old man's hand slipped 
 out from under the bedclothes and eagerly grasped that of 
 Eugene.
 
 140 FATHER GQRIOT. 
 
 "Thank you, thank you," he said, gratefully. "Then 
 what did she say about me ? " 
 
 The student repeated the Baroness' remarks with some em- 
 bellishments of his own, the old man listening the while as 
 though he heard a voice from heaven. 
 
 " Dear child ! " he said. " Yes, yes, she is very fond of 
 me. But you must not believe all that she tells you about 
 Anastasie. The two sisters are 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 sees his children 
 as God sees all of us ; he looks into the very depths of their 
 hearts ; he knows their intentions ; and both of them are so 
 loving. Oh ! if I only had good sons-in-law, I should be too 
 happy, and I dare say there is no perfect happiness here below. 
 If I might live with them simply hear their voices, know 
 that they are there, see them 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 daughters have such fine houses, while you live in such a 
 den as this?" 
 
 "Dear me, why should I want anything better?" he re- 
 plied, with seeming carelessness. " I can't quite explain to 
 you how it is ; I am not used to stringing words together 
 properly, but it all lies there " he said, 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 soft carpets 
 under their feet, what does it matter what clothes I wear or 
 where I lie down of a night ? I shall never feel cold so long 
 as they are warm ; I shall never feel dull if they are laughing. 
 I have no troubles but theirs. When you, too, are a father, 
 and you hear your children's little voices, you will say to 
 yourself, 'That has all come from me.' You will feel that 
 those little ones are akin to every drop in your veins, that they 
 are the very flower of your life (and what else are they ? ) ;
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 141 
 
 you will cleave so closely to them that you seem to feel every 
 movement that they make. Everywhere I hear their voices 
 sounding in my ears. If they are sad, the look in their eyes 
 freezes my blood. Some day you will find out that there is 
 far more happiness in another's happiness than in your own. 
 It is something that I cannot explain, something within that 
 sends a glow of warmth all through you. In short, I live my 
 life three times over. Shall I tell you something funny? 
 Well, then, since I have been a father, I have come to under- 
 stand God. He is everywhere in the world, because the 
 whole world comes from Him. And it is just the same with 
 my children, monsieur. Only, I love my daughters better 
 than God loves the world, for the world is not so beautiful as 
 God Himself is, but my children are more beautiful than I 
 am. Their lives are so bound up with mine that I felt some- 
 how that you would see them this evening ! Great heaven ! 
 If any man would 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. de Marsay is a curj I know all 
 about him from her maid. A longing to wring his neck comes 
 over me now and then. He does not love her ! does not love 
 a pearl of a woman, with a voice like a nightingale and 
 shaped like a model. Where can her eyes have been when 
 she married that great lump of an Alsatian ? They ought 
 both of them to have married 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 up as it did now with the passionate fervor of a 
 father's love. It is worthy of remark that strong feeling has 
 a very subtle and pervasive power ; the roughest nature, in the 
 endeavor to express a deep and sincere affection, communi- 
 cates to others the influence that has put resonance into the 
 voice, and eloquence into every gesture, wrought a change in 
 the very features of the speaker ; for under the inspiration of 
 passion the stupidest human being attains to the highest
 
 142 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 eloquence of ideas, if not of language, and seems to move in 
 some sphere of light. In the old man's tones and gesture 
 there was something just then 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 she is pretty sure to break with de Marsay before 
 long. That sprig of fashion has left her for the Princesse 
 Galathionne. For my own part, I fell in love with Mme. 
 Delphine this evening." 
 
 "Stuff! " said Father Goriot. 
 
 " I did, indeed ; and she did not regard me with aversion. 
 For a whole hour we talked of love, and I am to go to call on 
 her on Saturday, the day after to-morrow. ' ' 
 
 " Oh ! how I should love you, if she should like you. You 
 are kind-hearted ; you would never make her miserable. If 
 you were to forsake her, I would cut your throat at once. A 
 woman does not love twice, you see ! Good heavens ! what 
 nonsense I am talking, M. Eugene ! It is cold ; you ought 
 not to stay here. Man Dieu / so you have heard her speak ? 
 What message did she give you for me ? " 
 
 " None at all," said Eugene to himself; aloud he answered, 
 " She told me to tell you that your daughter sends you a good 
 kiss." 
 
 " Good-night, neighbor ! Sleep well, and pleasant dreams 
 to you ! I have mine already made for me by that message 
 from her. May God grant you all 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 a heart of stone. His daughter no more 
 thought of him than of the Grand Turk." 
 
 Ever after this conference Goriot looked upon his neighbor 
 as a friend, a confidant such as he had never hoped to find ;
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 143 
 
 and there was established between the two the only relation- 
 ship that could attach this old man to another man. The 
 passions never miscalculate. Father Goriot felt that this 
 friendship brought him closer to his daughter Delphine ; he 
 thought that he should find a warmer welcome for himself 
 if the Baroness should care for Eugene. Moreover, he had 
 confided one of his troubles to the younger man. Mme. 
 de Nucingen, for whose happiness he prayed a thousand times 
 daily, had never known the joys of love. Eugene was cer- 
 tainly (to make use of his own expression) one of the nicest 
 young men that he had ever seen, and some prophetic, 
 instinct seemed to tell him that Eugene was to give her the 
 happiness which had not been hers. These were the begin- 
 nings of a friendship that grew up between the old man and 
 his neighbor ; but for this friendship the catastrophe of the 
 drama must have remained a mystery. 
 
 The affection with which Father Goriot regarded Eugene, 
 by whom he seated himself at breakfast, the change in 
 Goriot's face, which, as a rule, looked as expressionless as a 
 plaster cast, and a few words that passed between the two, 
 surprised the other lodgers. Vautrin, who saw Eugene for 
 the first time since their interview, seemed as if he would 
 fain read the student's very soul. During the night Eugene 
 had had some time in which to scan the vast field that lay 
 before him ; and now, as he remembered yesterday's proposal, 
 the thought of Mile. Taillefer's dowry came, of course, to his 
 mind, and he could not help thinking of Victorine as the 
 most exemplary youth may think of an heiress. It chanced 
 that their eyes met. The poor girl did not fail to see that 
 Eugene looked very handsome in his new clothes. So much 
 was said in the glance thus exchanged, that Eugene could 
 not doubt but that he was associated in her mind with the 
 vague hopes that lie dormant in a girl's heart and gather round 
 the first attractive new-comer. " Eight hundred thousand 
 francs ! " a voice cried in his ears, but suddenly he took
 
 144 FATHER GO RIOT 
 
 refuge in the memories of yesterday evening, thinking that his 
 extemporized passion for Mme. de Nucingen was a talisman 
 that would preserve him from this temptation. 
 
 " They gave Rossini's * Barber of Seville ' at the Italiens 
 yesterday evening," he remarked. "I never heard such de- 
 licious music. Good gracious ! how lucky people are to have 
 a box at the Italiens ! " 
 
 Father Goriot drank in every word that Eugene let fall, 
 and watched him as a dog watches his master's slightest move- 
 ment. 
 
 "You men are like fight ing-cocks," said Mme. Vauquer; 
 "you do what you like." 
 
 " How did you get back? " inquired Vautrin. 
 
 "I walked," answered Eugene. 
 
 " For my own part," remarked the tempter, " I do not care 
 about doing things by halves. If I want to enjoy myself that 
 way, I should prefer to 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 wel- 
 come you with open arms, I am sure ; she would want to ask 
 you for all sorts of little details about me. I have found out 
 that she would do anything in the world to be known by my 
 cousin Mme. de Beauseant ; don't forget to tell her 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 a moment longer than was necessary in that 
 odious house. He wasted his time that day; he had fallen a 
 victim to that fever of the brain that accompanies the too 
 vivid hopes of youth. Vautrin's arguments had set him 
 meditating on social life, and he was deep in these reflections 
 when he happened on his friend Bianchon in the Jardin du 
 Luxembourg.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 145 
 
 " What makes you look so solemn ? " said the medical stu- 
 dent, putting an arm 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 read Rousseau ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Do you remember that he asks the reader somewhere what 
 he would do if he could make a fortune by killing an old 
 mandarin somewhere in China by 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 do it, and had only to give a nod. Would you 
 doit?" 
 
 "Is he well stricken in years, this mandarin of yours? 
 Pshaw ! after all, 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 well enough to lose your soul in hell for her, and 
 that she wanted money, lots of money for dresses and a car- 
 riage, 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 two sisters as beautiful and innocent as angels, and I 
 want them to be happy. How am I to find two hundred 
 thousand francs a piece for them in the next five years ? Now 
 and then in life, you see, you must play for heavy stakes, and 
 it is no use wasting your luck on low play." 
 10
 
 146 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 " But you are only stating the problem that lies before 
 every one at the outset of his life, and you want to cut the 
 Gordian knot with a sword. 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 the little lot I mean 
 to make for myself somewhere in the country, when I mean 
 to step into my father's shoes and plod along. A man's 
 affections are just as fully satisfied by the smallest circle as 
 they can be by a vast circumference. Napoleon himself could 
 only dine once, and he could not have more mistresses than a 
 house-student at the Capucins. Happiness, old man, depends 
 on what lies between the sole of your foot and the crown of 
 your head ; and whether it costs a million or a hundred louis, 
 the actual amount of pleasure that you receive rests entirely 
 with you, and is just exactly the same in any case. I am for 
 letting that Chinaman live." 
 
 " Thank you, Bianchon ; you have done me good. We 
 will always be friends. ' ' 
 
 "I say," remarked the medical student, as they came to 
 the end of a broad walk in the Jardin des Plantes, " I saw 
 the Michonneau and Poiret a few minutes ago on a bench 
 chatting with a gentleman whom I used to see in last year's 
 troubles hanging about the Chamber of Deputies ; he seems 
 to me, in fact, to be a detective dressed up like a decent 
 retired tradesman. Let us keep an eye on that couple ; I will 
 tell you why some time. Good -by; it is nearly four o'clock, 
 and I must be in to answer to my name." 
 
 When Eugene reached the lodging-house, he found Father 
 Goriot waiting for him. 
 
 " Here ! " cried the old man, " here is a letter from her. 
 Pretty handwriting, 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
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 147 
 
 pleasure of accepting a seat in my box. La Fodor and Pelle- 
 grini 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. DEN." 
 
 "Let me see it," said Father Goriot, when Eugene had 
 read the letter. "You are going, aren't you?" he added, 
 when he had smelt the writing-paper. " How nice it smells ! 
 Her fingers have touched it, that is certain." 
 
 " A woman does not fling herself at a man's head in this 
 way," the student 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 of vanity that possessed 
 some women in those days ; how should he imagine that to 
 open a door in the Faubourg Saint-Germain a banker's wife 
 would go to almost any length. For the coterie of the 
 Faubourg Saint-Germain was a charmed circle, and the women 
 who moved in it were at that time the queens of society ; and 
 among the greatest of these Dames du Petit- Chateau, as they 
 were called, were Mme. de Beauseant and her friends the 
 Duchesse de Langeais and the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse. 
 Rastignac was alone in his ignorance of the frantic efforts 
 made by women who lived in the Chausee-d'Antin to enter 
 this seventh heaven and shine among the brightest constella- 
 tions of their sex. But his cautious disposition stood him in 
 good stead, and kept his judgment cool, and the not alto- 
 gether enviable power of imposing instead of accepting 
 conditions.
 
 148 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 11 Yes, I am going," he replied. 
 
 So it was curiosity that drew him to Mme. de Nucingen ; 
 while, if she had treated him disdainfully, passion, perhaps, 
 might have brought him to her feet. Still he waited almost 
 impatiently for to-morrow, and the hour when he could go to 
 her. There is almost as much charm for a young man in a 
 first flirtation as there is in first love, The certainty of suc- 
 cess is a source of happiness to which men do not confess, 
 and all the charm of certain women lies in this. The desire 
 of conquest springs no less from the easiness than from the 
 difficulty of triumph, and every passion is excited or sustained 
 by one or other of these two motives which divide the empire 
 of love. Perhaps this division is one result of the great 
 question of temperaments ; which, after all, dominates social 
 life. The melancholic temperament may stand in need of 
 the tonic of coquetry, while those of nervous or sanguine 
 complexion withdraw if they meet with a too stubborn resist- 
 ance. In other words, the lymphatic temperament is essen- 
 tially despondent and the rhapsodic is bilious. 
 
 Eugene lingered over his toilet with an enjoyment of all 
 its little details that is grateful to a young man's self-love, 
 though he will not own to it for fear of being laughed at. 
 He thought, as he arranged his hair, that a pretty woman's 
 glances would wander through the dark curls. He indulged 
 in childish tricks like any young girl dressing for a dance, and 
 gazed complacently at his graceful figure while he smoothed 
 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 
 were sitting down to dinner, and took with good-humor the 
 boisterous applause excited by his elegant appearance. The 
 amazement with which any attention to dress is regarded in a 
 lodging-house is a very characteristic trait. No one can put 
 on a new coat but every one else must say his say about it.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 149 
 
 " Clk ! elk! elk f " cried Bianchon, making the sound 
 with his tongue against 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 Mile. Michon- 
 neau. 
 
 " Cock-a-doodle-doo? " cried the artist. 
 
 " My compliments to my lady, your wife," from the em- 
 ploye at the Museum. 
 
 " Your wife ; have you a wife ? " interposed the redoubtable 
 Poiret. 
 
 "Yes, in compartments, water-tight and floats, guaranteed 
 fast color, all prices from twenty-five to forty sous, neat check 
 patterns in the latest fashion and best taste, will wash, half- 
 linen, half-cotton, half-wool ; a certain cure for toothache 
 and other complaints under the patronage of the Royal Col- 
 lege of Physicians ! children like it ! a remedy for headache, 
 indigestion, and all other diseases affecting the throat, eyes, 
 and ears ! " cried Vautrin, with the comical imitation of the 
 volubility of a quack at a fair. " And how much shall we 
 say for this marvel, gentlemen ? Twopence ? No. Nothing 
 of the sort. All that is left in stock after supplying the Great 
 Mogul. All the crowned heads of Europe, including the 
 Gr-r-r-rand Duke of Baden, have been anxious to get a sight 
 of it. Walk up ! walk up ! gentlemen ! Pay at the desk as 
 you go in ! Strike up the music there ! Brooum, la, la, trinn ! 
 la, la, bourn ! bourn ! 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 ; " I should never feel dull with him in 
 the house." 
 
 This burlesque of Vautrin's was the signal for an outburst 
 of merriment, and under cover of jokes and laughter Eugene
 
 150 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 caught a glance from Mile. Taillefer ; she had leaned over to 
 say a few words in Mme. 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 at Eugene with something like envy in his eyes. 
 
 Rastignac reached the house in the Rue Saint-Lazare, one 
 of those many-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 with stucco, the landings of marble 
 mosaic. Mme. de Nucingen was sitting in a little drawing- 
 room ; the room was painted in the Italian fashion, and dec- 
 orated like a restaurant. The Baroness seemed depressed. 
 The effort 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 little flutter of excitement at his coming, and 
 he found her dispirited and sad. The disappointment piqued 
 his vanity. 
 
 "My claim to your confidence is very small, madame," 
 he said, after rallying her on her abstracted mood; "but if 
 I am in the way, please tell 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 to be 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 with this secret. I 
 wonder what it is." 
 
 "Perhaps. Yet, no," she went on; "it is a domestic 
 quarrel, which ought to be buried in the depths of the heart.
 
 'AM I TO YOUR TASTE?'
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 151 
 
 I am very unhappy ; did I not tell you so the day before 
 yesterday? Golden chains are the heaviest of all fetters." 
 
 When a woman tells a young man that she is very unhappy, 
 and when the young man is clever, and well-dressed, and has 
 fifteen hundred francs lying idle in his pocket, he is sure to 
 think as Eugene said, and he becomes 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 
 head mournfully. "We will dine together tete-a-tete, and 
 afterwards we will go to hear the most exquisite music. Am 
 I to your taste?" she went on, rising and displaying her 
 gown of white cashmere, covered with Persian designs in the 
 most superb taste. 
 
 "I wish that you were altogether mine," said Eugene; 
 "you are charming." 
 
 "You would have a forlorn piece of property," she said, 
 smiling bitterly. " There is nothing about me that betrays 
 my wretchedness ; and yet, in spite of appearances, I am in 
 despair. I cannot sleep ; my troubles have broken my night's 
 rest ; I shall grow ugly." 
 
 "Oh ! that is impossible," cried the law student ; "but I 
 am curious to know 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 as yet is only the conven- 
 tional gallantry that men use to masquerade in ; and, if you 
 really loved me, you would be driven to despair. I must keep 
 silent, you see. Let us talk of something else for pity's 
 sake," she added. " Let me show you my rooms." 
 
 "No; let us stay here," answered Eugene; he sat down 
 on the sofa before the fire, and boldly took Mme. de Nucin- 
 gen's hand in his. She surrendered it to him ; he even felt 
 the pressure of her fingers in one of the spasmodic clutches 
 that betray terrible agitation.
 
 152 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 "Listen," said Rastignac; "if you are in trouble, you 
 ought to tell me about 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 an end 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 agony of 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 the banker's carriage beside Mme. de Nucingen 
 that he must surely be dreaming. 
 
 "To the Palais-Royal," she said to the coachman ; " stop 
 near the TheS,tre-Francais. " 
 
 She seemed to be too troubled and excited to answer the 
 innumerable questions that Eugene put to her. He was at 
 a loss what to think of her 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 a glance 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 of the uneasiness that he felt. 
 
 " You will not think ill of me, will you, whatever I may 
 ask of you ? " 
 
 "No."
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 153 
 
 " Are you ready to do my bidding ? ' ' 
 
 "Blindly." 
 
 " Have you ever been to a gaming-house ? " she asked in a 
 tremulous voice. 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " Ah ! now I can breathe. You will have luck. Here is 
 my purse," she said. "Take it ! there are a hundred francs 
 in it, all that such a fortunate woman as I can call her own. 
 Go up into one of the gaming-houses I do not know where 
 they are, but there are some near the Palais- Royal. Try your 
 luck with the hundred francs at a game they call roulette ; 
 lose it all, or bring me back six thousand francs. I will tell 
 you about rny troubles when you come back." 
 
 " Devil take me, I'm sure, if I have a glimmer of a notion 
 of what I am about, but I will obey you," he added, with 
 inward exultation, as he thought, "She has gone too far to 
 draw back she can refuse me nothing now ! " 
 
 Eugene took the dainty little purse, inquired the way of 
 a second-hand clothes-dealer, and hurried to number 9, which 
 happened to be the nearest gaming-house. He mounted the 
 staircase, surrendered his hat, and asked the way to the 
 roulette-table, whither the attendant took him, not a little 
 to the astonishment of the regular comers. All eyes were 
 fixed on Eugene as he asked, without bashfulness, where he 
 was to deposit his stakes. 
 
 " If you put a louis on one only of those thirty-six 
 numbers, and it turns 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 had won. 
 
 "Take your money off, sir," said the old white-haired 
 gentleman ; " you don't often win twice running by that 
 system of playing."
 
 154 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 Eugene took the rake that the old man handed to him, 
 and drew in his three thousand six hundred francs, and, still 
 perfectly ignorant of what he was about, staked again on the 
 red. The bystanders watched him enviously as they saw him 
 continue to play. The disc turned, and again he won ; the 
 banker threw him three thousand six hundred francs once 
 more. 
 
 " You have seven thousand two hundred francs of your 
 own," the old gentleman said in his ear. " Take my advice 
 and go away with your winnings ; red has turned up eight 
 times already. If you are charitable, you will show your 
 gratitude for sound counsel by giving a trifle to an old prefect 
 of Napoleon's who is down on his luck and without the means 
 to stake anew. ' ' 
 
 Rastignac's head was swimming ; he saw ten of his louis 
 pass into the white-haired man's possession, and went down- 
 stairs with his seven thousand francs; he was still ignorant of 
 the game, and stupefied by his luck. 
 
 " So that is over; and now where will you take me? " he 
 asked, as soon as the door was closed, and he showed the 
 seven thousand francs to Mme. de Nucingen. 
 
 Delphine flung her arms about him, but there was no pas- 
 sion in that wild 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 I want, or I seem as if I had everything. 
 Very well, you must know that M. de Nucingen does not 
 allow me the control of a single penny ; he pays all the bills 
 for the house expenses ; he pays for my carriages and opera 
 box ; he does not give me enough to pay for my dress, and 
 he reduces me to poverty in secret on purpose. I am too 
 proud to beg from him. I should be the vilest of women if I 
 could take his money at the price at which he offers it. Do
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 155 
 
 you ask how I, with seven hundred thousand francs of ray own, 
 could let myself be robbed ? It is because I was proud, and 
 scorned to speak. We are so young, so artless when our 
 married life begins ! I never could bring myself to ask my 
 husband for money ; 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 gave me, then I ran into 
 debt. Marriage for me is a hideous farce ; I cannot talk 
 about it ; let it suffice to say that Nucingen and I have sepa- 
 rate rooms, and that I would fling myself out of the window 
 sooner than consent to any other manner of life. I suffered 
 agonies when I had to confess 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 a fortune 
 of my own. Nucingen flew into a rage ; he said that I should 
 be the ruin of him, and used frightful language ; I wished 
 myself a hundred 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 the future must not exceed a certain fixed sum, 
 and I gave way for the sake of peace. And then," she went 
 on, " I wanted to gratify the self-love of some one whom you 
 know. He may have deceived me, but I should do him the 
 justice to say that there was nothing petty in his character. 
 But, after all, he threw me over disgracefully. If, at a 
 woman's utmost need, somebody heaps gold upon her, he ought 
 never to forsake her ; that love should last for ever ! But 
 you, at one-and-twenty, you, the soul of honor, with the un- 
 sullied conscience of youth, will ask me how a woman can 
 bring herself to accept money in such a way. Man Dieu ! is 
 it not natural to share everything with the one to whom we 
 owe our happiness? When all has been given, why should 
 we pause and hesitate over a part? Money is as nothing 
 between us until the moment when the sentiment that bound 
 us together ceases to exist. Were we not bound to each other
 
 156 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 for life ? Who that believes in love foresees such an end of 
 love ? You swear to love us eternally ; how, then, can our 
 interests be separate? 
 
 " You do not know how I suffered to-day when Nucingen 
 refused to give me six thousand francs ; he spends as much 
 as that every month on his mistress, an opera dancer ! I 
 thought of killing myself. The wildest thoughts came into 
 my head. There have been moments in my life when I have 
 envied my servants, and would have changed places with my 
 maid. It was madness to think of going to our father, An- 
 astasie and I have bled him dry ; our poor father would have 
 sold himself if he could have raised six thousand francs that 
 way. I should have driven him frantic to no purpose. You 
 have saved me from shame and death ; I was beside myself 
 with anguish. Ah ! monsieur, I owed you this explanation 
 after my mad ravings. When you left me just now, as soon 
 as you were out of sight, 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 apparent luxury, and in their souls 
 are tormented by anxiety. I know of poor creatures even 
 more miserable than I ; there are women who are driven to 
 ask their tradespeople to make out false bills, women who 
 rob their husbands. Some men believe that an India shawl 
 worth a .hundred louis only cost five hundred francs, others 
 that a shawl costing five hundred francs is worth a hundred 
 louis. There are women, too, with narrow incomes, who 
 scrape and save and starve their children to pay for a dress. 
 I am innocent of these base meannesses. But this is the last 
 extremity of my torture. Some women will sell themselves 
 to their husbands, and so obtain their way, but I, at any rate, 
 am free. If I chose, Nucingen would cover me with gold, 
 but I would rather weep on the breast of a man whom I can 
 respect. Ah ! to-night, M. de Marsay will no 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
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 157 
 
 hands; Eugene drew them away and looked at her; she 
 seemed to him sublime at that moment. 
 
 "It is hideous, is it not," she cried, " to speak in a breath 
 of money and 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 the constitution of society had thrown Eugene's 
 thoughts into confusion; he uttered soothing and consoling 
 words, and wondered at the beautiful woman before him, and 
 at the artless imprudence of her cry of pain. 
 
 "You will not remember this against me? "she asked; 
 "promise me that you will not." 
 
 "Ah! madame, I am incapable of doing so," he said. 
 She took his hand and held it to her heart, a movement full 
 of grace that expressed her deep gratitude. 
 
 " I am free and happy once more, thanks to you," she said. 
 "Oh ! I have felt lately as if I were in the grasp of an iron 
 hand. But after this I mean to live simply and to spend 
 nothing. You will think me just as pretty, will you not, 
 my friend ? Keep this," she went on, as she took only six of 
 the bank-notes. " 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 Baron- 
 ess said, " I am bound to look on you as an accomplice or as 
 an enemy," he took the money. 
 
 " It shall be a last stake in reserve," he said, "in case of 
 misfortune." 
 
 "That was what I was dreading to hear," she cried, turn- 
 ing pale. "Oh, if you would that I should be anything to 
 you, swear to me that you will never re-enter a gaming-house. 
 Great heaven ! that I should corrupt you ! I should die of 
 sorrow! " 
 
 They had reached the Rue Saint-Lazare by this time. The 
 contrast between the ostentation of wealth in the house and
 
 158 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 the wretched condition of its mistress dazed the student ; and 
 Vautrin's cynical words began to ring in his ears. 
 
 "Seat yourself there," said the Baroness, pointing to a low 
 chair beside 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 have been well brought up. That is the Beau- 
 s6ant through and through," she went on, smiling at him. 
 
 "She is charming," thought Eugene, more and more in 
 love. He looked round him at the room ; there was an osten- 
 tatious character about the luxury, a meretricious taste in the 
 splendor. 
 
 " Do you like it ? " she asked, as she rang for her maid. 
 
 " Therese, take this to M. de Marsay, and give it into his 
 hands yourself. If he is not at home, bring the letter back 
 to me." 
 
 Therese went, but not before she had given Eugene a spite- 
 ful glance. 
 
 Dinner was announced. Rastignac gave his arm to Mme. 
 de Nucingen, she led the way into a pretty dining-room, and 
 again he saw the luxury of the table which he had admired in 
 his cousin's house. 
 
 " Come and dine with me on opera evenings, and we will 
 go to the Italiens afterwards," she said. 
 
 " I should soon grow used to the pleasant life if it could 
 last, but I am a poor student, and I have my way to make." 
 
 "Oh! you will succeed," she said, laughing. "You will 
 see. All that you wish will come to pass, /did not expect 
 to be so happy." 
 
 It is the wont of women to prove the impossible by the 
 possible, and to annihilate facts by presentiments. When 
 Mme. de Nucingen and Rastignac took their places in her 
 box at the Bouffons, her face wore a look of happiness that
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 159 
 
 made her so lovely that every one indulged in those small 
 slanders against which women are defenseless ; for the scandal 
 that is uttered lightly is often seriously believed. Those who 
 know Paris believe nothing that is said, and say nothing of 
 what is done there. 
 
 Eugene took the Baroness' hand in his, and by some light 
 pressure of the fingers, or a closer grasp of the hand, they 
 found a language in which to express the sensations which the 
 music gave them. It was an evening of intoxicating delight 
 for both ; and when it ended, and they went out together, 
 Mme. de Nucingen insisted on taking Eugene with her as far 
 as the Pont Neuf, he disputing with her the whole of the way 
 for a single kiss after all those that she had showered upon 
 him so passionately at the Palais-Royal ; Eugene reproached 
 her with inconsistency. 
 
 "That was gratitude," she said, " for devotion that I did 
 not dare to hope 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 a lover with ecstasy, she gave him her hand to kiss, 
 and he took it with a 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 an adventure which would probably give him his 
 desire, for in the end one of the prettiest and best-dressed 
 women in Paris would be his ; but, as a set-off, he saw his 
 hopes of fortune brought to nothing ; and, as soon as he real- 
 ized this fact, the vague thoughts of yesterday evening began 
 to take a more decided shape in his mind. A check is sure 
 to reveal to us the strength of our hopes. The more Eugene 
 learned of the pleasures of life in Paris, the more impatient 
 he felt of poverty and obscurity. He crumpled the bank-note 
 in his pocket, and found any quantity of plausible excuses for 
 appropriating it.
 
 160 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 He reached the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve at last, and 
 from the stairhead he saw a light in Goriot's room ; the old 
 man had lighted a candle, and set the door ajar, lest the 
 student should pass him by, and go to his room without " tell- 
 ing him all about his daughter," to use his own expression. 
 Eugene, accordingly, told him everything that transpired and 
 without reserve. 
 
 " Then they think that I am ruined ! " cried Father Goriot, 
 in an agony of jealousy and desperation. " Why, I have still 
 thirteen hundred livres a year ! Man Dieu / Poor little girl ! 
 why did she not come to me ? I would have sold my rentes ; 
 she should have had some of the principal, and I would have 
 bought a life-annuity with the rest. My good neighbor, why 
 did you not come to tell me of her difficulty ? How had you 
 the heart to go and risk her poor little hundred francs at play ? 
 This is heart-breaking work. You see what it is to have sons- 
 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 tears have fallen there my darling Delphine, who 
 never used to cry when she was 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 to have the use of 
 her property. To-morrow morning I will go and see Derville ; 
 he is an attorney. I will demand that her money should be 
 invested in her own name. I know the law. I am an old 
 wolf; I will show my teeth." 
 
 "Here, father; this is a bank-note for a thousand francs 
 that she wanted me to keep out of our winnings. Keep them 
 for her, in the pocket of the waistcoat." 
 
 Goriot looked hard at Eugene, reached out and took the 
 law-student's hand, and Eugene felt a tear fall on it. 
 
 " You will succeed," the old man said. " God is just, you 
 see. I know an honest man when I see him, and I can tell
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 161 
 
 you, there are not many men like you. I am to have another 
 dear child in you, am I ? There, go to sleep ; you can sleep, 
 you are not yet a father. She was crying ! and I have to be 
 told about it ! and I was quietly eating my dinner, like an 
 idiot, all the time I, who would sell my soul to save one 
 tear to either of them." 
 
 "An honest man ! " said Eugdne 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 obey the voice of conscience." Perhaps 
 none but believers in God do good in secret ; and Eugene 
 believed in a God. 
 
 The next day Rastignac went at the appointed time to 
 Mme. de Beauseant, who took him with her to the Duchesse 
 de Carigliano's ball. The Duchesse received Eugene most 
 graciously. Mme. de Nucingen was there. Delphine's dress 
 seemed to suggest that she wished for the admiration of others, 
 so that she might shine the more in Eugene's eyes ; she was 
 eagerly expecting a glance from him, hiding, as she thought, 
 this eagerness from all beholders. This moment is full of 
 charm for the one who can guess all that passes in a woman's 
 mind. Who has not refrained from giving his opinion, to 
 prolong her suspense, concealing his pleasure from a desire to 
 tantalize, seeking a confession of love in her uneasiness, 
 enjoying the fears that he can dissipate by a smile? In the 
 course of the evening the law student suddenly comprehended 
 his position ; he saw that, as the cousin of Mme. de Beauseant, 
 he was a personage in this world. He was already credited 
 with the conquest of Mme. de Nucingen, and for this reason 
 was a conspicuous figure ; he caught the envious glances of 
 other young men, and experienced the earliest pleasures of 
 coxcombry. People wondered at his luck, and scraps of these 
 conversations came to his ears as he went from room to room ; 
 all the women prophesied his success ; and Delphine, in her 
 dread of losing him, promised that this evening she would not 
 11
 
 162 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 refuse the kiss that all his entreaties could scarcely win 
 yesterday. 
 
 Rastignac received several invitations. His cousin pre- 
 sented him to other women who were present ; women who 
 could claim to be of the highest fashion ; whose houses were 
 looked upon as pleasant ; and this was the loftiest and most 
 fashionable society in Paris into which he was 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 
 woman looks back on her first ball and the memories of her 
 girlish triumphs. 
 
 The next morning at breakfast, he related the story of his 
 success for the benefit of Father Goriot and the lodgers. 
 Vautrin began to smile in a diabolical fashion. 
 
 "And do you suppose," cried that cold-blooded logician, 
 "that a young man of fashion can live here in the Rue 
 Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve, in the Maison Vauquer an exceed- 
 ingly respectable boarding-house in every way, I grant you, 
 but an establishment that, none the less, falls short of being 
 fashionable? The house is comfortable, it is lordly in its 
 abundance ; it is proud to be the temporary abode of a Ras- 
 tignac ; but, after all, it is in the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve, 
 and luxury would be out of place here, where we only aim at 
 the purely patriarchalorama. If you mean to cut a figure in 
 Paris, my young friend," Vautrin continued, with half-paternal 
 jocularity, "you must have three horses, a tilbury for the 
 mornings, and a closed carriage for the evenings ; you should 
 spend altogether about nine thousand francs on your stables. 
 You would show yourself unworthy of your destiny if you 
 spent no more than three thousand francs with your tailor, six 
 hundred in perfumery, a hundred crowns to your shoemaker, 
 and a hundred more to your hatter. As for your laundress, 
 there goes another thousand francs ; a young man of fashion 
 must of necessity make a great point of his linen ; if your 
 linen comes up to the required standard, people often do not
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 163 
 
 look any farther. Love and the church demand a fair altar- 
 cloth. That is fourteen thousand francs. I am saying nothing 
 of losses at play, bets, and presents; it is impossible to allow 
 less than two thousand francs for pocket money. I have led 
 that sort of life, and I know all about these expenses. Add 
 the cost of necessaries next ; three hundred louis for proven- 
 der, a thousand francs for a place to roost in. Well, my boy, 
 for all these little wants of ours we had need to have twenty- 
 five thousand francs every year in our purse, or we shall find 
 ourselves in the kennel, and people laughing at us, and our 
 career is cut short, good-by to success, and good-by to your 
 mistress. I am forgetting your valet and your groom ! Is 
 Christophe going to carry your billets-doux for you ? And do 
 you mean to employ the stationery you use at present ? Sui- 
 cidal policy! Hearken to the wisdom of your elders ! " he 
 went on, his bass voice growing louder at each syllable. 
 "Either take up your quarters in a garret, live virtuously, and 
 wed your work, or set about the thing in a different way." 
 
 Vautrin winked and leered in the direction of Mile. Tail- 
 lefer to enforce his remarks by a look which recalled the late 
 tempting proposals by which he had sought to corrupt the 
 student's mind. 
 
 Several days went by, and Rastignac lived in a whirl of 
 gaiety. He dined almost every day with Mme. de Nucingen, 
 and went wherever she went, only returning to the Rue Neuve- 
 Sainte-Genevieve in the small hours. He rose at mid-day, 
 and dressed to go into the Bois with Delphine if the day was 
 fine, squandering in this way time that was worth far more 
 than he knew. He turned as eagerly to learn the lessons of 
 luxury, and was as quick to feel its fascination as the flowers 
 of the date palm to receive the fertilizing pollen. He played 
 high, lost and won large sums of money, and at last became 
 accustomed to the extravagant life that young men lead in 
 Paris. He sent fifteen hundred francs out of his first winnings 
 to his mother and sisters, sending handsome presents as well
 
 164 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 as the money, He had given out that he meant to leave the 
 Maison Vauquer ; but January came and went, and he was 
 still there, still unprepared to go. 
 
 One rule holds good of most young men whether rich or 
 poor. They never have money for the necessaries of life, 
 but they always have money to spare for their caprices an 
 anomaly which finds its explanation in their youth and in 
 the almost frantic eagerness with which youth grasps at 
 pleasure. They are reckless with anything obtained on credit, 
 while everything for which they must pay in ready money is 
 made to last as long as possible ; if they cannot have all 
 that they want, they make up for it, it would seem, by 
 squandering what they have. To state the matter simply 
 a student is far more careful of his hat than of his coat, 
 because the latter being a comparatively costly article of dress, 
 it is in the nature of things that a tailor should be a creditor ; 
 but it is otherwise with the hatter ; the sums of money spent 
 with him are so modest that he is the most independent and 
 unmanageable of his tribe, and it is almost impossible to bring 
 him to terms. The young man in the balcony of a theatre 
 who displays a gorgeous waistcoat for the benefit of the fair 
 owners of opera glasses has very probably no socks in his 
 wardrobe, for the hosier is another of the genus of weevils 
 that nibble at the purse. This was Rastignac's condition. 
 His purse was always empty for Mme. Vauquer, always full at 
 the demand of vanity ; there was a periodical ebb and flow in 
 his fortunes, which was seldom favorable to the payment of 
 just debts. If he was to leave that unsavory and mean abode, 
 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 he must take in his quality of dandy, a course 
 that remained impossible. Rastignac, out of his winnings at 
 cards, could pay his jeweler exorbitant prices for gold 
 watches and chains, and, then to meet the exigencies of play,
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 165 
 
 would carry them to the pawnbroker, that discreet and forbid- 
 ding-looking friend of youth ; but when it was a question of 
 paying for board or lodging, or for the necessary implements 
 for the cultivation of his Elysian fields, his imagination and 
 pluck alike deserted him. There was no inspiration to be 
 found in vulgar necessity, in debts contracted for past require- 
 ments. Like most of those who trust to their luck, he put 
 off till the last moment the payment of debts that among the 
 bourgeoisie are regarded as sacred engagements, acting on 
 the plan of Mirabeau, who never settled his baker's bill until 
 it underwent a formidable transformation into a bill of 
 exchange. 
 
 It was about this time, when Rastignac was down on his 
 luck and fell into debt, that it became clear to the law-student's 
 mind that he must have some more certain source of income 
 if he meant to live as he had been doing. But while he 
 groaned over the thorny problems of his precarious situation, 
 he felt that he could not bring himself to renounce the pleas- 
 ures of this extravagant life, and decided that he must con- 
 tinue it at all costs. His dreams of obtaining a fortune 
 appeared more and more chimerical, and the real obstacles 
 grew more formidable. His initiation into the secrets of the 
 Nucingen household had revealed to him that if he were to 
 attempt to use this love affair as a means of mending his 
 fortunes, he must swallow down all sense of decency, and 
 renounce all the generous ideas which redeem the sins of 
 youth. He had chosen this life of apparent splendor, but 
 secretly gnawed by the canker-worm of remorse, a life of 
 fleeting pleasure dearly 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 that stained his garments. 
 
 "So we have killed our mandarin, have we?" said Bian- 
 chon one day as they left the dinner table. 
 
 " Not yet," he answered, " but he is at the last gasp."
 
 10(5 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 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 in a long while, and had looked thoughtful during the 
 meal. He had taken his place beside Mile. Taillefer, and 
 stayed through the dessert, giving his neighbor an expressive 
 glance from time to time. A few of the boarders discussed 
 the walnuts at the table, and others walked about the room, 
 still taking part in a conversation which had begun among 
 them. People usually went when they chose ; the amount of 
 time that they lingered being determined by the amount of 
 interest that the conversation possessed for them, or by the 
 difficulty of the process of digestion. In winter-time the 
 room was seldom empty before eight o'clock, when the four 
 women had it all to themselves, and made up for the silence 
 previously imposed upon them by the preponderating mascu- 
 line element. This evening Vautrin had noticed Eugene's 
 abstractedness, and stayed in the room, though he had seemed 
 to be in a hurry to finish his dinner and go. All through the 
 talk afterwards he had kept out of sight of the law student, 
 who quite believed that Vautrin had left the room. He now 
 took up his position cunningly in the sitting-room instead of 
 going when the last boarders went. He had fathomed the 
 young man's thoughts, and felt that a crisis was at hand. 
 Rastignac was, in fact, in a dilemma, which many another 
 young man under similar circumstances must have most 
 readily understood. 
 
 Mme. de Nucingen might love him, or might merely be 
 playing with him, but in either case Rastignac had been made 
 to experience all the alternations of hope and despair of 
 genuine passion, and all the diplomatic arts of a Parisienne 
 had been employed on him. After compromising herself by 
 continually appearing in public with Mme. de Beaus6ant's 
 cousin she still hesitated, and would not give him the lover's 
 privileges which he appeared to enjoy. For a whole month 
 she had so wrought on his senses, that at last she had made an
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 167 
 
 impression on his heart. If in the earliest days the student 
 had fancied himself to be the master, Mme. de Nucingen had 
 since become the stronger of the two, for she had skillfully 
 roused and played upon every instinct, good or 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 
 she playing a part, for women are in a manner true to them- 
 selves even through their grossest deceit, because their actions 
 are prompted by a natural impulse. It may have been that 
 Delphine, who had allowed this young man to gain such an 
 ascendency over her, conscious that she had been too demon- 
 strative, was obeying a sentiment of dignity, and either re- 
 pented of her concessions, or it pleased her to suspend them. 
 It is so natural to a Parisienne, even when passion has almost 
 mastered her, to hesitate and pause before taking the plunge ; 
 to probe the heart of him to whom she intrusts her future. 
 And once already Mme. de Nucingen' s hopes had been be- 
 trayed, and her loyalty to a selfish young lover had been 
 despised. She had good reason to be suspicious. Or it may 
 have been that something in Eugene's manner (for his rapid 
 success was making a coxcomb of him) had warned her that 
 the grotesque nature of their position had lowered her some- 
 what in his eyes. She doubtless wished to assert her dignity ; 
 he was young, and she would be great in his eyes ; for the 
 lover who had forsaken her had so uuderestimated her that she 
 was determined that Eugene should not think her an easy con- 
 quest, and for this very reason he knew that de Marsay had 
 been his predecessor. Finally, after the degradation of sub- 
 mission to the pleasure of a heartless young rake, it was so 
 sweet for her to wander in the flower-strewn realms of love, 
 that it was not wonderful that she should wish to dwell a while 
 on the prospect, to tremble with the vibrations of love, to feel 
 the freshness of the breath of its dawn. The true lover was 
 suffering for the sins of the false. This inconsistency is 
 unfortunately only to be expected so long as men do not know
 
 163 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 how many flowers are mown down in a young woman's soul 
 by the first stroke of treachery. 
 
 Whatever her reasons may have been, Delphine was play- 
 ing with Rastignac, and took pleasure in playing with him, 
 doubtless because she felt sure of his love, and confident that 
 she could put an end to the torture as soon as it was her royal 
 pleasure to do so. Eugene's self-love was engaged ; he could 
 not suffer his first passage of love to end in a defeat, and per- 
 sisted in his suit, like a sportsman determined to bring down 
 at least one partridge to celebrate his first Feast of Saint 
 Hubert. The pressure of anxiety, his wounded self-love, his 
 despair, real or feigned, drew him nearer and nearer to this 
 woman. All Paris credited him with this conquest, and yet 
 he was conscious 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's coquetry is sometimes more 
 delightful than the pleasure of secure possession of her love, 
 and was possessed with helpless rage. If, at this time, while she 
 denied herself to love, Eugene gathered the springtide spoils 
 of his life, the fruit, somewhat sharp and green, and dearly 
 bought, was no less delicious to the taste. There were 
 moments when he had not a sou in his pockets, and at such 
 times he thought in spite of his conscience of Vautrin's offer 
 and the possibility of fortune by a marriage with Mile. 
 Taillefer. Poverty would clamor so loudly that more than 
 once he was on the point of yielding to the cunning tempta- 
 tions of the terrible sphinx, whose glance had so often exerted 
 a strange spell over him. His dilemma, in short, at this time 
 proved most perplexing, and he felt greatly depressed in spirit. 
 
 Poiret and Mile. Michonneau went up to their rooms; and 
 Rastignac, thinking that he was alone with the women in the 
 dining-room, sat between Mme. Vauquer and Mrne. Couture, 
 who was nodding over the woolen cuffs that she was knitting 
 by the stove, and looked at Mile. Taillefer so tenderly that 
 she lowered her eyes.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 169 
 
 "Can you be in trouble, M. Eugene ?" Victorine said 
 after a pause. 
 
 "Who has not his troubles ? " answered Rastignac. " If we 
 men were sure of being loved, sure of a devotion which 
 would be our reward for the sacrifices which we are always 
 ready to make, then perhaps we should have no troubles." 
 
 For answer Mile. Taillefer only gave him a glance, but it 
 was impossible 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 
 of light from her soul had lighted up her face. Eugene was 
 dismayed at the sudden explosion of feeling caused by his 
 words. 
 
 "Ah! but suppose," he said, "that you should be rich 
 and happy to-morrow, suppose that a vast fortune dropped 
 down from the clouds for you, would you still love the man 
 whom you loved in your days of poverty?" 
 
 A charming movement of the head was her only answer to 
 the question propounded. 
 
 "Even if he were very poor?" 
 
 Again the same mute answer. 
 
 "What nonsense you are talking, you two?" exclaimed 
 Mine. Vauqtier. 
 
 "Never mind," answered Eugene; "we understand each 
 other." 
 
 " So there is to be an engagement of marriage between 
 M. le Chevalier Eugene de Rastignac and Mile. Victorine 
 Taillefer, is there!" The words were uttered in Vautrin's 
 deep voice, and Vautrin appeared at the door as he spoke. 
 
 "Oh! how you startled me!" Mme. Couture and Mme. 
 Vauquer exclaimed together. 
 
 "I might make a worse choice," said Rastignac, laughing. 
 Vautrin's voice had thrown him into the most painful agita- 
 tion that he had yet known.
 
 170 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 "No bad jokes, gentlemen ! " said Mme. Couture. "My 
 dear, let us go upstairs." 
 
 Mme. Vauquer followed the two ladies, meaning to pass 
 the evening in their 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 the coolness that nothing seemed to shake. "But 
 stay a moment. I have as much delicacy as anybody else. 
 Don't make up your mind on the spur of the moment; you 
 are a little thrown off your balance just now. You are in 
 debt, and I want you to come over to my way of thinking 
 after sober reflection, and not in a fit of passion or desperation. 
 Perhaps you want a thousand crowns. There, you can have 
 them if you like." 
 
 The tempter took out a pocket-book, and drew thence three 
 bank-notes, which he fluttered before the student's eyes. 
 Eugene was in a most painful dilemma. He had debts, debts 
 of honor. He owed a hundred louis to the Marquis d'Ajuda 
 and to the Comte de Trailles ; he had not the money, and for 
 this reason had not dared to go to Mme. de Restaud's house, 
 where he was expected that evening. It was one of those 
 informal gatherings where tea and little cakes are handed 
 round, but where it is possible to lose six thousand francs at 
 whist in the course of a night. 
 
 "You must see," said Eugene, struggling to hide a con- 
 vulsive tremor, " that after what has passed between us, I 
 cannot possibly lay myself under any obligation to you." 
 
 " Quite right ; I should be sorry to hear you speak other- 
 wise," answered the 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 
 shoulders can do exactly as he likes amid deafening applause
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 171 
 
 from the fools in the gallery. Ah ! a few days yet, and you 
 will be with us ; and if you would only be tutored by me, I 
 would put you in the way of achieving all your ambitions. 
 You should no sooner form a wish than it should be realized 
 to the full ; you should have all your desires honors, wealth, 
 or women. Civilization should flow with milk and honey for 
 you. You should be our pet and favorite, our Benjamin. We 
 would all work ourselves to death for you with pleasure; every 
 obstacle should be removed from your path. You have a few 
 prejudices left ; so you think that I am a scoundrel, do you? 
 Well, M. de Turenne, quite as honorable a man as you take 
 yourself to be, had some little private transactions with bandits, 
 and did not feel that his honor was tarnished. You would 
 rather not lay under any obligation to me, eh? You need not 
 draw back on that account," Vautrin went on, and a smile 
 stole over his lips. " Take those bits of paper and write 
 across this," he added, producing a piece of stamped paper, 
 "Accepted the sum of three thousand five hundred francs due this 
 day twelvemonth, and fill in the date. The rate of interest is 
 stiff enough to silence any scruples on your part ; it gives you 
 the right to call me a Jew. You can call quits with me on 
 the score of gratitude. I am quite willing that you should 
 despise me to-day, because I am sure that you will have a 
 kindlier feeling towards me later on. You will find out 
 fathomless depths in my nature, enormous and concentrated 
 forces that weaklings 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 of strength, my boy." 
 
 " What manner of man are you ? " cried Eugene. " Were 
 you created to torment me? " 
 
 " Why, no ; I am a good-natured fellow, who is willing to do 
 a dirty piece of work to put you high and dry above the mire 
 for the rest of your days. Do you ask the reason of this 
 devotion ? All right ; I will tell you that some of these days. 
 A word or two in your ear will explain it. I have begun by
 
 172 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 shocking you, by showing you the way to ring the changes, 
 and giving you a sight of the mechanism of the social machine; 
 but your first fright will go off like a conscript's terror on the 
 battlefield. You will grow used to regarding men as common 
 soldiers who have made up their minds to lose their lives for 
 some self-constituted king. Times have altered strangely. 
 Once you could say to a bravo, ' Here are a hundred crowns ; 
 go and kill Monsieur So-and-so for me,' and you could sup 
 quietly after turning some one off into the dark for the least 
 thing in the world. But nowadays I propose to put you in the 
 way of a handsome fortune : you have only to nod your head, 
 it won't compromise you in any way, and you hesitate. 'Tis 
 an effeminate age." 
 
 Eugene accepted the draft, and received the bank-notes in 
 exchange for it. 
 
 "Well, well. Come, now, let us talk rationally," Vautrin 
 continued. " I mean to leave this country in a few months' 
 time for America, and set about planting tobacco. I will 
 send you the cigars of friendship. If I make money at it, I 
 will help you in your career. If I have no children which 
 will probably be the case, for I have no anxiety to raise slips 
 of myself here you shall inherit my fortune. That is what 
 you may call standing by a man ; but I myself have a liking 
 for you. I have a mania, too, for devoting myself to some 
 one else. I have done it before. You see, my boy, I live in 
 a loftier sphere than other men do ; I look on all actions as 
 means to an end, and the end is all that I look at. What is 
 a man's life to me? Not that, 1 ' he said, and he snapped his 
 thumb-nail against his teeth. "A man, in short, is every- 
 thing to me, or just nothing at all. Less than nothing if his 
 name happens to be Poiret ; you can crush him like a bug, he 
 is flat and he is offensive. But a man is a god when he is like 
 you ; he is not a machine covered with a skin, but a theatre 
 in which the greatest sentiments are displayed great thoughts 
 and feelings and for these, and these only, I live. A senti-
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 173 
 
 ment what is that but the whole world in a thought? Look 
 at Father Goriot. For him, his two girls are the whole uni- 
 verse ; they are the clue by which he finds his way through 
 creation. Well, for my own part, and 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 know " Venice Preserved " by heart. Have you met many 
 men plucky enough when a comrade says, ' Let us bury a dead 
 body ! ' to go and do it without a word or plaguing him by 
 taking a high moral tone ? I have done it myself. I should 
 not talk like this to just everybody, but you are not like an 
 ordinary man ; one can talk to you, you can understand 
 things. You will not dabble about much longer among the 
 tadpoles in these swamps. Well, then, it is all settled. You 
 will marry. Both of us carry our point. Mine is made of 
 iron, 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 the secret springs of the faint resistance still 
 made by the younger man ; the struggles in which men seek 
 to preserve their self-respect by justifying their blameworthy 
 actions to themselves. 
 
 " He may do as he likes ; I shall not marry Mile. Taillefer, 
 that is certain," said Eugene to himself. 
 
 He regarded this man with abhorrence, and yet the very 
 cynicism of Vautrin's ideas, and the audacious way in which 
 he used other men for his own ends, raised him in the student's 
 eyes ; but the thought of a compact threw Eugene into a fever 
 of apprehension, and not until he had recovered somewhat 
 did he dress, call for a cab, and go to Mme. de Restaud's. 
 
 For some days the Countess had paid more and more atten- 
 tion to a young man whose every step seemed a triumphal 
 progress in the great world ; it seemed to her that he might 
 be a formidable power before long. He paid Messieurs de 
 Trailles and d'Ajuda, played at whist for part of the evening,
 
 174 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 and made good his losses. Most men who have their way to 
 make are more or less fatalists, and Eugene was superstitious ; 
 he chose to consider that his luck was heaven's reward for 
 his perseverance in the right way. As soon as possible on 
 the following morning he asked Vautrin whether the bill that 
 he had given was still in the other's possession ; and on re- 
 ceiving 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 act- 
 ing like a child. You are making mountains out of molehills 
 at the outset." 
 
 Two days later, Poiret and Mile. Michonneau were sitting 
 together on a bench in the sun. They had chosen a little 
 frequented alley in the Jardin des Plantes, and a gentleman 
 was chatting with them, the same person, as a matter of fact, 
 about whom the medical student had, not without good reason, 
 his own suspicions. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," this M. Gondureau was saying, "I do 
 not see any cause for your scruples. His excellency mon- 
 seigneur the minister of police " 
 
 "Ah!" echoed Poiret, "His excellency monseigneur the 
 minister of police ! " 
 
 "Yes, his excellency is taking a personal interest in the 
 matter," said Gondureau. 
 
 Who would think it probable that Poiret, a retired clerk, 
 doubtless possessed of some notions of civic virtue, though 
 there might be nothing else in his head who would think it 
 likely that such a man would continue to lend an ear to this 
 supposed independent gentleman of the Rue de BufTbn, when 
 the latter dropped the mask of a decent citizen by that word 
 "police," and gave a glimpse of the features of a detective 
 from the Rue de Jerusalem ? And yet nothing was more 
 natural. Perhaps the following remarks from the hitherto
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 175 
 
 unpublished records made by certain observers will throw a 
 light on the particular species to which Poiret belonged in the 
 great family of fools. There is a race of quill-drivers, con- 
 fined in the columns of the budget between the first degree of 
 latitude (a kind of administrative Greenland where the salaries 
 begin at twelve hundred francs) to the third degree, a more 
 temperate zone, where incomes grow from three to six thou- 
 sand francs, a climate where the bonus flourishes like a half- 
 hardy annual in spite of some difficulties of culture. A char- 
 acteristic trait that best reveals the feeble narrow-mindedness 
 of these inhabitants of petty officialdom is a kind of involun- 
 tary, mechanical, and instinctive reverence for the Grand 
 Lama of every ministry, known to the rank and file only by 
 his signature (an illegible scrawl) and by his title " His ex- 
 cellency monseigneur le minister," five words which produce 
 as much effect as the /'/ Bondo Cant of the Calif e de Bagdad, 
 five words which in the eyes of this low order of intelligence 
 represent a sacred power from which there is no appeal. The 
 minister is administratively infallible for the clerks in the 
 employ of the government, as the pope is infallible for good 
 Catholics. Something of his peculiar radiance invests every- 
 thing he does or says, or that is said or done in his name ; 
 the robe of office covers everything and legalizes everything 
 done by his orders ; does not his very title his excellency 
 vouch for the purity of his intentions and the righteousness of 
 his will, and serve as a sort of passport and introduction to ideas 
 that otherwise would not be entertained for a moment ? Pro- 
 nounce the words "his excellency," and these poor folk will 
 forthwith proceed to do what they would not do for their own 
 interests. Passive obedience is as well known in a govern- 
 ment department as in the army itself; and the administrative 
 system silences consciences, annihilates the individual, and 
 ends (give it time enough) by fashioning a man into a vice or 
 a thumbscrew, and he becomes part of the machinery of gov- 
 ernment. Wherefore, M. Gondureau, who seemed to know
 
 176 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 something of human nature, recognized Poiret at once as one 
 of these dupes of officialdom, and brought out for his benefit, 
 at the proper moment, the deus ex machina, the magical words 
 " his excellency," so as to dazzle Poiret just as he himself un- 
 masked his batteries, for he took Poiret and the Michonneau 
 for the male and female of the same species. 
 
 "If his excellency himself, his excellency the minister 
 
 Ah ! that is quite another thing," said Poiret. 
 
 " You seem to be guided by this gentleman's opinion, and 
 you hear what he says," said the man of independent means, 
 addressing Mile. Michonneau. " Very well, his excellency is 
 at this moment absolutely certain that the so-called Vautrin, 
 who lodges at the Maison Vauquer, is a convict who escaped 
 from penal servitude at Toulon, where he is known by the 
 nickname Trompe-la-Mort." 
 
 " Trompe-la-Mort ? " said Poiret. "Dear me, he is very 
 lucky if he deserves that nickname." 
 
 "Well, yes," said the detective. " They call him so be- 
 cause he has been so lucky as not to lose his life in the very 
 risky businesses that he has carried through. He is a danger- 
 ous man, you see ! He has qualities that are out of the com- 
 mon ; the thing he is wanted for, in fact, was a matter which 
 gained him no end of credit with his own set " 
 
 ''Then he is a man of honor? " asked Poiret. 
 
 " Yes, according to his notions. He agreed to take another 
 man's crime upon himself a forgery committed by a very 
 handsome young fellow that he 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 been unexceptionable." 
 
 " But if his excellency the minister of police is certain 
 that M. Vautrin is this Trompe-la-Mort, why should he want 
 me?" asked Mile. Michonneau. 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Poiret, " if the minister, as you have 
 been so obliging as to tell us, really knows for a certainty 
 that "
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 177 
 
 " Certainty is not the word ; he only suspects. You will 
 soon understand how things are. Jacques Collin, nicknamed 
 Trompe-la-Mort, is in the confidence of every convict in the 
 three prisons ; he is their man of business and their banker. 
 He makes a very good thing out of managing their affairsi 
 which want a man of mark to see about them." 
 
 "Ha! ha! do you see the pun, mademoiselle?" asked 
 Poiret. " This gentleman calls him a man of mark because 
 he is a marked man branded, you know." 
 
 "This so-called Vautrin," said the detective, "receives 
 the money belonging to my lords the convicts, invests it for 
 them, and holds it at the disposal of those who escape, or 
 hands it over to their families if they leave a will, or to their 
 mistresses when they draw upon him for their benefit." 
 
 "Their mistresses! You mean their wives," remarked 
 Poiret. 
 
 " No, sir. A convict's wife is usually an illegitimate con- 
 nection. We call 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 excel- 
 lency, you, who seem to have philanthropic ideas, ought 
 really to enlighten him as to their immoral conduct they are 
 setting a shocking example to the rest of society." 
 
 " But the government does not hold them up as models of 
 all the virtues, my dear sir." 
 
 " Of course not, sir ; but still " 
 
 "Just let the gentleman say what he has to say, dearie," 
 said Mile. Michonneau. 
 
 "You see how it is, mademoiselle," Gondureau continued. 
 " The government may have the strongest reasons for getting 
 this illicit hoard into its hands ; it mounts up to something 
 considerable, by all that we can make out. Trompe-la-Mort 
 not only holds very large sums for his friends the convicts, 
 12
 
 178 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 but he has other amounts which are paid over to him by the 
 Society of the Ten Thousand " 
 
 "Ten Thousand Thieves!" cried Poiret at this, in the 
 utmost alarm. 
 
 " No. The Society of the Ten Thousand is not an associa- 
 tion of petty offenders, but of people who set about their 
 work on a large scale they won't touch a matter unless there 
 are ten thousand francs in it. It is composed of the most 
 distinguished of the men who are sent straight to the assize 
 courts when they come up for trial. They know the Code 
 too well to risk their necks when they are nabbed. Collin is 
 their confidential agent and legal adviser. By means of the 
 large sums of money at his disposal he has established a sort 
 of detective system of his own ; it is widespread, and mysteri- 
 ous in its workings. We have had spies all about him for a 
 twelvemonth, and yet we could not manage to fathom his 
 games. His capital and his cleverness are at the service of 
 vice and crime ; this money furnishes the necessary funds for 
 a regular army of blackguards in his pay who wage incessant 
 war against society. If we can catch Trompe-la-Mort, and 
 take possession of his funds, we should strike at the root of 
 this evil. So this job is a kind of government affair a state 
 secret and likely to redound to the honor of those who bring 
 the thing to a successful conclusion. You, sir, for instance, 
 might very well be taken into a government department 
 again ; they might make you secretary to a commissary of 
 police ; you could accept that post without prejudice to your 
 retiring pension." 
 
 Mile. Michonneau interposed at this point with, " What is 
 there to hinder Trompe-la-Mort from making off with the 
 money? " 
 
 " Oh ! " said the detective, " a man is told off to follow him 
 everywhere he goes, with orders to kill him if he were to rob 
 the convicts. Then it is not quite as easy to make off with a 
 lot of money as it is to run away with a young lady of family.
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 179 
 
 Besides, Collin is not the sort of fellow to play such a trick ; 
 he would be disgraced, according to his notions." 
 
 "You are quite right, sir," said Poiret, "utterly disgraced 
 he would be." 
 
 " But none of all this explains why you do not come and 
 take him without more ado," remarked Mile. 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 boy ought 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 an honest man ; 
 he turned up disguised as a decent Parisian citizen, and took 
 up his quarters in an unpretending lodging-house. He is 
 cunning, that he is ! You won't catch him napping. Then 
 M. Vautrin is a man of consequeuce, 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 of the real Vautrin, he would put every one's 
 back up among the business men in Paris, and public opinion 
 would be against him. M. le prefet de police is on slippery 
 ground ; he has enemies. They would take advantage of any 
 mistake. There would be a fine outcry and fuss made by the 
 Opposition, and he would be sent packing. We must set 
 about this just as we did about the Cogniard affair, the sham 
 Comte de Sainte-Helene ; if he had been the real Comte de 
 Sainte-Helene, we should have been in the wrong box. We 
 want to be quite sure what we are about." 
 
 " Yes, but what you want is a pretty woman," said Mile. 
 Michonneau briskly. 
 
 " Trompe-la-Mort would not let a woman come near him," 
 said the detective. " 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 to identify him for two thousand francs."
 
 180 FATHER CO RIOT. 
 
 " Nothing simpler," said the stranger. " I will send you a 
 little bottle containing a dose that will send a rush of blood 
 to the head ; it will do 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 is not dying. 
 As soon as you are alone, you give him a slap on the shoulder, 
 and, presto ! the letters will appear." 
 
 " Why, that is just nothing at all," said Poiret, very 
 complacently. 
 
 "Well, do you agree?" said Gondureau, addressing the 
 old maid. 
 
 " But, my dear sir, suppose there are no letters at all," said 
 Mile. Michonneau ; am I to have the two thousand francs all 
 the same? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " What will you give me, then? " 
 
 " Five hundred francs." 
 
 "It is quite a thing to do for so little ! It lies on your 
 conscience just the same, and I must quiet my conscience, 
 sir." 
 
 "I assure you," said Poiret, "that mademoiselle has a 
 great deal of conscience, and not only so, she is a very amiable 
 person, and very intelligent." 
 
 " Well, now," Mile. Michonneau went on, " make it three 
 thousand francs if he is Trompe-la-Mort, and nothing at all 
 if he is an ordinary man." 
 
 "Done!" said Gondureau, "but on condition that the 
 thing is settled to-morrow." 
 
 " Not quite so soon, my dear sir ; I must consult my con- 
 fessor first." 
 
 "You are a sly one," said the detective as he rose to his 
 feet. " Good-by till to-morrow, then. And if you should 
 want to see me in a hurry, go to the Petite Rue Sainte-Anne 
 at the bottom of the Cour de la Sainte-Chapelle. There is
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 181 
 
 only one door under the archway. Ask there for M. 
 Gondureau." 
 
 Bianchon, on his way back from Cuvier's lecture, overheard 
 the sufficiently striking nickname of Trompe-la-Mort, and 
 caught the celebrated chief detective's " Do ne / " 
 
 "Why didn't you close with him? It would be three 
 hundred francs a year," said Poiret to Mile. Michonneau. 
 
 " Why didn't I? "she asked. " Why, it wants thinking 
 over. Suppose that M. Vautrin is this Trompe-la-Mort, 
 perhaps we might do better for ourselves with him. Still, on 
 the other hand, if you ask him for money, it would put him 
 on his guard, and he is just the man to clear out without 
 paying, and that would be an abominable sell." 
 
 " And suppose you did warn him," Poiret went on, "didn't 
 that gentleman say that he was closely watched ? You would 
 spoil everything." 
 
 "Anyhow," thought Mile. Michonneau, "I can't abide 
 him. He says nothing but disagreeable things to me." 
 
 "But you can do better than that," Poiret resumed. "As 
 that gentleman said (and he seemed to me to be a very good 
 sort of man, besides being very well got up), it is an act of 
 obedience to the laws to rid society 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 us all ? The deuce ! 
 We should be guilty of manslaughter, and be the first to fall 
 victims into the bargain ! " 
 
 Mile. Michonneau' s musings did not permit her to listen 
 very closely to the remarks that fell one by one from Poiret's 
 lips like water dripping from a leaky tap. When once this 
 elderly babbler began to talk, he would go on like clockwork 
 unless Mile. Michonneau stopped him. He started on some 
 subject or other, and wandered on through parenthesis after 
 parenthesis till he came to regions as remote as possible from 
 his premises without coming to any conclusions by the way. 
 
 By the time they reached the Maison Vauquer he had tacked
 
 182 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 together a whole string of examples and quotations more or 
 less irrelevant to the subject in hand, which led him to give a 
 full account of his own deposition in the case of the Sieur 
 Ragoulleau versus Dame Morin, when he had been summoned 
 as a witness for the defense. 
 
 As they entered the dining-room, Eugene de Rastignac was 
 talking apart with Mile. Taillefer ; the conversation appeared 
 to be of such thrilling interest that the pair never noticed the 
 two older lodgers as they passed through the room. None of 
 this was thrown away on Mile. Michonneau. 
 
 " I knew how it would end," remarked that lady, address- 
 ing Poiret. " They have been making eyes at each other in 
 a heart-rending way for a week past." 
 
 " Yes," he answered. " So she was found guilty." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Mme. Morin." 
 
 "I am talking about Mile. Victorine," said Mile. Michon- 
 neau, as she entered Poiret's room with an absent air, "and 
 you answer, ' Mme. Morin.' Who may Mme. Morin be?" 
 
 "What can Mile. Victorine be guilty of?" demanded 
 Poiret. 
 
 " Guilty of falling in love with M. Eugene de Rastignac, 
 and going farther and farther without knowing exactly where 
 she is going, poor innocent ! " 
 
 That morning Mme. de Nucingen had driven Eugene to 
 despair. In his own mind he had completely surrendered 
 himself to Vautrin, and deliberately shut his eyes to the mo- 
 tive for the friendship which that extraordinary man professed 
 for him, nor would he look to the consequences of such an 
 alliance. Nothing short of a miracle could extricate him now 
 out of the gulf into which he had walked an hour ago, when 
 he exchanged vows in the softest whispers with Mile. Taillefer. 
 To Victorine it seemed as if she heard an angel's voice, that 
 heaven was opening above her; the Maison Vauquer took

 
 VAUTRIN CAME IN IN HIGH SPIRITS.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 183 
 
 strange and wonderful hues, like a stage fairy palace. She 
 loved and she was beloved ; at any rate, she believed that she 
 was loved ; and what woman would not likewise have believed 
 after seeing Rastignac's face and listening to the tones of his 
 voice during that hour snatched under the argus eyes of the 
 Maison Vauquer? He had trampled on his conscience; he 
 knew that he was doing wrong, and did it deliberately ; he 
 had said to himself that a woman's happiness should atone 
 for this venial sin. The energy of desperation had lent new 
 beauty to his face ; the lurid fire that burned in his heart 
 shone from his eyes. Luckily for him, the miracle took place. 
 Vautrin came in in high spirits, and at once read the hearts 
 of these two young creatures whom he had brought together 
 by the combinations of his infernal genius, but his deep 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 it was full of joy, and not of sorrow. Poor child ! 
 A pressure of the hand, the light touch of Rastignac's hair 
 against her cheek, a word whispered in her ear so closely that 
 she felt the student's warm breath on her, the pressure of a 
 trembling arm about her waist, a kiss upon her throat such 
 had been her betrothal. The near neighborhood of the stout 
 Sylvie, who might invade that glorified room at any moment, 
 only made these first tokens of love more ardent, more elo- 
 quent, more entrancing than the noblest deeds done for love's 
 sake in the most famous romances. This plain-song of love, 
 to use the pretty expression of our forefathers, seemed almost 
 criminal to the devout young girl who went to confession 
 every fortnight. In that one hour she had poured out more 
 of the treasures of her soul than she could give in later days 
 of wealth and happiness, when her whole self followed the 
 gift.
 
 184 FATHER GORIO!\ 
 
 "The thing is arranged," Vautrin said to Eugene, who 
 remained. " Our two dandies have fallen out. Everything 
 was done in proper form. It is a matter of opinion. Our 
 pigeon has insulted my hawk. They will meet to-morrow in 
 the redoubt at Clignancourt. By half-past eight in the morn- 
 ing Mile. Taillefer, calmly dipping her bread and butter in 
 her coffee-cup, will be sole heiress of her father's fortune and 
 affections. A funny way of putting it, isn't it? Taillefer's 
 youngster is an expert swordsman, and quite cocksure about 
 it, but he will be bled ; I have just invented a thrust for his 
 benefit, a way of raising your sword-point and driving it at 
 the forehead. I must show you that thrust ; it is an uncom- 
 monly handy thing to know." 
 
 Rastignac heard him in dazed bewilderment ; he could not 
 find a word in reply. Just then Goriot came in, and Bianchon 
 and a few of the boarders likewise appeared. 
 
 " That is just as I intended," Vautrin said. " You know 
 quite well what you are about. Good, my little eaglet ! You 
 are born to command, you are strong, you stand firm on your 
 feet, you are game ! I respect you." 
 
 He made as though he would take Eugene's hand, but Ras- 
 tignac hastily withdrew it, sank into a chair, and turned 
 ghastly pale ; it seemed to him that there was a sea of blood 
 before his eyes. 
 
 " Oh ! so we have still a few dubious tatters of the swad- 
 dling-clothes of virtue about us ! " murmured Vautrin. " But 
 Papa Doliban has three millions ; I know the amount of his 
 fortune. Once have her dowry in your hands, and your char- 
 acter will be as white as the bride's white dress, even in your 
 own eyes." 
 
 Rastignac hesitated no longer. He made up his mind that 
 he would go that evening to warn the Taillefers, father and 
 son. But just as Vautrin left him, Father Goriot came up 
 and said in his ear, "You look melancholy, my boy; I will 
 cheer you up. Come with me. ' '
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 185 
 
 The old vermicelli-dealer lighted his dip at one of the 
 lamps as he spoke. Eugene went with him, his curiosity had 
 been aroused. 
 
 "Let us go up to your room," the worthy soul remarked, 
 when he had asked Sylvie for the law-student's key. " This 
 morning," he resumed, "you thought that she did not care 
 about you, did you not, eh ? She would have nothing to say 
 to you, and you went away out of humor and out of heart. 
 Stuff and rubbish ! She wanted you to go because she was 
 expecting me / Now do you understand ? We were to com- 
 plete the arrangements for taking some chambers for you, a 
 jewel of a place, you are to move into it in three days' time. 
 Don't split upon me. She wants it to be a surprise ; but I 
 couldn't bear to keep the secret from you. You will be in 
 the Rue d'Artois, only a step or two from the Rue Saint- 
 Lazare, and you are to be housed like a prince ! Any one 
 might have thought we were furnishing the house for a bride. 
 Oh ! we have done 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 have thirty-six thousand francs a 
 year, the interest on her money, and I shall insist on having 
 her eight hundred thousand francs invested in sound securi- 
 ties, landed property that won't run away." 
 
 Eugene was dumb. He folded his arms and paced up and 
 down his cheerless, untidy room. Father Goriot waited till 
 the student's back was turned, and seized the opportunity 
 to go to the chimney-piece and set upon it a little red morocco 
 case with Rastignac's arms stamped in gold on the leather. 
 
 " My dear boy," said the kind soul, "I have been up to 
 the eyes in this business. You see, there was plenty of selfish- 
 ness on my part ; I have an interested motive in helping you 
 to change lodgings. You will not refuse me if I ask you 
 something; will you, eh?" 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " There is a room on the fifth floor, up above your rooms,
 
 186 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 that is to let 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 the way, but I shall be there, that is all. 
 You will come and talk to me about her every evening. It 
 will not put you about, will it ? I shall have gone to bed 
 before you come in, but I shall hear you come up, and 
 I shall say to myself, ' He has just seen my little Delphine. 
 He has been to a dance with her, and she is happy, thanks 
 to him.' If I were ill, it would do my heart good to 
 hear you moving about below, to know when you leave 
 the house and when you come in. It is only a step to 
 the Champs-Elysees, where they go every day, so I shall be 
 sure of seeing them, whereas now I am sometimes too late. 
 And then perhaps she may come to see you ! I shall hear 
 her, I shall see her in her soft quilted pelisse tripping about as 
 daintily as a kitten. In this one month she has become my 
 little girl again, so light-hearted and gay. Her soul is recov- 
 ering, and her happiness is owing to you. Oh ! I would do 
 impossibilities for you. Only just now she said to me, ' I am 
 very happy, papa ! ' When they say ' father ' stiffly, it sends 
 a chill through me; but when they call me 'papa,' it is as if 
 they were little girls again, and 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, it must be quite ten years since I walked side by 
 side with one of my girls. How pleasant it was to keep step 
 with her, to feel the touch of her gown, the warmth of her 
 arm ! Well, I took Delphine everywhere this morning ; 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 a service some of these days, and I shall be on the 
 spot to do it. Oh ! if only that great dolt of an Alsatian
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 187 
 
 would die, if his gout would have the sense to attack his 
 stomach, how happy my poor child would be ! You would be 
 my son-in-law; you would be her husband in the eyes of the 
 world. Bah ! she has known no happiness, that excuses every- 
 thing. Our Father in heaven is surely on the side of fathers 
 on earth who love their children. How fond of you she is ! " 
 he said, raising his head after a pause. "All the time we 
 were going about together she chatted away about you. 
 'He is 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 Rue d'Artois 
 and the Passage des Panoramas she poured her heart out into 
 mine. I did not feel old once during that delightful morn- 
 ing ; I felt as light as a feather. I told her how you had 
 given that bank-note to me ; it moved my darling to tears. 
 But what can this be on your chimney-piece ! " said Father 
 Goriot at last. Rastignac had showed no sign, and he was 
 dying of impatience. 
 
 Eugene stared at his neighbor in dumb and dazed bewilder- 
 ment. He thought of Vautrin, of that duel to be fought to- 
 morrow morning, and of this realization of his dearest hopes, 
 and the violent contrast between the two sets of ideas gave 
 him all the sensations of nightmare. He went to the chimney- 
 piece, saw the little square case, opened it, and found a watch 
 of Bre~guet's make wrapped in paper, on which 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 that had taken place between them. Eugene felt 
 touched. Inside the gold watch-case his arms had been 
 wrought in enamel. The chain, the key, the workmanship, 
 and design of the trinket were all such as he had imagined,
 
 188 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 for he had long coveted such a possession. Father Goriot 
 was radiant. Of course he had promised to tell his daughter 
 every little detail of the scene and of the effect produced 
 upon Eugene by her present ; he shared in the pleasure and 
 excitement of the young people, and seemed to be not the 
 least happy of the three. He loved Rastignac already for his 
 own as well as for his daughter's sake. 
 
 "You must go and see her; she is expecting you this 
 evening. That great lout of an Alsatian is going to have 
 supper with his opera-dancer. Aha ! he looked very foolish 
 when my attorney let him know where he was. He says he 
 idolizes my daughter, does he ? He had better let 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 
 would not be manslaughter to kill that animal ; he is a pig 
 with a calf s brains. 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 ! Not you ! Let me embrace you," and he flung his 
 arms round the student's neck. 
 
 " You will make her very happy ; promise me that you 
 will ! You will go to 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. de Nucingen. Ask him to make an appointment 
 with me some time this evening ; it is a matter of life and 
 death." 
 
 " Really, young man ! " cried Father Goriot, with a change 
 of countenance; "are you really paying court to his daugh- 
 ter, as those simpletons were saying down below ? Ton- 
 
 ntrre de Dieu ! you have no notion what a tap a la Goriot is
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 189 
 
 like, and if you are playing a double 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 the student. " I only knew it a moment ago." 
 
 " Oh ! what happiness ! " cried Goriot. 
 
 " But young Taillefer has been called out ; the duel comes 
 off to-morrow morning, and I have heard it said that he may 
 lose his life in it." 
 
 " But what business is it of yours ? " said Goriot. 
 
 " Why, I ought to tell him so, that he may prevent his son 
 from putting in an appearance " 
 
 Just at that moment Vautrin's voice broke in upon them ; 
 he was standing at the threshold of his door and singing 
 
 " Oh I Richard, oh my king ! 
 All the world abandons thee ! 
 Broum ! brouni ! 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 is waiting for you." 
 
 " Here," Vautrin called down to him, "come and take a 
 bottle of my Bordeaux." 
 
 "Do you think your watch is pretty?" asked Goriot. 
 " She has good taste, 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 
 during dinner ; but the other, so charming in Mme. Vauquer's 
 opinion, had never been so witty. His lively sallies and 
 sparkling talk put the whole table in good-humor. His 
 assurance and great coolness filled Eugene with the utmost 
 consternation.
 
 190 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 "Why, what has come to you to-day?" inquired Mme. 
 Vauquer. " You are as merry as a skylark." 
 
 " I am always in spirits after I have made a good bargain." 
 
 "Bargain?" asked Eugene. 
 
 " Well, yes, bargain. I have just delivered a lot of goods, 
 and I shall be paid a handsome commission on them. Mile. 
 Michonneau," he went on, seeing that the elderly spinster 
 was scrutinizing him intently, "have you any objection to 
 some feature in my face, that you are making those lynx-eyes 
 at me ? Just let me know, and I will have it changed to 
 
 oblige you We shall not fall out about it, Poiret, I 
 
 daresay? " he added, winking at the superannuated clerk. 
 
 "Bless my soul, you ought to stand as model for a bur- 
 lesque Hercules," said the young painter. 
 
 " I will, upon my word ! if Mile. Michonneau will consent 
 to sit as the Venus of Pere-Lachaise," replied Vautrin. 
 
 "There's Poiret," suggested Bianchon. 
 
 " Oh ! Poiret shall pose as Poiret. He can be a garden 
 god ! " cried Vautrin ; " his name means a pear " 
 
 " A sleepy pear ! " Bianchon put in. " You will come in 
 between the pear and the cheese." 
 
 "What stuff you are all talking!" said Mme. Vauquer; 
 " you would do better to treat us to your Bordeaux ; I see a 
 glimpse of a bottle there. It would keep us all in a good- 
 humor, and it is good for the stomach besides." 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Vautrin, "the lady president calls us 
 to order. Mme. Couture and Mile. Victorine will take your 
 jokes in good part, but respect the innocence of the aged 
 Goriot. I propose a glass or two of Bordeauxrama, rendered 
 twice illustrious by the name of Laffitte, no political allusions 
 intended. Come, you Turk ! " he added, looking at Chris- 
 tophe, who did not offer to stir. " Christophe ! Here ! 
 What, you don't answer to your own name? Bring us some 
 liquor, Turk! " 
 
 " Here it is, sir," said Christophe, holding out the bottle.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 191 
 
 Vautrin filled Eugene's glass and Goriot's likewise, then he 
 deliberately poured out a few drops into his own glass, and 
 sipped it while his two neighbors drank their wine. All at 
 once he made a grimace. 
 
 " Corked ! " he cried. "The devil ! You can drink the 
 rest of this, Christophe, and go and find another bottle; 
 take from the right-hand side, 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 a hundred chestnuts." 
 
 "Oh! oh! " 
 
 "Booououh! " 
 
 "Prrrr !" 
 
 These exclamations came from all parts of the table like 
 squibs from a set firework. 
 
 " Come, now, Mamma Vauquer, a couple of bottles of 
 champagne," called Vautrin. 
 
 " Quien ! just like you ! Why not ask for the whole house 
 at once ? A couple of bottles of champagne ; that means 
 twelve francs ! I shall never see the money back again, I 
 know ! But if M. Eugene has a mind to pay for it, I have 
 some currant cordial." 
 
 " That currant cordial of hers is as bad as a black draught," 
 muttered the medical student. 
 
 "Shut up, Bianchon," exclaimed Rastignac ; "the very 
 mention of black draught makes me feel Yes, cham- 
 pagne, by all means ; I will pay for it," he added. 
 
 " Sylvie," called Mme. Vauquer, "bring in some biscuits 
 and the little cakes." 
 
 "Those little cakes are moldy graybeards," said Vautrin. 
 " But trot out the biscuits." 
 
 The Bordeaux wine circulated ; the dinner table became a 
 livelier scene than ever, and the fun grew fast and furious. 
 Imitations of the cries of various animals mingled with the 
 loud laughter; the Mus6um official having taken it into his
 
 192 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 head to mimic a cat-call rather like the caterwauling of the 
 animal in question, eight voices simultaneously struck up with 
 the following variations : 
 
 "Scissors to grind ! " 
 
 " Chick-weed for singing bir-ds ! " 
 
 " Brandy-snaps, ladies ! " 
 
 " China to mend ! " 
 
 "Boat ahoy! " 
 
 " Sticks to beat your wives or your clothes ! " 
 
 "Old do' I" 
 
 " Cherries all ripe! " 
 
 But the palm was awarded to Bianchon for the nasal accent 
 with which he rendered the cry of " Umbrellas to me-end ! " 
 
 A few seconds later, and there was a head-splitting racket 
 in the room, a storm of tomfoolery, a sort of cats' concert, 
 with Vautrin as conductor of the orchestra, the latter keeping 
 an eye the while on Eugene and Father Goriot. The wine 
 seemed to have gone to their heads already. They leaned 
 back in their chairs, looking at the general confusion with an 
 air of gravity, and drank but little ; both of them were ab- 
 sorbed in the thought of what lay before them to do that 
 evening, and yet neither of them felt able to rise and go. 
 Vautrin gave a side glance at them from time to time, and 
 watched the change that came over their faces, choosing the 
 moment when their eyes drooped and seemed about to close 
 to bend over Rastignac and to say in his ear : 
 
 " My little lad, you are not quite shrewd enough to outwit 
 Papa Vautrin yet, 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 Providence can 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 
 and whisk away the crumbs ; and we are not going to spoil 
 the baking ? No, no, it is all as good as done ! We
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 193 
 
 may suffer from a few conscientious scruples, but they will be 
 digested along with the bread. While we are having our 
 forty winks, Colonel Count Franchessini will clear the way to 
 Michel Taillefer's inheritance with the point of his sword. 
 Victorine will come in for her brother's money, a snug fifteen 
 thousand francs a year. I have made inquiries already, and 
 I know that her late mother's property amounts to more than 
 three hundred thousand " 
 
 Eugene heard all this, and could not answer a word ; his 
 tongue seemed to be glued to the roof of his mouth, an irre- 
 sistible drowsiness was creeping over him. He still saw the 
 table and the faces round it, but it was through a bright mist. 
 Soon the noise began to subside, one by one the boarders 
 went. At last, when their numbers had so dwindled that the 
 party consisted of Mme. Vauquer, Mme. Couture, Mile. 
 Victorine, Vautrin, and Father Goriot, Rastignac watched as 
 though in a dream how Mme. Vauquer busied herself by col- 
 lecting the bottles, and drained the remainder of the wine 
 out of each to fill others. 
 
 "Oh! how uproarious they are! what a thing it is to be 
 young ! " said the widow. 
 
 These were the last words that Eugene heard and under- 
 stood. 
 
 " There is no one like M. Vautrin for a bit of fun like 
 this," said Sylvie. "There, just hark at Christophe, he is 
 snoring like a top." 
 
 "Good -by, mamma," said Vautrin; "I am going to a theatre 
 on the Boulevard to see M. Marty in 'Le Mont Sauvage,' a 
 
 fine play taken from ' Le Solitaire ' If you like, I will 
 
 take you and these two ladies " 
 
 " Thank you; I must decline," said Mme. Couture. 
 
 " What ! my good lady ! " cried Mme. Vauquer, " decline 
 
 to see a play founded on the ' Le Solitaire,' a work by Atala de 
 
 Chateaubriand. We were so fond of that book that we cried 
 
 over it like Magdalens under the line trees last summer, and 
 
 13
 
 194 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 then it is an improving work that might edify your young 
 lady." 
 
 "We are forbidden to go to the play," answered Victo- 
 rine. 
 
 "Just look, those two yonder have dropped off where they 
 sit," said Vautrin, shaking the heads of the two sleepers in a 
 comical way. 
 
 He altered the sleeping student's position, settled his head 
 more comfortably on the back of his chair, kissed him warmly 
 on the forehead, 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 duty as a meek and obedient wife," he whispered in her 
 ear. " The young fellow worships you, and you will be his 
 little wife there's your fortune for you. In short," he added 
 aloud, " they lived happily ever afterwards, were much looked 
 up to in all the countryside, and had a numerous family. 
 That is how all the romances end. Now, mamma," he went 
 on, as he turned to Mme. Vauquer and put his arm round her 
 waist, "put on your bonnet, your best flowered silk, and the 
 countess' scarf, while I go out to call a cab all my own- 
 self." 
 
 And he started out, singing as he went 
 
 " Oh ! sun ! divine sun ! 
 Ripening the pumpkins erery one" 
 
 " My goodness ! Well, I'm sure ! Mme. Couture, I could 
 live happily in a garret with a man like that ! There now," 
 she added, looking round for the old vermicelli-maker, "there 
 is that Father Goriot half-seas over. He never thought of 
 taking me anywhere, the old skinflint. But he will measure
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 195 
 
 his length somewhere. My word ! it is disgraceful to lose 
 his senses like that, at his age ! You will be telling me that 
 he couldn't lose what he hadn't got Sylvie ! just take him 
 up to his room ! " 
 
 Sylvie took him by the arm, supported him upstairs, and 
 flung him, just as he was, like a package, across the bed. 
 
 "Poor young fellow!" said Mme. Couture, putting back 
 Eugene's hair that had fallen over his eyes; he is like a young 
 girl, he does not know what dissipation is." 
 
 " Well, I can tell you this, I know," said Mme. Vauquer, 
 "I have taken lodgers these thirty years, and a good many 
 have passed through my hands, as the saying is, but I have 
 never seen a nicer nor a more aristocratic-looking young man 
 than M. Eugene. How handsome he looks sleeping ! Just 
 let his head rest on your shoulder, Mme. Couture. Pshaw ! 
 he falls over towards Mile. Victorine. There's a special 
 providence for young things. A little more, and he would 
 have broken his head against the knob of the chair. They'd 
 make a pretty pair, those two would I " 
 
 " Hush ! my good neighbor," cried Mme. Couture, " you 
 are saying such things " 
 
 "Pooh!" put in Mme. Vauquer, "he does not hear. 
 Here, Sylvie ! come and 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 your murderer. 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 her mistress as she spoke. 
 
 Mme. Couture and her ward were left in the dining-room,
 
 196 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 and Eugene slept on on Victorine's shoulder. The sound of 
 Christophe's snoring echoed through the silent house ; 
 Eugene's quiet breathing seemed all the quieter by force of 
 contrast, he was sleeping as peacefully as a child. Victorine 
 was very happy ; she was free to perform one of those acts of 
 charity which form an innocent outlet for all the overflowing 
 sentiments of a woman's nature ; he was so close to her that 
 she could feel the throbbing of his heart ; there was a look of 
 almost maternal protection and a conscious pride in Victorine's 
 face. Among the countless thoughts that crowded up in her 
 young innocent heart, there was 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 to mind some naive work of mediaeval art, 
 when the painter neglected the accessories, reserving all the 
 magic of his brush for the quiet, austere outlines and ivory 
 tints of the face, which seems to have caught something of 
 the golden glory of heaven. 
 
 "After all, he only took two glasses, mamma," said Vic- 
 torine, as she lovingly passed her fingers through Eugene's 
 hair. 
 
 " Indeed, if he had been a dissipated young man, child, 
 he would have carried his wine like the rest of them. His 
 drowsiness does him credit." 
 
 There was a sound of wheels outside in the street. 
 
 "There is M. Vautrin, mamma," said the girl. "Just 
 take M. Eugene. I would rather not have that man see me 
 like this ; there are some ways of looking at you that seem 
 to sully your soul and make you feel as though you had 
 nothing on." 
 
 " Oh, no, you are wrong ! " said Mme. Couture. " M. Vau- 
 trin is a worthy man ; he reminds me a little of my late
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 197 
 
 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, but looked for a while at the picture of the two 
 young faces the lamplight falling full upon them seemed to 
 caress them. 
 
 " Well," he remarked, folding his arms, " here is a picture ! 
 It would have suggested some pleasing pages to Bernardin de 
 Saint-Pierre (good soul), who wrote ' Paul et Virginie.' 
 Youth is very charming, Mme. Couture ! Sleep on, poor 
 boy," he added, looking at Eugene, " luck sometimes comes 
 while we are sleeping. There is something touching and 
 attractive to me about this young man, madame," he con- 
 tinued ; " I know that his nature is in harmony with his face. 
 Just look, the head of a cherub on an angel's shoulder ! He 
 deserves to be loved. If I were a woman I would die (no 
 not such a fool), I would live for him." He bent lower and 
 spoke in the widow's ear. "When I see those two together, 
 madame, I cannot help thinking that Providence meant them 
 for each other ; He works by secret ways, and tries the reins 
 and the heart," 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 to myself that it is quite impossible 
 that the future should separate you. 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, Mile. 
 Victorine ; I am well up in palmistry, and I have told fortunes 
 many a time. Come, now, don't be frightened. Ah ! what 
 do I see ? Upon my word, you will be one of the richest 
 heiresses in Paris before very long. You will heap riches on 
 the man who loves you. Your father will want you to go and 
 live with him. You will marry a young and handsome man 
 with a title, and he will idolize you." 
 
 The heavy footsteps of the coquettish widow, who was 
 coming down the stairs, interrupted Vautrin's fortune-telling.
 
 198 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 " Here is Mamma Vauquer, 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 arm round 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 up the 
 fragments with all the care of an antiquary." 
 
 " There is a man who can talk the language of French 
 gallantry!" said the widow, bending to speak in Mme. 
 Couture's ear. 
 
 " Good-by, little ones ! " said Vautrin, turning to Eugene 
 and Victorine. " Bless you both ! " and he laid a hand on 
 either head. " Take my word for it, young lady, an honest 
 man's prayers are worth something ; they should bring you 
 happiness, for God hears them." 
 
 "Good-by, dear," said Madame Vauquer to her lodger. 
 " Do you think that M. 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 
 elder lady ; "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 strew flowers on his grave with the greatest 
 pleasure, and that is the truth. Black-hearted, that he is! 
 The coward couldn't speak up for his own 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 
 she might come in for." 
 
 " It would be very hard if my good-fortune is to cost some
 
 FATHER GORI07. 199 
 
 one else his life," said Victorine. "If I cannot be happy 
 unless my brother is to be taken out of the world, I would 
 rather stay here all my life." 
 
 " Man Dieu .' it is just as that good M. Vautrin says, and 
 he is full of piety, you see," Mme. Couture remarked. " I 
 am very glad to find that he is not an unbeliever like the 
 rest of them that talk of the Almighty with less respect than 
 they do of the devil. Well, as he was saying, who can 
 know the ways by which it may please Providence to 
 lead us?" 
 
 With Sylvie's help the two women at last succeeded in 
 getting Eugene up to his room ; they laid him on the bed, 
 and the cook unfastened his clothes to make him more com- 
 fortable. 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 this 
 stolen pleasure could give her. Then she looked round the 
 room, and gathering up, as it were, into one single thought, 
 all the untold bliss of that day, she made a picture of her 
 memories, and dwelt upon it until she slept, the happiest 
 creature in Paris. 
 
 That evening's merrymaking, in the course of which Vau- 
 trin had given the drugged wine to Eugene and Father Goriot, 
 was his own ruin. Bianchon, flustered with wine, forgot to 
 open the subject of Trompe-la-Mort with Mile. Michonneau. 
 The mere mention of the name would have set Vautrin on 
 his guard ; for Vautrin, or, to give him his real name, Jacques 
 Collin, was in fact the notorious escaped convict. 
 
 But it was the joke about the Venus of Pere-Lachaise that 
 finally decided his fate. Mile. Michonneau had very nearly 
 made up her mind to warn the convict and to throw herself 
 on his generosity, with the idea of making a better bargain 
 for herself by helping him to escape that night ; but as it was, 
 she went out escorted by Poiret in search of the famous chief 
 of detectives in the Petite Rue Saint- Anne, still thinking
 
 200 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 that it was the district superintendent one Gondureau with 
 whom she had to do. The head of the department received 
 his visitors courteously. There was a little talk, and the details 
 were definitely arranged. Mile. Michonneau asked for the 
 draught that she was to administer in order to set about her 
 investigation. But the great man's evident satisfaction set 
 Mile. Michonneau thinking ; and she began to see that this 
 business involved something more than the mere capture of a 
 runaway convict. She racked her brains while he looked in 
 a drawer in his desk for the little phial, and it dawned upon 
 her that in consequence of the treacherous revelations made 
 by the prisoners the police were hoping to lay their hands 
 on a considerable sum of money. But on hinting her suspi- 
 cions to the old fox of the Petite Rue Saint- Anne, that officer 
 began to smile, and tried to put her off the scent. 
 
 "A delusion," he said. " Collin's sorbonne is the most 
 dangerous that has yet been found among the dangerous 
 classes. That is all, and the rascals are quite aware of it. 
 They rally round him ; he is the backbone of the federation, 
 its Bonaparte, in short ; he is very popular with them all. 
 The rogue will never leave his chump in the Place de Greve." 
 
 As Mile. Michonneau seemed mystified, Gondureau ex- 
 plained the two slang words for her benefit. Sorbonne and 
 chump are two forcible expressions borrowed from thieves' 
 Latin, thieves, of all people, being compelled to consider 
 the human head in its two aspects. A sorbonne is the head 
 of a living man, his faculty of thinking his council; a chump 
 is a contemptuous epithet that implies how little a human 
 head is worth after the axe has done its work. 
 
 "Collin is playing us off," he continued. "When we 
 come across a man like a bar of steel tempered in the English 
 fashion, there is always one resource left we can kill him if 
 he takes it into his head to make the least resistance. We are 
 reckoning on several methods of killing Collin to-morrow 
 morning. It saves a trial, and society is rid of him without
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 201 
 
 all the expense of guarding and feeding him. What with 
 getting up the case, summoning witnesses, paying their ex- 
 penses, and carrying out the sentence, it costs a lot to go 
 through all the proper formalities 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 sav- 
 ing in time as well. One good thrust of the bayonet into 
 Trompe-la-Mort's paunch will prevent scores of crimes, and 
 save fifty scoundrels from following his example ; they will 
 be very careful to keep themselves out of the police courts. 
 That is doing the work of the police thoroughly, and true 
 philanthropists will tell you that it is 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 to-night, 
 that you are," said the head of the department. "Yes, of 
 course, we are serving our country, and we are very hardly 
 used too. We do society very great services that are not 
 recognized. In fact, a superior man must rise above vulgar 
 prejudices, and a Christian must resign himself to the mishaps 
 that doing right entails, when right is done in an out-of-the- 
 way style. Paris is Paris, you see ! That is the explanation 
 of 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. Send Christophe to the Rue du Buffon, tell 
 him to ask for M. Gondureau in the house where you saw me 
 before. Your servant, sir. If you should ever have anything 
 stolen from you, come to me, and I will do my best to get it 
 back for you. ' ' 
 
 " Well, now," Poiret remarked to Mile. Michonneau, "there 
 are idiots who are scared out of their wits by the word police. 
 That was a very pleasant-spoken gentleman, and what he wants 
 you to do is as easy as saying ' Good-day.' " 
 
 The next day was destined to be one of the most extraor-
 
 202 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 dinary in the annals of the Maison Vauquer. Hitherto the 
 most startling occurrence in its tranquil existence had been 
 the portentous, meteor-like apparition of the sham Comtesse 
 de l'Ambermesnil. But the catastrophes of this great day 
 were to cast all previous events into the shade, and supply an 
 inexhaustible topic of conversation for Mme. Vauquer and her 
 boarders so long as she lived. 
 
 In the first place, Goriot and Eugene de Rastignac both 
 slept until close upon eleven o'clock. Mme. Vauquer, who 
 came home about midnight from the Gaite lay abed till half- 
 past ten. Christophe, after a prolonged slumber (he had 
 finished Vautrin's first bottle of wine), was behindhand with 
 his work, but Poiret and Mile. Michonneau uttered no com- 
 plaint, 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-past eleven, knocked at all the doors, 
 and announced that breakfast was waiting. While Sylvie and 
 the man were upstairs, Mile. Michonneau, who came down first, 
 poured the contents of the phial into the silver cup belonging 
 to Vautrin it was standing with the others in the bain-marie 
 that kept the cream hot for the morning coffee. The spinster 
 had reckoned on this custom of the house to do her stroke of 
 business. The seven lodgers were at last collected together, 
 not without some difficulty. Just as Eugene came downstairs, 
 stretching himself and yawning, a commissionaire handed 
 him a letter from Mme. de Nucingen. It ran thus : 
 
 " I feel neither false vanity nor anger where you are con- 
 cerned, my friend. Till two o'clock this morning I waited 
 for you. Oh, that waiting for one whom you love ! No one 
 that had passed through that torture could inflict it on another. 
 I know now that you could have never loved before. What 
 can have happened? Anxiety has taken hold of me. I
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 203 
 
 would have come myself to find out what had happened, if 
 I had not feared to betray the secrets of my heart ? How 
 can I walk or drive out at this time of day? Would it 
 not be ruin ? I have felt to the full how wretched it is to 
 be a woman. Send a word to reassure me, and explain 
 how it is that you have not come after what my father told 
 you. I shall be angry, but I will forgive you. One word, 
 for pity's sake. You will come to me very soon, will you not ? 
 If you are busy, a word will be enough. Say, ' I will hasten 
 to you,' or else 'I am ill. 1 But if you were ill my father 
 would have come immediately to tell me so. What can have 
 happened? " 
 
 "Yes, indeed, what has happened?" exclaimed Eugene, 
 and, hurrying down to the dining-room, he crumpled up the 
 letter without reading any more. " What time is it ? " 
 
 " Half-past eleven," said Vautrin, dropping a lump of sugar 
 into his coffee. 
 
 The escaped convict cast a glance at Eugene, a cold and 
 fascinating glance ; men gifted with this magnetic power can 
 quell furious lunatics in a madhouse by such a glance, it is 
 said. Eugene shook in every limb. There was the sound of 
 wheels in the street, and in another moment a man with a 
 scared face rushed into the room. It was one of M. Taille- 
 fer's servants ; Mme. Couture recognized the livery at once. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," he cried, " your father is asking for you 
 something terrible has happened ! M. Fr6d6ric has had a 
 sword thrust in the forehead in a duel, and the doctors have 
 given him up. You will scarcely be in time to say good-by 
 to him ! he is unconscious." 
 
 "Poor young fellow!" exclaimed Vautrin. " How can 
 people brawl when they have a certain income of thirty thou- 
 sand livres ? Young people have bad manners, and that is a 
 fact." 
 
 " Sir ! " cried Eugene.
 
 204 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 " Well, what then, you big baby ! " said Vautrin, swallow- 
 ing down his coffee imperturbably, an operation which Mile. 
 Michonneau watched with such close attention that she had 
 no emotion to spare for the dreadful news that had struck the 
 others dumb with amazement. " Are there not duels every 
 morning in Paris?" added Vautrin, with the utmost calmness 
 and deliberation. 
 
 " I will go with you, Victorine," said Mme. Couture, and 
 the two women hurried away at once without either hats or 
 shawls. But before she went, Victorine, with her eyes full of 
 tears, gave Eugene a glance that said " How little I thought 
 that our happiness should cost me tears ! " 
 
 "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 succession of commonplaces suited to the occasion. " Death 
 takes us off without asking us about it. The young often go 
 before the old. It is a lucky thing for us women that we are 
 not liable to fight duels, but we have other complaints that 
 men don't suffer from. We bear children, and it takes a 
 long time to get over it. What a windfall for Victorine ! 
 Her father will have to acknowledge her now ! " 
 
 "There!" said Vautrin, looking at Eugene, "yesterday 
 she had not a penny ; this morning she has several millions to 
 her fortune." 
 
 "I say, M. Eugene!" cried Mme. Vauquer, "you have 
 landed on your feet ! " 
 
 At this exclamation, Father Goriot looked at the student, 
 and saw the crumpled letter still in his hand. 
 
 "You have not read it through ! What does this mean? 
 Are you going to be like the rest of them ? " he asked. 
 
 " Madame, I shall never marry Mile. Victorine," said 
 Eugene, turning to Mme. Vauquer with an expression of 
 terror and loathing that surprised the onlookers at this scene.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 205 
 
 Father Goriot caught the student's hand and grasped it 
 warmly. He could have kissed it. 
 
 " Oh, ho ! " said Vautrin, " the Italians have a good pro- 
 verb Col tempo. ' ' 
 
 "Is there any answer?" said Mme. de Nucingen's mes- 
 senger, addressing Eugene. 
 
 " Say that I will come directly." 
 
 The man went. Eugene was in a state of such violent ex- 
 citement that he could 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 its work, the convict was so vigorous that he rose 
 to his feet, gave Rastignac a look, and said in hollow tones, 
 " Luck comes to us while we sleep, young man," and fell stiff 
 and stark, as if he were struck dead. 
 
 " So there is a Divine justice ! " said Eugene. 
 
 ' ' Well, if ever ! What has come to that poor dear M. 
 Vautrin?" 
 
 " A stroke ! " cried Mile. 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 ; Sylvie might not be in time to catch our 
 doctor, M. Grimprel." 
 
 Rastignac was glad of an excuse to leave that den of 
 horrors, his departure for the doctor was nothing less than 
 a hurried flight. 
 
 " Here, Christophe, go round to the chemist's and ask for 
 something that'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 
 narrow staircase, and laid upon his bed. 
 
 " I can do no good here, so I shall go to see my daughter," 
 said M. Goriot.
 
 206 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 "Selfish old thing! " cried Mme. Vauquer. "Yes, go; I 
 wish you may die like a dog." 
 
 "Just go and see if you can find some ether," said Ml 1. 
 Michonneau to Mme. Vauquer; the former, with some help 
 from Poiret, had unfastened the sick man's clothes. 
 
 Mme. Vauquer went down to her room, and left Mile. 
 Michonneau mistress of the situation. 
 
 " Now ! just pull down his shirt and turn him over, quick ! 
 You might be of some use in sparing my modesty," she said 
 to Poiret, " instead of standing there like a stock." 
 
 Vautrin was turned over ; Mile. Michonneau gave his 
 shoulder a sharp slap, 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 Mile. 
 Michonneau slipped on the shirt again. "Oh! how heavy 
 he is," he added, as he laid the convict down. 
 
 " Hush ! Suppose there is a strong box here ! " said the 
 old maid briskly; her glances seemed to pierce the walls, she 
 scrutinized every article of the furniture with greedy eyes. 
 " Could we find some excuse for opening 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 it doesn't belong to any one now. But we haven't 
 time, there is the Vauquer." 
 
 "Here is the ether," said that lady. "I must say that 
 this is an eventful day. Lord ! that man can't have had a 
 stroke; he is as white as curds." 
 
 " White as curds ? " echoed Poiret. 
 
 " And his pulse is steady," said the widow, laying her hand 
 on his breast. 
 
 " 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
 
 FATHER GO RIOT, 207 
 
 gone for a doctor. I say, Mile. Michonneau, he is sniffing 
 the ether. Pooh ! it is only 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 sort of 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 why 
 he wears a wig. They always say that red-haired people are 
 either the worst or 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 Mile. 
 Michonneau, hastily. " Just go away, M. Poiret. It is a 
 woman's duty to nurse you men when you are ill. Besides, 
 for all the good you are doing, you may as well take yourself 
 off," she added. " Mme. Vauquer and I will take great care 
 of dear M. Vautrin." 
 
 Poiret went out on tiptoe without a murmur, like a dog 
 kicked out of the room by his master. 
 
 Rastignac had gone out for the sake of physical exertion ; 
 he wanted to breathe the air, he felt stifled. Yesterday even- 
 ing he had meant to prevent the murder arranged for half-past 
 eight that morning. What had happened ? What ought he 
 to do now? He trembled to think that he himself might 
 be implicated. Vautrin's coolness still further dismayed him. 
 
 " Yet, how if Vautrin should die without saying a word ? " 
 Rastignac asked himself. 
 
 He hurried along the alleys of the Luxembourg Gardens as 
 if the hounds of justice were after him, and he already 
 heard the baying of the pack. 
 
 "Well," shouted Bianchon, "have you seen the Pilote?" 
 
 The Pilots was a Radical sheet, edited by M. Tissot. It 
 came out several hours later than the morning papers, and 
 was meant for the benefit of country subscribers ; for it 
 brought the morning's news into provincial districts twenty- 
 four hours sooner than the ordinary local journals.
 
 208 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 "There is a wonderful history in it," said the house student 
 of the Hopital Cochin. " Young Taillefer called out Count 
 Franchessini, of the Old Guard, and the Count put a couple 
 of inches of steel into his forehead. And here is little Victo- 
 rine one of the richest heiresses in Paris ! If we had known 
 that, eh ? What a game of chance death is ! They said 
 Victorine was sweet on you ; was there any truth in it ? " 
 
 "Shut up, Bianchon; I shall never marry her. I am 
 in love with a charming woman, and she is in love with 
 me, so " 
 
 " You said that as if you were screwing yourself up to 
 be faithful to her. I should like to see the woman worth 
 the sacrifice of Master Taillefer'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," said Bianchon, "and let me feel your pulse. 
 You are feverish." 
 
 "Just go to Mother Vauquer's," said Rastignac; "that 
 scoundrel Vautrin has dropped down like one dead." 
 
 "Aha! " said Bianchon, leaving Rastignac to his reflec- 
 tions, "you confirm 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 in some way a survey of his conscience. After a 
 close scrutiny, after hesitation and self-examination, his honor 
 at any rate came out scathless from this sharp and terrible 
 ordeal, like a bar of iron tested in the English fashion. He 
 remembered Father Goriot's confidences of the evening 
 before ; he recollected the rooms taken for him in the Rue 
 d'Artois, so that he might be near Delphine ; and then he 
 thought of his letter, and read it again and kissed it. 
 
 "Such a love is my anchor of safety," he said to him- 
 self. "How the old man's heart must have been wrung! 
 He says nothing about all that he has been through ; but 
 who could not guess? Well, then, I will be like a son to
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 209 
 
 him ; his life shall be made happy. If she cares for me, she 
 will often come to spend the day with him. That grand 
 Comtesse de Restaud is a heartless thing; she would turn 
 her father into her hall porter. Dear Delphine ! she is 
 kinder to the old man ; she is worthy to be 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 other for ever, they may help each other, and I can 
 take this. Besides, I shall succeed, and I will repay her a 
 hundredfold. There is nothing criminal in this liaison; 
 nothing that could cause the most austere moralist to frown. 
 How many respectable people contract similar unions ! We 
 deceive nobody ; it is deception that makes a position humili- 
 ating. If you lie, you lower yourself at once. She and her 
 husband have lived apart for a long while. Besides, how if I 
 called upon that Alsatian to resign a wife whom he cannot 
 make happy ? ' ' 
 
 Rastignac's battle with himself went on for a long while; 
 and though the scruples of youth inevitably gained the day, 
 an irresistible curiosity led him, about half-past four, to return v 
 to the Maison Vauquer through the gathering dusk. 
 
 Bianchon had given Vautrin an emetic, reserving the con- 
 tents of the stomach for chemical analysis at the hospital. 
 Mile. Michonneau's officious alacrity had still further strength- 
 ened his suspicions of her. Vautrin, moreover, had recovered 
 so quickly that it was impossible not to suspect some plot 
 against the leader of all frolics at the lodging-house. Vautrin 
 was standing in front of the stove in the dining-room when 
 Rastignac came in. All the lodgers were assembled sooner 
 than usual by the news of young Taillefer's duel. They were 
 anxious to hear any detail about the affair, and to talk over 
 the probable change in Victorine's prospects. Father Goriot 
 alone was absent, but the rest were chatting. No sooner did 
 Eugene come into the room, than his eyes met the inscrutable 
 14
 
 210 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 gaze of Vautrin. It was the same look that had read his 
 thoughts before the look that had such power to waken evil 
 thoughts in his heart. He shuddered. 
 
 " Well, dear boy," said the escaped convict, " I am likely 
 to cheat death for a good while yet. According to these 
 ladies, I have had a stroke 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 in Rastignac's ear, thinking that he guessed the stu- 
 dent's thoughts. " You must be mighty sure of yourself." 
 
 " Mile. Michonneau was talking the day before yesterday 
 about a gentleman nicknamed Trompe-la-Mort" said Bian- 
 chon ; " and, upon my word, that name would do very well 
 for you." 
 
 Vautrin seemed thunderstruck. He turned pale, and stag- 
 gered back. He turned his magnetic glance, like a ray of 
 vivid light, on Mile. Michonneau ; the old maid shrank and 
 trembled under the influence of that strong will, and collapsed 
 into a chair. The mask of good-nature had dropped from 
 the convict's face ; from the unmistakable ferocity of that 
 sinister look, Poiret felt that the old maid was in danger, and 
 hastily stepped between them. None of the lodgers under- 
 stood this scene in the least, they looked on in mute amaze- 
 ment. There was a pause. Just then there was a sound of 
 tramping feet outside ; there were soldiers there, it seemed, 
 for there was a ring of several rifles on the pavement of the 
 street. Collin was mechanically looking round the walls for 
 a way of escape, when four men entered by way of the sitting- 
 room. 
 
 "In the name of the king and the law ! " said an officer, 
 but the words were 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. Two policemen, who followed the detectives, kept
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 211 
 
 the entrance to the sitting-room, and two more appeared in 
 the doorway that gave access to the staircase. A sound of 
 footsteps came from the garden, and again the rifles of several 
 soldiers rang on the cobble-stones under the window. All 
 chance of salvation by flight was cut off for Trompe-la-Mort, to 
 whom all eyes instinctively turned. The chief walked straight 
 up to him, and commenced operations by giving him a sharp 
 blow on the head, so that the wig fell off, and Collin's face 
 was revealed in all its ugliness. There was a terrible sugges- 
 tion of strength mingled with cunning in the short, brick-red 
 crop of hair, the whole head was in harmony with his power- 
 ful frame, and at that moment the fires of hell seemed to 
 gleam from his eyes. In that flash the real Vautrin shone 
 forth, revealed at once before them all ; they understood his 
 past, his present, and future, his pitiless doctrines, his actions, 
 the religion of his own good pleasure, the majesty with which 
 his cynicism and contempt for mankind invested him, the 
 physical strength of an organization proof against all trials. 
 The blood flew to his face, and his eyes glared like the eyes 
 of a wildcat. He started back with savage energy and a 
 fierce growl which drew exclamations of alarm from the 
 lodgers. At that leonine start the police caught at their 
 pistols under cover of the general clamor. Collin saw the 
 gleaming muzzles of the weapons, saw his danger, and in- 
 stantly gave proof of a power of the highest order. There was 
 something horrible and majestic in the spectacle of the sudden 
 transformation in his face ; he could only be compared to a 
 caldron full of the steam that can send mountains flying, a 
 terrific force dispelled in a moment by a drop of cold water. 
 The drop of water that cooled his wrathful fury was a reflec- 
 tion that flashed across his brain like lightning. He began 
 to smile, and looked down at his wig. 
 
 "You are not in the politest of humors to-day," he re- 
 marked to the chief, and he held out his hands to the police- 
 men with a jerk of his head.
 
 212 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said, "put on the bracelets or the hand- 
 cuffs. I call on those present to witness that I make no 
 resistance." 
 
 A murmur of admiration ran through the room at the sud- 
 den outpouring like fire and lava flood from this human 
 volcano, and its equally sudden cessation. 
 
 " There's a sell for you, master crusher," the convict added, 
 looking at 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, and surrender." 
 
 He paused, and looked round the room like an orator who 
 is about to overwhelm his audience. 
 
 " Take this down, Daddy Lachapelle," he went on, address- 
 ing a little, white-haired old man who had seated himself at 
 the end of the table ; and, after drawing a printed form from 
 a portfolio, was proceeding to draw up a document. " I 
 acknowledge myself to be Jacques Collin, otherwise known 
 as Trompe-la-Mort, condemned to twenty years' penal servi- 
 tude, and I have just proved that I have come fairly by my 
 nickname. If I had as much as raised my hand," he went 
 on, addressing the othei- lodgers, " those three sneaking 
 wretches yonder would have drawn claret on Mamma Vau- 
 quer's domestic hearth. The rogues have laid their 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 the Gaite with him only last night ! ' ' she said to 
 Sylvie. 
 
 "Summon your philosophy, mamma," Collin resumed. 
 " Is it a misfortune to have sat in my box at the Gait yester- 
 day evening ? After all, are you better than we are ? The 
 brand upon our shoulders is less shameful than the brand set 
 on your hearts, you flabby members of a society rotten to the
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 213 
 
 core. Not the best man among you could stand up to me." 
 His eyes rested upon Rastignac, to whom he spoke with a 
 pleasant smile that seemed strangely at variance with the 
 savage expression in his eyes. " Our little bargain still holds 
 good, dear boy ; you can accept any 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. They are too much afraid of me to swindle 
 me." 
 
 The convicts' prison, its language and customs, its sudden 
 sharp transitions from the humorous to the horrible, its ap- 
 palling grandeur, its triviality and its dark depths, were all 
 revealed in turn by the speaker's discourse; he seemed to 
 be no longer a man, but the type and mouthpiece of a degen- 
 erate race, a brutal, supple, clear-headed race of savages. In 
 one moment Collin became the poet of an inferno, wherein 
 all thoughts and passions that move human nature (save re- 
 pentance) find a place. He looked about him like a fallen 
 archangel who is for war to the end. Rastignac lowered his 
 eyes, and acknowledged this kinship claimed by crime as an 
 expiation of his own evil thoughts. 
 
 "Who betrayed me?" said Collin, and^his terrible eyes 
 traveled round the room. Suddenly they rested on Mile. 
 Michonneau. 
 
 "It was you, old cat ! " he said. "That sham stroke of 
 
 apoplexy was your doing, lynx-eyes ! Two words from 
 
 me, and your throat would be cut in less than a week, but I 
 forgive you, I am a Christian. You did not sell me either. 
 
 But who did? Aha! you may rummage upstairs," he 
 
 shouted, hearing the police officers opening his cupboards 
 and taking possession of his effects. " The nest is empty, 
 the birds flew away yesterday, and you will be none the wiser.
 
 214 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 My ledgers are here," he said, tapping his forehead. " Now 
 I know who sold me ! It could only be that 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 the 
 bank-notes up above there. There is nothing left for you 
 spies ! As for Fil-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 much did you give the Michonneau ? " 
 he asked of the police officers. "A thousand crowns? Oh 
 you- Ninon in decay, Pompadour in tatters, Venus of the 
 graveyard, I was worth more than that ! If you had given 
 me warning, you should have had six thousand francs. Ah ! 
 you had no suspicion of that, old trafficker in flesh and blood, 
 or I should have had the preference. Yes, I would have given 
 six thousand francs to save myself an inconvenient journey and 
 some loss of money," he said, as they fastened the handcuffs 
 on his wrists. " These folks will amuse themselves by drag- 
 ging out this business till the end of time to keep me idle ! 
 If they were to send me straight to jail, I should soon be 
 back at my old tricks in spite of the duffers at the Quai des 
 Orfevres. Down yonder they would all turn themselves inside 
 out to help their general their good Trompe-la-Mort to get 
 clear away. Is there a single one among you that can say as 
 I can, that he has ten thousand brothers ready to do anything 
 for him ? " he asked proudly. " There is some good there," 
 he said, tapping his heart ; " I have never betrayed 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 turns them 
 sick. Rake in your gains." 
 
 He was silent for a moment, and looked round at the lodg- 
 ers' 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 less weak-kneed than others ; he lifts up 
 his voice against the colossal fraud of the social contract,
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 215 
 
 as Jean Jacques did, whose pupil he is proud to declare him- 
 self. In short, I stand here single-handed against a govern- 
 ment 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 might make 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 me if it really was Fil-de-Soie who sold 
 me. I don't want him to suffer for some one else, that would 
 not be fair." 
 
 But before the chief had time to answer, the rest of the 
 party returned from making their investigations upstairs. 
 Everything had been opened and inventoried. A few words 
 passed between them and the chief, and the official prelimin- 
 aries were complete. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Collin, addressing the lodgers, "they 
 will take me away directly. You have all made my stay among 
 you very agreeable, and I shall look back upon it with grati- 
 tude. Receive my adieux, and permit me to send you figs 
 from Provence." 
 
 He advanced a step or two, and then turned to look once 
 more at Rastignac. 
 
 " Good-by, Eugene," he said, in a sad and gentle tone, a 
 strange transition from his previous rough and stern manner. 
 " If you should be hard up, I have left you a devoted friend," 
 and, in spite of his shackles, he managed to assume a posture 
 of defense, called, " One ! two ! " like a fencing-master, and 
 lunged. " If anything goes wrong, apply in that quarter. 
 Man and money, all at your service." 
 
 t The speaker's strange manner was sufficiently burlesque, so 
 that no one but Rastignac knew that there was a serious mean- 
 ing underlying the pantomime. 
 
 As soon as the police, soldiers, and detectives had left the
 
 216 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 house, Sylvie, who was rubbing her mistress' temples with 
 vinegar, looked round 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, too much moved by very various feelings to speak. 
 But now the lodgers began to look at each other, and then all 
 eyes were turned at once on Mile. Michonneau, a thin, shriv- 
 eled, dead-alive, mummy-like figure crouching by the stove ; 
 her eyes were downcast, as if she feared that the green eye- 
 shade could not shut out the expression of those faces from 
 her. This figure and the feeling of repulsion she had so long 
 excited were explained all at once. A smothered murmur 
 filled the room ; it was so unanimous that it seemed as if the 
 same feeling of loathing had pitched all the voices in one key. 
 Mile. Michonneau heard it, and did not stir. It was Bianchon 
 who was the first to move; he bent over his neighbor, and 
 said in a low voice, " If that creature is going 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 Mile. Michonneau than the 
 rest of us," he said; "speak to her, make her understand 
 that she must go, and go at once," showing by his manner a 
 most determined spirit. 
 
 "At once ! " echoed Poiret in amazement. 
 
 Then he went across to the crouching figure, and spoke a 
 few words in her ear. 
 
 " I have paid beforehand for the quarter ; I have as much 
 right to be here 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 ques-
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 217 
 
 tioning, malignant glance at the law student ; " it is not diffi- 
 cult to guess why." 
 
 Eugene started forward at the words, as if he meant to 
 spring upon her and wring her neck. That glance, and the 
 depths of treachery that it revealed, had been a hideous en- 
 lightenment. 
 
 " Let her alone ! " cried the boarders. 
 
 Rastignac folded his arms, and was silent. 
 
 "Let us have no more of Mile. Judas," said the painter, 
 turning to Mme. Vauquer. " If you don't show the Michon- 
 neau the door, madame, we shall all leave your shop, and 
 wherever we go we shall say that there are only convicts and 
 spies left there. If you do the other thing, we will hold our 
 tongues about the business ; for when all is said and done, it 
 might happen in the best society until they brand them on the 
 forehead, when they send them to the hulks. They ought not 
 to let convicts go about Paris disguised like decent citizens, 
 so as to carry on their antics like a set of rascally humbugs, 
 which they are." 
 
 At this Mme. Vauquer recovered miraculously. She sat up 
 and folded her arms ; her eyes were wide open now, and 
 there was no sign of tears in them. 
 
 " Why, do you really mean to be the ruin of my establish- 
 ment, my dear sir? There is M. Vautrin Goodness," 
 
 she cried, interrupting herself, " I can't help calling him by 
 the name he passed himself off by for an honest man ! There 
 is one room to let already, and you want me to turn out two 
 more lodgers in the middle of the season, when no one is 
 moving " 
 
 " Gentlemen, let us take our hats and go and dine at Flico- 
 teaux's in the Place Sorbonne," cried Bianchon. 
 
 Mme. Vauquer glanced round, and saw in a moment on 
 which side her interest lay. She waddled across to Mile. 
 Michonneau. 
 
 "Come, now," she said ; "you would not be the ruin of
 
 218 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 my establishment, would you, eh ? There's a dear, kind soul. 
 You see what a pass these gentlemen have brought me to ; 
 just go up to your room for this evening." 
 
 " Never a bit of it ! " cried the boarders. " She must go, 
 and go this minute ! " 
 
 " But the poor lady has had no dinner," said Poiret, with 
 piteous entreaty. 
 
 "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 head swelling with the 
 courage that love 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 on his cap, and taking a 
 chair beside Mile. 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 us will," and the boarders, to a man, made for the 
 sitting-room door. 
 
 " Oh ! mademoiselle, what is to be done ? " cried Mme. 
 Vauquer. "I am a ruined woman. You can't stay here; 
 they will go farther, do something violent." 
 
 Mile. 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
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 219 
 
 intentions, borne out by the behavior of the insurgents, com- 
 pelled Mile. Michonneau to take her departure. She made 
 some stipulations, speaking in 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. Vau- 
 quer, who regarded this choice of an opposition establish- 
 ment as an atrocious insult. " Go and lodge with the 
 Buneaud ; the wine would give a cat the colic, and the food 
 is cheap and nasty." 
 
 The boarders stood aside in two rows to let her pass ; not a 
 word was spoken. Poiret looked so wistfully after Mile. 
 Michonneau, and so artlessly revealed that he was in two minds 
 whether to go or stay, that the boarders, in their joy at being 
 quit of Mile. 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 at beau Dunois " 
 
 " Get along with you ; you must be dying to go, trahit sua 
 quemquc voluptas .'" said Bianchon. 
 
 " Every one to his taste free rendering from Virgil," said 
 the tutor. 
 
 Mile. Michonneau made a movement as if to take Poiret's 
 arm, with an appealing 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!"
 
 220 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 A messenger came in at that moment with a letter for Mme. 
 Vauquer, who read it through, and collapsed in her chair. 
 
 " The house might as well be burnt down at once," cried 
 she, " if there are to be any more of these thunderbolts ! 
 Young Taillefer died at three o'clock this afternoon. It serves 
 me right for wishing well to those ladies at that poor young 
 man's expense. Mme. Couture and Victorine want me to 
 send their things, because they are going to live with her 
 father. M. Taillefer allows his daughter to keep old Mme. 
 Couture with her as 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 with happiness, that he seemed to have grown young 
 again. 
 
 "Goriot in a cab! " cried the boarders; "the world is 
 coming to an end." 
 
 The good soul made straight for Eugene, who was standing 
 rapt in thought 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. " Vau- 
 trin was an escaped convict ; they have just arrested him ; 
 and young Taillefer is dead." 
 
 "Very well, but what business is it of ours ?" replied 
 Father Goriot. "I am going to dine with my daughter 
 in your house, do you understand? She is expecting you. 
 Come!" 
 
 He carried off Rastignac with him by main force, and they 
 departed in as great a hurry as a pair of eloping lovers.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT, 221 
 
 "Now, let us have dinner," cried the painter, and every 
 one drew his chair 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, burnt as it is, more's the pity ! " 
 
 Mme. Vauquer was so dispirited that she could not say a word 
 as she looked round the table and saw only ten people where 
 eighteen should be ; but every one tried to comfort and cheer 
 her. At first the dinner contingent, 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 in the laws. 
 They soon wandered miles away from Jacques Collin and 
 Victorine and her brother. There might be only ten of 
 them, but they made noise enough for twenty ; indeed, there 
 seemed to be more of them than usual ; that was the only 
 difference between yesterday and to-day. Indifference to the 
 fate of others is a matter of course in this selfish world, which, 
 on the morrow of a tragedy, seeks among the events of Paris 
 for a fresh sensation for its daily renewed appetite, and this 
 indifference soon gained the upper hand. Mme. Vauquer 
 herself grew calmer under the soothing influence of hope, 
 and the mouthpiece of hope was the portly Sylvie. 
 
 That day had gone by like a dream for Eugene, and the 
 sense of unreality lasted into the evening; so that, in spite 
 of his energetic character and clear-headedness, his ideas were 
 a chaos as he sat beside Goriot in the cab. The old man's 
 voice was full of unwonted happiness, but Eugene had been 
 shaken by so many emotions that the words sounded in his 
 ears like works spoken in a dream. 
 
 " It was finished this morning ! All three of us are going 
 to dine there together, together ! Do you understand ? I 
 have not dined with my Delphine, my little Delphine, these 
 four years, and I shall have her for a whole evening ! We 
 have been at your lodging the whole time since morning.
 
 222 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 I have been working like a porter in my shirt sleeves, help- 
 ing to carry in the furniture. Aha! you don't know what 
 pretty ways she has ; at table she will look after me, ' Here, 
 papa, just try this, it is nice.' And I shall not be able to eat. 
 Oh, it is a long while since I have been with her in quiet 
 every-day life as we shall have her." 
 
 " It really seems as if the world had been turned upside 
 down." 
 
 "Upside down?" repeated Father Goriot. "Why, the 
 world has never been so right-side up. I see none but smiling 
 faces in the streets, people who shake hands cordially and 
 embrace each other, people who all look as happy as if they 
 were going to dine with their daughter, and gobble down a 
 nice little dinner that she went with me to order of the chef at 
 the Cafe des Anglais. But, pshaw ! with her beside you gall 
 and wormwood 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 in front. "Get on faster; I will give you five 
 francs if you get to the place I told you of in ten minutes' 
 time." 
 
 With this prospect before him the cabman crossed Paris 
 with miraculous celerity. 
 
 " 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 first and flung ten francs to the man with the 
 recklessness of a widower returning 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. Here they stopped before a door ; 
 but before Goriot could ring, it was opened by Therese, Mme. 
 de Nucingen's maid. Eugene found himself in a charming
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 223 
 
 set of chambers ; an ante-room, a little drawing-room, a bed- 
 room, and a study, looking out upon a garden. The furniture 
 and the decoration of the little drawing-room were of the 
 most daintily charming description, the room was full of soft 
 light, and Delphine rose up from a low chair by the fire and 
 stood before him. She set her fire-screen down on the 
 chimney-piece, and spoke with tenderness in every tone of 
 her voice. 
 
 "So we had to go in search of you, sir, you who are so 
 slow to understand ! " 
 
 Theresa left the room. The student took Delphine in his 
 arms and held her in a tight clasp, his eyes filled with tears 
 of joy. This last contrast between his present surroundings 
 and the scenes he had just witnessed was too much for Rastig- 
 nac's overwrought nerves, after the day's strain and excite- 
 ment that had wearied heart and brain ; he was almost 
 overcome by it. 
 
 " I felt sure myself that he loved you," murmured Father 
 Goriot, while Eugene lay back bewildered on the sofa, utterly 
 unable to speak a word or to reason out how and why the 
 magic wand had been waved to bring about this final trans- 
 formation scene. 
 
 "But you must see your rooms," said Mme. de Nucingen. 
 She took his hand and led him into a room carpeted and fur- 
 nished like her own ; indeed, down to the smallest details, it 
 was a reproduction in miniature of Delphine's own handsome 
 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, how deeply modesty is implanted in the heart of 
 a woman who loves. 
 
 " You are one of those beings whom we cannot choose but 
 to adore for ever," he said in her ear. " Yes, the deeper and 
 truer love is, the more mysterious and closely veiled it should
 
 224 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 be ; I can dare to say so, since we understand each other so 
 well. No one shall learn our secret." 
 
 "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 go and come like a good fairy who makes him- 
 self felt everywhere without being seen, shall I not ? Eh, 
 Delphinette, Ninette, Dedel was it not a good idea of mine 
 to say to you, ' There are some nice rooms to let in the Rue 
 d' Artois ; let us furnish them for him ? ' And she would not 
 hear of it I Ah ! your happiness has been all my doing. I 
 am the author of your happiness and of your existence. 
 Fathers must always be giving if they would be happy them- 
 selves ; always giving they would not be fathers else." 
 " Was that how it happened ? " asked Eugene. 
 "Yes. She would not listen to me. She was afraid that 
 people would talk, as if the rubbish that they say about you 
 were to be compared with happiness ! Why, all women dream 
 
 of doing what she has done " 
 
 Father Goriot found himself without an audience, for Mme. 
 de Nucingen had led Rastignac into the study ; he heard a 
 kiss given and taken, low though the sound was. 
 
 The study was furnished as elegantly as the other rooms, 
 and nothing was wanting there. 
 
 "Have we guessed your wishes rightly?" she asked, as 
 they returned to the drawing-room for dinner. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " only too well, alas ! For all this luxury 
 so well carried out, this realization of pleasant dreams, the 
 elegance that satisfies all the romantic fancies of youth, 
 appeals to me so strongly that I cannot but feel that it is my 
 rightful possession, but I cannot accept 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 away scruples.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 225 
 
 But Eugene had submitted so lately to that solemn self- 
 questioning, and Vautrin's arrest had so plainly shown him 
 the depths of the pit that lay ready to his feet, that the 
 instincts of generosity and honor had been strengthened in 
 him, and he could not allow himself to be coaxed into aban- 
 doning his high-minded determinations. Profound melancholy 
 filled his mind. 
 
 " Do you really mean to refuse ? " said Mme. de Nucingen. 
 " And do you know 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 of betraying my affection ? If 
 you love me, if I love you, why should you shrink back 
 from such a slight obligation ? If you but knew what a pleas- 
 ure it has been to see after all the arrangements of this bachelor 
 establishment, you would not hesitate any longer, you would 
 ask me to forgive you for your hesitation. I had some money 
 that belonged to you, and I have made good use of it, that is 
 all. You mean this for magnanimity, but it is very little of 
 
 you. You are asking me for far more than this ('Ah!' 
 
 she cried, as Eugene's passionate glance was turned on her), 
 and you are making difficulties about the merest trifles. Oh, 
 if you feel no love whatever for me, refuse, by all means. 
 My fate hangs on a word from you. Speak! Father," she 
 said after a pause, "make him listen to reason. Can he 
 imagine that I am less nice than he is on the point of honor?" 
 
 Father Goriot was looking on and listening to this pretty 
 quarrel with a placid smile, as if he had found some balm for 
 all the sorrows of life. 
 
 " Child that you are ! " she cried again, catching Eugene's 
 hand. " You are just beginning life ; you find barriers at the 
 outset that many a man finds insurmountable; a woman's 
 hand opens the way, and you shrink back ! Why, you are 
 sure to succeed ! You will have a brilliant future. Success 
 is written on that broad forehead of yours, and will you not 
 be able to repay me my loan of to-day ? Did not a lady in 
 15
 
 226 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 olden times arm her knight with sword and helmet and coat 
 of mail, and find him a charger, 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. A pretty 
 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? Why don't you answer?" she said, shaking his 
 hand. " Man Dieu ! papa, make up 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 the Jews, isn't it?" 
 
 "There is positively no help for it," said Eugene. 
 
 "All right, I will give you credit," said the other, drawing 
 out a cheap leather pocket-book, much the worse for wear. 
 " I have turned Jew myself; I have paid for everything ; here 
 are the invoices. You do not owe a penny for anything here. 
 It did not come to very much five thousand francs at most, 
 and I am going to lend you the money myself. I am not a 
 woman you cannot refuse me. You shall give me a receipt 
 on a scrap of paper, and you can return it some time or other." 
 
 Delphine and Eugene looked at each other in amazement, 
 tears sprang to their 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 to myself, * She will never be 
 able to pay for them.' The attorney says that those law pro- 
 ceedings will last quite six months before your husband can be 
 made to disgorge your fortune. Well and good. I sold out 
 my property in the funds that brought in thirteen hundred and
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 227 
 
 fifty livres a year, and bought a safe annuity of twelve hundred 
 francs a year for fifteen thousand francs. Then I paid your 
 tradesmen out of the rest of the capital. As for me, children, 
 I have a room upstairs for which I pay fifty crowns a year ; I 
 can live like a prince on two francs a day, and still have 
 something left over. I shall not have to spend anything 
 much on clothes, for I never wear anything out. This fort- 
 night past I have been laughing in my sleeves, thinking to 
 myself, ' How happy they are going to be ! ' and well, now, 
 are you not happy? " 
 
 "Oh papa! papa!" cried Mme. de Nucingen, springing 
 to her father, who took her on his knee. She covered him 
 with kisses, her fair hair brushed his cheek, her tears fell on 
 the withered face that had grown so bright and radiant. 
 
 "Dear father, what a father you are! No, there is not 
 another father like you under the sun. If Eugene loved you 
 before, what must he feel for you now? " 
 
 "Why, children ! why, Delphinette ! " cried Goriot, who 
 had not felt his daughter's heart beat against his breast for ten 
 years, " do you want me to die of joy? My poor heart will 
 break! Come, Monsieur Eugene, we are quits already." 
 And the old man strained her to his breast with such 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 in his face seemed greater than it is given to 
 humanity to know. The agony of this Christ of paternity 
 can only be compared with the masterpieces of those princes 
 of the palette who have left for us the record of their visions 
 of an agony suffered for a whole world by the Saviour of men. 
 Father Goriot pressed his lips very gently against the waist 
 that his fingers had grasped too roughly. 
 
 "Oh! no, no," he cried. "I have not hurt you, have 
 I?" and his smile seemed to repeat the question. "You 
 have hurt me with that cry just now. The things cost rather
 
 228 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 more than that," he said in her ear, with another gentle kiss, 
 " but I had to deceive him about it, or he would have been 
 angry." 
 
 Eugene sat dumb with amazement in the presence of this 
 inexhaustible love ; he gazed at Goriot, and his face betrayed 
 the artless admiration which 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 the law student on the forehead. 
 
 " He gave up Mile. Taillefer and her millions for you," 
 said Father Goriot. " Yes, the little thing was in love with 
 you, and now that her brother 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 this evening. Ah ! how I will love you ! and for ever ! " 
 
 "This is the happiest day I have had since you two became 
 acquainted ! " cried Goriot. " God may send me any suffer- 
 ing, so long as I do not suffer through you, and I can still say, 
 ' In this short month of February I had more happiness than 
 other men have in their whole lives.' Look at me, Fifine ! " 
 he said to his daughter. " She is very beautiful, is she not? 
 Tell me, now. have you seen many women with that 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. And very soon happiness will make her a thousand 
 times lovelier, happiness through you. I could give up my 
 place in heaven to you, neighbor, if needs be, and go down 
 to hell instead. Come, let us have dinner," he added, 
 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 set a kiss on the plaits of hair. " If you only 
 knew, little one, how happy you can make me how little it 
 takes to make me happy ! Will you come and see me some-
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 229 
 
 times ? 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 I followed my own wishes. Let us have dinner." 
 
 The three behaved like children that evening, and Father 
 Goriot's spirits were certainly not the least wild. He lay at 
 his daughter's feet, kissed them, gazed into her eyes, rubbed 
 his head against her dress; in short, no young lover could 
 have been more extravagant or more tender. 
 
 "You see ! " Delphine said with a look at Eugene, "so 
 long as my father is with us, he monopolizes me. He will be 
 rather in the way sometimes." 
 
 Eugene had himself already felt certain twinges of jealousy, 
 and could not blame this speech that contained the germ of 
 all ingratitude. 
 
 "And when will the rooms be ready?" asked Eugene, 
 looking round. "We must 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 wait- 
 ing for her, and Father Goriot and the student walked back 
 to the Maison Vauquer, talking of Delphine, and warming 
 over their talk till there grew up a curious rivalry between the 
 two violent passions. Eugene could not help seeing that the 
 father's selfish love was deeper and more steadfast than his 
 own. For this worshiper Delphine was always pure and fair, 
 and her father's admiration drew its fervor from a whole past 
 as well as a future of love. 
 
 They found Mme. Vauquer by the stove, with Sylvie and
 
 230 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 Christophe to keep her company; the old landlady, sitting 
 like Marius among the ruins of Carthage, was waiting for the 
 two lodgers that yet remained to her, and bemoaning her lot 
 with the sympathetic Sylvie. Tasso's lamentations as recorded 
 in Byron's poem are undoubtedly eloquent, but for sheer force 
 of truth they fall far short of the widow's cry from the depths. 
 
 " Only three cups of coffee in the morning, Sylvie ! Oh, 
 dear ! to have your house emptied in this way is enough to 
 break your heart. What is life, now my lodgers are gone ? 
 Nothing at all. Just think of it ! It is just as if all the furni- 
 ture had been taken out of the house, and your furniture is 
 your life. How have I offended heaven to draw down all this 
 trouble upon me ? And haricot beans and potatoes laid in 
 for twenty people ! The police in my house, too ! We shall 
 have to live on potatoes 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 know where the lodgers are to drop down from. 
 It drives me distracted. And that old witch of a Michonneau 
 goes and takes Poiret with her ! What can she have done to 
 him to make him so fond of her ? He runs about after her 
 like a little dog." 
 
 "Lord!" said Sylvie, flinging up her head, "those old 
 maids are up to all sorts of tricks." 
 
 " There's that poor M. Vautrin that they made out to be a 
 convict," the widow went on. "Well, you know that is too 
 much for me, Sylvie ; I can't bring myself to believe it. 
 Such a lively man as he was, and paid fifteen francs a month 
 for his coffee of an evening, paid you every 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.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 231 
 
 Vauquer. "And to think that all these things have hap- 
 pened in my house, and in a quarter where you never see 
 a cat go by. On my word as an honest woman, it's like a 
 dream. For, look here, we saw Louis XVI. meet with his 
 mishap ; we saw the fall of the Emperor ; and we saw him 
 come back and fall again ; there was nothing out of the 
 way in all that, but lodging-houses are not liable to revolu- 
 tions. You can do without a king, but you must eat all the 
 same ; and so long as a decent woman, a de Conflans born 
 and bred, will give you all sorts of good things for dinner, 
 nothing short of the end of the world ought to but there, 
 it is the end of the world, that is just what it is!" 
 
 "And to think that Mile. Michonneau who made all 
 this mischief is to have 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. " She is going to the Buneaud, who 
 charges less than cost. But the Buneaud is capable of 
 anything; she must have done frightful things, robbed and 
 murdered people in her time. She ought to be put in jail for 
 life instead of that poor dear " 
 
 Eugene and Goriot, reaching the Maison Vauquer, 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 
 recollections of the misfortunes of their lodging-house, an- 
 nounced to their hostess without more ado that they were 
 about to remove to the Chaussee d'Antin. 
 
 " Sylvie ! " cried the widow, " this is the last straw. Gen- 
 tlemen, this will be the death of me ! It has quite upset 
 me ! There's a weight on my chest ! I am ten years 
 older for this day ! Upon my word, I shall go out of 
 my senses 1 And what is to be done with the haricots? 
 Oh, well, if I am to be left here all by myself, you shall
 
 232 FA7HER GO RIOT. 
 
 go to-morrow, Christophe. Good-night, gentlemen," and 
 she went upstairs. 
 
 " What is the matter now ? " Eugene inquired of Sylvie, in 
 much astonishment. 
 
 " Lord ! everybody is going about his business, and that 
 has addled her wits. There ! she is crying upstairs. It will 
 do her good to snivel a bit. 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 up her mind to it." True, she still wore a doleful 
 countenance, as might be expected of a woman who had lost 
 all her lodgers, and whose manner of life had been suddenly 
 revolutionized, but she had all her wits about her. Her grief 
 was genuine and profound ; it was real pain of mind, for her 
 purse had suffered, the routine of her existence had been 
 broken. A lover's farewell glance at his lady-love's window 
 is not more mournful than Mme. Vauquer's survey of the 
 empty places round her table. Eugene administered comfort, 
 telling the widow that Bianchon, whose term of residence at 
 the hospital was about to expire, would doubtless take his 
 (Rastignac's) place ; that the official from the Museum had 
 often expressed a desire to have Mme. Couture's room ; 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 around the 
 dining-room. "Whose turn will it be, I wonder?" 
 
 " It is just as well that we are moving out," said Eugene to 
 Father Goriot in a low voice. 
 
 " Madame," said Sylvie, running in with a scared face, "I 
 have not seen Mistigris these three days." 
 
 "Ah ! well, if my cat is dead, if he has gone and left us, 
 
 The poor woman could not finish her sentence ; she clasped
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 233 
 
 her hands and hid her face on the back of her armchair, quite 
 overcome by this dreadful portent. 
 
 By twelve o'clock, when the postman reaches that quarter, 
 Eugene received a letter. The dainty envelope bore the 
 Beauseant arms on the seal, and contained an invitation to 
 the Vicomtesse's great ball, which had been talked of in Paris 
 for a month. A little note for Eugene 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. 
 
 " VlCOMTESSE 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 the Baron de Nucingen." 
 
 He went to Delphine at once in his joy. He had procured 
 this pleasure for her, and doubtless he would receive the price 
 of it. Mme. de Nucingen was dressing. Rastignac waited 
 in her boudoir, enduring as best he might the natural impa- 
 tience of an eager temperament for the reward desired and 
 withheld for a year. Such sensations are only known once in 
 a life. The first woman to whom a man is drawn, if she is 
 really a woman that is to say, if she appears to him amid 
 the splendid accessories that form a necessary background to 
 life in the world of Paris will never have a rival. 
 
 Love in Paris is a thing distinct and apart ; for in Paris 
 neither men nor women are the dupes of the commonplaces 
 by which people seek to throw a veil over their motives, or to 
 parade a fine affectation of disinterestedness in their senti-
 
 234 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 ments. In this country within a country, it is not merely 
 required of a woman that she should satisfy the senses and the 
 soul ; she knows perfectly well that she has still greater obliga- 
 tions to discharge, that she must fulfill the countless demands 
 of a vanity that enters into every fibre of that living organism 
 called society. Love, for her, is above all things, and by its 
 very nature, a vainglorious, brazen-fronted, ostentatious, 
 thriftless charlatan. If at the court of Louis XIV. there was 
 not a woman but envied Mile, de la Valliere the reckless 
 devotion of passion that led the grand monarch to tear the 
 priceless ruffles at his wrists in order to assist the entry of a 
 Due de Vermandois into the world what can you expect of 
 the rest of society? You must have youth and wealth and 
 rank ; nay, you must, if possible, have more than these, for 
 the 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 of all other deities ; love the spoiler 
 stays for a moment, and then passes on ; like the urchin of 
 the streets, his course may be traced by the ravages that he 
 has made. The wealth of feeling and imagination is the 
 poetry of the garret ; how should love exist there without 
 that wealth ? 
 
 If there are exceptions who do not subscribe to these Dra- 
 conian laws of the Parisian code, they are solitary examples. 
 Such souls live so far out of the main current that they are 
 not borne away by the doctrines of society ; they dwell beside 
 some clear spring of ever-flowing water, without seeking to 
 leave the green shade ; happy to listen to the echoes of the 
 infinite in everything around them and in their 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 the circumstance of power and grandeur, meant 
 to enter the lists fully armed ; the burning ambition of con-
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 235 
 
 quest possessed him already ; perhaps he was conscious of his 
 powers, but as yet he knew neither the end to which his 
 ambition was to be directed nor the means of attaining it. 
 In default of the pure and sacred love that fills a life, ambi- 
 tion may become something very noble, subduing to itself 
 every thought of personal interest, and setting as the end 
 the pre-eminent greatness, not of one man, but of a whole 
 nation. 
 
 But the student had not yet reached the time of life when 
 a man surveys the whole course of existence and judges it 
 soberly. Hitherto he had scarcely so much as shaken off the 
 spell of the fresh and gracious influences that envelop a child- 
 hood in the country, like green leaves and grass. He had 
 hesitated on the brink of the Parisian Rubicon, and, in spite 
 of the prickings of ambition, he still clung to a lingering 
 tradition of an old ideal the peaceful life of the noble in his 
 chateau. But yesterday evening, at the sight of his rooms, 
 those scruples had vanished. He had learned what it was to 
 enjoy the material advantages of fortune, as he had already 
 enjoyed the social advantages of birth ; he ceased to be a 
 provincial from that moment, and slipped naturally and 
 easily into a position which opened up the prospect of a brilliant 
 future. 
 
 So, as he waited for Delphine, in the pretty boudoir, 
 where he felt that he had a certain right to be, he felt 
 himself so far away from the Rastignac who came back to 
 Paris a year ago, that, turning some power of inner vision 
 upon this latter, he asked himself whether that past self bore 
 any resemblance to the Rastignac of that moment. 
 
 " Madame is in her room," Th6rese came to tell him. The 
 woman's voice made him start. 
 
 He found Delphine lying back in her low chair by the fire- 
 side, looking fresh and bright. The sight of her among the 
 flowing draperies of muslin suggested some beautiful tropical 
 flower, where the fruit is set amid the blossom.
 
 236 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 "Well," she said, with a tremor in her voice, "here you 
 are." 
 
 " Guess what I bring for you," said Eugene, sitting down 
 beside her. He took possession of her arm to kiss her hand. 
 
 Mme. de Nucingen gave a joyful start as she saw the card. 
 She turned to Eugene ; there were tears in her eyes as she 
 flung her arms about his neck, and drew him towards her in a 
 frenzy of gratified vanity. 
 
 " And I owe this happiness to you to thec" (she whis- 
 pered the more intimate word in his ear) ; " but Therese is in 
 my dressing-room, let us be prudent. This happiness yes, 
 for I may call it so, when it comes to me through you is 
 surely more than a triumph for self-love ? No one has been 
 willing to introduce me into that set. Perhaps just now I 
 may seem to you to be frivolous, petty, shallow, like a Paris- 
 ienne, but remember, my friend, that I am ready to give up all 
 for you ; and that if I long more than ever for an entrance 
 into the Faubourg Saint-Germain, it is because I shall meet 
 you there." 
 
 " Mme. de Beauseant's note seems to say very plainly that 
 she does not expect to see the Baron de Nucingen at her ball ; 
 don't you think so?" said Eugene. 
 
 " Why, yes," said the Baroness as she returned the letter. 
 "Those women have 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 beautifully dressed. Eugene," she went on, 
 lowering her voice, "she will go to dispel ugly suspicions. 
 You do not know the things that people are saying about 
 her ! Only this morning Nucingen came to tell me that they 
 had been discussing her at the club. Great heavens ! on what 
 does a woman's character and the hon^rof a whole family 
 depend ! I feel that I am nearly touched and wounded in 
 my poor sister. According to some people, M. de Trailles 
 must have put his name to bills for a hundred thousand francs, 
 nearly all of them are overdue, and proceedings are threat-
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 237 
 
 ened. In this predicament, it seems that my sister sold her 
 diamonds to a Jew the beatiful diamonds that belonged to 
 her husband's mother, Mme. de Restaud the elder you have 
 seen her wearing them. In fact, nothing else has been talked 
 about for the last two days. So I can see that Anastasie is 
 sure to come to Mme. de Beauseant's ball in tissue of gold, 
 and ablaze with diamonds, to draw all eyes upon her ; and I 
 will not be outshone. She has tried to eclipse me all her life; 
 she has never been kind to me, and I have helped 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 per- 
 fectly happy." 
 
 At one o'clock that morning Eugene was still with Mme. 
 de Nucingen. In the midst of their lovers' farewell, a fare- 
 well full of hope of bliss to come, she said in a troubled voice, 
 " I am very fearful, superstitious. Give what name you like 
 to my presentiments, but I am afraid that my happiness will 
 be paid for by some horrible catastrophe." 
 
 "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 he should leave it for good on the morrow ; and on 
 the way he fell to dreaming the bright dreams of youth, when 
 the cup of happiness has left its sweetness on the lips. 
 
 "Well? " cried Goriot, as Rastignac passed by his <roor. 
 
 "Yes," said Eugene; "I will tell you everything to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 "Everything, will you not?" cried the old man. " Go to 
 bed. To-morrow our 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 Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve, and a carriage 
 stopped before the door of the Maison Vauquer. Mme. de
 
 238 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 Nucingen alighted, and asked if her father was still in the 
 house, and, receiving an affirmative reply from Sylvie, ran 
 lightly upstairs. 
 
 It so happened that Eugene was at home all unknown to his 
 neighbor. At breakfast-time he had asked Goriot to superin- 
 tend the removal of his goods, saying that he would meet 
 him in the Rue d'Artois at four o'clock; but Rastignac's 
 name had been called early on the list at the Ecole de droit, 
 and he had gone back at once to the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Gene- 
 vive. No one had seen him come in, for Goriot had gone 
 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 he left 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, and blessed his foresight when he 
 saw the blank bill bearing Vautrin's signature lying in the 
 drawer where he had carelessly thrown it on the day when he 
 had repaid the amount. There was no fire in the grate, so 
 he was about to tear it into little pieces, when he heard a voice 
 speaking in Goriot's room, and the speaker was Delphine ! 
 He made no more noise, and stood still to listen, thinking 
 that she should have no secrets from him ; but after the first 
 few words, the conversation between the father and daughter 
 was so strange and interesting that it absorbed all his atten- 
 tion. 
 
 "Ah! thank heaven that you thought of asking him to 
 give an account of the money settled on me before I was 
 utterly ruined, father. Is it safe 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 Nucin- 
 gen. 
 
 "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 would not have burst in upon me 
 like this, with such news, especially if all is not lost. Has
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 239 
 
 something so important happened that you must come here 
 about it ? In a few minutes we should have been in the Rue 
 d'Artois." 
 
 " Eh ! does one think what one is doing after a catastrophe ? 
 It has turned 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 long business experience ; and I 
 came to you like a drowning man who catches at a branch. 
 When M. Derville found that Nucingen was throwing all sorts 
 of difficulties in his way, he threatened him with proceedings, 
 and told him plainly that he would soon obtain an order from 
 the president 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 nothing whatever about it, that I had a 
 fortune, and ought to be put into possession of my fortune, 
 and that my attorney was acting for me in the matter ; I said 
 again that I knew absolutely nothing about it, and could not 
 possibly go into the subject with him. Wasn't that what you 
 told 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 
 business speculations ; they have only just been started, and 
 very large sums of money are locked up. If I were to com- 
 pel him to refund my dowry now, he would be forced to file 
 his petition ; but if I will wait a year, he undertakes, on his 
 honor, to double or treble my fortune, by investing it in 
 building land, and I shall be mistress at last of the whole of 
 my 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 am free to act as I please on con- 
 ditions that I leave him to carry on my business in my name. 
 To prove his sincerity, he promised that M. Derville might 
 inspect the accounts as often as I pleased, so that I might be 
 assured that everything was being conducted properly. In
 
 240 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 f 
 
 short, he put himself into my power, bound hand and foot. 
 He wishes the present arrangements as to the expenses of 
 housekeeping to continue for two more years, and entreated 
 me not to exceed my allowance. He showed me plainly that 
 it was all that he could do to keep up appearances ; he has 
 broken with his opera dancer ; he will be compelled to practice 
 the most strict economy (in secret) if he is to bide his time 
 with unshaken credit. I scolded, I did all I could to drive 
 him to desperation, so as to find out more. He showed me 
 his ledgers he broke down and cried at last. I never saw a 
 man in such a state. He lost his head completely, talked of 
 killing himself, and raved till I felt 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 in the way of business ; honest and straightfor- 
 ward they are prety sure to be, but when with their simplicity 
 and frankness they are sharpers and humbugs as well, they are 
 the worst rogues of all. Your husband is taking advantage of 
 you. As soon as pressure is brought to bear on him he shams 
 dead ; he means to be more the master under your name than 
 in his own. He will take advantage of the position to secure 
 himself against the risks of business. He is as sharp as he is 
 treacherous ; he is a bad lot ! No, no ; I am not going 
 to leave my girls behind me without a penny when I go 
 to Pere-Lachaise. I know something about business still. 
 He has sunk his money in speculation, he says ; very 
 well, then there is something to show for it bills, 
 receipts, papers of some sort. Let him produce them, 
 and come to an arrangement with you. We will choose 
 the most promising of his speculations, take them over at our 
 own risk, and have the securities transferred into your name ; 
 they shall represent the separate estate of Delphine Goriot, 
 wife of the Baron de Nucingen. Does that fellow really take 
 us for idiots ? Does he imagine that I could stand the idea 
 of your being without fortune, without bread, for forty-eight
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 241 
 
 hours? I would not stand it a day no, not a night, not a 
 couple of hours ! If there had been any foundation for the 
 idea, I should never get over it. What ! I have worked hard 
 for forty years, carried sacks on my back, and sweated and 
 pinched and saved all my life for you, my darlings, for you 
 who made the toil and every burden borne for you seem light; 
 and now, my fortune, my whole life, is to vanish in smoke ! 
 I should die raving mad if I believed a word of it. By all 
 that's holiest in heaven and earth, we will have this cleared 
 up at once ; go through the books, have the whole business 
 looked thoroughly into ! I will not sleep, nor rest, nor eat 
 until I have satisfied myself that all your fortune is in exist- 
 ence. 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 a year, as long as you live, or I will 
 raise a racket in Paris, I will so ! If the Tribunals put upon 
 us, I will appeal to the Chambers. If I knew that you were 
 well and comfortably off as far as money is concerned, that 
 thought would keep me easy in spite of bad health and 
 troubles. Money? why, it is life ! Money does everything. 
 That great dolt of an Alsatian shall sing to another tune ! 
 Look here, Delphine, don't give way, don't make a conces- 
 sion of half a quarter of a farthing to that fathead, who has 
 ground you down and made you miserable. If he can't do 
 without you, we will give him a good cudgeling, and keep 
 him in order. Great heavens ! my brain is on fire ; it is as if 
 there were something 'redhot inside my head. My Delphine 
 lying 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 correspond- 
 ence, the whole business. I shall have no peace until I know 
 for certain that your fortune is secure ! " 
 
 " Oh ! father dear, be careful how you set about it ! If 
 there is the least hint of vengeance in the business, if you 
 16
 
 242 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 show yourself openly hostile, it will be all over with me. 
 He knows whom he has to deal with ; he thinks it quite 
 natural that if you put the idea into my head, I should be 
 uneasy about my money ; but I swear to you that he has it in 
 his own hands, and that he had meant to keep it. He is just 
 the man to abscond with all the money and leave us in the 
 lurch, the scoundrel ! He knows quite well that I will not 
 dishonor the name I bear by bringing him into a court of 
 law. His position is strong and weak 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. 
 "I wanted to keep it from you to spare your feelings," and 
 she burst into tears; " I did not want you to know that you 
 had married me to such a man as he is. He is just the same 
 in private life body and soul and conscience the same 
 through and through hideous ! I hate him ; I despise him ! 
 Yes, after all that that despicable Nucingen has told me, I 
 cannot respect him any longer. A man capable of mixing 
 himself up in such affairs, and of talking about them to me 
 as he did, without the slightest scruple it is because I have 
 read him through and through that I am afraid of him. He, 
 my husband, frankly proposed to give me my liberty, and do 
 you know what that means ? It means that if things turn 
 out badly for him, I am to play into his hands, and be his 
 stalking-horse." 
 
 " But there is law to be had ! There is a Place de 
 Greve for sons-in-law of that sort," cried her father; "why, 
 I would guillotine him myself if there was no headsman to 
 doit." 
 
 " No, father, the law cannot touch him. Listen, this is 
 what he says, stripped of all his circumlocutions ' Take your 
 choice, you and no one else can be my accomplice ; either 
 everything is lost, you are ruined and have not a farthing, or 
 you will let me carry this business through myself.' Is that
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 243 
 
 plain speaking ? He must have my assistance. He is assured 
 that his wife will deal fairly by him ; he knows that I shall 
 leave his money to him and be content with my own. It is 
 an unholy and dishonest compact, and he holds out threats of 
 ruin to compel me to consent to it. He is buying my con- 
 science, and the price is liberty to be Eugene's wife in all but 
 name. ' I connive at your errors, and you allow me to com- 
 mit crimes and ruin poor families ! ' Is that sufficiently ex- 
 plicit ? Do you know what he means by speculations ? He 
 buys up land in his own name, then he finds men of straw to 
 run up houses upon it. These men make a bargain with a 
 contractor to build the houses, paying them by bills at long 
 dates ; then in consideration of a small sum they leave my 
 husband in possession of the houses, and finally slip through 
 the fingers of the deluded contractors by going into bank- 
 ruptcy. The name of the firm of Nucingen has been used to 
 dazzle the poor contractors. I saw that. I noticed, too, 
 that Nucingen had sent bills for large amounts to Amsterdam, 
 London, Naples, and Vienna, in order to prove if necessary 
 that large sums had been paid away by the firm. How could 
 we get possession of those bills? " 
 
 Eugene heard a dull thud on the floor ; Father Goriot must 
 have fallen on his knees. 
 
 " Great heavens ! what have I done to you ? Bound my 
 daughter to this scoundrel who does as he likes with her ! 
 Oh ! my child, my child ! forgive me ! " eagerly 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 know of the world, of business, or 
 men, or life ? Our fathers should think for us ! Father dear, 
 I am not blaming you in the least, forgive me for what I said. 
 This is all my own fault. Nay, do not cry, papa," she said, 
 kissing him. 
 
 " Do not you cry either, my little Delphine. Look up and
 
 244 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 let me kiss away the tears. There ! I shall find my wits and 
 unravel this skein of your husband'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 as soon as possible in landed 
 property in my own name. Very likely I could get him to 
 buy back Nucingen in Alsace in my name ; that has always 
 been a pet idea of his. Still, come to-morrow and go through 
 the books, and look into the business. M. Derville knows 
 little of mercantile matters. No, not to-morrow though. I 
 do not want to be upset. Mme. de Beauseant's ball will be 
 the day after to-morrow, and I must keep quiet, so as to look 
 
 my best and freshest, and do honor to my dear Eugene ! 
 
 Come, let us see his room." 
 
 But as she spoke a carriage stopped in the Rue Neuve- 
 Sainte-Genevieve, and the sound of Mme. de Restaud's voice 
 came from the staircase. " Is my father in? " she asked of 
 Sylvie. 
 
 This accident was luckily timed for Eugene, whose one 
 idea had been to throw himself down on the bed and 
 pretend to be asleep. 
 
 "Oh, father, have you heard about Anastasie?" said 
 Delphine, when she heard her sister speak. "It looks as 
 though some strange things had happened in that family." 
 
 " What sort of things ? " asked Goriot. " This is like to 
 be the death of me. My poor head will not stand a double 
 misfortune." 
 
 " Good-morning, father," said the Countess from the thresh- 
 old. " 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 so extraordinary in my being here ? / see our father 
 every day." 
 
 "Since when?"
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 245 
 
 " If you came yourself you would know." 
 
 " Don't tease, Delphine," said the Countess fretfully. " I 
 am very miserable, I am lost. Oh ! my poor father, it is 
 hopeless this time ! " 
 
 " What is it, Nasie?" cried Goriot. " Tell us all about it, 
 child ! How white she is ! Quick, do something, Delphine ; 
 be kind to her, and I will 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 always sufficient 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, stirring the smoldering fire, " come nearer, both of 
 you. It is cold. What is it, Nasie? Be quick and tell me, 
 this is enough to " 
 
 "Well, then, my husband knows everything," said the 
 Countess. "Just imagine it; do you remember, father, that 
 bill of Maxime's some time ago? Well, that was not the 
 first. I had paid ever so many before that. About the be- 
 ginning of January M. de Trailles seemed very much troubled. 
 He said nothing to me ; but it is so easy to read the hearts of 
 those you love, a mere trifle js enough ; and then you feel 
 things instinctively. Indeed, he was more tender and affec- 
 tionate than ever, and I was happier than I had ever been 
 before. Poor Maxime ! in himself he was really saying good- 
 by to me, so he has told me since; he meant to blow his 
 brains out ! At last I worried him so, and begged and im- 
 plored so hard ; for two hours I knelt at his knees and prayed 
 and entreated, and at last he told me that he owed a hundred 
 thousand francs. Oh ! papa ! a hundred thousand francs ! 
 I was beside myself ! You had not the money, I knew ; I had 
 eaten up all that you had " 
 
 "No," said Goriot ; " I could not have gotten it for you
 
 246 FATHER CO RIOT. 
 
 unless I had stolen it. But I would have done that for you, 
 Nasie ! I will do it yet." 
 
 The words came from him like a sob, a hoarse sound like 
 the death-rattle of a dying man ; it seemed indeed like the 
 agony of death when the father's love was powerless. There 
 was a pause, and neither of the sisters spoke. It must have 
 been selfishness indeed that could hear unmoved that cry of 
 anguish that, like a pebble thrown over a precipice, revealed 
 the depths of his despair. 
 
 " I found the money, father, by selling what was not mine 
 to sell," and the Countess burst into tears. 
 
 Delphine was touched ; she laid her head on her sister's 
 shoulder, and cried 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 trouble that draws you together?" 
 
 This warm and palpitating affection seemed to give the 
 Countess courage. 
 
 "To save Maxime's life," she said, " to save all my own 
 happiness, I went to the money-lender you know of, a man 
 of iron forged in hell-fire ; nothing can melt him ; I took all 
 the family diamonds that M. de Restaud is so proud of his 
 and mine too and sold them to that M, Gobseck. Sold 
 them ! Do you understand ? I saved Maxime, but I am lost. 
 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 was enough, it told me everything ' where are your dia- 
 monds? ' ' In my room ' ' No,' he said, looking straight at
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 247 
 
 me, ' there they are on that chest of drawers ' and he lifted 
 
 his handkerchief and showed me the casket. ' Do you know 
 
 where they come from ? ' he said. I fell at his feet I 
 
 cried ; I besought him to tell me the death he wished to see 
 me die." 
 
 "You said that!" cried Goriot. "By God in heaven, 
 whoever lays a hand on either of you so long as I am alive 
 may reckon on being roasted by slow 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 ! heaven preserve all other women from hearing 
 such words as I heard then ! " 
 
 " I will murder that man," said Goriot quietly. "But he 
 has only one life, 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 no separation ; there are the children. 
 I will not kill M. de Trailles. I might miss him if we fought, 
 and as for other ways of getting rid of him, I should come 
 into collision with the law. If I killed him in your arms, it 
 would bring dishonor on those children. But if you do not 
 want to see your children perish, nor their father nor me, you 
 must first of all submit to two conditions. Answer me. Have 
 I a child of my own ? ' I answered, ' Yes. ' ' Which ? ' ' Ernest, 
 our eldest boy.' 'Very well,' he said, 'and now swear to 
 obey me in this particular from this time forward.' I swore. 
 ' You will make over your property to me when I require you 
 to do so.' " 
 
 " Do nothing of the kind ! " cried Goriot. "Aha ! M. de 
 Restaud, you could not make your wife happy ; she has looked 
 for happiness and found it elsewhere, and you make her suffer 
 for your own inaptitude ? He will have to reckon with me. 
 Make yourself easy, Nasie. Aha ! he cares about his heir !
 
 248 FATHER CO RIOT. 
 
 Good, very good. I will get hold of the boy ; isn't he my 
 grandson ? What the blazes ! I can surely go to see the brat ! 
 I will stow him away somewhere; I will take care of him, 
 you may be quite easy. 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 my daughter her property, 
 and leave her to do as she pleases.' " 
 
 "Father!" 
 
 " Yes. I am your father, Nasie, a father indeed ! That 
 rogue of a great lord had better not ill-treat my daughter. 
 Tonnerre ! What is it in my veins ? There is the blood of a 
 tiger in me ; I could tear those two men 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 here 
 
 no longer ? Fathers ought to live as long as their children. 
 Ah ! Lord God in heaven ! how ill Thy world is ordered ! 
 Thou hast a Son, if what they tell us is true, and yet Thou 
 leavest us to suffer so through our children. My darlings, 
 my darlings ! to think that trouble only should bring 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 pour out 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 a father's heart. If only I could 
 
 bear all your sorrows for you ! Ah ! you were so happy 
 
 when you were little and still with me " 
 
 "We have never been happy since," said Delphine. 
 " Where are the old days when we slid down the sacks in the 
 great granary ? ' ' 
 
 "That is not all, father," said Anastasie in Goriot's ear. 
 The old man gave a startled shudder. " The diamonds only 
 sold for a hundred thousand francs. Maxime is hard pressed. 
 There are twelve thousand francs still to pay. He has given 
 me his word that he will be steady and give up play in future. 
 His love is all that I have left in the world. I have paid such
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 249 
 
 a fearful price for it that I shall die if I lose him now. I have 
 sacrificed my fortune, my honor, my peace of mind, and my 
 children for him. Oh ! do something, so that at the least 
 Maxime may be at large and live undisgraced in the world, 
 where he will assuredly make a career for himself. Some- 
 thing more than my happiness is at stake ; the children have 
 nothing, and if he is sent to Sainte-Pelagie all his prospects 
 will be ruined." 
 
 "I haven't the money, Nasie. I have nothing nothing 
 left. This is the end of everything. Yes, the world is crum- 
 bling into ruin, I am sure. 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 my life. But I have nothing 
 else except my life annuity, twelve hundred francs " 
 
 " Then what has become of your money in the funds? " 
 
 " I sold out, and only kept a trifle for my wants. I wanted 
 twelve thousand 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 is spent now." 
 
 "I see how it is," said the Countess. " Rooms for M. de 
 Rastignac. Poor Delphine, take warning by me ! " 
 
 " M. de Rastignac is incapable of ruining the woman he 
 loves, dear." 
 
 " Thanks ! Delphine. I thought yotr would have been 
 kinder to me in my troubles, but you never did love me." 
 
 "Yes, yes, she loves you, Nasie!" cried Goriot; "she 
 was saying so only just now. We were talking about you, 
 and she insisted that you were beautiful, and that she herself 
 was only pretty! " 
 
 " Pretty ! " said the Countess. "She is as hard as a mar- 
 ble statue." 
 
 "And if I am, " cried Delphine, flushing up, "how have 
 you treated me ? You would not recognize me ; you closed
 
 250 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 the doors of every house against me ; you have never let an 
 opportunity of mortifying me slip by. And when did I come, 
 as you were always doing, to drain our poor father, a thou- 
 sand francs at a time, till he is left as you see him now? 
 That is all your doing, sister ! I myself have seen my father 
 as often as I could. I have not turned him out of the house, 
 and then come and fawned upon him when I wanted money. 
 I did not so much as know that he had spent those twelve 
 thousand francs on me. I am economical, as you know; and 
 when papa has made me presents, it has never been because I 
 came and begged for them." 
 
 "You were better off than I. M. de Marsay was rich, as 
 you have reason to know. You always were as slippery as 
 gold. Good-by; I have neither sister nor " 
 
 " Oh ! hush, hush ! Nasie ! " cried her father. 
 
 " Nobody else would repeat what everybody has ceased to 
 believe. You are an unnatural sister ! " cried Delphine. 
 
 " Oh, children, children ! hush ! hush ! or I will kill my- 
 self before your eyes." 
 
 "There, Nasie, I forgive you," said Mme. de Nucingen ; 
 " you are very unhappy. But I am kinder than you are. 
 How could you say //foz/just when I was ready to do anything 
 in the world to help you, even to be reconciled with my hus- 
 band, which for my own sake I Oh ! it is just like you ; 
 
 you have behaved cruelly to me all through these nine years." 
 
 " Children, children, kiss each other ! " cried the father. 
 " You are angels, both of you." 
 
 " No. Let me alone," cried the Countess, shaking off the 
 hand that her father 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 Marsay than own that M. de Trailles had cost me more 
 than two hundred thousand francs," retorted Mme. de 
 Nucingen.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 251 
 
 "Delphinc!" cried the Countess, stepping towards her 
 sister. 
 
 " I shall tell you the truth about yourself if you begin to 
 slander me," said the Baroness coldly. 
 
 " Delphine ! you are a " 
 
 Father Goriot sprang between them, grasped the Countess' 
 hand, and laid his own over her mouth. 
 
 " Good heavens, father ! What have you been handling 
 this morning ? ' ' said Anastasie. 
 
 "Ah ! well, yes, I ought not to have touched you," said 
 the poor father, wiping his hands on his trousers, " but I 
 have been packing up my 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 heart between 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 of me ! 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 can find 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 than you are. Come now, 
 Dedel." 
 
 ' ' Poor Nasie ! ' ' said Delphine, alarmed at the wild ex- 
 travagant grief in her father's face, " I was in the wrong, 
 kiss me " 
 
 " Ah ! that is like balm to my heart," cried Father Goriot. 
 "But how are we to find twelve thousand francs? I might 
 offer myself as a substitute in the army " 
 
 " Oh ! father dear ! " they both cried, flinging their arms 
 about him. " No, no! "
 
 252 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 " 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 his despair. "I would give body and soul to save 
 you, Nasie. I would do a murder 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, and put 
 
 both hands to his head. " Nothing left ! " he cried, tearing 
 his hair. " If I only knew of a way to steal money, but it is so 
 hard to do it, and then you can't set to work by yourself, and 
 it takes time to rob a bank. Yes, it is time I was dead ; there 
 is nothing left me to do but 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 have nothing to 
 give her. Ah ! you put your money into a life annuity, old 
 scoundrel ; and had you not daughters ? You did not love 
 them. Die, die in a ditch, like the dog that you are ! Yes, 
 I am worse than a dog ; a beast would not have done as I 
 
 have done ! Oh ! my head it throbs as 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 the wall. 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 the figures, made it into a regular bill for twelve 
 thousand francs, payable to Goriot's order, and went to his 
 neighbor's room, determined to help him out of his present 
 trouble by a great sacrifice on his own part. 
 
 " Here is the money, madame," he said, handing the piece 
 of paper to her. " I was asleep ; your conversation awoke 
 me, and by this means I learned all that I owed to M. Goriot.
 
 FATHER GORIOT, 253 
 
 This bill can be discounted, and I shall meet it punctually at 
 the due date." 
 
 The Countess stood motionless and speechless, but she held 
 the bill in her fingers. 
 
 " Delphine," she said, with a white face, and her whole 
 frame quivering with indignation, anger, and rage, " I forgave 
 you everything ; God is my witness that I forgave you, but I 
 cannot forgive this ! So this gentleman was there all the 
 time, and you knew it ! Your petty spite has led you to wreak 
 your vengeance on me by betraying my secrets, my life, my 
 children's lives, my shame, my honor ! There, you are noth- 
 ing to 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 my boy ! I will be more 
 than a father to you ; I would be everything in the world to 
 you ; if I had God's power, I would fling worlds at your feet. 
 Why don't you kiss him, Nasie? He is not a man, but an 
 angel, an 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 
 the old man, and he staggered and fell on the bed as if a bullet 
 had struck him. " They are killing me between them," he 
 said to himself. 
 
 The Countess fixed her eyes on Eugene, who stood stock- 
 still ; all his faculties were numbed by this violent scene. 
 
 "Sir? " she said, doubt and inquiry in her face, tone, 
 
 and bearing ; she took no notice now of her father nor of 
 Delphine, who was hastily unfastening his waistcoat.
 
 254 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 " Madame," said Eugene, answering the question before it 
 was asked, " I will meet the bill, and keep silence about it." 
 
 "You have killed our father, Nasie ! " said Delphine, 
 pointing to Goriot, who lay unconscious on the bed. The 
 Countess fled. 
 
 " I freely forgive her," said the old man, opening his eyes ; 
 " her position is horrible ; it would turn an older head than 
 hers. Comfort Nasie, and be nice to her, Delphine ; promise 
 it to your poor father before he dies/' he said, holding 
 Delphine's hand in a convulsive clasp. 
 
 " Oh ! what ails you, father ? " she cried in real alarm. 
 
 "Nothing, nothing," said Goriot; "it will go off. There 
 is something heavy pressing on my forehead, a little headache 
 Ah ! poor Nasie, what a life lies before her ! " 
 
 Just as he spoke, the Countess came back again and flung 
 herself on her 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 me unjust to you. You will be a brother to 
 me, will you not?" and she held out her hand. Her eyes 
 were full of tears as she spoke. 
 
 " Nasie," cried Delphine, flinging her arms round her 
 sister, " my little 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 eyes had been raised ; your voices have called me 
 back to life. Kiss each other 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 all well, Nasie, so you must not remember it against 
 me. Send and let me know as soon as you are out of your 
 strait. No, I will go to you. No, after all, I will not go ; I
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 255 
 
 might meet your husband, and I should kill him on the spot. 
 And as for signing away your property, I shall have a word to 
 say about that. Quick, my child, and keep Maxime in order 
 in future." 
 
 Eugene was too bewildered to speak. 
 
 " Poor Anastasie, she always had a violent temper," said 
 Mme. de Nucingen, "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 did not 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 his hand until he fell asleep. Then she 
 went. 
 
 "This evening at the Italiens," she said to Eugene, "and 
 you can let me know how he is. To-morrow you will leave 
 this place, monsieur. Let us go into your room. Oh ! how 
 frightful!" she cried on the threshold. ft Why, you are 
 even worse lodged than our father. Eugene, you have behaved 
 well. I would love you more if that were possible ; but, dear 
 boy, if you are to succeed in life, you must not begin by 
 flinging twelve thousand francs out of the windows like that. 
 The Comte de Trailles is a confirmed gambler. My sister 
 shuts her eyes to it. He would have made the twelve thou- 
 sand francs in the same way that he wins and loses heaps of 
 gold." 
 
 A groan from the next room brought them back to Goriot's 
 bedside ; to all appearance he was asleep, but the two lovers 
 caught the words, " They are not happy ! " Whether he was
 
 256 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 awake or sleeping, the tone in which they were spoken went 
 to his daughter's heart. She stole up to the pallet-bed on 
 which her father lay, and kissed his forehead. He opened 
 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 easy about Goriot, and would not stay to dinner, 
 as she proposed. He wanted to be back at the Maison 
 Vauquer. Father Goriot had left his room, and was just 
 sitting down to dinner as he came in. Bianchon had placed 
 himself where he could watch the old man carefully; and 
 when the old vermicelli-maker took up his square of bread 
 and smelt it to find out the quality of the flour, the medical 
 student, studying him closely, saw that the action was purely 
 mechanical, and shook his head. 
 
 " Just come and sit over here, hospitaller of Cochin," said 
 Eugene. 
 
 Bianchon went the more willingly because his change of 
 place brought him next to the old lodger. 
 
 " What is wrong with him ? " asked Rastignac. 
 
 " It is all up with him, or I am much mistaken ! Some- 
 thing very extraordinary must have taken place ; he looks to 
 me as if he were in imminent danger of serous apoplexy. 
 The lower part of his face is composed enough, but the upper 
 part is drawn and distorted. Then there is that peculiar look 
 about the eyes that indicates an effusion of serum in the brain ; 
 they look as if they were covered with a film of fine dust, do 
 you notice? I shall know more about it by to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 " Is there any cure for it ? " 
 
 " None. It may be possible to stave death off for a time
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 257 
 
 if a way could be found of setting up a reaction in the lower 
 extremities ; but if the symptoms do not abate by to-morrow 
 evening, it will be all over with him, poor old fellow ! Do 
 you know what has happened to bring this on ? There must 
 have been some violent shock, and his mind has given way." 
 
 "Yes, there was," said Rastignac, remembering how the 
 two daughters had 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 care- 
 fully, lest he should give Mme. de Nucingen needless alarm. 
 
 " Do not be anxious about him," she said, however, as soon 
 as Eugene began, " our father has really a strong constitu- 
 tion, but this morning we gave him a shock. Our whole for- 
 tunes were in peril, so the thing was serious, you see. I could 
 not live if your affection did not make me insensible to trou- 
 bles that I should once have thought too hard to bear. At 
 this moment I have but one fear left, but one misery to dread 
 to lose the love that has made me feel so glad to live. 
 Everything else is as nothing to me compared with your love ; 
 I care for nothing else, for you are all the world to me. If I 
 feel glad to be rich, it is for your sake. To my shame be it 
 said, I think of my lover before my father. Do you ask why ? 
 I cannot tell you, but all my life is in you. My father gave 
 me a heart, but you have taught it to beat. The whole world 
 may condemn me ; what does it matter if I stand acquitted in 
 your eyes, for you have no right to think ill of me for the 
 faults which a tyrannous love has forced me to commit for 
 you ! Do you think me an unnatural daughter ? Oh ! no, 
 no one could help loving such a dear kind father as ours. 
 But how could I hide the inevitable consequences of our mis- 
 erable marriages from him ? Why did he allow us to marry 
 when we did ? Was it not his duty to think for us and fore- 
 see for us ? To-day I know he suffers as much as we do, but 
 how can it be helped ? And as for comforting him, we could 
 17
 
 258 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 not comfort him in the least. Our resignation would give 
 him more pain and hurt him far more than complaints and 
 upbraidings. There are times in life when everything turns 
 to bitterness." 
 
 Eugene was silent, the artless and sincere outpouring made 
 an impression on him. 
 
 Parisian women are often false, intoxicated with vanity, 
 selfish and self-absorbed, frivolous and shallow; yet of all 
 women, when they love, they sacrifice their personal feelings 
 to their passion ; they rise but so much the higher for all 
 the pettiness overcome in their nature, and become sublime. 
 Then Eugene was struck by the profound discernment and 
 insight displayed by this woman in judging of natural affection, 
 when a privileged affection had separated and set her at a 
 distance 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 always felt 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, lest their talk should exceed the conventional limits of 
 propriety. She had never heard the vibrating tones of a sin- 
 cere and youthful love ; a few more words, and she feared for 
 her self-control. 
 
 "Eugene," she said, changing the conversation, "I won- 
 der whether you know what has been happening ? All Paris 
 will go to Mme. de Beauseant's to-morrow. The Rochefides 
 and the Marquis d'Ajuda have agreed to keep the matter a 
 profound secret, but to-morrow the king will sign the marriage 
 contract, and your poor cousin the Vicomtesse knows nothing 
 of it as yet. She cannot put off her ball, and the Marquis 
 will not be there. People are wondering what will happen ? " 
 
 "The world laughs at baseness and connives at it. But 
 this will kill Mme. de Beausant." 
 
 " Oh, no," said Delphine, smiling, " you do not know
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 259 
 
 that kind of woman. Why, all Paris will be there, and so 
 shall I ; I ought to go there for your sake." 
 
 " Perhaps, after all, it is one of those absurd reports that 
 people set in circulation here." 
 
 " We shall know the truth to-morrow." 
 
 Eugene did not return to the Maison Vauquer. He could 
 not forego the pleasure of occupying his new rooms in the Rue 
 d'Artois. Yesterday evening he had been obliged to leave 
 Delphine soon after midnight, but that night it was Delphine 
 who stayed with him until two o'clock in the morning. He 
 rose late, and waited for Mme. de Nucingen, who came about 
 noon to breakfast with him. Youth snatches eagerly at these 
 rosy moments of happiness, and Eugene had almost forgotten 
 Goriot's existence. The pretty things that surrounded him 
 were growing familiar ; this domestication in itself was one 
 long festival for him, and Mme. de Nucingen was there to 
 glorify it all by her presence. It was four o'clock before 
 they thought of Goriot, and how he had looked forward to 
 the new life in that house. Eugene said that the old man 
 ought to be moved at once, lest he should grow too ill to 
 move. He left Delphine, and hurried back to the lodging- 
 house. Neither Father Goriot nor young Bianchon was in 
 the dining-room with the others. 
 
 "Aha!" said the painter as Eugene came in, "Father 
 Goriot has broken down at last. Bianchon is upstairs with 
 him. One of his daughters the Comtesse de Restaurama 
 came to see the old gentleman, and he would get up and go 
 out, and made himself worse. Society is about to lose one 
 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 rights have moved out on the i5th of February.
 
 260 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 That was three days ago ; to-day is the i8th, I ought really 
 to be paid a month in advance ; but if 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 things won't fetch ten francs. This morn- 
 ing he went out with all the spoons and forks he has left, I 
 don't know why. He had got himself up to look quite young, 
 and Lord, forgive me but I thought he had rouge on his 
 cheeks ; he looked quite young again." 
 
 "I will be responsible," said Eugene, shuddering with 
 horror, for he foresaw the end. 
 
 He climbed the stairs and reached Father Goriot's room. 
 The old man was 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 the room. 
 
 " Well? " asked Rastignac. 
 
 " Nothing but a miracle can save him now. Serous con- 
 gestion has set in ; I have put on mustard plasters, and luckily 
 he can feel them, they are acting." 
 
 "Is it possible to move him ? " 
 
 "Quite out of the question. He must stay where he is, 
 and be kept as quiet as possible " 
 
 "Dear Bianchon," said Eugene, "we will nurse him be- 
 tween us." 
 
 " I have had the head physician round from my hospital to 
 see him."
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 261 
 
 " And what did he say ? " 
 
 " He will give no opinion till to-morrow evening. He 
 promised to look in again at the end of the day. Unluckily, 
 the preposterous creature must needs go and do something 
 foolish this morning ; he will not say what it was. He is as 
 obstinate as a mule. As soon as I begin to talk to him he pre- 
 tends not to hear, and lies as if he were asleep instead of 
 answering, or if he opens his eyes he begins to groan. Some 
 time this morning he went out on foot in the streets, nobody 
 knows where he went, and he took everything that he had of 
 any value with him. He has been driving some confounded 
 bargain, and it has been too much for his strength. One of 
 his daughters has been here." 
 
 "Was it the Countess?" asked Eugene. "A tall, dark- 
 haired woman, with large 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 ; there is still some hope left." 
 
 "All right." 
 
 "How they will enjoy themselves to-morrow," said Father 
 Goriot when they were alone. " They are going to a grand 
 ball." 
 
 " What were you doing this morning, papa, to make your- 
 self so poorly this evening that you have to stop in bed ? " 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "Did not Anastasie come to see you?" demanded Ras- 
 tignac. 
 
 "Yes," said Father Goriot. 
 
 "Well, then, don't keep anything from me. What more 
 did she want of you? " 
 
 "Oh, she was very miserable," he answered, gathering up all 
 his strength to speak. " It was this way, my boy. Since
 
 262 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 that affair of the diamonds, Nasie has not had a penny of her 
 own. For this ball she had ordered a golden gown like a set- 
 ting for a jewel. Her mantuamaker, a woman without a 
 conscience, would not give her credit, so Nasie's waiting- 
 woman advanced a thousand francs on account. Poor Nasie ! 
 reduced to such shifts ! It cut me to the heart to think of it ! 
 But when Nasie's maid saw how things were between her 
 master and mistress, she was afraid of losing her money, and 
 came to an understanding with the dressmaker, and the 
 woman refuses to send the ball-dress until the money 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 pawn them. Her husband is determined that she shall go 
 and wear the diamonds, so as to contradict the stories that are 
 told all over Paris. How can she go to that heartless scoun- 
 drel and say, 'I owe a thousand francs to my dressmaker; 
 pay her for me ?' She cannot. I saw that myself. Delphine 
 will be there too in a superb toilet, and Anastasie ought not 
 to be outshone by her younger sister. And then she was 
 drowned in tears, poor girl ! I felt so humbled yesterday 
 when I had not the twelve thousand francs, that I would have 
 given the rest of my miserable life to wipe out that wrong. 
 You see, I could have borne anything once, but latterly this 
 want of money has broken my heart. Oh ! I did not do it 
 by halves ; I titivated myself up a bit, and went out and sold 
 my spoons and forks and buckles for six hundred francs ; then 
 I went to old Daddy Gobseck and sold a year's interest in 
 my annuity for four hundred francs down. Pshaw! I can 
 live on dry bread, as I did when I was a young man ; if I 
 have done it before, I can do it again. My Nasie shall have 
 one happy evening, at any rate. She shall be smart. The 
 bank-note for a thousand francs is here under my pillow ; it 
 warms me to have it lying here under my head, for it is going 
 to make my poor Nasie happy. She can turn that bad girl 
 Victoire out of the house. A servant that cannot trust her
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 263 
 
 mistress, did any one ever hear the like ! I shall be quite 
 well to-morrow. Nasie is coming at ten o'clock. They must 
 not think that I am ill, or they will not go to the ball ; they 
 will stop and take care of me. To-morrow Nasie will come 
 and hold me in her arms as if I were one of her children ; 
 her kisses will make me well again. After all, I might have 
 spent the thousand francs on physic ; I would far rather give 
 them to my little Nasie, who can charm all the pain away. 
 At any rate, I am some comfort to her in her misery ; and 
 that makes up for my unkindness in buying an annuity. She 
 is in the depths, and I cannot draw her out of them now. 
 Oh ! I will go into business again, I will buy wheat in Odessa; 
 out there, wheat fetches a quarter of the price it sells for here. 
 There is a law against the importation of grain, but the good 
 folk who made the law forgot to prohibit the introduction of 
 wheat products and food stuffs made from corn. Hey ! 
 
 hey ! That struck me this morning. There is a fine 
 
 trade to be done in starch." 
 
 Eugene, watching the old man's face, thought that his 
 friend was light-headed. 
 
 "Come," he said, "do not talk any more, you must rest 
 
 " Just then Bianchon came up, and Eugene went down 
 
 to dinner. 
 
 The two students sat up with him that night, relieving each 
 other in turn. Bianchon brought up his medical books and 
 studied ; Eugene wrote letters home to his mother and sisters. 
 Next morning Bianchon thought the symptoms more hopeful, 
 but the patient's condition demanded continual attention, 
 which the two students alone were willing to give a task 
 impossible to describe in the squeamish phraseology of the 
 epoch. Leeches must be applied to the wasted body; the 
 poultices, hot foot-baths, and other details of the treatment 
 required the physical strength and devotion of the two 
 young men. Mme. de Restaud did not come ; but she sent 
 a messenger for the money.
 
 264 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 "I expected she would come herself; but it would have 
 been a pity for her to come, she would have been anxious 
 about me," said the father, and to all appearance he was well 
 content. 
 
 At seven o'clock that evening Theiese came with a letter 
 from Delphine. 
 
 "What are you doing, dear friend? I have been loved 
 for a very little while, and am I 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 feelings 
 is never the same. Once you said, as we were listening to 
 the prayer in ' Mos6 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.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 265 
 
 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 hopeful view of the case, but thought that there was no 
 immediate danger. Improvements and relapses might be 
 expected, and the good man's life and reason hung in the 
 balance. 
 
 "It would be better for him to die at once," the doctor 
 said as he took leave. 
 
 Eugene left Goriot to Bianchon's care, and went to carry 
 the sad news to Mme. de Nucingen. Family feeling lingered 
 in her, and this must put an end for the present to her plans 
 of amusement. 
 
 " Tell her to enjoy her evening as if nothing had happened," 
 cried Goriot. He had been lying in a sort of stupor, but he 
 suddenly sat upright as Eugene went out. 
 
 Eugene, half-heartbroken, entered Delphine's room. Her 
 hair had been dressed ; she wore her dancing slippers ; she 
 had only to put on her ball-dress ; but when the artist is 
 giving the finishing stroke to his creation, the last touches 
 require more time than the whole ground-work of the picture. 
 
 " Why ! you are not dressed ! " she cried. 
 
 "Madame, your father " 
 
 "My father again ! " she exclaimed, breaking in upon him. 
 " You need not teach me what is due to my father, I have known 
 my father this long while. Not a word, Eugene. I will hear 
 what you have to say when you are dressed. My carriage is 
 waiting, take it, go round to your rooms and dress, Therese 
 has put out everything in readiness for you. Come back as 
 soon as you can ; we will talk about my father on the way to 
 Mme. de Beauseant's. We must go early ; if we have to wait 
 our turn in a row of carriages, we shall be lucky if we get 
 there by eleven o'clock."
 
 266 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 Madame- 
 
 " Quick ! not a word 1 " she cried, darting into her dress- 
 ing-room for a necklace. 
 
 " Do go, Monsieur Eugene, or you will vex madame," said 
 Therese, hurrying him away ; and Eugene was too horror- 
 stricken by this elegant parricide to resist. 
 
 He went to his rooms and dressed, sad, thoughtful, and 
 dispirited. The world of Paris was like an ocean of mud for 
 him just then ; and it seemed that whoever set foot in that 
 black mire must needs sink into it up to the chin. 
 
 " Their crimes are paltry," said Eugene to himself. " Vau- 
 trin was greater." 
 
 He had seen society in its three great phases obedience, 
 struggle, and revolt ; the family, the world, and Vautrin ; and 
 he hesitated in his choice. Obedience was dull, revolt im- 
 possible, struggle hazardous. His thoughts wandered back to 
 the home circle. He thought of the quiet uneventful life, the 
 pure happiness of the days spent among those who loved him 
 there. Those loving and beloved beings passed their lives in 
 obedience to the natural laws of the hearth, and in that obedi- 
 ence found a deep and constant serenity, unvexed by torments 
 such as these. Yet, for all his good impulses, he could not 
 bring himself to make profession of the religion of pure souls 
 to Delphine, nor to prescribe the duties of piety to her in the 
 name of love. His education had begun to bear its fruits; 
 he loved selfishly already. Besides, his tact had discovered 
 to him the real nature of Delphine ; he divined instinctively 
 that she was capable of stepping over her father's corpse to 
 go to the ball ; and within himself he felt that he had neither 
 the strength of mind to play the part of mentor, nor the 
 strength of character to vex her, nor the courage to leave her 
 to go alone. 
 
 " She would never forgive me for putting her in the wrong 
 over it," he said to himself. Then he turned the doctor's 
 dictum over in his mind ; he tried to believe that Goriot was
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 267 
 
 not so dangerously ill as he had imagined, and ended by 
 collecting together a sufficient quantity of traitorous excuses 
 for Delphine's conduct. She did not know how ill her father 
 was ; the kind old man himself would have made her go to 
 the ball if she had gone to see him. So often it happens that 
 this one or that stands condemned by the social laws that 
 govern family relations ; and yet there are peculiar circum- 
 stances in the case, differences of temperament, divergent 
 interests, innumerable complications of family life that excuse 
 the apparent offense. 
 
 Eugene did not wish to see too clearly ; he was ready to 
 sacrifice his conscience to his mistress. Within the last few 
 days his whole life had undergone a change. Woman had 
 entered into his world and thrown it into chaos, family 
 claims dwindled away before her ; she had appropriated all 
 his being to her uses. Rastignac and Delphine found each 
 other at a crisis in their lives when their union gave them the 
 most poignant bliss. Their passion, so long proved, had 
 only gained in strength by the gratified desire that often 
 extinguishes passion. This woman was his, and Eugene 
 recognized that not until then had he loved her ; perhaps 
 love is only gratitude for pleasure. This woman, vile or sub- 
 lime, he adored for the pleasures she had brought as her 
 dower ; and Delphine loved Rastignac as Tantalus would 
 have loved some angel who had satisfied his hunger and 
 quenched the burning thirst in his parched throat. 
 
 "Well," said Mme. de Nucingen when he came back in 
 evening dress, " how is my father? " 
 
 " Very dangerously ill," he answered ; " if you will grant 
 me a proof of your affection, 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 for the ball. Eugene said nothing for a while, 
 apparently absorbed in deep meditation.
 
 268 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 " What is it now? " she asked. 
 
 "I can hear the death-rattle in your father's throat," he 
 said, almost angrily. And with the hot indignation of youth, 
 he told the story of Mme. de Restaud's vanity and cruelty, of 
 her father's final act of self-sacrifice, that had brought about 
 this struggle between life and death, of the price that had 
 been paid for Anastasie's golden embroideries. Delphine 
 cried. 
 
 " I shall look frightful," she thought. She dried her tears. 
 
 " I will nurse my father; I will not leave his bedside," she 
 said aloud. 
 
 "Ah! now you are as I would have you," exclaimed 
 Rastignac. 
 
 The lamps of five hundred carriages lit up the darkness 
 about the Hotel de Beauseant. A gendarme in all the glory 
 of his uniform stood on either side of the brightly lighted 
 gateway. The great world was flocking thither that night in 
 its eager curiosity to see the great lady at the moment of her 
 fall, and the rooms on the ground floor were already full to 
 overflowing, when Mme. de Nucingen and Rastignac appeared. 
 Never since Louis XIV. tore her lover away from La Grande 
 Mademoiselle, and the whole court hastened to visit that 
 unfortunate princess, had a disastrous love affair made such a 
 sensation in Paris. But the youngest daughter of the almost 
 royal house of Burgundy had risen proudly above her pain, 
 and moved till the last moment like a queen in this world 
 its vanities had always been valueless for her, save in so far as 
 they contributed to the triumph of her passion. The salons 
 were filled with the most beautiful women in Paris, resplendent 
 in their toilets, and radiant with smiles. Ministers and 
 ambassadors, the most distinguished men at court, men be- 
 dizened with decorations, stars, and ribbons, men who bore 
 the most illustrious names in France, had gathered about the 
 Vicomtesse. 
 
 The music of the orchestra vibrated in wave after wave of
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 269 
 
 sound from the golden ceiling of the palace, now made deso- 
 late for its queen. 
 
 Madame de Beauseant stood at the door of the first salon 
 to receive the guests who were styled her friends. She was 
 dressed in white, and wore no ornament in the plaits of 
 hair braided about her head ; her face was calm ; there was 
 no sign there of pride, nor of pain, nor of joy that she did 
 not feel. No one could read her soul ; she stood there like 
 some Niobe carved in marble. For a few intimate friends 
 there was a 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 her happiness. The most callous of her guests 
 admired her as young Rome applauded some gladiator who 
 could die smiling. It seemed as if society had adorned itself 
 for a last audience of one of its sovereigns. 
 
 " I was afraid that you would not come," she said to Ras- 
 tignac. 
 
 "Madame," he said, in an unsteady voice, taking her 
 speech as a reproach, " I shall be the last to go, that is why I 
 am here." 
 
 " Good," she said, and she took his hand. " You are per- 
 haps the only one that I can trust here among all these. Oh, 
 my friend, when you love, love a woman whom you are sure 
 that you can love always. Never forsake a woman." 
 
 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 the Marquis to give my letters back to me. 
 He will give them all up, I like to think that. When you 
 have my letters, go up to my room with them. Some one 
 shall bring me word." 
 
 She rose to go to meet the Duchesse de Langeais, her most 
 intimate friend, who had come like the rest of the world. 
 
 Rastignac went. He asked for the Marquis d'Ajuda at the
 
 270 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 Hotel Rochefide, feeling certain that the latter would be 
 spending his evening there, and so it proved. The Marquis 
 went to his own house with 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 about the ball, or the Vicomtesse ; perhaps he was on 
 the brink of the confession that, even then, he was in despair, 
 and knew that his marriage would be a fatal mistake ; but a 
 proud gleam shone in his eyes, and with deplorable courage 
 he kept his noblest feelings a secret. 
 
 " Do not even mention my name to her, my dear Eugene." 
 He grasped Rastignac's hand sadly and affectionately, and 
 turned away from him. Eugene went back to the Hotel 
 Beauseant, the servant took him to the Vicomtesse's room. 
 There were signs there of preparations for a journey. He sat 
 down by the fire, fixed his eyes on the cedar-wood casket, and 
 fell into deep mournful musings. Mme. de Beauseant loomed 
 up largely in these imaginings, like a goddess in the Iliad. 
 
 "Ah ! my friend ! " said the Vicomtesse; she crossed 
 
 the room and laid her hand on Rastignac's shoulder. He 
 saw the tears in his cousin's uplifted eyes, saw that one hand 
 was raised to take the casket, and that the fingers of the other 
 trembled. Suddenly she took the casket, put it in the fire, 
 and watched it burn. 
 
 "They are dancing," she said. "They all came very 
 early ; but death will belong in coming. Hush ! my friend," 
 and she laid a finger on Rastignac's lips, seeing that he was 
 about to speak. " I shall never see Paris again. I am taking 
 my leave of this world. At five o'clock this morning I shall 
 set out on my journey ; I mean to bury myself in the re- 
 motest part of Normandy. I have had very little time to 
 make my arrangements ; since three o'clock this afternoon 
 I have been busy signing documents, setting my affairs in 
 order ; there was no one whom I could send to " 
 
 She broke off.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 271 
 
 " He was sure to be- 
 
 Again she broke off; the weight of her sorrow was more 
 than she could bear. In such moments as these everything 
 is agony, and some words are impossible to utter. 
 
 "And so I counted upon you to do me this last piece 
 of service this evening," she said. "I should like to give 
 you some pledge of friendship. I shall often think of you. 
 You have seemed to me to be kind and noble, fresh-hearted 
 and true, in this world where such qualities are seldom 
 found. I should like you to think sometimes of me. Stay," 
 she said, glancing about her, " there is this box that has held 
 my gloves. Every time I opened it before going to a ball or 
 to the theatre, I used to feel that I must be beautiful, because 
 I was so happy ; and I never touched it except to lay some 
 gracious memory in it : there is so much of my old self in it, 
 of a Madame de Beauseant who now lives no longer. Will 
 you take it? I will leave directions that it is to be sent to 
 you in the Rue d'Artois. Mme. de Nucingen looked very 
 charming this evening. Eugene, you must love her. Perhaps 
 we 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 go downstairs. People shall not think that 
 I am weeping. I have all time and eternity before me, and 
 where I am going I shall be alone, and no one 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 for an 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 a more violent emotion than he had felt before. 
 They went back to the ballroom, and Mme. de Beauseant 
 went through the rooms on Eugene's arm the last delicately 
 gracious act of a gracious woman. In another moment he 
 saw the sisters, Mme. de Restaud and Mme. de Nucingen.
 
 272 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 The Countess shone in all the glory of her magnificent 
 diamonds; every stone 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 to meet her husband's 
 eyes. The sight of her was scarcely calculated to lighten 
 Rastignac's sad thoughts ; through the blaze of those diamonds 
 he seemed to see the wretched pallet-bed on which Father 
 Goriot was lying. The Vicomtesse misread his melancholy ; 
 she withdrew her hand from his arm. 
 
 " Come," she said to him, " I must not deprive you of a 
 pleasure." 
 
 Eugene was soon claimed by Delphine. She was delighted 
 with the impression that she had made, and eager to lay at 
 her lover's feet the homage she had received in this new 
 world in which she hoped to live and move, henceforth, a con- 
 spicuous figure. 
 
 " What do you think of Nasie ? " she asked him. 
 
 " She has discounted everything, even her own father's 
 death," said Rastignac. 
 
 Towards four o'clock in the morning the rooms began to 
 empty. A little later the music ceased, and the Duchesse de 
 Langeais and Rastignac were left in the great ballroom. The 
 Vicomtesse, who thought to find the student there alone, 
 came back there at the last. She had taken leave of M. de 
 Beaus6ant, 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 ! 
 Pray stay among us." 
 
 Mme. de Beausgant saw the Duchess, and, in spite of her- 
 self, an exclamation broke from her. 
 
 " I saw how it was, Clara," said Mme. de Langeais. " You 
 are going from among us, and you will never come back. 
 But you must not go until you have 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
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 273 
 
 her eyes ; she held her friend in a close embrace, and kissed 
 her cheek. 
 
 " I could not let you go without a word, dearest ; the re- 
 morse would have been too hard to bear. You can count upon 
 me as surely as upon yourself. You have shown yourself great 
 this evening ; I feel that I am worthy of your friendship, and 
 I mean to prove myself worthy of it. I have not always been 
 kind ; I was in the wrong ; forgive me, dearest ; I wish I 
 could unsay anything that may have hurt you ; I take back 
 those words. One common sorrow has brought us together 
 again, for I do not know which of us is the more miserable. 
 M. de Montreveau was not here to-night ; do you understand 
 what that means? None of those who saw you to-night, 
 Clara, will ever forget you. I mean to make one last effort. 
 If I fail, I shall go into a convent. Clara, where are you 
 going?" 
 
 " Into Normandy, to Courcelles. I shall love and pray 
 there until the day when God shall take me from this 
 world. M. de Rastignac ! " called the Vicomtesse, in a 
 tremulous voice, remembering that the young man was 
 waiting there. 
 
 The student knelt to kiss his cousin's hand. 
 
 " Good-by, Antoinette ! " said Mme. de Beausant. " May 
 you be happy." She turned to the student. "You are 
 young," she said; you have some beliefs still left. I have 
 been privileged, like some dying people, to find sincere and 
 reverent feeling in those about me as I take my leave of this 
 world." 
 
 It was nearly five o'clock that morning when Rastignac 
 came away. He had put Mme. de Beaus6ant into her trav- 
 eling carriage, and received her last farewells, spoken amid 
 fast-falling tears ; for no greatness is so great that it can rise 
 above the laws of human affection, or live beyond the juris- 
 diction of pain, as certain demagogues would have the people 
 believe. Eugdne returned on foot to the Maison Vauquer 
 18
 
 274 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 through the cold and darkness. His education was nearly 
 complete. 
 
 " There is no hope for poor Father Goriot," said Bianchon, 
 as Rastignac came into the room. Eugene looked for a while 
 at the sleeping man, then he turned to his friend. " Dear 
 fellow, you are content with the modest career you have 
 marked out for yourself; keep to it. I am in hell, and I 
 must stay there. Believe everything that you hear said of 
 the world, nothing is too impossibly bad. No Juvenal could 
 paint the horrors hidden away under the covering of gems 
 and gold." 
 
 At two o'clock in the afternoon Bianchon came to wake 
 Rastignac, and begged him to take charge of Goriot, who had 
 grown worse as the day wore on. The medical student was 
 obliged to go out. 
 
 " Poor old man, he has not two days to live, maybe not 
 many hours," he said ; " 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 can nurse him between us, 
 of course, but, for my own part, I have not a penny. I have 
 turned out his pockets, and rummaged through his drawers 
 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 to the 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 for money." 
 
 "And suppose they refuse?" Bianchon retorted. "The 
 most pressing thing just now is not really money ; we must 
 put mustard poultices, as hot as they can be made, on his 
 feet and legs. If he calls out, there is still some hope for 
 him. You know how to set about doing it, and, besides, 
 Christophe will help you. I am going round to the dispen-
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 275 
 
 sary to persuade them to let us have the things we want on 
 credit. It is a pity that we could not move him to the hos- 
 pital; poor fellow, he would be better there. Well, come 
 along, I leave you in charge ; you must stay 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. Goriot turned his dull eyes upon Eugene, looked at 
 him attentively, and did not recognize him. It was more 
 than the student could bear ; the tears came into his eyes. 
 
 "Bianchon, ought we to have curtains put up in the 
 windows ? ' ' 
 
 " No, the temperature and the light do not affect him now. 
 It would be a good thing for him if he felt heat or cold ; but 
 \ve must have a fire in any case to make tisanes and heat the 
 other things. I will send round 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 was so damp that the water 
 stood in drops on the walls; I could hardly get the room dry. 
 Christophe came in and swept the floor, but the place is like 
 a stable ; I had to burn juniper, the smell was something 
 horrible." 
 
 " Man Dieu!" said Rastignac. "To think of those 
 daughters of his." 
 
 " One moment, if he asks for something to drink, give him 
 this," said the house student, pointing to a large white jar. 
 " If he begins to groan, and the belly feels hot and hard to the 
 touch, you know what to do ; get Christophe to help you. If 
 he should happen to grow much excited, 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 Christophe to the 
 Hospice Cochin. Our doctor, my chum, or I will come and
 
 276 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 apply moxas. 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 head physician from the 
 Hotel-Dieu. Those gentlemen considered that the symptoms 
 were very unusual and interesting ; the case must be carefully 
 watched, for it throws a light on several obscure and rather 
 important scientific problems. One of the authorities says 
 that if there is more pressure of serum on one or other portion 
 of the brain, it should affect his mental capacities in such and 
 such directions. So if he should talk, notice very carefully 
 what kind of ideas his mind seems to run on; whether 
 memory, or penetration, or the reasoning faculties are exer- 
 cised ; whether sentiments or practical questions fill his 
 thoughts ; whether he makes forecasts or dwells on the past ; 
 in fact, you must be prepared to give an accurate report of 
 him. It is quite likely that the extravasation fills the whole 
 brain, in which case he will die in the imbecile state in which 
 he is lying now. You cannot tell anything about these mys- 
 terious nervous diseases. Suppose the crash came here," said 
 Bianchon, touching the back of the head, "very strange 
 things have been known to happen ; the brain sometimes 
 partially recovers, and death is delayed. Or the congested 
 matter may pass out of the brain altogether through channels 
 which can only be determined by a post-mortem examination. 
 There is an old man at the Hospital for Incurables, an imbe- 
 cile patient, in his case the effusion has followed the direction 
 of the spinal cord ; he suffers the most horrible agonies, but 
 still he lives." 
 
 " Did they enjoy themselves?" It was Father Goriot who 
 spoke. He had recognized Eugene. 
 
 " Oh ! he thinks of nothing but his daughters," said Bian- 
 chon. " Scores of times last night he said to me, ' They are 
 dancing now ! She has her dress. ' He called them by 
 their names. He made me cry, the devil take it, calling with 
 that tone in his voice, for ' Delphine ! my little Delphine !
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 277 
 
 and Nasie ! ' Upon my word," said the medical student, 
 " it was enough to make any one burst out crying." 
 
 "Delphine," said the old man, " she is there, isn't she? I 
 knew she was there," and his eyes sought the door. 
 
 " I am going down now to tell Sylvie to get the poultices 
 ready," said Bianchon. "They ought to go on at once." 
 
 Rastignac was left alone with the old man. He sat at the 
 foot of the bed, and gazed at the face before him, so horribly 
 changed that it was shocking to see. 
 
 "Noble natures cannot dwell in this world," he said; 
 " Mme. de Beauseant has fled from it, and there he lies dying. 
 What place indeed is there in the shallow, petty, frivolous 
 thing called society, for noble thoughts and feelings?" 
 
 Pictures of yesterday's ball rose up in his memory, in 
 strange contrast to the death-bed scene before him. Bianchon 
 suddenly appeared. 
 
 "I say, Eugene, I have just seen our head surgeon at the 
 hospital, and I 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 neck to 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," said the medical student, with all the enthusiasm of a 
 neophyte. 
 
 "So!" said Eugene. "Am I really the only one who 
 cares for the poor old man for his own sake ? " 
 
 "You would not have said so if you had seen me this 
 morning," returned Bianchon, who did not take offense 
 at this speech. " Doctors who have seen a good deal of 
 practice never see anything but the disease, but, my dear fel- 
 low, I can see the patient still." 
 
 He went. Eugene was left alone with the old man, and 
 with an apprehension of a crisis that set in, in fact, before 
 very long.
 
 278 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 " Ah ! dear boy, is that you? " said Father Goriot, recog- 
 nizing Eugene. 
 
 " Did you feel better?" asked the law student, taking his 
 hand. 
 
 " Yes. My head felt as if it were being screwed in a vise, 
 but now it is set free again. Did you see my girls ? They 
 will be here directly ; as soon as they know that I am ill they 
 will hurry here at once ; 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 ! There has been a young man 
 here, who has burned up all my bark fuel." 
 
 " I can hear Christophe coming upstairs," Eugene answered. 
 " He is bringing 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, dear boy. I have given everything, everything. 
 I am a pauper now. Well, at least the golden gown was 
 grand, was it not ? (Ah ! what pain this is !) Thanks, 
 Christophe ! God will reward you, my boy; I have nothing 
 .left now." 
 
 Eugene went over to Christophe and whispered in the 
 man's ear, " I will pay 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 am not feeling well, that I 
 should like to kiss them both and see them once again before 
 I die. Tell them that, but don't alarm them more than you 
 can help." 
 
 Rastignac signed to Christophe to go, and the man hur- 
 riedly departed. 
 
 " They will come before long," the old man went on. " I 
 know them so well. My tender-hearted Delphine ! If I am 
 going to die, she will feel it so much ! And so will Nasie. 
 I do not want to die ; they will cry if I die ; and if I die,
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 279 
 
 dear Eugene, I shall not see them any more. It will be very 
 dreary there where I am going. For a father it is hell to be 
 without your children ; I have served my apprenticeship 
 already since they married. My heaven was in the Rue de la 
 Jussienne. Eugene, do you think that if I go to heaven I 
 could come back to earth, and be near them in spirit ? I 
 have heard some such things said. Is it true ? It is as if I 
 could see them at this moment as they used to be when we all 
 lived in the Rue de la Jussienne. They used to come down- 
 stairs of a morning. ' Good-morning, papa ! ' they used to 
 say ; and I would take them on my knees ; we had all sorts of 
 little games of play together, and they had such pretty coax- 
 ing ways. We always had breakfast together, too, every 
 morning, and they had dinner with me in fact, I was a 
 father then. I enjoyed my children. They did not think for 
 themselves so long as they lived in the Rue de la Jussienne ; 
 they knew nothing of the world ; they loved me with all their 
 hearts. Mon Dieu ! why could they not always be little 
 girls ? (Oh ! my head ! this racking pain 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. Mon 
 Dieu ! if only I held their hands in mine, I should not feel it 
 at all. 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 the ball yesterday ; just tell me how they 
 looked. They did not know that I was ill, did they, or they 
 would not have been dancing, poor little things ? Oh ! I 
 must not be ill any longer. They stand too much in need of 
 me ; their fortunes are in danger. And such husbands as 
 they are bound 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 mak- 
 ing some. I will go to Odessa and manufacture starch there. 
 I am an old hand, I will make millions. (Oh ! this is 
 agony !) "
 
 280 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 Goriot was silent for a moment ; it seemed to require his 
 whole strength to endure the pain. 
 
 "If they were here, I should not complain," he said. 
 " So why should I complain now ? " 
 
 He seemed to grow drowsy with exhaustion, and lay quietly 
 for a long time. Christophe came back ; and Rastignac, 
 thinking that Goriot was asleep, allowed the man to give his 
 story aloud. 
 
 "First of all, sir, I went to Madame la Comtesse," he 
 said ; " but she and her husband were so busy that I couldn't 
 get to speak to her. When I 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 is the best thing 
 he can do. I want Mme. de Restaud to transact some import- 
 ant business, when it is all finished she can go.' The gentle- 
 man looked angry, I thought. I was just going away when 
 Mme. de Restaud came out into an ante-chamber through a 
 door that I did not notice, and said, ' Christophe, tell my 
 father that my husband wants me to discuss some matters with 
 him, and I cannot leave the house, the life or death of my 
 children is at stake ; but as soon as it is over, I will come.' 
 As for Madame la Baron ne, that is another story ! I could 
 not speak to her either, and I did not even see her. Her 
 waiting-woman said, ' Ah, yes, but madame only came back 
 from a ball at a quarter to five this morning; she is asleep 
 now, and if I wake her before mid-day she will be cross. As 
 soon as she rings, I will go and tell her that her father is 
 worse. It will be time enough then to tell her bad news ! ' 
 I begged and I prayed, but, there ! it was no good. Then I 
 asked for M. le Baron, but he was out." 
 
 "To think that neither of his daughters should come!" 
 exclaimed Rastignac. " I will write to them both." 
 
 " Neither of them ! " cried the old man, sitting upright in 
 bed. "They are busy, they are asleep, they will not come ! I 
 knew that they would not. Not until you are dying do you
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 281 
 
 know your children Oh ! my friend, do not marry ; do 
 
 not have children ! You give them life ; they give you your 
 death-blow. You bring them into the world, and they send 
 you out of it. No, they will not come. I have known that 
 these ten years. Sometimes I have told myself so, but I did 
 not dare to believe it." 
 
 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 given all to them, they would be with me now; 
 they would fawn on me and cover my cheeks with their kisses ! 
 I should be living in a great mansion ; I should have grand 
 apartments and servants and a fire in my room ; and they 
 would be about me all in tears, and their husbands and their 
 children. I should have had all that ; now, I have nf hing. 
 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, they would nurse me and tend 
 me ; I should hear their voices, I should see their faces. Ah, 
 God ! who knows ? They both of them have hearts of stone. 
 I loved them too much ; it was not likely that they should 
 love me. A father ought always to be rich ; he ought to keep 
 his children well in hand, like unruly horses. I have gone 
 down on my knees to them. Wretches ! thrs is the crowning 
 act that brings the last ten years to a proper close. If you 
 but knew how much they made of me just after they were mar- 
 ried. (Oh ! this is cruel torture !) I had just given them each 
 eight hundred thousand francs ; they were bound to be civil 
 to me after that, and. their husbands too were civil. I used 
 to go to their 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 with their husbands now and then, and 
 they were very respectful to me. I was still worth something, 
 they thought. Ho\v should they know? I have not said any- 
 thing about my affairs. It is worth while to be civil to a man
 
 282 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 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 to the theatre with them in 
 their carriage ; I might stay as long as I cared to stay at their 
 evening parties. In fact, they acknowledged me as their father ; 
 publicly they owned that they were my daughters. But I was 
 always a shrewd one, you see, and nothing was lost upon me. 
 Everything went straight to the mark and pierced my heart. 
 I saw quite well that it was all sham and pretense, but there 
 is no help for such things as these. I felt less at my 
 ease at their dinner table than I did downstairs here. I 
 had nothing to say for myself. So these grand folks would 
 ask in my son-in-law's ear, ' Who may that gentleman be ? ' 
 ' The father-in-law with the dollars ; he is very rich. ' ' The 
 devil he is ! ' they would say, and look again at me with the 
 respect due to my money. Well, if I was in the way some- 
 times, I paid dearly for 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 of the pain ; but 
 it is nothing, nothing to be compared with the pain I endured 
 when Anastasie made me feel, for the first time, that I had 
 said something stupid. She looked at me, and that glance 
 of hers opened all my veins. I used to want to know every- 
 thing, to be learned ; and one thing I did learn thoroughly 
 I knew that I was not wanted here on earth. 
 
 " The next day I went to Delphine for comfort, and what 
 should I do there but make some stupid blunder that made 
 her angry with me. I was like one driven out of his senses. 
 For a week I did not know what to do ; 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 these years that have aged and
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 283 
 
 changed me and whitened my hair and drained my life ; why 
 dost Thou make me to suffer so to-day? Have I not more 
 than expiated the sin of loving them too much ? They them- 
 selves have been the instruments of vengeance ; they have 
 tortured me for my sin of affection. 
 
 "Ah, well! fathers know no better; I loved them so; I 
 went back to them as a gambler goes to the gaming-table. 
 This love was my vice, you see, my mistress they were every- 
 thing in the world to me. They were always wanting some- 
 thing or other, dresses and ornaments, and whatnot ; their 
 maids used to tell me what they wanted, and I used to give 
 them 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 my behavior in society ; they began about it at 
 once. Then they began to feel ashamed of me. That is 
 what comes of having your children well brought up. I could 
 not go to school again at my time of life. (This pain is fear- 
 ful ! Mon Dieu! These doctors! these doctors! If they 
 would open my head, it would give me some relief !) Oh, 
 my daughters, my daughters ! Anastasie ! Delphine ! If I 
 could only see them ! Send for the police, and make them 
 come to me ! Justice is on my side, the whole world is on 
 my side, I have natural rights, and the law with me. I pro- 
 test ! The country will go to ruin if a father's rights are 
 trampled underfoot. That is easy to see. The whole world 
 turns on fatherly love ; fatherly love is the foundation of so- 
 ciety ; it will crumble into ruin when children do not love 
 their fathers. Oh ! if I could only see them, and hear them, 
 no matter what they said ; if I could simply hear their voices, 
 it would soothe the pain. Delphine ! Delphine most of all. 
 But tell them when they come not to look so coldly at me as 
 they do. Oh ! my friend, my good Monsieur Eugene, you 
 do not know what it is when 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 shone no more for me. I
 
 284 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 have had nothing but disappointments to devour. Disap- 
 pointment has been my daily bread ; I have lived on humilia- 
 tion and insults. I have swallowed down all the affronts for 
 which they sold 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 an hour ! I am hun- 
 gering and thirsting for them, my heart is burning in me, but 
 they will not come to bring relief in the agony, for I am dying 
 now, I feel that this is death. Do they not know what it 
 means to trample on a father's corpse? There is a God in 
 heaven who avenges us 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 you in heaven. I will tell Him that 
 you have been good children to your father, and plead your 
 cause with God ! After all, it is not their fault. I tell you 
 they are innocent, my friend. Tell every one that it is not 
 their fault, and no one need be distressed on my account. It 
 is all my own fault, I taught them to trample upon me. I 
 loved to have it so. It is no one's affair but mine; man's 
 justice and God's justice have nothing to do in it. God 
 would be unjust if He condemned them for anything they 
 may have done to me. I did not behave to them properly ; 
 I was stupid enough to resign my rights. I would have hum- 
 bled myself in the dust for them. What could you expect ? 
 The most beautiful nature, the noblest soul, would have been 
 spoiled by such indulgence. I am a wretch, I am justly pun- 
 ished. I, and I only, am to blame for all their sins ; I spoiled 
 them. To-day they are as eager for pleasure as they used to 
 be for sugar-plums. When they were little girls I indulged 
 them in every whim. They had a carriage of their own when 
 they were fifteen. They have never been crossed. I am guilty, 
 and not they but I sinned through love. 
 
 " My heart would open at the sound of their voices. I can
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 285 
 
 hear them ; they are coming. Yes ! yes ! they are coming. 
 The law demands that they should be present at their father's 
 death-bed ; the law is on my side. It would only cost them 
 the hire of a cab. I would pay that. Write to them, tell 
 them that I have millions to leave to them ! On my word of 
 honor, yes. I am going to manufacture Italian paste foods 
 at Odessa. I understand the trade. There are millions to 
 be made in it. Nobody has thought of the scheme as yet. 
 You see, there will be no waste, no damage 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 ! You will 
 not be telling a lie. Millions, tell them ; and even if they 
 really come because they covet the money, I would rather let 
 them deceive me ; and I shall see them in any case. I want 
 my children ! I gave them life ; they are mine, mine !" and 
 he sat upright. The head thus raised, with its scanty white 
 hair, seemed to Eugene like a threat ; every line that could 
 still speak spoke of menace. 
 
 "There, there, dear father," said Eugene, "lie down 
 again ; I will write to them at once. As soon as Bianchon 
 comes back I will go for them myself, if they do not come 
 before." 
 
 " If they do not come?" repeated the old man, sobbing. 
 '' Why, I shall be dead before then ; I shall die in a fit of 
 rage, of rage ! Anger is getting the better of me. I can see 
 my whole life at this minute. I have been cheated ! They 
 do not love me they have never loved me all their lives ! 
 It is all clear to me. They have not come, and they will not 
 come. The longer they put off their coming, the less they 
 are likely to give me this joy. I know them. They have 
 never cared to guess my disappointments, my sorrows, my 
 wants ; they never cared to know my life ; they will have no 
 presentiment of my death ; they do not even 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
 
 286 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 for them as a matter of course. They might have asked me 
 for the very eyes out of my head, and I would have bidden 
 them to pluck them out. They think that all fathers are like 
 theirs. You should always make your value felt. Their own 
 children will avenge me. Why, for their own sakes they 
 should come to me ! Make them understand that they are 
 laying up retribution for their own death-beds. All crimes 
 
 are summed up in this one Go to them ; just tell them 
 
 that if they stay away it will be parricide ! There is enough 
 laid to their charge already without adding that to the list. 
 Cry aloud as I do now, ' Nasie ! Delphine ! here ! Come to 
 your father ; the father who has been so kind to you is lying 
 ill ! ' Not a sound ; no one comes ! Then am I to die 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. I shall 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 was in 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 ! Her sister is very unhappy. And there are their for- 
 tunes ! Ah, God ! I am dying, 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 man moaned, and by his cries, "go for M. 
 Bianchon, and send a cab here for me. lam going to fetch 
 them, dear father; I will bring them back to you." 
 
 " Make them come ! Compel them to come ! Call out the 
 Guard, the military, anything and everything, but make them 
 come ! " He looked at Eugene, and a last gleam of intelli- 
 gence shone in his eyes. "Go to the authorities, to the 
 public prosecutor, let them bring them here ; come they 
 shall ! "
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 287 
 
 "But you have cursed them." 
 
 "Who said that ! " said the old man in dull amazement. 
 " You know quite well that I love them, I adore them ! I 
 
 shall be quite well again if I can see them Go for 
 
 them, my good neighbor, my dear boy, you are kind-hearted ; 
 I wish I could repay you for your kindness, but I have noth- 
 ing to give you now, save the blessing of a dying man. Ah ! 
 if I could only see Delphine, to tell her to pay my debt to 
 you. If the other cannot come, bring Delphine to me at 
 any rate. Tell her that unless she comes, you will not love 
 her any more. She is so fond of you that she will come 
 to me then. Give me something to drink ! There is a 
 fire in my bowels. Press something against my forehead ! 
 If my daughters would lay their hands there, I think I 
 
 should get better Mon Dieu ! who will recover their 
 
 money for them when I am gone ? I will manufacture 
 
 vermicelli out in Odessa; I will go to Odessa for their sakes." 
 
 " Here is something to drink," said Eugene, supporting the 
 dying man on his 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, and grasped the student's hands in both of his. 
 It was a feeble, trembling grasp. " I am going to die ; I shall 
 die without seeing my daughters ; do you understand? To 
 be always thirsting, and never to drink ; that has been my 
 life for the last ten years I have no daughters, my sons- 
 in-law killed them. No, since their marriages they have been 
 dead to me. Fathers should petition the Chambers to pass 
 a law against marriage. If you love your daughters, do not 
 let them marry. A son-in-law is a rascal who poisons a girl's 
 mind and contaminates her whole nature. Let us have no 
 more marriages ! It robs us of our daughters ; we are left alone 
 upon our death-beds, and they are not with us then. They 
 ought to pass a law for dying fathers. This is awful ! It cries 
 for vengeance ! They cannot come, because my sons-in-law
 
 288 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 forbid them ! Kill them ! Restaud and the Alsa- 
 tian, kill them both ! They have murdered me between them 
 
 Death or my daughters ! Ah ! it is too late, I am 
 
 dying, and they are not here ! Dying without them ! 
 
 Nasie ! Fifine ! Why do you not come to me ? Your 
 
 papa is going " 
 
 " Dear Father Goriot, calm yourself. There, there, lie 
 quietly and rest ; don't worry yourself, don't think." 
 
 " I shall not see them. Oh ! the agony of it ! " 
 
 "You shall stt them." 
 
 "Really?" cried the old man, still wandering. "Oh! 
 shall I see them ; I shall 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 touch their dresses 
 ah ! nothing but their dresses, that is very little ; still, to feel 
 something that belongs to them. Let me touch their hair 
 with my fingers their hair " 
 
 His head fell back on the pillow, as if a sudden heavy 
 blow had struck him down, but his hands groped feebly over 
 the quilt, as if to find his daughters' hair. 
 
 "My blessing on them " he said, making an effort, 
 
 "my blessing " 
 
 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 his fingers. The two students saw how dead and lustre- 
 less the eyes beneath had grown. 
 
 " He will not get over this, I am sure," said Biancon. He 
 felt the old man's pulse, and laid a hand over his heart. 
 
 " The machinery works still ; more is the pity, in his state 
 it would be better for him to die." 
 
 " Ah ! my word, it would ! " 
 
 " What is the matter with you ? You are as pale as death."
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 289 
 
 " Dear fellow, the moans and cries that I have just 
 
 heard There is a God ! Ah ! yes, yes, there is a God, 
 
 and He has made a better world for us, or this world of ours 
 would be a nightmare. I could have cried like 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 come from ? " 
 
 Rastignac took out his watch. 
 
 " There, be quick and pawn it. I do not want to stop on 
 the way to the Rue du Helder ; there is not a moment to 
 lose, I am afraid, and I must wait here till Christophe comes 
 back. I have not a farthing ; I shall have 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 his imagination, and he grew fiercely indig- 
 nant. He reached Mme. de Restaud's house only to be told 
 by the servant that his mistress could see 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 his father-in-law is dying, and that I am here and must 
 speak with him at once." 
 
 The men went. 
 
 Eugene waited for a long while. " Perhaps her father is 
 dying at this moment," he thought. 
 
 Then the man came back, and Eugene followed him to the 
 little drawing-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 fire- 
 wood ; he is expected to die at any moment, and keeps calling 
 
 for his daughter " 
 
 19
 
 290 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 "I feel very little affection for M. Goriot, sir, as you prob- 
 ably are aware," the Count answered coolly. "His char- 
 acter has been compromised in connection with Mme. de 
 Restaud ; he is the author of the misfortunes that have embit- 
 tered my life and troubled my peace of mind. It is a matter 
 of perfect indifference to me if he lives or dies. Now you 
 know my feelings with regard to him. Public opinion may 
 blame me, but I care nothing for public opinion. Just now I 
 have other and much more important matters to think about 
 than the things that fools and chatterers may say about me. 
 As for Mme. de Restaud, she cannot 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 she has done her 
 duty by her husband and child she shall go to see him. If 
 she has any love for her father, she can be free to go to him, 
 if she chooses, in a few seconds ; it lies entirely with her " 
 
 " Monsieur le Comte, it is no business of mine to criticise 
 your conduct ; you can do as you please with your wife, but 
 may I count upon you keeping your word with me ? Well, 
 then, promise me to tell her that her father has not twenty- 
 four hours to live ; that he looks in vain for her, and has 
 cursed her already as he lies on his death-bed that is all 
 I ask." 
 
 " You can tell her yourself," the Count answered, impressed 
 by the thrill of indignation in Eugene's voice. 
 
 The Count led the way to the room where his wife usually 
 sat. She was drowned in tears, and lay crouching in the 
 depths of an armchair, as if she were tired of life and longed 
 to die. It was piteous to see her. Before venturing to look 
 at Rastignac, she glanced at her husband in evident and 
 abject terror that spoke of complete prostration of body and 
 mind; she seemed crushed by a tyranny both mental and 
 physical. The Count jerked his head towards her ; she con- 
 strued this as a permission to speak. 
 
 " I heard all that you said, monsieur. Tell my father that
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 291 
 
 if he knew all he would forgive me I did not think there 
 
 was such torture in the world as this ; it is more than I can 
 endure, monsieur ! But I will not give way as long as I live," 
 she said, turning to her husband. "I am a mother. Tell 
 my father that I have never sinned against him in spite of 
 appearances ! " she cried aloud in her despair. 
 
 Eugene bowed to the husband and wife ; he guessed the 
 meaning of the scene, 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 came away amazed and 
 bewildered, and hurried to Mme. de Nucingen. Delphine 
 was 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 carried somehow to your father. He is calling for 
 you. If you could hear the faintest 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 I cannot bear to do anything that you do not 
 approve, so I will do just as you wish. As for him, he would 
 die of grief I know if I went out to see him and brought on 
 a dangerous illness. Well, I will go as soon as I have seen 
 the doctor. Ah ! " she cried out, " you are not wearing your 
 watch, how is that ? " 
 
 Eugene reddened. 
 
 " Eugene, Eugene ! if you have sold it already or lost it 
 Oh ! it would be very wrong of you ! " 
 
 The student bent over Delphine and said in her ear, " Do 
 you want to know ? Very well, then, you shall know. Your 
 father has nothing left to pay for the shroud that they will lay 
 him in this evening. Your watch has been pawned, for I had 
 nothing either."
 
 292 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 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, I should be an unnatural daughter ! Go back ; 
 I will be there before you. Therese," she called to the wait- 
 ing-woman, " ask M. de Nucingen to come upstairs at once 
 and speak to me." 
 
 Eugene was almost happy when he reached the Rue Neuve- 
 Sainte-Genevieve ; he was so glad to bring the news to the 
 dying man that one of his daughters was coming. He 
 fumbled in Delphine's purse for money, so as to dismiss the 
 cab at once ; and discovered that the young, beautiful, and 
 wealthy woman of fashion had only seventy francs in her 
 private purse. He climbed the stairs and found Bianchon 
 supporting Goriot, while the house surgeon from the hospital 
 was applying moxas to the patient's back under the direction 
 of the physician, it was the last expedient of science, and it 
 was tried in vain. 
 
 "Can you feel them?" asked the physician. But Goriot 
 had caught sight of 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, and will be 
 here shortly." 
 
 "Oh! that is nothing!" said Bianchon; "he has been 
 talking about his daughters all the time. He calls for them 
 as a man impaled calls for water, 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 on his loathsome bed. 
 
 " But the sheets ought to be changed," added the physician. 
 "Even if there is no hope left, something is due to human 
 nature. I shall come back again, Bianchon," he said, turn*
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 293 
 
 ing to the medical student. " If he complains 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 they were alone; "we must set about changing 
 his sheets, and put him into a clean shirt. Go and tell Sylvie 
 to bring up some sheets and come and help us to make the 
 bed." 
 
 Eugene went downstairs, and found Mme.Vauquer engaged 
 in setting the table ; Sylvie was helping her. Eugene had 
 scarcely opened his mouth before the widow walked up to 
 him with the acidulous sweet smile of a cautious shopkeeper 
 who is anxious neither to lose money nor to offend a customer. 
 
 " My dear Monsieur Eugene," she said, when he had 
 spoken, " you know quite as well as I do that Father Goriot 
 has not a brass farthing left. If you give out clean linen for 
 a man who is going to just turn up his eyes, you are not likely 
 to see your sheets again, for one is sure to be wanted to wrap 
 him in. Now, you owe me a hundred and forty-four francs 
 as it is, add forty francs to that for the pair of sheets, and 
 then there are several little things, besides the candle that 
 Sylvie will give you ; altogether, it will all mount up to at least 
 two hundred francs, which is more than a poor widow like 
 me can afford to lose. Lord ! now, Monsieur Eugene, look 
 at it fairly. I have lost quite enough in these five days since 
 this run of ill-luck set in for me. I would rather than ten 
 crowns that the old gentleman had moved out as you said. 
 It sets the other lodgers against the house. It would not 
 take much to make me send him to the workhouse. In short, 
 just put yourself in my place. I have to think of my estab- 
 lishment first, for I have my own living to make." 
 
 Eugene hurried up to Goriot's room. 
 
 " Bianchon," he cried, " the money or the watch ? " 
 
 "There it is on the table, or the three hundred and sixty- 
 odd francs that are left of it. I paid up all the old scores out
 
 294 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 of it before they let me have the things. The pawn ticket 
 lies there under the money." 
 
 Rastignac hurried downstairs. 
 
 "Here, madame," he said in disgust, "let us square ac- 
 counts. M. Goriot will 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-lugu- 
 brious 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 speaking 
 in Eugene's ear ; " she has been sitting up these two nights." 
 
 As soon as Eugene's back was turned, the old M'oman hurried 
 after her handmaid. 
 
 " 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 in Sylvie' s ear. 
 
 Eugene, by this time, was part of the way upstairs, and did 
 not overhear 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, while Bianchon drew off his shirt; and then 
 Goriot made a movement as if he tried to clutch something 
 to his breast, uttering a low inarticulate moaning the while, 
 like some dumb animal in mortal pain. 
 
 "Ah yes ! " cried Bianchon. "It is the little locket and 
 the chain made of hair that he wants ; we took it off a while 
 ago when we put the blisters on him ! Poor fellow ! he must 
 have it again. There it lies on the chimney-piece." 
 
 Eugene went to the chimney-piece and found a little plait 
 of faded golden hair Mme. Goriot's hair, no doubt. He 
 read the name on the little round locket, ANASTASIE on the
 
 PATHER GO RIOT. 295 
 
 one side, DELPHINE on the other. It was the symbol of his 
 own heart that the father always wore on his breast. The 
 curls of hair inside the locket were so fine and soft that it 
 was plain they had been taken from two childish heads. When 
 the old man felt the locket once more, his chest heaved with 
 a long deep sigh of satisfaction, like a groan. It was some- 
 thing terrible to see, for it seemed as if the last quiver of the 
 nerves were laid bare to their eyes, the last communication 
 of sense to the mysterious point within whence our sympathies 
 come and whither they go. A delirious joy lighted up the 
 distorted face. The terrific and vivid force of the feeling 
 that had survived the power of thought made such an im- 
 pression on the students that the dying man felt their hot 
 tears falling on him, 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 down and passed his arms under the sick man, and Ras- 
 tignac on the other side did the same, so that Sylvie, standing 
 in readiness, might draw the sheet from beneath and replace 
 it with the one that she had brought. Those tears, no doubt, 
 had misled Goriot ; for he gathered up all his remaining 
 strength in a last effort, stretched out his hands, groped for the 
 students' heads, and as his fingers caught convulsively at their 
 hair, they heard a faint whisper 
 
 "Ah ! my angels ! " 
 
 Two words, two inarticulate murmurs, shaped into words 
 by the soul which fled forth with them as they left his lips. 
 
 "Poor dear! " cried Sylvie, melted by that exclamation; 
 the expression of the great love raised for the last time to a 
 sublime height by that most ghastly and involuntary of lies. 
 
 The father's last breath must have been a sigh of joy, and 
 in that sigh his whole life was summed up ; he was cheated
 
 296 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 even at the last. They laid Father Goriot upon his wretched 
 bed with reverent hands. Thenceforward there was no ex- 
 pression on his face, only the painful traces of the struggle 
 between life and death that was going on in the machine ; for 
 that kind of cerebral consciousness that distinguishes between 
 pleasure and pain in a human being was extinguished ; it was 
 only 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 the throat. The brain must be completely suf- 
 fused." 
 
 As he spoke there was a footstep on the staircase, and a 
 young woman hastened up, panting for breath. 
 
 " She has come too late," said Rastignac. 
 
 But it was not Delphine ; it was Therese, her waiting- 
 woman, who stood in the doorway. 
 
 "Monsieur Eugene," she said, "Monsieur and Madame 
 have had a terrible scene about some money that Madame 
 (poor thing !) wanted for her father. 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 heart- 
 breaking to hear her " 
 
 "That will do, Thrse. If she came now, it would be 
 trouble thrown away. M. Goriot cannot recognize any one 
 now." 
 
 "Poor, dear gentleman, is he as bad as all that?" said 
 Therese. 
 
 "You don't want me now, I must go and look after my 
 dinner; it is half-past four," remarked Sylvie. The next 
 instant she all but collided with Mme. de Restaud on the 
 landing outside. 
 
 There was something awful and appalling in the sudden 
 apparition of the Countess. She saw the bed of death by the 
 dim light of the single candle, and her tears flowed at the
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 297 
 
 sight of her father's passive features, from which the life had 
 almost ebbed. Bianchon with thoughtful tact then 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's hand and kissed it. 
 
 "Forgive me, father! You used to say that my voice 
 would call you back from the grave; ah ! come back for. one 
 moment to bless your penitent daughter. Do you hear me? 
 Oh ! this is fearful ! No one on earth will ever bless me hence- 
 forth ; every one hates me ; no one loves me but you in 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 I have found out that he was deceiving me. 
 My husband will never forgive me, and I have left my 
 fortune in his hands. I have lost all my illusions. Alas ! 
 I have forsaken the one heart that loved me (she pointed 
 to her father as she spoke), and for whom ? I have held 
 his kindness cheap, and slighted his affection ; many and 
 many a time I have given him pain, ungrateful wretch that 
 I am!" 
 
 " He knew it," said Rastignac. 
 
 Just then Goriot's eyelids unclosed ; it was only a muscular 
 contraction, but the Countess' sudden start of reviving hope 
 was no less dreadful than the dying eyes. 
 
 " Is it possible that he can hear me?" cried the Countess. 
 " No," she answered herself, and sat down beside the bed. 
 As Mme. de Restaud seemed to wish to sit by her father, 
 Eugene went down to take a little food. The boarders were 
 already assembled.
 
 298 FATHER GORIOT. 
 
 "Well," remarked the painter, as he joined them, "it 
 seems that there is to be a death-orama upstairs." 
 
 "Charles, I think you might find something less painful 
 to joke about," said Eugene. 
 
 "So we may not laugh here," returned the painter. 
 " What harm does it do ? Bianchon said that the old man 
 was quite insensible." 
 
 " Well, then, said the employe from the Museum, " he 
 will die as he has lived." 
 
 " My father is dead ! " shrieked the Countess. 
 
 The terrible cry brought Sylvie, Rastignac, and Bianchon j 
 Mme. de Restaud had fainted away. When she recovered 
 they carried her downstairs, and put her into the cab that 
 stood waiting at the door. Eugene sent Therese with her, 
 and bade the maid take the Countess to Mme. de Nucingen. 
 
 Bianchon came down to them. 
 
 "Yes, he is dead," he said. 
 
 " Come, sit down to dinner, gentlemen," said Mme. Vau- 
 quer, " or the soup will 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. " When the certificate has been officially regis- 
 tered at the mayor's office, we will sew him in his winding- 
 sheet and bury him somewhere. What do you 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 let us have something else for a change. He is a 
 standing dish, and we have had him with every sauce this 
 hour or more. It is one of the privileges of the good city of 
 Paris that anybody may be born, or live, or die there without 
 attracting any attention whatsoever. Let us profit by the
 
 FATHER GORIOT. 299 
 
 advantages of civilization. There are fifty or sixty deaths 
 every day ; if you have a mind to do it, you can sit down 
 at any time and wail over whole hecatombs of dead in Paris. 
 Father Goriot has gone off the hooks, has he ? So much the 
 better for him. If you venerate his memory, keep it to your- 
 selves, and let the rest of us feed in peace." 
 
 " Oh, to be sure," said the widow, " it is all the better for 
 him that he 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 been for Eugene the type and embodiment of fath- 
 erhood. 
 
 The fifteen lodgers began to talk as usual. When Bianchon 
 and Eugene had satisfied their hunger, the rattle of spoons 
 and forks, the boisterous conversation, the expressions on the 
 faces that bespoke various degrees of want of feeling, glut- 
 tony, or indifference, everything about them made them shiver 
 with loathing. They went out to find a priest to watch that 
 night with the dead. It was necessary to measure their last 
 pious cares by the scanty sum of money that remained. Be- 
 fore nine o'clock that evening the body was laid out on the 
 bare sacking of the bedstead in the desolate room ; a lighted 
 candle stood on either side, and the priest watched at the foot. 
 Rastignac made inquiries of this latter as to the expenses of 
 the funeral, and wrote to the Baron de Nucingen and the 
 Comte de Restaud, entreating both gentlemen to authorize 
 their man of business to defray the charges of laying their 
 father-in-law in the grave. He sent Christophe with the 
 letters ; then he went to bed, tired out, and slept. 
 
 Next day Bianchon and Rastignac were obliged to take the 
 certificate to the registrar themselves, and by twelve o'clock 
 the formalities were completed. Two hours went by ; no 
 word came from the Count nor from the Baron ; nobody ap- 
 peared to act for them, and Rastignac had already been 
 obliged to pay the priest. Sylvie asked ten francs for sewing
 
 300 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 the old man in his winding-sheet and making him ready for 
 the grave, and Eugene and Bianchon calculated that they had 
 scarcely sufficient to pay for the funeral, if nothing was forth- 
 coming from the dead man's family. So it was the medical 
 student who laid him in a pauper's coffin, despatched from 
 Bianchon's hospital, whence he obtained 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 the church and the undertaker to have a third- 
 class funeral. If the daughters and their husbands decline to 
 repay you, you can carve this on the headstone 'Here lies 
 M. Goriot, father of the Comtesse de Restaud and the Baronne 
 de Nucingen, interred at the expense of two students. ' ' 
 
 Eugene took part of his friend's advice, but only after he 
 had gone in person first to M. and Mme. de Nucingen and 
 then to M. and Mme. de Restaud a fruitless errand. He 
 went no farther than the doorstep in either house. The ser- 
 vants had received strict orders to admit no one. 
 
 " Monsieur and madame can see no visitors. They have 
 just lost their father, and are in deep grief over their loss." 
 
 Eugene's Parisian experience told him that it was idle to 
 press the point. Something clutched strangely at his heart 
 when he saw that it was 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 for her mistress ; but the man took it to the Baron de 
 Nucingen, who flung the note into the fire. Eugene, having 
 finished his errands, returned to the lodging-house about three 
 o'clock. In spite of himself, the tears came into his eyes. 
 The coffin, in its scanty covering of black cloth, was stand- 
 ing there on the pavement before the gate, on two chairs. A
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 301 
 
 withered sprig of hyssop was soaking in the holy water bowl 
 of silver-plated copper ; there was not a soul in the street, 
 not a passer-by had stopped to sprinkle the coffin ; there was 
 not even an attempt at a black drapery over the wicket. It 
 was a pauper who lay there ; no one made a pretense of 
 mourning for him ; he had neither friends 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 left a few lines for Eugene, telling his friend about the 
 arrangements he had made for the burial service. The house 
 student's note told Rastignac that a mass was beyond their 
 means, that the ordinary office for the dead was cheaper and 
 must suffice, and that he had sent word to the undertaker by 
 Christophe. Eugene had scarcely finished reading Bianchon's 
 scrawl, when he looked up and saw the little circular gold 
 locket 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?" re- 
 torted Sylvie, " It is gold." 
 
 "Of course it shall!" Eugene answered indignantly; 
 " he shall at any rate take one thing that may represent his 
 daughters into the grave with him." 
 
 When the hearse came, Eugene had the coffin carried into 
 the house again, unscrewed the lid, and reverently laid on the 
 old man's breast the token that recalled the days when 
 Delphine and Anastasie were innocent 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 only followers of the funeral. The Church of Saint- 
 Etienne du Mont was only a little distance from the Rue 
 Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve. When the coffin had been deposited 
 in a low, dark, little chapel, the law student looked round in 
 vain for Goriot's two daughters or their husbands. Christophe
 
 302 FATHER GO RIOT. 
 
 was his only fellow-mourner ; Christophe, who appeared to 
 think it was his duty to attend the funeral of the man who 
 had put him in the way of such handsome tips. As they 
 waited there in the chapel for the two priests, the chorister, 
 and the beadle, Rastignac grasped Christophe's hand. He 
 could not utter a word just then. 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur Eugene," said Christophe, "he was a 
 good and worthy man, who never said one word louder than 
 another; he never did any one any harm, and gave nobody 
 any trouble." 
 
 The two priests, the chorister, and the beadle came, and 
 said and did as much as could be expected for seventy francs 
 in an age when religion cannot afford to say prayers for nothing. 
 
 The ecclesiastics chanted a psalm, the Libera nos and the 
 De profundis. The whole service lasted about twenty minutes. 
 There was but one mourning coach, which the priest and chor- 
 ister agreed to share with Eugene and Christophe. 
 
 "There is no one else to follow us," remarked the priest, 
 " so we may 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 car- 
 riages, with the armorial bearings of the Comte de Restaud 
 and the Baron de Nucingen, arrived and followed in the pro- 
 cession to Pere-Lachaise. At six o'clock Goriot's coffin was 
 lowered into the grave, his daughters' servants standing round 
 the while. The ecclesiastic recited the short prayer that the 
 students could afford to pay for, and then both priests and 
 lackeys disappeared at once. The two grave-diggers flung in 
 several spadefuls of earth, and then stopped and asked Ras- 
 tignac for their fee. Eugene felt in vain in his pocket, and 
 was obliged to borrow five francs of Christophe. This thing, 
 so trifling in itself, gave Rastignac a terrible pang of distress. 
 It was growing dusk, the damp twilight fretted his nerves ; he 
 gazed down into the grave, and the tears he shed were drawn 
 from him by the sacred emotion, a single-hearted sorrow.
 
 FATHER GO RIOT. 303 
 
 When such tears fall on earth, their radiance reaches heaven. 
 And with those tears that fell on Father Goriot's grave, Eugene 
 Rastignac's youth ended. He folded his arms and gazed at 
 the clouded sky ; and Christophe, after a glance at him, turned 
 and went Rastignac was left alone. 
 
 He went a few paces farther, to the highest point of the 
 cemetery, and looked out over Paris and the windings of the 
 Seine ; the lamps were beginning to shine on either side of 
 the river. His eyes turned almost eagerly to the space be- 
 tween the column of the Place Vendome and the cupola of 
 the Invalides ; there lay the shining world that he had wished 
 to reach. He glanced over that humming hive, seeming to 
 draw a foretaste of its honey, and said magniloquently 
 
 " Henceforth there is war between us." 
 
 And by way of throwing down the glove to society, Ras- 
 tignac went to dine with Mme. de Nucingen.
 
 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 To M. le Baron Barchou de Penhoen. 
 
 Among all the pupils of the Oratorian school at Ven- 
 ddme, we are, I think, the only two who have after- 
 wards met in mid-career of a life of letters we who 
 once were cultivating Philosophy when by rights we 
 should have been minding our De viris. When we 
 met, you were engaged upon your noble works on 
 German philosophy, and I upon this study. So neither 
 of us has missed his vocation ; and you, when you see 
 your name here, will feel, no doubt, as much pleasure 
 as he who inscribes his work to you. Your old school- 
 fellow, 
 
 1840. DE BALZAC. 
 
 IT was one o'clock in the morning, during the winter of 
 1829-30, but in the Vicomtesse de Grandlieu's salon two 
 persons stayed on who did not belong to her family circle. 
 A young and good-looking man heard the clock strike, and 
 took his leave. When the courtyard echoed with the sound 
 of a departing carriage, the Vicomtesse looked up, saw that 
 no one was present save her brother and a friend of the family 
 finishing their game of piquet, and went across to her daugh- 
 ter. The girl, standing by the chimney-piece, apparently 
 examining a transparent fire-screen, was listening to the 
 sounds from the courtyard in a way that justified certain 
 maternal fears. 
 
 "Camille," said the Vicomtesse, "if you continue to 
 
 behave to young Comte de Restaud as you have done this 
 
 evening, you will oblige me to see no more of him here. 
 
 Listen, child, and if you have any confidence in my love, let 
 
 20 (305)
 
 306 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 me guide you in life. At seventeen one cannot judge of 
 past or future, nor of certain social considerations. I have 
 only one thing to say to you. M. de Restaud has a mother, 
 a mother who would waste millions of francs ; a woman of 
 no birth, a Mile. Goriot ; people talked a good deal about 
 her at one time. She behaved so badly to her own father, 
 that she certainly does not deserve to have so good a son. 
 The young Count adores her, and maintains her in her posi- 
 tion with dutifulness worthy of all praise, and he is extremely 
 good to his brother and sister. But however admirable his 
 behavior may be," the Vicomtesse added with a shrewd ex- 
 pression, "so long as his mother lives, any family would take 
 alarm at the idea of intrusting a daughter's fortune and future 
 to young Restaud." 
 
 " I overheard a word now and again in your talk with Mile. 
 de Grandlieu," cried the friend of the family, "and it made 
 me anxious to put in a word of my own. I have won, M. le 
 Comte," he added, turning to his opponent. "I shall throw 
 you over and go to your niece's assistance." 
 
 " See what it is to have an attorney's ears ! " exclaimed the 
 Vicomtesse. " My dear Derville, how could you know what 
 I was saying to Camille in a whisper ? ' ' 
 
 "I knew it from your looks," answered Derville, seating 
 himself in a low chair by the fire. 
 
 Camille's uncle went to her side, and Mme. de Grandlieu 
 took up her position on a hearth stool between her daughter 
 and Derville. 
 
 "The time has come for telling a story, which should 
 modify your judgment as to Ernest de Restaud's prospects." 
 
 " A story ! " cried Camille. " Do begin at once, monsieur." 
 
 The glance that Derville gave the Vicomtesse told her that 
 this tale was meant for her. The Vicomtesse de Grandlieu, 
 be it said, was one of the greatest ladies in the Faubourg 
 Saint-Germain, by reason of her fortune and her ancient 
 name ; and though it may seem improbable that a Paris
 
 M. GOBSECK. 307 
 
 attorney should speak so familiarly to her, or be so much at 
 home in her house, the fact is nevertheless easily explained. 
 
 When Mme. de Grandlieu returned to France with the royal 
 family, she came to Paris, and at first lived entirely on the 
 pension allowed her out of the civil list by Louis XVIII. 
 an intolerable position. The Hotel de Grandlieu had been 
 sold by the Republic. It came to Derville's knowledge that 
 there were flaws in the title, and he thought that it ought to 
 return to the Vicomtesse. He instituted proceedings for 
 nullity of contract, and gained the day. Encouraged by 
 this success, he used legal quibbles to such purpose that he 
 compelled some institution or other to disgorge the forest of 
 Liceney. Then he won certain lawsuits against the Canal 
 d'Orleans, and recovered a tolerably large amount of property, 
 with which the Emperor had endowed various public institu- 
 tions. So it fell out that, thanks to the young attorney's 
 skillful management, Mme. de Grandlieu's income reached 
 the sum of some sixty thousand francs, to say nothing of the 
 vast sums returned to her by the law of indemnity. And 
 Derville, a man of high character, well-informed, modest, and 
 pleasant in company, became the house-friend of the family. 
 
 By his conduct of Mme. de Grandlieu's affairs he had fairly 
 earned the esteem of the Faubourg Saint-Germain, and num- 
 bered the best families among his clients ; but he did not take 
 advantage of his popularity, as an ambitious man might have 
 done. The Vicomtesse would have had him sell his practice 
 and enter the magistracy, in which career advancement would 
 have been swift and certain with such influence at his dis- 
 posal ; but he persistently refused all offers. He only went 
 into society to keep up his connections, but he occasionally 
 spent an evening at the Hotel de Grandlieu. It was a very 
 lucky thing for him that his talents had been brought into the 
 light by his devotion to Mme. de Grandlieu, for his practice 
 otherwise might have gone to pieces. Derville had not an 
 attorney's soul. Since Ernest de Restaud had appeared at
 
 308 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 the Hotel de Grandlieu, and he had noticed that Camille felt 
 attracted to the young man, Derville had been as assiduous in 
 his visits as any dandy of the Chaussee-d'Antin newly ad- 
 mitted to the noble Faubourg. At a ball only a few days 
 before, when he happened to stand near Camille, and said, 
 indicating the Count 
 
 "It is a pity that yonder youngster has not two or three 
 million francs, is it not?" 
 
 "Is it a pity? I do not think so," the girl answered. 
 " M. de Restaud has plenty of ability ; he is well educated, 
 and the minister, his chief, thinks well of him. He will be 
 a remarkable man, I have no doubt. ' Yonder youngster ' 
 will have as much money as he wishes when he comes into 
 power." 
 
 "Yes, but suppose that he were rich already?" 
 
 " Rich already ? " repeated Camille, flushing red. " Why, 
 all the girls in the room would be quarreling for him," she 
 added, glancing at the quadrilles. 
 
 "And then," retorted the attorney, "Mile, de Grandlieu 
 might not be the one towards whom his eyes are always 
 turned ? That is what that red color means ! You like him, 
 do you not? Come, speak out." 
 
 Camille suddenly rose to go. 
 
 "She loves him," Derville thought. 
 
 Since that evening, Camille had been unwontedly attentive 
 to the attorney, who approved of her liking for Ernest de 
 Restaud. Hitherto, although she knew well that her family 
 lay under great obligations to Derville, she had felt respect 
 rather than real friendship for him, their relation was more a 
 matter of politeness than of warmth of feeling ; and by her 
 manner, and by the tones of her voice, she had always made 
 him sensible of the distance which socially lay between them. 
 Gratitude is a charge upon the inheritance which the second 
 generation is apt to repudiate. 
 
 "This adventure," Derville began after a pause, "brings
 
 M. GOBSECJC. 309 
 
 the one romantic event in ray life to my mind. You are 
 laughing already," he went on; "it seems so ridiculous, 
 doesn't it, that an attorney should speak of a romance in his 
 life ? But once I was five-and-twenty, like everybody else, 
 and even then I had seen some queer things. I ought to be- 
 gin at the beginning by telling you about some one whom it 
 is impossible that you should have known. The man in ques- 
 tion was a usurer. 
 
 " Can you grasp a clear notion of that sallow, wan face of 
 his ? I wish the Academic would give me leave to dub such 
 faces the lunar type. It was like silver-gilt, with the gilt 
 rubbed off. His hair was iron-gray, sleek, and carefully 
 combed ; his features might have been cast in bronze; Tal- 
 leyrand himself was not more impassive than this money- 
 lender. A pair of little eyes, yellow as a ferret's, and with 
 scarce an eyelash to them, peered out from under the shelter- 
 ing peak of a shabby old cap, as if they feared the light. 
 He had the thin lips that you see in Rembrandt's or Metsu's 
 portraits of alchemists and shrunken old men, and a nose so 
 sharp at the tip that it put you in mind of a gimlet. His voice 
 was low ; he always spoke suavely ; he never flew into a pas- 
 sion. His age was a problem ; it was hard to say whether he 
 had grown old before his time, or whether by economy of 
 youth he had saved enough to last him his life. 
 
 "This room, and everything in it, from the green baize of 
 his bureau to the strip of carpet by the bed, was as clean and 
 threadbare as the chilly sanctuary of some elderly spinster who 
 spends her days in rubbing her furniture. In winter-time, 
 the live brands of the fire smoldered all day in a bank of 
 ashes ; there was never any flame in his grate. He went 
 through his day, from his uprising to his evening coughing- 
 fit, with the regularity of a pendulum, and in some sort was 
 a clockwork man, wound up by a night's slumber. Touch a 
 wood-louse on an excursion across your sheet of paper, and 
 the creature shams death ; and in something the same way my
 
 310 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 acquaintance would stop short in the middle of a sentence, 
 while a cart went by, to save the strain to his voice. Follow- 
 ing the example of Fontanelle, he was thrifty of pulse-strokes, 
 and concentrated all human sensibility in the innermost sanc- 
 tuary of self. 
 
 " His life flowed soundless as the sands of an hour-glass. His 
 victims sometimes flew into a rage and made a great deal of 
 noise, followed by a great silence ; so is it in a kitchen after 
 a fowl's neck has been wrung. 
 
 "Towards evening this bill of exchange incarnate would 
 assume ordinary human shape, and his metals were metamor- 
 phosed into a human heart. When he was satisfied with his 
 day's business, he would rub his hands ; his inward glee would 
 escape like smoke through every rift and wrinkle of his face. 
 In no other way is it possible to give an idea of the mute play 
 of muscle which expressed sensations similar to the soundless 
 laughter of 'Leather-Stocking.' Indeed, even in transports 
 of joy, his conversation was confined to monosyllables ; he 
 wore the same non-committal countenance. 
 
 "This was the neighbor chance found for me in the house 
 in the Rue des Gres, where I used to live when as yet I was 
 only a second clerk finishing my third year's studies. The 
 house is damp and dark, and boasts no courtyard. All the 
 windows look on the street ; the whole dwelling, in claustral 
 fashion, is divided into rooms or cells of equal size, all open- 
 ing upon a long corridor dimly lit with borrowed lights. The 
 place must have been part of an old convent once. So gloomy 
 was it, that the gaiety of eldest sons forsook them on the stairs 
 before they reached my neighbor's door. He and his house 
 were much alike ; even so does the oyster resemble his native 
 rock. 
 
 " I was the one creature with whom he had any communi- 
 cation, socially speaking ; he would come in to ask for a light, 
 to borrow a book or a newspaper, and of an evening he would 
 allow me to go into his cell, and when he was in the humor
 
 M. GOBSECK. 311 
 
 we would chat together. These marks of confidence were 
 the results of four years of neighborhood and my own sober 
 conduct. From sheer lack of pence, I was bound to live 
 pretty much as he did. Had he any relations or friends? 
 Was he rich or poor? Nobody could give an answer to these 
 questions. I myself never saw money in his room. Doubt- 
 less his capital was safely stowed in the strong rooms of the 
 bank. He used to collect his bills himself as they fell due, 
 running all over Paris on a pair of shanks as skinny as a stag's. 
 On occasion he could be a martyr to prudence. One day, 
 when he happened to have gold in his pockets, a double napo- 
 leon worked its way somehow or other out of his fob and fell, 
 and another lodger following him up the stairs picked up the 
 coin and returned it to its owner. 
 
 "'That isn't mine !' said he with a start of surprise. 
 ' Mine, indeed ! If I were rich, should I live as I do ! ' 
 
 " He made his cup of coffee himself every morning on the 
 cast-iron chafing dish which stood all day in the black angle 
 of the grate ; his dinner came in from a cookshop ; and our 
 old porter's wife went up at the prescribed hour to set his 
 room in order. Finally, a whimsical chance, in which Sterne 
 would have seen predestination, had named the man Gobseck. 
 When I did business for him later, I came to know that he 
 was about seventy-six years old at the time when we became 
 acquainted. He was born about 1740, in some outlying 
 suburb of Antwerp, of a Dutch father and a Jewish mother, 
 and his name was Jean-Esther Van Gobseck. You remember 
 how all Paris took an interest in that murder case, a woman 
 named " The Holland Belle ?" I happened to mention it 
 to my old neighbor, and he answered without the slightest 
 symptom of interest or surprise, ' She is my grandniece.' 
 
 " That was the only remark drawn from him by the death 
 of his sole surviving next of kin, his sister's grand-daughter. 
 From reports of the case I found that " The Holland Belle " 
 was in fact named Sara Van Gobseck. When I asked by
 
 312 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 what curious chance his grandniece came to bear his surname, 
 he smiled 
 
 " ' The women never marry in our family.' 
 
 " Singular creature, he had never cared to find out a single 
 relative among four generations counted on the female side. 
 The thought of his heirs was abhorrent to him ; and the idea 
 that his wealth could pass into other hands after his death 
 simply inconceivable. 
 
 " He was a child, ten years old, when his mother shipped 
 him off as cabin-boy on a voyage to the Dutch Straits settle- 
 ments, and there he knocked about for twenty years. The 
 inscrutable lines on that sallow forehead kept the secret of 
 horrible adventures, sudden panic, unhoped-for luck, romantic 
 cross events, joys that knew no limit, hunger endured and 
 love trampled underfoot, fortunes risked, lost, and recovered, 
 life endangered time and time again, and saved, it may be, 
 by one of the rapid, ruthless decisions absolved by necessity. 
 He had known Admiral Simeuse, M. de Lally, M. de Ker- 
 garouet, M. d'Estaing, Le Bailli de Suffren, M. de Porten- 
 duere, Lord Cornwallis, Lord Hastings, Tippoo Sahib's father, 
 Tippoo Sahib himself. The bully who served Mahadaji Sind- 
 hia, King of Delhi, and did so much to found the power 
 of the Mahrattas, had had dealings with M. Gobseck. Long 
 residence at St. Thomas brought him in contact with Victor 
 Hughes and other notorious pirates. In his quest of fortune 
 he had left no stone unturned ; witness an attempt to discover 
 the treasure of that tribe of savages so famous in Buenos 
 Ayres and its neighborhood. He had a personal knowledge 
 of the events of the American War of Independence. But if 
 he spoke of the Indies or of America, as he did very rarely with 
 me, and never with any one else, he seemed to regard it as an 
 indiscretion and to repent of it afterwards. If humanity and 
 sociability are in some sort a religion, M. Gobseck might be 
 ranked as an infidel ; but though I set myself to study him, I 
 must confess, to my shame, that his real nature was impenetrable
 
 M. GOBSECK. 313 
 
 up to the very last. I even felt doubts at times as to his sex. 
 If all usurers are like this one, I maintain that they belong to 
 the neuter gender. 
 
 " Did he adhere to his mother's religion? Did he look on 
 Gentiles as his legitimate prey? Had he turned Roman 
 Catholic, Lutheran, Mahometan, Brahmin, or whatnot? I 
 never knew anything whatsoever about his religious opinions, 
 and so far as I could see, he was indifferent rather than 
 incredulous. 
 
 "One evening I went in to see this man who had turned 
 himself to gold ; the usurer, whom his victims (his clients, as 
 he styled them) were wont to call Daddy Gobseck, perhaps 
 ironically, perhaps by way of antiphrasis. He was sitting in 
 his armchair, motionless as a statue, staring fixedly at the 
 mantle-shelf, where he seemed to read the figures of his state- 
 ments. A lamp, with a pedestal that had once been green, 
 was burning in the room ; but so far from taking color from 
 its smoky light, his face seemed to stand out positively paler 
 against the background. He pointed to a chair set for me, 
 but not a word did he say. 
 
 " ' What thoughts can this being have in his mind?' said 
 I to myself. ' Does he know that a God exists ; does he 
 know there are such things as feeling, woman, happiness ? ' I 
 pitied him as I might have pitied a diseased creature. But, at 
 the same time, I knew quite well that while he had millions 
 of francs at his command, he possessed the world no less in 
 idea that world which he had explored, ransacked, weighed, 
 appraised, and exploited. 
 
 '' ' Good-day, Daddy Gobseck,' I began, as I quietly took 
 the seat pointed out to me. 
 
 " He turned his face towards me, with a slight contraction 
 of his bushy, black eyebrows ; this characteristic shade of ex- 
 pression in him meant as much as the most jubilant smile on 
 a southern face. 
 
 " ' You look just as gloomy as you did that day when the
 
 314 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 news came of the failure of that bookseller whose sharpness 
 you admired so much, though you were one of his victims.' 
 
 "'One of his victims?' he repeated, with a look of 
 astonishment. 
 
 " ' Yes. Did you not refuse to accept composition at the 
 meeting of creditors until he undertook privately to pay you 
 your debt in full ; and did he not give you bills accepted by 
 the insolvent firm ; and then, when he set up in business 
 again, did he not pay you the dividend upon those bills of 
 yours, signed as they were by the bankrupt firm ? ' 
 
 " ' He was a sharp one, but I had it out of him.' 
 
 "'Then have you some bills to protest? To-day is the 
 30th, I believe.' 
 
 "It was the first time that I had spoken to him of money. 
 He looked ironically up at me ; then in those bland accents, 
 not unlike the husky tones which the tiro draws from a flute, 
 he answered, ' I am amusing myself.' 
 
 " ' So you amuse yourself now and again? ' 
 
 "'Do you imagine that the only poets in the world are 
 those who print their verses ? ' he asked, with a pitying look 
 and shrug of the shoulders. 
 
 " ' Poetry in that head ! ' thought I, for as yet I knew 
 nothing of his life. 
 
 " ' What life could be as glorious as mine? ' he continued, 
 and his eyes lighted up. 'You are young, your mental 
 visions are colored by youthful blood, you see women's faces 
 in the fire, while I see nothing but coals in mine. You have 
 all sorts of beliefs, while I have no beliefs at all. Keep your 
 illusions if you can. Now I will show you life with the 
 discount taken off. Go wherever you like, or stay at home 
 by the fireside with your wife, there always comes a time when 
 you settle down in a certain groove, the groove of your pref- 
 erence ; and then happiness consists in the exercise of your 
 faculties by applying them to realities. Anything more in 
 the way of precept is false. My principles have been various,
 
 M. GOBSECK. 315 
 
 among various men ; I had to change them with every change 
 of latitude. Things that we admire in Europe are punishable 
 in Asia, and a vice in Paris becomes a necessity when you 
 have passed the Azores. There are no such things as hard- 
 and-fast rules ; there are only conventions adapted to the 
 climate. Fling a man headlong into one social melting-pot 
 after another, and convictions and forms and moral systems 
 become so many meaningless words to him. The one thing 
 that always remains, the one sure instinct that nature has im- 
 planted in us, is the instinct of self-preservation. In European 
 society you call this instinct self-interest. If you had lived as 
 long as I have, you would know that there is but one concrete 
 reality invariable enough to be worth caring about, and that 
 is GOLD. Gold represents every form of human power. I 
 have traveled. I found out that there were either hills or 
 plains everywhere: the plains are monotonous, the hills a 
 weariness ; consequently, place may be left out of the question. 
 As to manners ; man is man all the world over. The same 
 battle between the poor and the rich is going on everywhere ; 
 it is inevitable everywhere ; consequently, it is better to 
 exploit than to be exploited. Everywhere you find the man 
 of thews and sinews who toils, and the lymphatic man who 
 torments himself; and pleasures are everywhere the same, for 
 when all sensations are exhausted, all that survives is vanity 
 vanity is the abiding substance of us, the / in us. Vanity 
 is only to be satisfied by gold in floods. Our dreams need 
 time and physical means and painstaking thought before they 
 can be realized. Well, gold contains all things in embryo ; 
 gold realizes all things for us. 
 
 " ' None but fools and invalids can find pleasure in shuffling 
 cards all evening long to find out whether they shall win a 
 few pence at the end. None but driveling idiots could spend 
 time in inquiring into all that is happening around them, 
 whether Madame Such-an-One slept single on her couch or in 
 company, whether she has more blood than lymph, more tern-
 
 316 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 perament than virtue. None but the dupes, who fondly 
 imagine that they are useful to their like, can interest them- 
 selves in laying down rules for political guidance amid events 
 which neither they nor any one else foresee, nor ever will 
 foresee. None but simpletons can delight in talking about 
 stage players and repeating their sayings ; making the daily 
 promenade of a caged animal over a rather larger area; 
 dressing for others, eating for others, priding themselves on a 
 horse or a carriage such as no neighbor can have until three 
 days later. What is all this but Parisian life summed up in a 
 few phrases? Let us find a higher outlook on life than theirs. 
 Happiness consists either in strong emotions which drain our 
 vitality, or in methodical occupation which makes existence 
 like a bit of English machinery, working with the regularity 
 of clockwork. A higher happiness than either consists in a 
 curiosity, styled noble, a wish to learn nature's secrets, or to 
 attempt by artificial means to imitate nature to some extent. 
 What is this in two words but science and art, or passion or 
 calm ? Ah ! well, every human passion wrought up to its 
 highest pitch in the struggle for existence comes to parade 
 itself here before me as I live in calm. As for your scientific 
 curiosity, a kind of wrestling bout in which man is never 
 uppermost, I replace it by an insight into all the springs of 
 action in man and woman. To sum up, the world is mine 
 without effort of mine, and the world has not the slightest 
 hold on me. Listen to this,' he went on, ' I will tell you the 
 history of my morning, and you will divine my pleasures.' 
 
 " He got up, pushed the bolt of the door, drew a tapestry 
 curtain across it with a sharp grating sound of the rings on 
 the rod, then he sat down again. 
 
 " ' This morning,' he said, ' I had only two amounts to col- 
 lect ; the rest of the bills that were due I gave away instead 
 of cash to my customers yesterday. So much saved, you see, 
 for when I discount a bill I always deduct two francs for a 
 hired brougham expenses of collection. A pretty thing it
 
 M. GOBSECK. 317 
 
 would be, would it not, if my clients were to set me trudging 
 all over Paris for a half-a-dozen francs of discount, when no 
 man is my master, and I only pay seven francs in the shape 
 of taxes? 
 
 " ' The first bill for a thousand francs was presented by a 
 young fellow, a smart buck with a spangled waistcoat, and an 
 eyeglass, and a tilbury and an English horse, and all the rest 
 of it. The bill bore the signature of one of the prettiest 
 women in Paris, married to a count, a great landowner. 
 Now, how came that countess to put her name to a bill of 
 exchange, legally not worth the paper it was written upon, 
 but practically very good business ; for these women, poor 
 things, are afraid of the scandal that a protested bill makes in 
 a family, and would give themselves away in payment sooner 
 than fail ? I wanted to find out what that bill of exchange 
 really represented. Was it stupidity, imprudence, love, or 
 charity ? 
 
 " ' The second bill, bearing the signature " Fanny Mal- 
 vaut," came to me from a linen-draper on the high way to 
 bankruptcy. Now, no creature who has any credit with a bank 
 comes to me. The first step to my door means that a man is 
 desperately hard up ; that the news of his failure will soon 
 come out ; and, most of all, it means that he has been every- 
 where else first. The stag is always at bay when I see him, 
 and a pack of creditors are hard upon his track. The 
 Countess lived in the Rue du Helder, and my Fanny in the 
 Rue Montmartre. How many conjectures I made as I set out 
 this morning ! If these two women were not able to pay, 
 they would show me more respect than they would show their 
 own fathers. What tricks and grimaces would not the 
 Countess try for a thousand francs ! She would be so nice to 
 me, she would talk to me in that ingratiating tone peculiar to 
 endorsers of bills, she would pour out a torrent of coaxing 
 
 words, perhaps she would beg and pray, and I ' (here the 
 
 old man turned his pale eyes upon me) * and I not to be
 
 318 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 moved, inexorable ! ' he continued. ' I am there as the 
 avenger, the apparition of remorse. So much for hypotheses. 
 I reached the house. 
 
 " * " Madame la Comtesse is asleep," says the maid. 
 
 " '"When can I see her?" 
 
 " ' " At twelve o'clock." 
 
 " ' " Is Madame la Comtesse ill ? " 
 
 " ' " No, sir, but she only came home at three o'clock this 
 morning from a ball." 
 
 " ' " My name is Gobseck, tell her that I shall call again at 
 twelve o'clock," and out I went, leaving traces of my muddy 
 boots on the carpet which covered the paved staircase. I 
 like to leave mud on a rich man's carpet ; it is not petty spite ; 
 I like to make them feel a touch of the claws of necessity. 
 In the Rue Montmartre I thrust open the old gateway of a 
 poor-looking house, and looked into a dark courtyard where 
 the sunlight never shines. The porter's lodge was grimy, the 
 window looked like the sleeve of some shabby wadded gown 
 greasy, dirty, and full of holes. 
 
 " ' " Mile. Fanny Malvaut ? " 
 
 " ' " She has gone out ; but if you have come about a bill, 
 the money is waiting for you." 
 
 " ' "I will look in again," said I. 
 
 " ' As soon as I knew that the porter had the money for me, 
 I wanted to know what the girl was like; I pictured her as 
 pretty. The rest of the morning I spent in looking at the 
 prints in the shop windows along the boulevard ; then, just as 
 it struck twelve, I went through the Countess' ante-chamber. 
 
 ti i (i Madame has just this minute rung for me," said the 
 maid ; "I don't think she can see you yet." 
 
 " ' " I will wait," said I, and sat down in an easy-chair. 
 
 " ' Venetian shutters were opened, and presently the maid 
 came hurrying back. 
 
 ""'Come in, sir." 
 
 " ' From the sweet tone of the girl's voice, I knew that
 
 M. GOB SEC 1C. 319 
 
 the mistress could not be ready to pay. What a handsome 
 woman it was that I saw in another moment ! She had 
 flung an India shawl hastily over her bare shoulders, cov- 
 ering herself with it completely, while it revealed the bare 
 outlines of the form beneath. She wore a loose gown 
 trimmed with snowy ruffles, which told plainly that her 
 laundress' bills amounted to something like two thousand 
 francs in the course of a year. Her dark curls escaped from 
 beneath a bright India handkerchief, knotted carelessly about 
 her head after the fashion of Creole women. The bed lay 
 in disorder that told of broken slumber. A painter would 
 have paid money to stay a while to see the scene that I 
 saw. Under the luxurious hanging draperies, the pillow, 
 crushed into the depths of an eider-down quilt, its lace 
 border standing out in contrast against the background of 
 blue silk, bore a vague impress that kindled the imagina- 
 tion. A pair of satin slippers gleamed from the great bear- 
 skin rug spread by the carved mahogany lions at the bed- 
 foot, where she had flung them off in her weariness after the 
 ball. A crumpled gown hung over a chair, the sleeves touch- 
 ing the floor ; stockings which a breath would have blown 
 away were twisted about the leg of an easy-chair; white ribbon 
 garters straggled over a settee. A fan of price, half unfolded, 
 glittered on the chimney-piece. Drawers stood open ; flowers, 
 diamonds, gloves, a bouquet, a girdle, were littered about. 
 The room was full of vague sweet perfume. And beneath 
 all the luxury and disorder, beauty and incongruity I saw 
 misery crouching in wait for her or for her adorer, misery 
 rearing its head, for the countess had begun to feel the edge 
 of those fangs. Her tired face was an epitome of the room 
 strewn with relics of past festival. The scattered gew-gaws, 
 pitiable this morning, when gathered together and coherent, 
 had turned heads the night before. 
 
 " ' What efforts to drink of the Tantalus cup of bliss I 
 could read in these traces of love stricken by the thunderbolt
 
 320 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 remorse in this visible presentment of a life of luxury, 
 extravagance, and riot. There were faint red marks on 
 her young face, signs of the fineness of the skin ; but her 
 features were coarsened, as it were, and the circles about her 
 eyes were unwontedly dark. Nature nevertheless was so vig- 
 orous in her, that these traces of past folly did not spoil her 
 beauty. Her eyes glittered. She looked like some Herodias 
 of da Vinci's (I have dealt in pictures), so magnificently full 
 of life and energy was she ; there was nothing starved nor 
 stinted in feature or outline ; she awakened desire ; it seemed 
 to me that there was some passion in her yet stronger than 
 love. I was taken with her. It was a long while since my 
 heart had throbbed ; so I was paid then and there for I 
 would give a thousand francs for a sensation that should bring 
 me back memories of youth. 
 
 " * " Monsieur," she said, finding a chair for me, " will you 
 be so good as to wait ? ' ' 
 
 " * " Until this time to-morrow, madame," I said, folding up 
 the bill again. " I cannot legally protest this bill any sooner." 
 And within myself I said " Pay the price of your luxury, pay 
 for your name, pay for your ease, pay for the monopoly which 
 you enjoy ! The rich have invented judges and courts of law 
 to secure their goods, and the guillotine that candle in which 
 so many an ignorant moth burns his wings. But for you who 
 lay in silk, under silken coverlets, there is remorse, and grind- 
 ing of teeth beneath a smile, and those fantastical lions' jaws 
 are gaping to set their fangs in your heart." 
 
 " ' " Protest the bill 1 Can you mean it ? " she cried, with 
 her eyes upon me ; " could you have so little consideration 
 forme?" 
 
 ". ' " If the King himself owed money to me, madame, and 
 did not pay it, I should summons him even sooner than any 
 other debtor." 
 
 " ' While we were speaking, somebody tapped gently at the 
 door.
 
 M. GOBSECK. 321 
 
 " < "I cannot see any one," she cried imperiously. 
 
 " ' "But, Anastasie, I particularly wish to speak to you." 
 
 " ' " Not just now, dear," she answered in a milder tone, but 
 with no sign of relenting. 
 
 " ' " What nonsense ! You are talking to some one," said 
 the voice, and in came a man who could only be the Count. 
 
 " 'The countess gave me a glance. I saw how it was. She 
 was thoroughly in my power. There was a time, when I was 
 young, and might perhaps have been stupid enough not to 
 protest the bill. At Pondicherry, in 1763, I let a woman off, 
 and nicely she paid me out afterwards. I deserved it; what 
 call was there for me to trust her ? ' 
 
 " ' " What does this gentleman want?" asked the Count. 
 
 " ' I could see that the Countess was trembling from head 
 to foot ; the white satin skin of her throat was rough, " turned 
 to goose-flesh," to use the familiar expression. As for me, I 
 laughed in myself without moving a muscle. 
 
 " ' " This gentleman is one of my tradesmen," she said. 
 
 " 'The Count turned his back on me; I drew the bill half 
 out of my pocket. After that inexorable movement, she 
 came over to me and put a diamond into my hands. " Take 
 it," she said, " and be gone." 
 
 "'We exchanged values, and I made my bow and went. 
 The diamond was quite worth twelve hundred francs to me. 
 Out in the courtyard I saw a swarm of flunkeys, brushing 
 their liveries, waxing their boots, and cleaning sumptuous 
 equipages. 
 
 " ' "This is what brings these people to me ! " said I to 
 myself. " It is to keep up this kind of thing that they steal 
 millions with all due formalities, and betray their country. 
 The great lord, and the little man who apes the great lord, 
 bathes in mud once for all to save himself a splash or two 
 when he goes afoot through the streets." 
 
 " ' Just then the great gates were opened to admit a cabriolet. 
 It was the same young fellow who had brought the bill to me. 
 21
 
 322 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 " ' "Sir," I said, as he alighted, " here are two hundred 
 francs, which I beg you to return to Mme. la Comtesse, and 
 have the goodness to tell her that I hold the pledge which she 
 deposited with me this morning at her disposition for a week." 
 
 " 'He took the two hundred francs, and an ironical smile 
 stole over his face ; it was as if he had said, " Aha ! so she 
 
 has paid it, has she ? Faith, so much the better ! " I 
 
 read the Countess' future in his face. That good-looking, 
 fair-haired young gentleman is a heartless gambler ; he will 
 ruin himself, ruin her, ruin her husband, ruin the children, 
 eat up their portions, and work more havoc in Parisian salons 
 than a whole battery of howitzers in a regiment. 
 
 " ' I went back to see Mile. Fanny in the Rue Montmartre, 
 climbed a very steep, narrow staircase, and reached a two- 
 room apartment on the fifth floor. Everything was as neat 
 as a new ducat. I did not see a speck of dust on the furni- 
 ture in the first room, where Mile. Fanny was sitting. Mile. 
 Fanny herself was a young Parisian girl, quietly dressed, with 
 a delicate fresh face and a winning look. The arrangement 
 of her neatly brushed chestnut hair in a double curve on her 
 forehead lent a refined expression to blue eyes, clear as crys- 
 tal. The broad daylight streaming in through the short cur- 
 tains against the window-pane fell with softened light on her 
 girlish face. A pile of shaped pieces of linen told me that 
 she was a sempstress. She looked like the spirit of solitude. 
 When I held out the bill, I remarked that she had not been 
 at home when I called in the morning. 
 
 " * " But the money was left with the porter's wife," said she. 
 
 " * I pretended not to understand. 
 
 " ' "You go out early, mademoiselle, it seems." 
 
 " ' " I very seldom leave my room ; but when you work all 
 night, you are obliged to take a bath sometimes." 
 
 " ' I looked at her. A glance told me all about her life. 
 Here was a girl condemned by misfortune to toil, a girl who 
 came of honest farmer folk, for she had still a freckle or two
 
 M. GOBSECK. 323 
 
 that told of country birth. There was an indefinable atmo- 
 sphere of goodness about her ; I felt as if I were breathing 
 sincerity and frank innocence. It was refreshing to my lungs. 
 Poor innocent child, she had faith in something ; there was a 
 crucifix and a sprig or two of green box above her poor 
 little painted wooden bedstead ; I felt touched, or somewhat 
 inclined that way. I felt ready to offer to charge no more 
 than twelve per cent., and so give something towards estab- 
 lishing her in a good way of business. 
 
 " ' " But may be she has a little youngster of a cousin," I 
 said to myself, "who would raise money on her signature and 
 sponge on the poor girl." 
 
 " ' So I went away, keeping my generous impulses well under 
 control ; for I have frequently had occasion to observe that 
 when benevolence does no harm to him who gives, it is the 
 ruin of him who takes. When you came in I was thinking 
 that Fanny Malvaut would make a nice little wife ; I was 
 thinking of the contrast between her pure, lonely life and the 
 life of the Countess she has sunk as low as a bill of exchange 
 already, she will sink to the lowest depths of degradation be- 
 fore she has done ! ' I scrutinized him during the deep 
 silence that followed, but in a moment he spoke again. 
 ' Well,' he said, ' do you think that it is nothing to have this 
 power of insight into the deepest recesses of the human heart, 
 to embrace so many lives, to see the naked truth underlying 
 it all? There are no two dramas alike: there are hideous 
 sores, deadly chagrins, love scenes, misery that soon will lay 
 under the ripples of the Seine, young men's joys that lead to 
 the scaffold, the laughter of despair, and sumptuous banquets. 
 Yesterday it was a tragedy. A worthy soul of a father 
 drowned himself because he could not support his family. 
 To-morrow it is a comedy; some youngster will try to rehearse 
 the scene of M. Dimanche, brought up to date. You have 
 heard people extol the eloquence of our latter-day preachers ; 
 now and again I have wasted my time by going to hear them ;
 
 324 M. COBSECK. 
 
 they produced a change in my opinions, but in my conduct 
 (as somebody said, I can't recollect his name), in my con- 
 duct never ! Well, well ; these good priests and your Mira- 
 beaus and Vergniauds and the rest of them are mere stam- 
 mering beginners compared with these orators of mine. 
 
 "'Often it is some girl in love, some gray-headed mer- 
 chant on the verge of bankruptcy, some mother with a son's 
 wrong-doing to conceal, some starving artist, some great man 
 whose influence is on the wane, and, for lack of money, is 
 likely to lose the fruit of all his labors the power of their 
 pleading has made me shudder. Sublime actors such as these 
 play for me, for an audience of one, and they cannot deceive 
 me. I can look into their inmost thoughts, and read them as 
 God reads them. Nothing is hidden from me. Nothing is 
 refused to the holder of the purse-strings to loose and to 
 bind. I am rich enough to buy the consciences of those who 
 control the action of ministers, from their office boys to their 
 mistresses. Is not that power? I can possess the fairest 
 women, receive their softest caresses ; is not that pleasure ? 
 And is not your whole social economy summed up in terms 
 of power and pleasure ? 
 
 " 'There are ten of us in Paris, silent, unknown kings, the 
 arbiters of your destinies. What is life but a machine set 
 in motion by money ? Know this for certain methods are 
 always confounded with results ; you will never succeed in 
 separating the soul from the senses, spirit from matter. Gold 
 is the spiritual basis of existing society. The ten of us are 
 bound by the ties of common interest ; we meet on certain 
 days of the week at the Cafe Themis near the Pont Neuf, and 
 there, in conclave, we reveal the mysteries of finance. No 
 fortune can deceive us ; we are in possession of family secrets 
 in all directions. We keep a kind of " Black Book," in which 
 we note the most important bills issued, drafts on public credit, 
 or on banks, or given and taken in the course of business. 
 We are the Casuists of the Paris Bourse, a kind of Inquisition
 
 M. GOBSECK. 325 
 
 weighing and analyzing the most insignificant actions of every 
 man of any fortune, and our forecasts are infallible. One of 
 us looks out over the judicial world, one over the financial, 
 another surveys the administrative, and yet another the busi- 
 ness world. I myself keep an eye on eldest sons, artists, peo- 
 ple in the great world, and gamblers on the most sensational 
 side of Paris. Every one who comes to us lets us into his 
 neighbor's secrets. Thwarted passion and mortified vanity 
 are great babblers. Vice and disappointment and vindictive- 
 ness are the best of all detectives. My colleagues, like my- 
 self, have enjoyed all things, are sated with all things, and 
 have reached the point when power and money are loved for 
 their own sake. 
 
 " ' Here,' he said, indicating his bare, chilly room, 'here 
 the most high-mettled gallant, who chafes at a word and 
 draws sword for a syllable elsewhere, will entreat with clasped 
 hands. There is no city merchant so proud, no woman so 
 vain of her beauty, no soldier of so bold a spirit, but that 
 they entreat me here, one and all, with tears of rage or an- 
 guish in their eyes. Here they kneel the famous artist, and 
 the man of letters, whose name will go down to posterity. 
 Here, in short ' (he lifted his hand to his forehead), ' all the 
 inheritances and all the concerns of all Paris are weighed in 
 the balance. Are you still of the opinion that there are no 
 delights behind the blank mask which so often has amazed 
 you by its impassiveness ? ' he asked, stretching out that 
 livid face which reeked of money. 
 
 " I went back to my room, feeling stupefied. The little, 
 wizened, old man had grown great. He had been metamor- 
 phosed under my eyes into a strange visionary symbol ; he 
 had come to be the power of gold personified. I shrank, 
 shuddering, from life and my kind. 
 
 "'Is it really so?' I thought; 'must everything be re- 
 solved into gold ? ' 
 
 " I remember that it was long before I slept that night. I
 
 326 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 saw heaps of gold all about me. My thoughts were full of 
 the lovely Countess ; I confess, to my shame, that the vision 
 completely eclipsed another quiet, innocent figure, the figure 
 of the woman who had entered upon a life of toil and ob- 
 scurity; but on the morrow, through the clouds of slumber, 
 Fanny's sweet face rose before me in all its beauty, and I 
 thought of nothing else." 
 
 " Will you take a glass of eau sucree?" asked the Vicom- 
 tesse, interrupting Derville. 
 
 "I should be glad of it." 
 
 " But I can see nothing in this that can touch our concerns," 
 said Mme. de Grandlieu, as she rang the bell. 
 
 " Sardanapalus ! " cried Derville, flinging out his favorite 
 invocation. " Mademoiselle Camille will be wide awake in a 
 moment if I say that her happiness depended not so long ago 
 upon Daddy Gobseck ; but as the old gentleman died at the 
 age of ninety, M. de Restaud will soon be in possession of a 
 handsome fortune. This requires some explanation. As for 
 Fanny Malvaut, you know her ; she is my wife." 
 
 " Poor fellow, he would admit that, with his usual frank- 
 ness, with a score of people to hear him ! " said the Vicom- 
 tesse. 
 
 "I would proclaim it to the universe," said the attorney. 
 
 "Go on, drink your glass, my poor Derville. You will 
 never be anything but the happiest and the best of men." 
 
 "I left you in the Rue du Helder," remarked the uncle, 
 raising his face after a gentle doze. " You had gone to see a 
 countess; what have you done with her?" 
 
 " A few days after my conversation with the old Dutch- 
 man," Derville continued, " I sent in my thesis, and became 
 first a licentiate in law, and afterwards an advocate. The old 
 miser's opinion of me went up considerably. He consulted 
 me (gratuitously) on all the ticklish bits of business which he
 
 M. GOSBECK, 327 
 
 undertook when he had made quite sure how he stood, busi- 
 ness which would have seemed unsafe to any ordinary prac- 
 titioner. This man, over whom no one appeared to have the 
 slightest influence, listened to my advice with something like 
 respect. It is true that he always found that it turned out 
 very well. 
 
 "At length I became head-clerk in the office where I had 
 worked for three years, and then I left the Rue des Gres for 
 rooms in my employer's house. I had my board and lodging 
 and a hundred and fifty francs per month. It was a great 
 day for me ! 
 
 " When I went to bid the usurer good-by, he showed no 
 sign of feeling, he was neither cordial nor sorry to lose me, 
 he did not ask me to come to see him, and only gave me one 
 of those glances which seemed in some way to reveal a power 
 of second-sight. 
 
 "By the end of the week my old neighbor came to see me 
 with a tolerably thorny bit of business, an expropriation, and 
 he continued to ask my advice with as much freedom as if he 
 paid for it. 
 
 " My principal was a man of pleasure and expensive tastes ; 
 before the second year (1818-1819) was out he had gotten him- 
 self into difficulties, and was obliged to sell his practice. A 
 professional connection in those days did not fetch the present 
 exorbitant prices, and my principal asked a hundred and fifty 
 thousand francs. Now an active man, of competent knowl- 
 edge and intelligence, might hope to pay off the capital in ten 
 years, paying interest and living respectably in the meantime 
 if he could command confidence. But I was the seventh 
 child of a small tradesman at Noyon, I had not a sou to my 
 name, nor personal knowledge of any capitalist but Daddy 
 Gobseck. An ambitious idea, and an indefinable glimmer of 
 hope, put heart into me. To Gobseck I betook myself, and 
 slowly one evening I made my way to the Rue des Gres. My 
 heart thumped heavily as I knocked at his door in the gloomy
 
 328 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 house. I recollected all the things that he used to tell me, 
 at a time when I myself was very far from suspecting the vio- 
 lence of the anguish awaiting those who crossed his threshold. 
 Now it was I who was about to beg and pray like so many 
 others. 
 
 '"Well, no, not that," 1 I said to myself; 'an honest man 
 must keep his self-respect wherever he goes. Success is not 
 worth cringing for ; let us show him a front as decided as his 
 own.' 
 
 " Daddy Gobseck had taken my room since I left the house, 
 so as to have no neighbor ; he had made a little grated win- 
 dow too in his door since then, and did not open until he had 
 taken a look at me and saw who I was. 
 
 " ' Well,' said he, in his thin, flute notes, ' so your prin- 
 cipal is selling his practice.' 
 
 " ' How did you know that ? ' said I ; 'he has not spoken 
 of it as yet except to me.' 
 
 " The old man's lips were drawn in puckers, like a curtain, 
 to either corner of his mouth, as a soundless smile bore a hard 
 glance company. 
 
 " ' Nothing else would have brought you here,' he said 
 drily, after a pause, which I spent in confusion. 
 
 " ' Listen to me, M. Gobseck,' I began, with such serenity 
 as I could assume before the old man, who gazed at me with 
 steady eyes. There was a clear light burning in them that 
 disconcerted me. 
 
 " He made a gesture as if to bid me ' Go on.' ' I know 
 that it is not easy to work on your feelings, so I will not waste 
 my eloquence on the attempt to put my position before you 
 I am a penniless clerk, with no one to look to but you, and no 
 heart in the world but yours can form a clear idea of my 
 probable future. Let us leave hearts out of the question. 
 Business is business, and business is not carried on with senti- 
 mentality like romances. Now to the facts. My principal's 
 practice is worth in his hands about twenty thousand francs
 
 M. GOBSECK. 329 
 
 per annum ; in my hands, I think it would bring in forty 
 thousand. He is willing to sell it for a hundred and fifty 
 thousand francs. And here,' I said, striking my forehead, 
 'I feel that if you would lend me the purchase-money, I could 
 clear it off in ten years' time.' 
 
 " ' Come, that is plain speaking," said Daddy Gobseck, and 
 he held out his hand and grasped mine. ' Nobody since I 
 have been in business has stated the motives of his visit more 
 clearly. Guarantees?' asked he, scanning me from head to 
 foot. ' None to give,' he added after a pause. ' How old 
 are you ? ' 
 
 " 'Twenty-five in ten days' time,' said I, 'or I could not 
 open the matter.' 
 
 " 'Precisely.' 
 
 " 'Well?' 
 
 " ' It is possible.' 
 
 " ' My word, we must be quick about it, or I shall have 
 some one buying over my head.' 
 
 " ' Bring your certificate of birth round to-morrow morn- 
 ing, and we will talk. I will think it over in the meantime,' 
 he replied. 
 
 " Next morning, at eight o'clock, I stood in the old man's 
 room. He took the document, put on his spectacles, coughed, 
 spat, wrapped himself up in his black greatcoat, and read the 
 whole certificate through from beginning to end. Then he 
 turned it over and over, looked at me, coughed again, fidgeted 
 about in his chair, and said, ' We will try to arrange this bit 
 of business.' 
 
 "I trembled. 
 
 " ' I make fifty per cent, on my capital,' he continued, 
 ' sometimes I make a hundred, two hundred, five hundred 
 per cent.' 
 
 " I turned pale at the words. 
 
 " 'But as we are acquaintances, I shall be satisfied to take 
 tv.-elre and a half per cent, per ' (he hesitated) ' well, yes,
 
 330 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 from you I would be content to take thirteen per cent, per 
 annum. Will that suit you ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes,' I answered. 
 
 "/ But if it is too much, stick up for yourself, Grotius ! ' 
 (a name he jokingly gave me). ' When I ask you for thir- 
 teen per cent., it is all in the way of business ; look into it, 
 see if you can pay it ; I don't like a man to agree too easily. 
 Is it too much ? ' 
 
 " ' No,' said I, ' I will make up for it by working a little 
 harder.' 
 
 ' ' ' Gad ! your clients will pay for it ! ' said he, looking at 
 me wickedly out of the corner of his eyes. 
 
 " 'No, by all the devils in hell ! ' cried I, 'it shall be I 
 who will pay. I would sooner cut my hand off than flay 
 people.' 
 
 " ' Good-night,' said Daddy Gobseck. 
 
 " ' Why, fees are all according to scale,' I added. 
 
 " ' Not for compromises and settlements out of court, and 
 cases where litigants come to terms,' said he. ' You can send 
 in a bill for thousands of francs, six thousand even at a swoop 
 (it depends on the importance of the case), for conferences 
 with So-and-so, and expenses, and drafts, and memorials, and 
 your jargon. A man must learn to look out for business of 
 this kind. I will recommend you as a most competent, clever 
 attorney. I will send you such a lot of work of this sort 
 that your colleagues will be fit to burst with envy. Werbrust, 
 Palma, and Gigonnet, my cronies, shall hand over their ex- 
 propriations to you ; they have plenty of them, the Lord 
 knows ! So you will have two practices the one you are 
 buying, and the other I will build up for you. You ought 
 almost to pay me fifteen per cent, on my loan.' 
 
 " * So be it, but no more,' said I, with the firmness which 
 means that a man is determined not to concede another 
 point. 
 
 " Daddy Gobseck's face relaxed ; he looked pleased with me.
 
 M. GOBSECK. 331 
 
 " ' I shall pay the money over to your principal myself,' 
 said he, ' so as to establish a lien on the purchase and caution - 
 money.' 
 
 " ' Oh, anything you like in the way of guarantees.' 
 
 " 'And besides that, you will give me bills for the amount 
 made payable to a third party (name left blank), fifteen bills 
 of ten thousand francs each.' 
 
 " ' Well, so long as it is acknowledged in writing that this 
 is a double ' 
 
 " ' No ! ' Gobseck broke in upon me. ' No ! Why should 
 I trust you any more than you trust me ? ' 
 
 " I kept silence. 
 
 " ' And furthermore,' he continued, with a sort of good- 
 humor, ' you will give me your advice without charging fees 
 so long as I live, will you not ? ' 
 
 " ' So be it j so long as there is no outlay.' 
 
 " ' Precisely,' said he. 'Ah, by-the-by, you will allow me 
 to go to see you ? ' (Plainly the old man found it not so 
 easy to assume the air of good-humor.) 
 
 " ' I shall always be glad.' 
 
 " ' Ah ! yes, but it would be very difficult to arrange of a 
 morning. You will have your affairs to attend to, and I have 
 mine.' 
 
 " 'Then come in the evening.' 
 
 " ' Oh, no ! ' he answered briskly, 'you ought to go into 
 society and see your clients, and I myself have my friends at 
 my cafeV 
 
 " ' His friends ! ' thought I to myself. ' Very well,' said I, 
 ' why not come at dinner-time? ' 
 
 " 'That is the time,' said Gobseck, ' after 'Change, at five 
 o'clock. Good, you will see me Wednesdays and Saturdays. 
 We will talk over business like a pair of friends. Aha ! I am 
 gay, sometimes. Just give me the wing of a partridge and a 
 glass of champagne, and we will have our chat together. I 
 know a great many things that can be told now at this dis-
 
 332 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 tance of time ; I will teach you to know men, and what is 
 more, women ? ' 
 
 " ' Oh ! a partridge and a glass of champagne if you like.' 
 
 " ' Don't do anything foolish, or I shall lose my faith in 
 you. And don't set up housekeeping in a grand way. Just 
 one old general servant. I will come and see that you keep 
 your health. I have capital invested in your head, he ! he ! 
 so I am bound to look after you. There, come round in the 
 evening, and bring your principal with you ! ' 
 
 " ' Would you mind telling me, if there is no harm in 
 asking, what was the good of my birth certificate in this 
 business ? ' I asked, when the little old man and I stood on 
 the doorstep. 
 
 " Jean-Esther Van Gobseck shrugged his shoulders, smiled 
 maliciously, and said, ' What blockheads youngsters are ! 
 Learn, master attorney (for learn you must, if you don't mean 
 to be taken in), that integrity and brains in a man under 
 thirty are commodities which can be mortgaged. After that 
 age there is no counting on a man.' 
 
 " And with that he shut the door. 
 
 " Three months later I was an attorney. Before very long, 
 madame, it was my good-fortune to undertake the suit for the 
 recovery of your estates. I won the day, and my name became 
 known. In spite of the exorbitant rate of interest, I paid off 
 Gobseck in less than five years. I married Fanny Malvaut, 
 whom I loved with all my heart. There was a parallel between 
 her life and mine, between our hard work and our luck, which 
 increased the strength of feeling on either side. One of her 
 uncles, a well-to-do farmer, died and left her seventy thousand 
 francs, which helped to clear off the loan. From that day my 
 life has been nothing but happiness and prosperity. Nothing 
 is more utterly uninteresting than a happy man, so let us say 
 no more on that head, and return to the rest of the characters. 
 
 " About a year after the purchase of the practice, I was
 
 M. GOBSECK. 333 
 
 dragged into a bachelor breakfast-party given by one of our 
 number who had lost a bet to a young man greatly in vogue 
 in the fashionable world. M. de Trailles, the flower of the 
 dandyism of that day, enjoyed a prodigious reputation." 
 
 "But he is still enjoying it," put in the Comte de Born. 
 " No one wears his clothes with a finer air, nor drives a tandem 
 with a better grace. It is Maxime's gift ; he can gamble, eat, 
 and drink more gracefully than any man in the world. He 
 is a judge of horses, hats, and pictures. All the women lose 
 their heads over him. He always spends something like a 
 hundred thousand francs a year, and no creature can discover 
 that he has an acre of land or a single dividend warrant. The 
 typical knight-errant of our salons, our boudoirs, our boule- 
 vards, an amphibian half way between a man and a woman 
 Maxime de Trailles is a singular being, fit for anything, and 
 good for nothing, quite as capable of perpetrating a benefit as 
 of planning a crime ; sometimes base, sometimes noble, more 
 often bespattered with mire than besprinkled with blood, 
 knowing more of anxiety than of remorse, more concerned 
 with his digestion than with any mental process, shamming 
 passion, feeling nothing. Maxime de Trailles is a brilliant 
 link between the hulks and the best society ; he belongs to the 
 eminently intelligent class from which a Mirabeau, or a Pitt, 
 or a Richelieu springs at times, though it is more wont to 
 produce Counts of Horn, Fouquier-Tinvilles, and Coignards." 
 
 "Well," pursued Derville, when he had heard the Vicom- 
 tesse's brother to the end, " I had heard a good deal about 
 this individual from poor Father Goriot, a client of mine ; and 
 I had already been at some pains to avoid the dangerous 
 honor of his acquaintance, for I came across him sometimes 
 in society. Still, my chum was so pressing about this break- 
 fast party of his that I could not well get out of it, unless I 
 wished to earn a name for squeamishness. Madame, you could 
 hardly imagine what a bachelor's breakfast-party is like. It 
 means superb display and a studied refinement seldom seen ;
 
 334 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 the luxury of a miser when vanity leads him to be sumptuous 
 for a day. 
 
 " You are surprised as you enter the room at the neatness 
 of the table, dazzling by reason of its silver and crystal and 
 linen damask. Life is here in full bloom ; the young fellows 
 are graceful to behold ; they smile and talk in low, demure 
 voices like so many brides ; everything about them looks 
 girlish. Two hours later you might take the room for a 
 battlefield after the fight. Broken glasses, serviettes crumpled 
 and torn to rags lie strewn about among the nauseous-looking 
 remnants of food on the dishes. There is an uproar that 
 stuns you, jesting toasts, a fire of witticisms and bad jokes ; 
 faces are empurpled, eyes inflamed and expressionless ; unin- 
 tentional confidences tell you the whole truth. Bottles are 
 smashed, and songs trolled out in the height of a diabolical 
 racket ; men call each other out, hang on each other's necks, 
 or fall to fisticuffs ; the room is full of a horrid, close scent 
 made up of a hundred odors, and noise enough for a hundred 
 voices. No one has any notion of what he is eating or drink- 
 ing or saying. Some are depressed, others babble ; one will 
 turn monomaniac, repeating the same word over and over 
 again like a bell set jangling ; another tries to keep the tumult 
 within bounds ; the steadiest will propose an orgie. If any 
 one in possession of his faculties should come in, he would 
 think that he had interrupted a Bacchanalian rite. 
 
 "It was in the thick of such a chaos that M. de Trailles 
 tried to insinuate himself into my good graces. My head was 
 fairly clear, I was upon my guard. As for him, though he 
 pretended to be decently drunk, he was perfectly cool, and 
 knew very well what he was about. How it was done I do 
 not know, but the upshot of it was that when we left Grig- 
 non's rooms about nine o'clock in the evening, M. de Trailles 
 had thoroughly bewitched me. I had given him my promise 
 that I would introduce him the next day to our Papa Gobseck. 
 The words 'honor,' 'virtue,' 'countess,' 'honest woman,'
 
 M. COBSECK. 335 
 
 and ' ill-luck ' were mingled in his discourse with magical 
 potency, thanks to that golden tongue of his. 
 
 " When I awoke next morning, and tried to recollect what 
 I had done the day before, it was with great difficulty that I 
 could make a connected tale from my impressions. At last, 
 it seemed to me that the daughter of one of my clients was 
 in danger of losing her reputation, together with her hus- 
 band's love and esteem, if she could not get fifty thousand 
 francs together in the course of the morning. There had 
 been gaming debts, and carriage-builders' accounts, money 
 lost to heaven knows whom. My magician of a boon com- 
 panion had impressed it upon me that she was rich enough to 
 make good these reverses by a few years of economy. But 
 only now did I begin to guess the reasons of his urgency. I 
 confess, to my shame, that I had not the shadow of a doubt 
 but that it was a matter of importance that Daddy Gobseck 
 should make it up with this dandy. I was dressing when the 
 young gentleman appeared. 
 
 " ' M. le Comte,' said I, after the usual greetings, 'I fail 
 to see why you should need me to effect an introduction to 
 Van Gobseck, the most civil and smooth-spoken of capitalists. 
 Money will be forthcoming if he has any, or rather, if you can 
 give him adequate security.' 
 
 " ' Monsieur,' said he, ' it does not enter into my thoughts 
 to force you to do me a service, even though you have passed 
 your word.' 
 
 " ' Sardanapalus ! ' said I to myself, ' am I going to let that 
 fellow imagine for one moment that I will not keep my word 
 with him ? ' 
 
 " ' I had the honor of telling you yesterday,' said he, ' that 
 I had fallen out with Daddy Gobseck most inopportunely; 
 and as there is scarcely another man in Paris who can come 
 down on the nail with a hundred thousand francs, at the end 
 of the month, I begged of you to make my peace with him. 
 But let us say no more about it '
 
 336 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 " M. de Trailles looked at me with civil insult in his 
 expression, and made as if he would take his leave. 
 
 " ' I am ready to go with you,' said I. 
 
 "When we reached the Rue des Gres, my dandy looked 
 about him with a circumspection and uneasiness that set me 
 wondering. His face grew livid, flushed, and yellow, turn 
 and turn about, and by the time that Gobseck's door came in 
 sight the perspiration stood in drops on his forehead. We 
 were just getting out of the cabriolet, when a hackney cab 
 turned into the street. My companion's hawk's-eye detected 
 a woman in the depths of the vehicle. His face lighted up 
 with a gleam of almost savage joy ; he called to a little boy 
 who was passing, and gave him his horse to hold. Then we 
 went up to the old bill-discounter. 
 
 " * M. Gobseck,' said I, ' I have brought one of my most 
 intimate friends to see you (whom I trust as I would trust the 
 devil,' I added for the old man's private ear). 'To oblige 
 me you will do your best for him (at the ordinary rate), and 
 pull him out of his difficulty (if it suits your convenience).' 
 
 " M. de Trailles made his bow to M. Gobseck, took a seat, 
 and listened to us with a courtier-like attitude ; its charming 
 humility would have touched your heart to see, but my M. 
 Gobseck sits in his chair by the fireside without moving a 
 muscle or changing a feature. He looked very much like the 
 statue of Voltaire under .the peristyle of the Th6atre-Francais, 
 as you see it of an evening ; he had partly risen as if to bow, 
 and the skull cap that covered the top of his head, and the 
 narrow strip of sallow forehead exhibited, completed his like- 
 ness to the man of marble. 
 
 " ' I have no money to spare except for my own clients/ 
 said he. 
 
 " ' So you are cross because I may have tried in other 
 quarters to ruin myself? ' said the Count, laughing. 
 
 " 'Ruin yourself! ' repeated M. Gobseck ironically. 
 
 " ' Were you about to remark that it is impossible to ruin a
 
 M. GOBSECK. 337 
 
 man who has nothing ? ' inquired the dandy. * Why I defy 
 you to find a better stock in Paris ! ' he cried, swinging round 
 on his heels. 
 
 " This half-earnest buffoonery produced not the slightest 
 effect upon M. Gobseck. 
 
 " 'Am I not on intimate terms with the Ronquerolles, the 
 Marsays, the Franchessinis, the two Vandenesses, the Ajuda- 
 Pintos all the most fashionable young men in Paris, in short? 
 A prince and an ambassador (you know them both) are my 
 partners at play. I draw my revenues from London and 
 Carlsbad and Baden and Bath. Is not this the most brilliant 
 of all industries ! ' 
 
 "'True.' 
 
 " ' You make a sponge of me, begad ! so you do. You 
 encourage me to go and swell myself out in society, so that 
 you can squeeze me when I am hard up ; but you yourselves 
 are sponges, just as I am, and death will give you a squeeze 
 some day.' 
 
 " 'That is possible.' 
 
 " ' If there were no spendthrifts, what would become of 
 you? The pair of us are like soul and body.' 
 
 " ' Precisely so.' 
 
 " ' Come, now, give us your hand, Grandaddy Gobseck, 
 and be magnanimous if this is "true " and "possible" and 
 " precisely so." 
 
 " ' You come to me,' the usurer answered coldly, 'because 
 Girard, Palma, Werbrust, and Gigonnet are full up of your 
 paper; they are offering it at a loss of fifty per cent.; and as 
 it is likely they only gave you half the figure on the face of 
 the bills, they are not worth five-and-twenty per cent, of their 
 supposed value. I am your most obedient ! Can I in com- 
 mon decency lend a stiver to a man who owes thirty thousand 
 francs, and has not one farthing ? ' M. Gobseck continued. 
 ' The day before yesterday you lost ten thousand francs at a 
 ball at the Baron de Nucingen's.' 
 22
 
 338 M. COBSECK. 
 
 "'Sir,' said the Count, with rare impudence, 'my affairs 
 are no concern of yours/ and he looked the old man up and 
 down. 'A man has no debts till payment is due.' 
 
 " 'True.' 
 
 " ' My bills will be duly met.' 
 
 '"That is possible.' 
 
 " 'And at this moment the question between you and me 
 is simply whether the security I am going to offer is sufficient 
 for the sum I have come to borrow. ' 
 
 "'Precisely.' 
 
 "A cab stopped at the door, and the sound of wheels filled 
 the room. 
 
 " ' I will bring something directly which perhaps will satisfy 
 you,' cried the young man, and he left the room. 
 
 " 'Oh ! my son,' exclaimed M. Gobseck, rising to his feet, 
 and stretching out his arms to me, ' if he has good security, 
 you have saved my life. It would be the death of me. Wer- 
 brust and Gigonnet imagined that they were going to play off 
 a trick on me ; and now, thanks to you, I shall have a good 
 laugh at their expense to-night.' 
 
 " There was something frightful about the old man's ecstasy. 
 It was the one occasion when he opened his heart to me ; and 
 that flash of joy, swift though it was, will never be effaced 
 from my memory. 
 
 "'Favor me so far as to stay here,' he added. 'I am 
 armed, and a sure shot. I have gone tiger-hunting, and 
 fought on the deck when there was nothing for it but to 
 win or die ; but I don't care to trust myself to yonder elegant 
 scoundrel.' 
 
 " He sat down again in his armchair before his bureau, and 
 his face grew pale and impassive as before. 
 
 " 'Ah ! ' he continued, turning to me, ' you will see that 
 lovely creature I once told you about ; I can hear a fine lady's 
 step in the corridor ; it is she, no doubt ; ' and, as a matter 
 of fact, the young man came in with a woman on his arm. I
 
 M. GOBSECK. 339 
 
 recognized the Countess, whose levee M. Gobseck had de- 
 scribed for me, one of Father Goriot's two daughters. 
 
 " The Countess did not see me at first ; I stayed where I 
 was in the bay window, with my face against the pane ; but 
 I saw her give Maxime a suspicious glance as she came into 
 the money-lender's damp, dark room. So beautiful was she, 
 that in spite of her faults I felt sorry for her. There was a 
 terrible storm of anguish in her heart ; the haughty, proud 
 features were drawn and distorted with pain which she strove 
 in vain to disguise. The young man had come to be her evil 
 genius. I admired M. Gobseck, whose perspicacity had fore- 
 seen their future four years ago at the first bill which she 
 endorsed. 
 
 " ' Probably,' said I to myself, ' this monster with the angel's 
 face controls every possible spring of action in her : rules her 
 through vanity, jealousy, pleasure, and the current of life in 
 the world.'" 
 
 The Vicomtesse de Grandlieu broke in on the story. 
 
 "Why, the woman's very virtues have been turned against 
 her," she exclaimed. " He has made her shed tears of devo- 
 tion, he has brought out the utmost natural generosity of 
 woman, and then abused her kindness and made her pay very 
 dearly for unhallowed bliss." 
 
 Derville did not understand the signs which Mme. de 
 Grandlieu made to him. 
 
 "I confess," he said, "that I had no inclination to shed 
 tears over the lot of this unhappy creature, so brilliant in 
 society, so repulsive to eyes that could read her heart ; I shud- 
 dered rather at the sight of her murderer, a young angel with 
 such a clear brow, such red lips and white teeth, such a win- 
 ning smile. There they stood before their judge, he scruti- 
 nizing them much as some old fifteenth-century Dominican 
 inquisitor might have peered into the dungeons of the Holy 
 Office while the torture was administered to two Moors. 
 
 "The Countess spoke tremulously. 'Sir,' she said, Ms
 
 340 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 there any way of obtaining the value of these diamonds, and 
 of keeping the right of repurchase ? ' She held out a jewel- 
 case. 
 
 " 'Yes, madame,' I put in, and came forwards. 
 
 " She looked at me, and a shudder ran through her as she 
 recognized me, and gave me the glance which means, ' Say 
 nothing of this,' all the world over. 
 
 " ' This,' said I, ' constitutes a sale with faculty of redemp- 
 tion, as it is called, a formal agreement to transfer and deliver 
 over a piece of property, either real estate or personalty, for 
 a given time, on the expiration of which the previous owner 
 recovers his title to the property in question, upon payment 
 of a stipulated sum.' 
 
 " She breathed more freely. The Count looked black ; he 
 had grave doubts whether Gobseck would lend very much on 
 the diamonds after such a fall in their value. Gobseck, im- 
 passive as ever, had taken up his magnifying glass, and was 
 quietly scrutinizing the jewels. If I were to live for a hun- 
 dred years, I should never forget the sight of his face at that 
 moment. There was a flush in his pale cheeks; his eyes 
 seemed to have caught the sparkle of the stones, for there was 
 an unnatural glitter in them. He rose and went to the light, 
 holding the diamonds close to his toothless mouth, as if he 
 meant to devour them ; mumbling vague words over them, 
 holding up bracelets, sprays, necklaces, and tiaras one after 
 another, to judge of their water, whiteness, and cutting ; 
 taking them out of the jewel-case and putting them in again, 
 letting the play of the light bring out all their fires. He was 
 more like a child than an old man ; or, rather, childhood 
 and dotage seemed to meet in him. 
 
 " { Fine stones ! The set would have fetched three hundred 
 thousand francs before the Revolution. What water. Genu- 
 ine Asiatic diamonds from Golconda or Visapur. Do you 
 know what they are worth? No, no; no one in Paris but 
 Gobseck can appreciate them. In the time of the empire
 
 M. GOBSECK. 341 
 
 such a set would have cost another two hundred thousand 
 francs ! ' 
 
 " He gave a disgusted shrug, and added 
 
 " ' But now diamonds are going down in value every day. 
 The Brazilians have swamped the market with them since the 
 peace ; but the India stones are a better color. Others wear 
 them now besides court ladies. Does madame go to court ? ' 
 
 "While he flung out these terrible words, he examined one 
 stone after another with delight which no words can describe. 
 
 " ' Flawless ! ' he said. ' Here is a speck ! here is a 
 
 flaw ! A fine stone that ! ' 
 
 " His haggard face was so lighted up by the sparkling 
 jewels, that it put me in mind of a dingy old mirror, such as 
 you see in country inns. The glass receives every luminous 
 image without reflecting the light, and a traveler bold enough 
 to look for his face in it beholds a man in an apoplectic fit. 
 
 "'Well?' asked the Count, clapping Gobseck on the 
 shoulder. 
 
 " The old boy trembled. He put down his playthings on 
 his bureau, took his seat, and was a money-lender once more 
 hard, cold, and polished as a marble column. 
 
 " ' How much do you want ? ' 
 
 " ' One hundred thousand francs for three years,' said the 
 Count. 
 
 " 'That is possible,' said Gobseck, and from a mahogany 
 box (Gobseck' s jewel-case) he drew out a faultlessly adjusted 
 pair of scales ! 
 
 " He weighed the diamonds, calculating the value of stones 
 and setting at sight (heaven knows how !), delight and 
 severity struggling in the expression of his face the mean- 
 while. The Countess was plunged in a kind of a stupor ; to 
 me, watching her, it seemed that she was fathoming the 
 depths of the abyss into which she had fallen. There was 
 remorse still left in that woman's soul. Perhaps a hand held 
 out in human charity might save her. I would try.
 
 342 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 "'Are the diamonds your personal property, madame?' 
 I asked in a clear voice. 
 
 " 'Yes, monsieur,' she said, looking at me with proud eyes. 
 
 " ' Make out the deed of purchase with power of redemp- 
 tion, chatterbox,' said Gobseck to me, resigning his chair at 
 the bureau in my favor. 
 
 "'Madame is without doubt a married woman?' I tried 
 again. 
 
 "She nodded abruptly. 
 
 " 'Then I will not draw up the deed,' said I. 
 
 " ' And why not? ' asked M. Gobseck. 
 
 ft 'Why not?' echoed I, as I drew the old man into the 
 bay window so as to speak aside with him. ' Why not? This 
 woman is under her husband's control ; the agreement would 
 be void in law ; you could not possibly assert your ignorance 
 of a fact recorded on the very face of the document itself. 
 You would be compelled at once to produce the diamonds 
 deposited with you, according to the weight, value, and cut- 
 ting therein described.' 
 
 "M. Gobseck cut me short with a nod, and turned towards 
 the guilty couple. 
 
 " ' He is right ! ' he said. ' That puts the whole thing in 
 a different light. Eighty thousand francs down, and you 
 leave the diamonds with me,' he added, in a husky, flute- 
 like voice. * In the way of property, possession is as good as 
 a title.' 
 
 " 'But ' objected the young man. 
 
 "'You can take it or leave it,' continued M. Gobseck, 
 returning the jewel-case to the lady as he spoke. 
 
 " ' I have too many risks to run.' 
 
 " ' It would be better to throw yourself at your husband's 
 feet,' I bent to whisper in her ear. 
 
 "The usurer doubtless knew what I was saying from the 
 movement of my lips. He gave me a cool glance. The 
 Count's face grew livid. The Countess was visibly wavering.
 
 M. GOBSECK. 343 
 
 Maxima stepped up to her, and, low as he spoke, I could 
 catch the words 
 
 " ' Adieu, dear Anastasie, may you be happy ! As for me, 
 by to-morrow my troubles will be over.' 
 
 " ' Sir ! ' cried the lady, turning to M. Gobseck, * I accept 
 your offer.' 
 
 " ' Come, now,' returned M. Gobseck. ' You have been a 
 long time in coming to it, my fair lady.' 
 
 " He wrote out a cheque for fifty thousand francs on the 
 Bank of France, and handed it to the Countess. 
 
 " ' Now,' continued he with a smile, such a smile as you 
 will see in portraits of M. Voltaire, ' now I will give you the 
 rest of the amount in bills, thirty thousand francs' worth of 
 paper as good as bullion. This gentleman here has just said, 
 "My bills will be met when they are due," ' added he, pro- 
 ducing certain drafts bearing the Count's signature, all pro- 
 tested the day before at the request of some of the confrater- 
 nity, who had probably made them over to him (M. Gobseck) 
 at a considerably reduced figure. 
 
 "The young man growled out something, in which the 
 words * Old scoundrel ! ' were audible. Daddy Gobseck did 
 not move an eyebrow. He drew a pair of pistols out of a 
 pigeon-hole, remarking cooly 
 
 " ' As the insulted man, I fire first.' 
 
 " ' Maxime, you owe this gentleman an explanation,' cried 
 the trembling Countess in a low voice. 
 
 " * I had no intention of giving offense,' stammered 
 Maxime. 
 
 " ' I am quite sure of that,' M. Gobseck answered calmly ; 
 ' you had no intention of meeting your bills, that was all.' 
 
 "The Countess rose, bowed, and vanished, with a great 
 dread gnawing her, I doubt not. M. de Trailles was bound 
 to follow, but before he went he managed to say 
 
 " ' If either of you gentlemen should forget himself, I will 
 have his blood, or he will have mine.'
 
 344 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 "'Amen!' called Daddy Gobseck as he put his pistols 
 back in their place ; ' but a man must have blood in his veins 
 though before he can risk it, my son, and you have nothing 
 but mud in yours.' 
 
 " When the door was closed, and the two vehicles had 
 gone, M. Gobseck rose to his feet and began to prance about. 
 
 " ' I have the diamonds ! I have the diamonds ! ' he cried 
 again and again, ' the beautiful diamonds ! such diamonds ! 
 and tolerably cheap, too. Aha ! aha ! Werbrust and Gigonnet, 
 you thought you had old Papa Gobseck ! Ego sum papa ! 
 I am master of the lot of you ! Paid ! paid, principal and 
 interest ! How silly they will look to-night when I shall come 
 out with this story between two games of dominoes ! ' 
 
 "The dark glee, the savage ferocity aroused by the posses- 
 sion of a few water- white pebbles, set me shuddering. I was 
 dumb with amazement. 
 
 "'Aha! There you are, my boy!' said he. 'We will 
 dine together. We will have some fun at your place, for I 
 haven't a home of my own, and these restaurants, with their 
 broths, and sauces, and wines, would poison the devil him- 
 self.' 
 
 " Something in my face suddenly brought back the usual 
 cold, impassive expression to his. 
 
 " ' You don't understand it,' he said, and, sitting down by 
 the hearth, he put a tin saucepan full of milk on the brasier. 
 ' Will you breakfast with me ? ' continued he. ' Perhaps 
 there will be enough here for two.' 
 
 " ' Thanks,' said I, < I do not breakfast till noon.' 
 
 " I had scarcely spoken before hurried footsteps sounded 
 from the passage. The stranger stopped at M. Gobseck' s 
 door and rapped ; there was that in the knock which sug- 
 gested a man transported with rage. M. Gobseck reconnoitred 
 him through the grating ; then he opened the door, and in 
 came a man of thirty-five or so, judged harmless apparently 
 in spite of his anger. The new-comer, who was quite plainly
 
 M. GOBSECK. 345 
 
 dressed, bore a strong resemblance to the late Due de Riche- 
 lieu. You must often have met him, he was the Countess' 
 husband, a man with the aristocratic figure (permit the ex- 
 pression to pass) peculiar to statesmen of your Faubourg. 
 
 "'Sir,' said this person, addressing himself to M. Gob- 
 seck, who had quite recovered his tranquillity, ' did my wife 
 go out of this house just now ? ' 
 
 " 'That is possible.' 
 
 " ' Well, sir, do you not take my meaning?' 
 
 "'I have not the honor of the acquaintance of my lady 
 your wife,' returned Gobseck. ' I have had a good many 
 visitors this morning, women and men, and mannish young 
 ladies, and young gentlemen who look like young ladies. I 
 should find it very hard to say ' 
 
 " ' A truce to jesting, sir ! I mean the woman who has 
 this moment gone out from you.' 
 
 "'How can I know whether she is your wife or not? I 
 never had the pleasure of seeing you before.' 
 
 " 'You are mistaken, M. Gobseck,' said the Count, with 
 profound irony in his voice. ' We have met before, one 
 morning in my wife's bedroom. You had come to demand 
 payment for a bill no bill of hers.' 
 
 " ' It was no business of mine to inquire what value she had 
 received for it,' said M. Gobseck, with a malignant look at 
 the Count. ' I had come by the bill in the way of business. 
 At the same time, monsieur,' continued M. Gobseck, quietly 
 pouring coffee into his bowl of milk, without a trace of ex- 
 citement or hurry in his voice, ' you will permit me to observe 
 that your right to enter my house and expostulate with me is 
 far from proven to my mind. I came of age in the sixty-first 
 year of the preceding century.' 
 
 "'Sir,' said the Count, 'you have just bought family 
 diamonds, which do not belong to my wife, for a mere trifle.' 
 
 "'Without feeling it incumbent upon me to tell you my 
 private affairs, I will tell you this much, M. le Comte if
 
 346 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 Mme. la Comtesse has taken your diamonds, you should have 
 sent a circular round to all the jewelers, giving them notice 
 not to buy them ; she might have sold them separately.' 
 
 " ' You know my wife, sir ! ' roared the Count. 
 
 "'True.' 
 
 " * She is in her husband's power.' 
 
 "'That is possible.' 
 
 " ' She had no right to dispose of those diamonds ' 
 
 "'Precisely.' 
 
 '"Very well, sir?' 
 
 " ' Very well, sir. I knew your wife, and she is in her hus- 
 band's power ; I am quite willing, she is in the power of a 
 good many people ; but I do not know your diamonds. 
 If Mme. la Comtesse can put her name to a bill, she can go 
 into business of course, and buy and sell diamonds on her 
 own account. The thing is plain on the face of it ! ' 
 
 " ' Good-day, sir ! ' cried the Count, now white with rage. 
 ' There are courts of justice. ' 
 
 '"Quite so.' 
 
 " ' This gentleman here,' he added, indicating me, 'was a 
 witness of the sale. ' 
 
 "That is possible.' 
 
 "The Count turned to go. Feeling the gravity of the 
 affair, I suddenly put in between the two belligerent?. 
 
 '"M. le Comte,' said I, 'you are right, and M. Gobseck 
 is by no means in the wrong. You could not prosecute the 
 purchaser without bringing your wife into court, and the 
 whole of the odium would not fall on her. I am an attorney, 
 and I owe it to myself, and still more to my professional posi- 
 tion, to declare that the diamonds of which you speak were 
 purchased by M. Gobseck in my presence ; but, in my opin- 
 ion, it would be unwise to dispute the legality of the sale, 
 especially as the goods are not readily recognizable. In equity 
 your contention would lie, in law it would collapse. M. Gob- 
 seck is too honest a man to deny that the sale was a profitable
 
 M. GOBSECK. 347 
 
 transaction, more especially as my conscience, no less than 
 my duty, compels me to make the admission. But once bring 
 the case into a court of law, M. le Comte, the issue would be 
 doubtful. My advice to you is to come to terms with M. 
 Gobseck, who can plead that he bought the diamonds in all 
 good faith ; you would be bound in any case to return the 
 purchase money. Consent to an arrangement, with power to 
 redeem at the end of seven or eight months, or a year even, 
 or any convenient lapse of time, for the repayment of the 
 sum borrowed by Mme. la Comtesse, unless you would prefer 
 to repurchase them outright and give security for repayment.' 
 
 " Gobseck dipped his bread into the bowl of coffee, and ate 
 with perfect indifference; but at the words 'come to terms,' 
 he looked at me as much as to say, ' A fine fellow that ! he 
 has learned something from my lessons ! ' And I, for my 
 part, riposted with a glance, which he understood uncom- 
 monly well. The business was dubious and shady ; there was 
 pressing need of coming to terras. Gobseck could not deny 
 all knowledge of it, for I should appear as a witness. The 
 Count thanked me with a smile of good-will. 
 
 " In the debate which followed, Gobseck showed greed 
 enough and skill enough to baffle a whole congress of diplo- 
 matists ; but in the end I drew up an instrument, in which 
 the Count acknowledged the receipt of eighty-five thousand 
 francs, interest included, in consideration of which Gobseck 
 undertook to return the diamonds to the Count. 
 
 " 'What waste ! ' exclaimed he as he put his signature to 
 the agreement. ' How is it possible to bridge such a gulf? ' 
 
 " ' Have you many children, sir?' Gobseck asked gravely. 
 
 "The Count winced at the question; it was as if the old 
 money-lender, like an experienced physician, had put his finger 
 at once on the sore spot. The Comtesse's husband did not 
 reply. 
 
 "'Well,' said Gobseck, taking the pained silence for an- 
 swer, ' I know your story by heart. The woman is a fiend,
 
 348 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 but perhaps you love her still; I can well believe it; she 
 made an impression on me. Perhaps, too, you would rather 
 save your fortune, and keep it for one or two of your chil- 
 dren ? Well, fling yourself into the whirlpool of society, lose 
 that fortune at play, come to Gobseck pretty often. The 
 world will say that I am a Jew, a Tartar, a usurer, a pirate, 
 will say that I have ruined you ! I snap my fingers at 
 them ! If anybody insults me, I lay my man out ; nobody 
 is a surer shot nor handles a rapier better than your servant. 
 And every one knows it. Then, have a friend if you can 
 find one and make over your property to him by a fictitious 
 sale. You call that a fidei commissum, don't you? ' he asked, 
 turning to me. 
 
 "The Count seemed to be entirely absorbed in his own 
 thoughts. 
 
 " 'You shall have your money to-morrow,' he said, 'have 
 the diamonds in readiness,' and he went. 
 
 " ' There goes one who looks to me to be as stupid as an 
 honest man,' M. Gobseck said coolly when the Count had 
 gone. 
 
 " ' Say rather stupid as a man of passionate nature.' 
 
 " ' The Count owes you your fee for drawing up the agree- 
 ment ! ' M. Gobseck called after me as I took my leave. 
 
 " One morning, a few days after the scene which initiated 
 me into the terrible depths beneath the surface of the life of a 
 woman of fashion, the Count came into my private office. 
 
 " ' I have come to consult you on a matter of grave mo- 
 ment,' he said, ' and I begin by telling you that I have perfect 
 confidence in you, as I hope to prove to you. Your behavior 
 to Mme. de Grandlieu is above all praise,' the Count went 
 on. (You see, madame, that you have paid me a thousand 
 times over for a very simple matter.) 
 
 " I bowed respectfully, and replied that I had done nothing 
 but the duty of an honest man.
 
 M. GOBSECK. 349 
 
 " ' Well/ the Count went on, ' I have made a great many 
 inquiries about the singular personage to whom you owe your 
 position. And from all that I can learn, M. Gobseck is a 
 philosopher of the Cynic school. What do you think of his 
 probity ? ' 
 
 " ' M. le Comte,' said I, 'M. Gobseck is my benefactor 
 at fifteen per cent.,' I added, laughing. ' But his avarice does 
 not authorize me to paint him to the life for a stranger's 
 benefit.' 
 
 " ' Speak out, sir. Your frankness cannot injure M. Gob- 
 seck or yourself. I do not expect to find an angel in a 
 pawnbroker.' 
 
 " ' Daddy Gobseck,' I began, ' is intimately convinced of 
 the truth of the principle which he takes for a rule of life. In 
 his opinion, money is a commodity which you may sell cheap 
 or dear, according to circumstances, with a clear conscience. 
 A capitalist, by charging a high rate of interest, becomes in 
 his eyes a secured partner by anticipation in the profits of a 
 paying concern or speculation. Apart from the peculiar philo- 
 sophical views of human nature and financial principles, which 
 enable him to behave like a usurer, I am fully persuaded that, 
 out of his business, he is the most loyal and upright soul in 
 Paris. There are two men in him ; he is petty and great a 
 miser and a philosopher. If I were to die and leave a family 
 behind me, he would be the guardian whom I should appoint. 
 This was how I came to see M. Gobseck in this light, mon- 
 sieur. I know nothing of his past life. He may have been 
 a pirate, may, for anything I know, have been all over the 
 world, trafficking in diamonds, or men, or women, or state 
 secrets ; but this I affirm of him never has human soul been 
 more thoroughly tempered and tried. When I paid off my 
 loan, I asked him, with a little circumlocution of course, how 
 it was that he had made me pay such an exorbitant rate of 
 interest ; and why, seeing that I was a friend, and he meant 
 to do me a kindness, he should not have yielded to the wish
 
 350 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 and made it complete. " My son," he said, " I released you 
 from all need to feel any gratitude by giving you ground for 
 the belief that you owed me nothing." So we are the best 
 friends in the world. That answer, monsieur, gives you the 
 man better than any amount of description.' 
 
 " ' I have made up my mind once and for all,' said the 
 Count. ' Draw up the necessary papers ; I am going to 
 transfer my property to Gobseck. I have no one but you to 
 trust to in the draft of the counter-deed, which will declare 
 that this transfer is a simulated sale, and that Gobseck as 
 trustee will administer my estate (as he knows how to admin- 
 ister), and undertakes to make over my fortune to my eldest 
 son when he comes of age. Now, sir, this I must tell you : 
 I should be afraid to have that precious document in my own 
 keeping. My boy is so fond of his mother, that I cannot 
 trust him with it. So dare I beg of you to keep it for me ? 
 In case of death, Gobseck would make you legatee of my 
 property. Every contingency is provided for.' 
 
 " The Count paused for a moment. He seemed greatly 
 agitated. 
 
 " ' A thousand pardons,' he said at length ; ' I am in great 
 pain, and have very grave misgivings as to my health. Recent 
 troubles have disturbed me very painfully, and forced me to 
 take this great step.' 
 
 " ' Allow me first to thank you, monsieur,' said I, ' for the 
 trust you place in me. But I am bound to deserve it by 
 pointing out to you that you are disinheriting your other 
 children. They bear your name. Merely as the children of 
 a once-loved wife, now fallen from her position, they have a 
 claim to an assured existence. I tell you plainly that I cannot 
 accept the trust with which you propose to honor me unless 
 their future is secured.' 
 
 " The Count trembled violently at the words, and tears 
 came into his eyes as he grasped my hand, saying, ' I did not 
 know my man thoroughly. You have made me both glad and
 
 M. GOBSECK. 361 
 
 sorry. We will make provision for the children in the 
 counter-deed.' 
 
 " I went with him to the door ; it seemed to me that there 
 was a glow of satisfaction in his face at the thought of this 
 act of justice. 
 
 " Now, Camille, this is how a young wife takes the first 
 step to the brink of a precipice. A quadrille, a ballad, a 
 picnic party is sometimes cause sufficient of frightful evils. 
 You are hurried on by the presumptuous voice of vanity and 
 pride, on the faith of a smile or through giddiness and folly ! 
 Shame and misery and remorse are three furies awaiting every 
 woman the moment she oversteps the limits 
 
 "Poor Camille can hardly keep awake," the Vicomtesse 
 hastily broke in. " Go to bed, child; you have no need of 
 appalling pictures to keep you pure in heart and conduct." 
 
 Camille de Grandlieu took the hint and went. 
 
 "You were going rather too far, dear M. Derville," said 
 the Vicomtesse, " an attorney is not a mother of daughters 
 nor yet a preacher." 
 
 " But any newspaper is a thousand times " 
 
 "Poor Derville ! " exclaimed the Vicomtesse, "what has 
 come over you ? Do you really imagine that I allow a 
 daughter of mine to read the newspapers? Go on," she 
 added after a pause. 
 
 " Three months after everything was signed and sealed 
 between the Count and Gobseck " 
 
 " You can call him the Comte de Restaud, now that Camille 
 is not here," said the Vicomtesse. 
 
 " So be it ! Well, time went by, and I saw nothing of the 
 counter-deed, which by rights should have been in my hands. 
 An attorney in Paris lives in such a whirl of business that 
 with certain exceptions which we make for ourselves, we have 
 not the time to give each individual client the amount of 
 interest which he himself takes in his affairs. Still, one day 
 when Gobseck came to dine with me, I asked him as we left
 
 352 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 the table if he knew how it was that I had heard no more of 
 M. de Restaud. 
 
 '"There are excellent reasons for that,' he said; 'the 
 noble Count is at death's door. He is one of the soft stamp 
 that cannot learn how to put an end to chagrin, and allow it 
 to wear them out instead. Life is a craft, a profession ; every 
 man must take the trouble to learn that business. When he 
 has learned what life is by dint of painful experiences, the 
 fibre of him is toughened, and acquires a certain elasticity, so 
 that he has his sensibilities under his own control ; he disci- 
 plines himself till his nerves are like steel springs, which 
 always bend, but never break ; given a sound digestion, and 
 a man in such training ought to live as long as the cedars of 
 Lebanon, and famous trees they are.' 
 
 " ' Then is the Count actually dying ? ' I asked. 
 
 " ' That is possible,' said Gobseck ; ' the winding up of his 
 estate will be a juicy bit of business for you.' 
 
 " I looked at my man, and said, by way of sounding him 
 
 " ' Just explain to me how it is that we, the Count and I, 
 are the only men in whom you take an interest ? ' 
 
 " ' Because you are the only two who have trusted me 
 without finessing,' he said. 
 
 "Although this answer warranted my belief that Gobseck 
 would act fairly even if the counter-deed were lost, I resolved 
 to go to see the Count. I pleaded a business engagement, 
 and we separated. 
 
 " I went straight to the Rue du Helder, and was shown 
 into a room where the Countess sat playing with her children. 
 When she heard my name, she sprang up and came to meet 
 me, then she sat down and pointed without a word to a chair 
 by the fire. Her face wore the inscrutable mask beneath 
 which women of the world conceal their most vehement 
 emotions. Trouble had withered that face already. Nothing 
 of its beauty now remained, save the marvelous outlines in 
 which its principal charm had lain.
 
 M. GOBSECK. 353 
 
 " ' It is essential, madame, that I should speak to M. le 
 Comte ' 
 
 " ' If so, you would be more favored than I am,' she said, 
 interrupting me. ' M. de Restaud will see ho one. He will 
 hardly allow his doctor to come, and will not be nursed even 
 by me. When people are ill, they have such strange fancies ! 
 They are like children, they do not know what they want.' 
 
 " ' Perhaps, like children, they know very well what they 
 want.' 
 
 " The Countess reddened. I almost repented a thrust 
 worthy of Gobseck. So, by way of changing the conversa- 
 tion, I added, ' But M. de Restaud cannot possibly lie there 
 alone all day, madame.' 
 
 " ' His oldest boy is with him,' she said. 
 
 " It was useless to gaze at the Countess; she did not blush 
 this time, and it looked to me as if she were resolved more 
 firmly than ever that I should not penetrate into her secrets. 
 
 " ' You must understand, madame, that my proceeding 
 
 is no way indiscreet. It is strongly to his interest ' I 
 
 bit my lips, feeling that I had gone the wrong way to work. 
 The Countess immediately took advantage of my slip. 
 
 " ' My interests are in no way separate from my husband's, 
 sir,' said she. * There is nothing to prevent you addressing 
 yourself to me ' 
 
 " ' The business which brings me here concerns no one but 
 M. le Comte,' I said firmly. 
 
 " ' I will let him know of your wish to see him.' 
 
 " The civil tone and expression assumed for the occasion 
 did not impose upon me ; I divined that she would never 
 allow me to see her husband. I chatted on about indifferent 
 matters for a little while, so as to study her; but, like all 
 women who have once begun to plot for themselves, she could 
 dissimulate with the rare perfection which, in your sex, means 
 the last degree of perfidy. If I may dare to say it, I looked 
 for anything from her, even a crime. She produced this 
 23
 
 354 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 feeling in me, because it was so evident from her manner and 
 in all that she did or said, down to the very inflections of her 
 voice, that she had an eye to the future. I went. 
 
 " Now I will pass on to the final scenes of this adventure, 
 throwing in a few circumstances brought to light by time, 
 and some details guessed by Gobseck's perspicacity or by my 
 own. 
 
 " When the Comte de Restaud apparently plunged into the 
 vortex of dissipation, something passed between the husband 
 and wife, something which remains an impenetrable secret, 
 but the wife sank even lower in the husband's eyes. As soon 
 as he became so ill that he was obliged to take to his bed, he 
 manifested his aversion for the Countess and the two youngest 
 children. He forbade them to enter his room, and any 
 attempt to disobey his wishes brought on such dangerous 
 attacks that the doctor implored the Countess to submit to 
 her husband's wish. 
 
 " Mme. de Restaud had seen the family estates and prop- 
 erty, nay, the very mansion in which she lived, pass into the 
 hands of Gobseck, who appeared to play the fantastic part of 
 ogre so far as their wealth was concerned. She partially 
 understood what her husband was doing, no doubt. M. de 
 Trailles was traveling in England (his creditors had been a 
 little too pressing of late), and no one else was in a position 
 to enlighten the lady, and explain that her husband was 
 taking precautions against her at Gobseck's suggestion. It 
 is said that she held out for a long while before she gave the 
 signature required by French law for the sale of the property ; 
 nevertheless the Count gained his point. The Countess was 
 convinced that her husband was realizing his fortune, and that 
 somewhere or other there would be a little bunch of notes 
 representing the amount ; they had been deposited with a 
 notary, or perhaps at the bank, or in some safe hiding-place. 
 Following out her train of thought, it was evident that M. de 
 Restaud must of necessity have some kind of document in
 
 M. GOBSECK. 355 
 
 his possession by which any remaining property could be 
 recovered and handed over to his son. 
 
 " So she made up her mind to keep the strictest possible 
 watch over the sick-room. She ruled despotically in the 
 house, and everything in it was submitted to this feminine 
 espionage. All day she sat in the salon adjoining her hus- 
 band's room, so that she could hear every syllable that he 
 uttered, every least movement that he made. She had a bed 
 put there for her of a night, but she did not sleep very much. 
 The doctor was entirely in her interests. Such wifely devo- 
 tion seemed praiseworthy enough. With the natural subtlety 
 of perfidy, she took care to disguise M. de Restaud's repug- 
 nance for her, and feigned distress so perfectly that she gained 
 a sort of celebrity. Straight-laced women were even found to 
 say that she had expiated her sins. Always before her eyes 
 she beheld a vision of the destitution to follow on the Count's 
 death if her presence of mind should fail her ; and in these 
 ways the wife, repulsed from the bed of pain on which her 
 husband lay and groaned, had drawn a charmed circle round 
 about it. So near, yet kept at a distance ; all-powerful, but 
 in disgrace, the apparently devoted wife was lying in wait for 
 death and opportunity; crouching like the ant-lion at the 
 bottom of his spiral pit, ever on the watch for the prey that 
 cannot escape, listening to the fall of every grain of sand. 
 
 "The strictest censor could not but recognize that the 
 Countess pushed maternal sentiment to the last degree. Her 
 father's death had been a lesson to her, people said. She 
 worshiped her children. They were so young that she could 
 hide the disorders of her life from their eyes, and could win 
 their love ; she had given them the best and most brilliant 
 education. I confess that I cannot help admiring her and 
 feeling sorry for her. Gobseck used to joke me about it. 
 Just about that time she had discovered Maxime's baseness, 
 and was expiating the sins of the past in tears of blood. I 
 am sure of it. Hateful as were the measures which she took
 
 356 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 for regaining control of her husband's money, were they not 
 the result of a mother's love, and a desire to repair the wrongs 
 she had done her children? And again, it may be, like 
 many a woman who has experienced the storms of lawless 
 love, she felt a longing to lead a virtuous life again. Perhaps 
 she only learned the worth of that life when she came to reap 
 the woful harvest sown by her errors. 
 
 " Every time that little Ernest came out of his father's 
 room, she put him through a searching examination as to all 
 that his father had done or said. The boy willingly complied 
 with his mother's wishes, and told her even more than she 
 asked in her anxious affection, as he thought. 
 
 " My visit was a ray of light for the Countess. She was 
 determined to see in me the instrument of the Count's venge- 
 ance, and resolved that I should not be allowed to go near 
 the dying man. I augured ill of all this, and earnestly wished 
 for an interview, for I was not easy in my mind about the fate 
 of the counter-deed. If it should fall into the Countess' 
 hands, she might turn it to her own account, and that would 
 be the beginning of a series of interminable lawsuits between 
 her and Gobseck. I knew the usurer well enough to feel 
 convinced that he would never give up the property to her ; 
 there was room for plenty of legal quibbling over a series of 
 transfers, and I alone knew all the ins and outs of the matter. 
 I was minded to prevent such a tissue of misfortune, so I went 
 to the Countess a second time. 
 
 "I have noticed, madame," said Derville, turning to the 
 Vicomtesse, and speaking in a confidential tone, " certain 
 moral phenomena to which we do not pay enough attention. 
 I am naturally an observer of human nature, and instinctively 
 I bring a spirit of analysis to the business that I transact in 
 the interest of others, when human passions are called into 
 lively play. Now, I have often noticed, and always with new 
 wonder, that two antagonists almost always divine each 
 other's inmost thoughts and ideas. Two enemies sometimes
 
 M. GOBSECK. 357 
 
 possess a power of clear insight into mental processes, and 
 read each other's minds as two lovers read in either soul. So 
 when we came together, the Countess and I, I understood at 
 once the reason of her antipathy for me, disguised though it 
 was by the most gracious forms of politeness and civility. I 
 had been forced to be her confidant, and a woman cannot 
 but hate the man before whom she is compelled to blush. 
 And she on her side knew that if I was the man in whom her 
 husband placed confidence, that husband had not as yet given 
 up his fortune. 
 
 "I will spare you the conversation, but it abides in my 
 memory as one of the most dangerous encounters in my 
 career. Nature had bestowed on her all the qualities which, 
 combined, are irresistibly fascinating ; she could be pliant 
 and proud by turns, and confiding and coaxing in her man- 
 ner ; she even went so far as to try to arouse curiosity and 
 kindle love in her effort to subjugate me. It was a failure. 
 As I took my leave of her, I caught a gleam of hate and rage 
 in her eyes that made me shudder. We parted enemies. She 
 would fain have crushed me out of existence ; and for my 
 own part, I felt pity for her, and for some natures pity is the 
 deadliest of insults. This feeling pervaded the last represen- 
 tations I put before her ; and when I left her, I left, I think, 
 dread in the depths of her soul, by declaring that, turn which 
 way she would, ruin lay inevitably before her. 
 
 " ' If I were to see M. le Comte, your children's property 
 at any rate would ' 
 
 " ' I should be at your mercy,' she said, breaking in upon 
 me, disgust in her gesture. 
 
 " Now that we had spoken frankly, I made up my mind 
 to save the family from impending destitution. I resolved to 
 strain the law at need to gain my ends, and this was what I 
 did. I sued the Comte de Restaud for a sum of money, 
 ostensibly due to Gobseck, and gained judgment. The 
 Countess, of course, did not allow him to know of this, but I
 
 358 M. GOBS EC K. 
 
 had gained my point, I had a right to affix seals to everything 
 on the death of the Count. I bribed one of the servants in 
 the house the man undertook to let me know at any hour of 
 the day or night if his master should be at the point of death, 
 so that I could intervene at once, scare the Countess with a 
 threat of affixing seals, and so secure the counter-deed. 
 
 " I learned later on that the woman was studying the Code, 
 with her husband's dying moans in her ears. If we could 
 picture the thoughts of those who stand about a death-bed, 
 what fearful sights should we not see ? Money is always the 
 motive-spring of the schemes elaborated, of all the plans that 
 are made and the plots that are woven about it ! Let us leave 
 these details, nauseating in the nature of them ; but perhaps 
 they may have given you some insight into all that this hus- 
 band and wife endured ; perhaps too they may unveil much 
 that is passing in secret in other houses. 
 
 " For two months the Comte de Restaud lay on his bed, 
 alone, and resigned to his fate. Mortal disease was slowly 
 sapping the strength of mind and body. Unaccountable and 
 grotesque sick fancies preyed upon him ; he would not suffer 
 them to set his room in order, no one should nurse him, he 
 would not even allow them to make his bed. All his sur- 
 roundings bore the marks of this last degree of apathy, the 
 furniture was out of place, the daintiest trifles were covered 
 with dust and cobwebs. In health he had been a man of re- 
 fined and expensive tastes, now he positively delighted in the 
 comfortless look of the room. A host of objects required in 
 illness rows of medicine bottles, empty and full, most of 
 them dirty; crumpled linen, and broken plates littered the 
 writing-table, chairs, and chimney-pieces. An open warming- 
 pan lay on the floor before the grate j a bath, still full of 
 mineral water, had not been taken away. The sense of com- 
 ing dissolution pervaded all the details of an unsightly chaos. 
 Signs of death appeared in things inanimate before the 
 destroyer came to the body on the bed. The Comte de
 
 M. GOBSECK. 359 
 
 Restaud could not bear the daylight, the Venetian shutters 
 were closed, darkness deepened the gloom in the dismal 
 chamber. The sick man himself had wasted greatly. All 
 the life in him seemed to have taken refuge in the still bril- 
 liant eyes. The livid whiteness of his face was something 
 horrible to see, enhanced as it was by the long dank locks of 
 hair that straggled along his cheeks, for he would never suffer 
 them to cut it. He looked like some religious fanatic in the 
 desert. Mental suffering was extinguishing all human instincts 
 in this man of scarce fifty years of age, whom all Paris had 
 known as so brilliant and so successful. 
 
 "One morning at the beginning of December, 1824, he 
 looked up at Ernest, who sat at the foot of his bed gazing at 
 his father with wistful eyes. 
 
 " ' Are you in pain ? ' the little Vicomte asked. 
 
 " ' No,' said the Count, with a ghastly smile, 'it all lies 
 here and about my heart ! ' 
 
 " He pointed to his forehead, and then laid his wasted 
 fingers on his hollow chest. Ernest began to cry at the sight. 
 
 " ' How is it that M. Derville does not come to me? ' the 
 Count asked his servant (he thought that Maurice was really 
 attached to him, but the man was entirely in the Countess' 
 interest) 'What! Maurice!' and the dying man suddenly 
 sat upright in his bed, and seemed to recover all his presence 
 of mind, ' I have sent for my attorney seven or eight times 
 during the last fortnight, and he does not come ! ' he cried. 
 ' Do you imagine that I am to be trifled with ? Go for him, 
 at once, this very instant, and bring him back with you. If 
 you do not carry out my orders, I shall get up and go myself.' 
 
 " ' Madame,' said the man as he came into the salon, 'you 
 heard M. le Comte ; what ought I to do ? ' 
 
 K i p re tend to go to the attorney, and when you come back, 
 tell your master that his man of business is forty leagues away 
 from Paris on an important lawsuit. Say that he is expected 
 back at the end of the week. Sick people never know how
 
 360 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 ill they are,' thought the Countess ; ' he will wait till the man 
 comes home.' 
 
 " The doctor had said on the previous evening that the 
 Count could scarcely live through the day. When the servant 
 came back two hours later to give that hopeless answer, the 
 dying man seemed to be greatly agitated. 
 
 " ' O God !' he cried again and again, ' I put my trust in 
 none but Thee.' 
 
 " For a long while he lay and gazed at his son, and spoke in 
 a feeble voice at last. 
 
 " ' Ernest, my boy, you are very young ; but you have a 
 good heart ; you can understand, no doubt, that a promise 
 given to a dying man is sacred ; a promise to a father 
 Do you feel that you can be trusted with a secret, and keep it 
 so well and closely that even your mother herself shall not 
 know that you have a secret to keep? There is no one else in 
 this house whom I can trust to-day. You will not betray my 
 trust, will you ? ' 
 
 "'No, father.' 
 
 " ' Very well, then, Ernest, in a minute or two I will give 
 you a sealed packet that belongs to M. Derville ; you must 
 take such care of it that no one can know that you have it ; 
 then you must slip out of the house and put the letter into the 
 post-box at the corner.' 
 
 " 'Yes, father.' 
 
 " ' Can I depend upon you? ' 
 
 "'Yes, father.' 
 
 " ' Come and kiss me. You have made death less bitter to 
 me, dear boy. In six or seven years' time you will under- 
 stand the importance of this secret, and you will be well 
 rewarded then for your quickness and obedience, you will 
 know then how much I love you. Leave me alone for a min- 
 ute, and let no one no matter whom come in meanwhile.' 
 
 " Ernest went out and saw his mother standing in the next 
 room.
 
 M. GOBSECJK. 381 
 
 " 'Ernest,' said she 'come here.' 
 
 " She sat down, drew her son to her knees and clasped him 
 in her arms and held him tightly to her heart. 
 
 " ' Ernest, your father said something to you just now.' 
 
 " 'Yes, mamma.' 
 
 '"What did he say?' 
 
 " ' I cannot repeat it, mamma.' 
 
 " ' Oh, my dear child,' cried the Countess, kissing him in 
 rapture. ' You have kept your secret ; how glad that makes 
 me ! Never tell a lie ; never fail to keep your word .-those 
 are two principles which should never be forgotten.' 
 
 " ' Oh ! mamma, how beautiful you are ! You never told a 
 lie, I am quite sure.' 
 
 " ' Once or twice, Ernest dear, I have lied. Yes, and I 
 have not kept my word under circumstances which speak 
 louder than all precepts. Listen, my Ernest, you are big 
 enough and intelligent enough to see that your father drives 
 me away, and will not allow me to nurse him, and this is 
 not natural, for you know how much I love him.' 
 
 " ' Yes, mamma.' 
 
 " The Countess began to cry. ' Poor child ! ' she said, 
 ' this misfortune is the result of treacherous insinuations. 
 Wicked people have tried to separate me from your father to 
 satisfy their greed. They mean to take all our money from 
 us and to keep it for themselves. If your father were well, 
 the division between us would soon be over ; he would listen 
 to me ; he is loving and kind ; he would see his mistake. 
 But now his mind is affected, and his prejudices against me 
 have become a fixed idea, a sort of mania with him. It is 
 one result of his illness. Your father's fondness for you is 
 another proof that his mind is deranged. Until he fell ill 
 you never noticed that he loved you more than Pauline or 
 Georges. It is all caprice with him now. In his affection 
 for you he might take it into his head to tell you to do things 
 for him. If you do not want to ruin us all, my darling, and
 
 362 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 to see your mother begging her bread like a pauper woman, 
 you must tell her everything ' 
 
 " ' Ah ! ' cried the Count. He had opened the door and 
 stood there, a sudden, half-naked apparition, almost as thin 
 and fleshless as a skeleton. 
 
 11 His smothered cry produced a terrible effect upon the 
 Countess ; she sat motionless, as if a sudden stupor had seized 
 her. Her husband was as white and wasted as if he had risen 
 out of his grave. 
 
 " ' You have filled my life to the full with trouble, and now 
 you are trying to vex my death-bed, to warp my boy's mind, 
 and make a depraved man of him ! ' he cried hoarsely. 
 
 " The Countess flung herself at his feet. His face, working 
 with the last emotions of life, was almost hideous to see." 
 
 " ' Mercy ! mercy ! ' she cried aloud, shedding a torrent 
 of tears. 
 
 " ' Have you shown me any pity ? ' he asked. ' I allowed 
 you to squander your own money, and now do you mean to 
 squander my fortune, too, and ruin my son ? ' 
 
 " * Ah ! well, yes, have no pity for me, be merciless to me ! ' 
 she cried. ' But the children ? Condemn your widow to live 
 in a convent ; I will obey you ; I will do anything, anything 
 that you bid me, to expiate the wrong I have done you, if 
 that only the children may be happy ! The children ! Oh, 
 the children ! * 
 
 " ' I have only one child,' said the Count, stretching out a 
 wasted arm, in his despair, towards his son. 
 
 "'Pardon a penitent woman, a penitent woman! ' 
 
 wailed the Countess, her arms about her husband's damp feet. 
 She could not speak for sobbing ; vague, incoherent sounds 
 broke from her parched throat. 
 
 " ' You dare to talk of penitence after all that you said to 
 Ernest ! ' exclaimed the dying man, shaking off the Countess, 
 who lay groveling at his feet. 'You turn me to ice! ' he 
 added, and there was something appalling in the indifference

 
 CLOTHES AND PAPERS AND RACS LAY TOSSED ABOUT IN 
 CONFUSION.
 
 M. GOBSECK. 363 
 
 with which he uttered the words. ' You have been a bad 
 daughter ; you have been a bad wife ; you will be a bad 
 mother.' 
 
 " The wretched woman fainted away. The dying man 
 reached his bed and lay down again, and a few hours later 
 sank into unconsciousness. The priests came and adminis- 
 tered the sacraments. 
 
 "At midnight he died; the scene that morning had ex- 
 hausted his remaining strength, and on the stroke of mid- 
 night I arrived with Daddy Gobseck. The house was in 
 confusion, and under cover of it we walked up into the little 
 salon adjoining the death-chamber. The three children were 
 there in tears, with two priests, who had come to watch with 
 the dead. Ernest came over to me, and said that his mother 
 desired to be alone in the Count's room. 
 
 " ' Do not go in,' he said ; and I admired the child for his 
 tone and gesture ; ' she is praying there.' 
 
 ' ' Gobseck began to laugh that soundless laugh of his, but 
 I felt too much touched by the feeling in Ernest's little face 
 to join in the miser's sardonic amusement. When Ernest 
 saw that we moved towards the door, he planted himself in 
 front of it, crying out, ' Mamma, here are some gentlemen in 
 black who want to see you ! ' 
 
 " Gobseck lifted Ernest out of the way as if the child had 
 been a feather, and opened the door. 
 
 " What a scene it was that met our eyes ! The room was 
 in frightful disorder ; clothes and papers and rags lay tossed 
 about in a confusion horrible to see in the presence of death ; 
 and there, in the midst, stood the Countess in disheveled de- 
 spair, unable to utter a word, her eyes glittering. The Count 
 had scarcely breathed his last before his wife came in and 
 forced open the drawers and the desk ; the carpet was strewn 
 with litter, some of the furniture and boxes were broken, the 
 signs of violence could be seen everywhere. But if her search 
 had at first proved fruitless, there was that in her excitement
 
 364 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 and attitude which led me to believe that she had found the 
 mysterious documents at last. I glanced at the bed, and pro- 
 fessional instinct told me all that had happened. The mat- 
 tress had been flung contemptuously down by the bedside, 
 and across it, face downwards, lay the body of the Count, 
 like one of the paper envelopes that strewed the carpet he 
 too was nothing now but an envelope. There was something 
 grotesquely horrible in the attitude of the stiffening, rigid 
 limbs. 
 
 " The dying man must have hidden the counter-deed under 
 his pillow to keep it safe so long as life should last ; and his 
 wife must have guessed his thought ; indeed, it might be read 
 plainly in his last dying gesture, in the convulsive clutch of 
 his claw-like hands. The pillow had been flung to the floor 
 at the foot of the bed ; I could see the print of her heel upon 
 it. At her feet lay a paper with the Count's arms on the 
 seals ; I snatched it up, and saw that it was addressed to me. 
 I looked steadily at the Countess with the pitiless clear-sighted- 
 ness of an examining magistrate confronting a guilty creature. 
 The contents were blazing in the grate ; she had flung them 
 on the fire at the sound of our approach, imagining, from a 
 first hasty glance at the provisions which I had suggested for 
 her children, that she was destroying a will which disinherited 
 them. A tormented conscience and involuntary horror of 
 the deed which she had done had taken away all power of 
 reflection. She had been caught in the act, and possibly the 
 scaffold was rising before her eyes, and she already felt the 
 felon's branding iron. 
 
 " There she stood gasping for breath, waiting for us to 
 speak, staring at us with haggard eyes, and every feature 
 manifesting a guilty conscience. 
 
 " I went across to the grate and pulled out an un burned 
 fragment. ' Ah, madame ! ' I exclaimed, ' you have ruined 
 your children ! Those papers were their titles to their prop- 
 erty.'
 
 M. GOBSECK. 365 
 
 " Her mouth twitched, she looked as if she were threatened 
 by a paralytic seizure. 
 
 " ' Eh ! eh ! ' cried Gobseck ; the harsh, shrill tone grated 
 upon our ears like the sound of a brass candlestick scratching 
 a marble surface. 
 
 " There was a pause, then the old man turned to me and 
 said quietly 
 
 " ' Do you intend Mme. la Comtesse to suppose that I am 
 not the rightful owner of the property sold to me by her late 
 husband ? This house belongs to me now.' 
 
 " A sudden blow on the head from a bludgeon would have 
 given me less pain and astonishment. The Countess saw the 
 look of hesitation in my face. 
 
 " ' Monsieur,' she cried, ' Monsieur ! ' She could find no 
 other words. 
 
 " ' You are a trustee, are you not ? ' I asked. 
 
 " 'That is possible.' 
 
 " 'Then do you mean to take advantage of this crime of 
 hers ? ' 
 
 " 'Precisely.' 
 
 " I went at that, leaving the Countess sitting by her hus- 
 band's bedside, shedding hot tears. Gobseck followed me. 
 Outside in the street I separated from him, but .he came after 
 me, flung me one of those searching glances with which he 
 probed men's minds, and said in the husky flute-tones, pitched 
 in a shriller key 
 
 " ' Do you take it upon yourself to judge me? ' 
 
 "From that time forward we saw little of each other. 
 Gobseck let the Count's mansion on lease ; he spent the 
 summers on the country estates. He was a lord of the manor 
 in earnest, putting up farm buildings, repairing mills and 
 roadways, and planting timber. I came across him one day 
 in a walk in the Jardin des Tuileries. 
 
 " 'The Countess is behaving like a heroine,' said I; 'she
 
 366 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 gives herself up entirely to the children's education ; she is 
 giving them a perfect bringing up. The oldest boy is a 
 charming young fellow ' 
 
 ' ' That is possible.' 
 
 " ' But ought you not to help Ernest ? ' I suggested. 
 
 " ' Help him ! ' cried Gobseck. ' Not I ! Adversity is 
 the greatest of all teachers ; adversity teaches us to know the 
 value of money and the worth of men and women. Let him 
 set sail on the seas of Paris ; when he is a qualified pilot, we 
 will give him a ship to steer.' 
 
 " I left him without seeking to explain the meaning of his 
 words. 
 
 " M. de Restaud's mother has prejudiced him against me, 
 and he is very far from taking me as his legal adviser ; still, I 
 went to see Gobseck last week to tell him about Ernest's love 
 for Mile. Camille, and pressed him to carry out his contract, 
 since that young Restaud is just of age. 
 
 " I found that the old-bill discounter had been kept to his 
 bed for a long time by the complaint of which he was to die. 
 He put me off, saying that he would give the matter his atten- 
 tion when he could get up again and see after his business ; 
 his idea being no doubt that he would not give up any of his 
 possessions so long as the breath was in him ; no other reason 
 could be found for his shuffling answer. He seemed to me to 
 be much worse than he at all suspected. I stayed with him 
 long enough to discern the progress of a passion which age 
 had converted into a sort of craze. He wanted to be alone 
 in the house, and had taken the rooms one by one as they fell 
 vacant. In his own room he had changed nothing ; the fur- 
 niture which I knew so well sixteen years ago looked the same 
 as ever ; it might have been kept under a glass case. Gob- 
 seek' s faithful old portress, with her husband, a pensioner, 
 who sat in the entry while she was upstairs, was still his house- 
 keeper and charwoman, and now in addition his sick-nurse. 
 In spite of his feebleness, Gobseck saw his clients himself as
 
 M. GOBSECK. 367 
 
 heretofore, and received sums of money ; his affairs had been 
 so simplified, that he only needed to send his pensioner out 
 now and again on an errand, and could carry on business in 
 his bed. 
 
 "After the treaty, by which France recognized the Haytian 
 Republic, Gobseck was one of the members of the commission 
 appointed to liquidate claims and assess repayments due by 
 Hayti ; his special knowledge of old fortunes in San Domingo, 
 and the planters and their heirs and assigns to whom the in- 
 demnities were due, had led to his nomination. Gobseck's 
 peculiar genius had then devised an agency for discounting the 
 planters' claims on the government. The business was carried 
 on under the names of Werbrust and Gigonnet, with whom he 
 shared the spoil without disbursements, for his knowledge was 
 accepted instead of capital. The agency was a sort of distillery, 
 in which money was extracted from doubtful claims, and the 
 claims of those who knew no better, or had no confidence in 
 the government. As a liquidator, Gobseck could make terms 
 with the large landed proprietors ; and these, either to gain a 
 higher percentage of their claims or to ensure prompt settle- 
 ments, would send him presents in proportion to their means. 
 In this way presents came to be a kind of percentage upon 
 sums too large to pass through his control, while the agency 
 bought up cheaply the small and dubious claims, or the claims 
 of those persons who preferred a little ready money to a de- 
 ferred and somewhat hazy repayment by the Republic. Gob- 
 seck was the insatiable boa-constrictor of the great business. 
 Every morning he received his tribute, eyeing it like a Na- 
 bob's prime minister, as he considers whether he will sign a 
 pardon. Gobseck would take anything, from the present of 
 game sent him by some poor devil or the pound's weight of 
 wax-candles from devout folk, to the rich man's plate and the 
 speculator's gold snuff-box. Nobody knew what became of 
 the presents sent to the old money-lender. Everything went 
 in, but nothing came out.
 
 368 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 " ' On the word of an honest woman,' said the portress, 
 an old acquaintance of mine, ' I believe he swallows it all 
 and is none the fatter for it ; he is as thin and dried up as the 
 cuckoo in the clock.' 
 
 "At length, last Monday, Gobseck sent his pensioner for 
 me. The man came up to my private office. 
 
 " ' Be quick and come, M. Derville,' said he, ' the gov- 
 ernor is just going to hand in his checks ; he has grown as 
 yellow as a lemon ; he is fidgeting to speak with you ; death 
 has fair hold of him ; the rattle is working in his throat.' 
 
 " When I entered Gobseck's room, I found the dying man 
 kneeling before the grate. If there was no fire on the hearth, 
 there was at any rate a monstrous heap of ashes. He had 
 dragged himself out of bed, but his strength had failed him, 
 and he could neither go back nor find voice to complain. 
 
 " ' You felt cold, old friend,' I said, as I helped him back 
 to his bed ; ' how can you do without a fire ? ' 
 
 " ' I am not cold at all,' he said. ' No fire here ! no fire ! 
 I am going, I know not where, lad,' he went on, glancing at 
 me with blank, lightless eyes, ' but I am going away from 
 this. I have carpology? said he (the use of the technical term 
 showing how clear and accurate his mental processes were even 
 now). ' I thought the room was full of live gold, and I got 
 up to catch some of it. To whom will all mine go, I wonder? 
 Not to the Crown ; I have left a will, look for it, Grotius. 
 "The Holland Belle " had a daughter; I once saw the girl 
 somewhere or other, in the Rue Vivienne, one evening. They 
 call her " La Torpille," I believe ; she is as pretty as pretty 
 can be ; look her up, Grotius. You are my executor ; take 
 what you like ; help yourself. There are Strasbourg pies 
 there, and bags of coffee, and sugar, and gold spoons. Give 
 the Odiot service to your wife. But who is to have the 
 diamonds ? Are you going to take them, lad ? There is 
 snuff too sell it at Hamburg, tobaccos are worth half as much 
 again at Hamburg. All sorts of things I have, in fact, and
 
 M. GOBSECK. 369 
 
 now I must go and leave them all. Come, Papa Gobseck, no 
 weakness, be yourself ! ' 
 
 " He raised himself in bed, the lines of his face standing 
 out as sharply against the pillow as if the profile had been cast 
 in bronze ; he stretched out a lean arm and bony hand along 
 the coverlet and clutched it, as if so he would fain keep his 
 hold on life, then he gazed hard at the grate, cold as his own 
 metallic eyes, and died in full consciousness of death. To us 
 the portress, the old pensioner, and myself he looked like 
 one of the old Romans standing behind the consuls in Leth- 
 iere's picture of the ' Death of the Sons Brutus.' 
 
 " 'He was a good-plucked one, the old Lascar ! ' said the 
 pensioner in his soldierly fashion. 
 
 " But as for me, the dying man's fantastical enumeration of 
 his riches was still sounding in my ears, and my eyes, follow- 
 ing the direction of his, rested on that heap of ashes. It 
 struck me that it was very large. I took the tongs, and, as 
 soon as I stirred the cinders, I felt the metal underneath, a 
 mass of gold and silver coins, receipts taken during his illness, 
 doubtless, after he grew too feeble to lock the money up, 
 and could trust no one to take it to the bank for him. 
 
 " 'Run for the justice of the peace,' said I, turning to the 
 old pensioner, * so that everything can be sealed here at 
 once.' 
 
 ' ' Gobseck's last words and the old portress' remarks had 
 struck me. I took the keys of the rooms on the first and 
 second floor to make a visitation. The first door that I 
 opened revealed the meaning of the phrases which I took for 
 mad ravings ; and I saw the length to which covetousness goes 
 when it survives only as an illogical instinct, the last stage of 
 greed of which you find so many examples among misers in 
 country towns. 
 
 " In the room next to the one in which Gobseck had died, 
 a quantity of eatables of all kinds were stored putrid pies, 
 moldy fish, nay, even shell-fish ; the stench almost choked 
 24
 
 370 M. GOBSECK. 
 
 me. Maggots and insects swarmed. These comparatively 
 recent presents were put down, pell-mell, among chests of 
 tea, bags of coffee, and packing-cases of every shape. A 
 silver soup tureen on the chimney-piece was full of advices of 
 the arrival of goods consigned to his order at Havre, bales of 
 cotton, hogsheads of sugar, barrels of rum, coffees, indigo, 
 tobaccos, a perfect bazaar of colonial produce. The room 
 itself was crammed with furniture, and silver-plate, and 
 lamps, and vases, and pictures ; there were books, and curi- 
 osities, and fine engravings lying rolled up, unframed. Per- 
 haps these were not all presents, and some part of this vast 
 quantity of stuff had been deposited with him in the shape of 
 pledges, and had been left on his hands in default of pay- 
 ment. I noticed jewel-cases, with ciphers and armorial bear- 
 ings stamped upon them, and sets of fine table-linen, and 
 weapons of price ; but none of the things were docketed. I 
 opened a book which seemed to be misplaced, and found a 
 thousand-franc note in it. I promised myself that I would go 
 through everything thoroughly ; I would try the ceilings, and 
 floors, and walls, and cornices to discover all the gold, 
 hoarded with such passionate greed by a Dutch miser worthy 
 of a Rembrandt's brush. In all the course of my profes- 
 sional career I have never seen such impressive signs of the 
 eccentricity of avarice. 
 
 " I went back to his room, and found an explanation of 
 this chaos and accumulation of riches in a pile of letters 
 lying under the paper-weights on his desk Gobseck's cor- 
 respondence with the various dealers to whom doubtless he 
 usually sold his presents. These persons had, perhaps, fallen 
 victims to Gobseck's cleverness, or Gobseck may have wanted 
 fancy prices for his goods ; at any rate, every bargain hung in 
 suspense. He had not disposed of the eatables to Chevet, be- 
 cause Chevet would only take them of him at a loss of thirty 
 per cent. Gobseck haggled for a few francs between the prices, 
 and while they wrangled the goods became unsalable. Again,
 
 M. GOBSECK. 371 
 
 Gobseck had refused free delivery of his silver-plate, and de- 
 clined to guarantee the weights of his coffees. There had 
 been a dispute over each article, the first indication in Gob- 
 seck of the childishness and incomprehensible obstinacy of 
 age, a condition of mind reached at last by all men in whom 
 a strong passion survives the intellect. 
 
 " I said to myself, as he had said, ' To whom will all these 
 riches go ? ' And when I think of the grotesque infor- 
 mation he gave me as to the present address of his heiress, I 
 foresee that it will be my duty to search all the houses of 
 ill-fame in Paris to pour out an immense fortune on some 
 worthless jade. But, in the first place, know this that 
 in a few days' time Ernest de Restaud will come into a for- 
 tune to which his title is unquestionable, a fortune which will 
 put him in a position to marry Mile. Camille, even after 
 adequate provision has been made for his mother the Comtesse 
 de Restaud, and his sister and brother." 
 
 " Well, dear M. Derville, we will think about it," said 
 Mme. de Grandlieu. "M. Ernest ought to be very wealthy 
 indeed if such a family as ours must accept that mother of his. 
 Bear in mind that my son will be the Due de Grandlieu one 
 day ; he will unite the estates of both the houses that bear our 
 name, and I wish him to have a brother-in-law to his mind." 
 
 " But Restaud bears gules, a traverse argent, on four 
 scutcheons or, a cross sable, and that is a very pretty coat of 
 arms. ' ' 
 
 "That is true," said the Vicomtesse; "and, besides, 
 Camille need not see her mother-in-law." 
 
 "Mme. de Beauseant used to receive Mme. de Restaud," 
 said the gray-haired uncle. 
 
 "Oh! that was at her great crushes," replied the Vicom- 
 tesse. 
 
 PARIS, January, 1830.
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was borrowed. 
 
 01
 
 UC Southern Regional Library Facil 
 
 A 000 525 405 7