Father Goriot .......................................................................................................................................................1

Mme. Vauquer (nee de Conflans) is an elderly person, who for the past forty years has kept a lodginghouse

in the Rue NueveSainte Genevieve, in the district that lies between the Latin Quarter and the Faubourg

SaintMarcel. Her house (known in the neighborhood as the Maison Vauquer) 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, however, the time when this drama opens, there was an almost penniless young girl among Mme.

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 intra et extra muros before it is

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 joys too often hollow; but this audience is so

accustomed to terrible sensations, that only some unimaginable and wellneigh 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 egotism 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 exaggeration, 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 lodginghouse is Mme. Vauquer's own property. It is still standing in the lower end of the Rue

NueveSainteGenevieve, just where the road slopes so sharply down to the Rue de l'Arbalete, that wheeled

traffic seldom passes that way, because it is so stony and steep. This position is sufficient to account for the

silence prevalent in the streets shut in between the dome of the Pantheon and the dome of the ValdeGrace,

two conspicuous public buildings which give a yellowish tone to the landscape and darken the whole district

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 passerby feels the depressing influences of a place where the

sound of wheels creates a sensation; 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 lodginghouses and public

institutions would see poverty and dullness, 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 NueveSainteGenevieve 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 driedup

The front of the lodginghouse 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 NueveSainteGenevieve. Beneath the wall of

the house front there lies a channel, a fathom wide, paved with cobblestones, 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 opposite wall, at the further 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 halfobliterated inscription on the pedestal beneath determines the date

of this work of art, for it bears witness to the widespread enthusiasm felt for Voltaire on his return to Paris in

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 passersby 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 limetrees at the further end

of it; linetrees, as Mme. Vauquer persists in calling them, in spite of the fact that she was a de Conflans, and

The central space between the walls is filled with artichokes and rows of pyramid fruittrees, and surrounded

by a border of lettuce, pot herbs, and parsley. Under the limetrees there are a few greenpainted garden

seats and a wooden table, and hither, during the dogdays, 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 the 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

Behind the house a yard extends for some twenty feet, a space inhabited by a happy family of pigs, poultry,

and rabbits; the wood shed is situated on the further side, and on the wall between the woodshed and the

kitchen window hangs the meatsafe, 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 NueveSainte Genevieve, and frequently

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 sittingroom which looks out upon the street through the two barred

windows already mentioned. Another door opens out of it into the diningroom, which is separated from the

kitchen by the well 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 sittingroom. The furniture is

covered with horse hair woven in alternate dull and glossy stripes. There is a round table in the middle, with a

purplishred marble top, on which there stands, by way of ornament, the inevitable white china tea service,

covered with a halfeffaced gilt network. The floor is sufficiently uneven, the wainscot rises to elbow height,

and the rest of the wall space is decorated 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 chimneypiece is adorned

by a couple of vases filled with faded artificial flowers imprisoned under glass shades, on either side of a

The first room exhales an odor for which there is no name in the language, and which should be called the

odeur de pension. The damp atmosphere sends a chill through you as you breathe it; it has a stuffy, musty,

and rancid quality; it permeates 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 atmosphere 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

sittingroom is as charming and as delicately perfumed as a boudoir, when compared with the adjoining

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 dimribbed glass decanters, metal discs with a satin sheen on them, and piles of blueedged

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 pigeonholes, 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 lodginghouses much as the wrecks of our civilization drift into hospitals for

incurables. You expect in such places as these to find the weatherhouse 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 clockcase, 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 that a waggish externe will write his name on the surface, using his

thumbnail as a style. The chairs are brokendown invalids; the wretched little hempen mats slip away from

under your feet without slipping away for good; and finally, the footwarmers are miserable wrecks,

hingeless, charred, broken away about the holes. It would be impossible to give an idea of the old, rotten,

shaky, cranky, wormeaten, halt, maimed, oneeyed, 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, concentrated, threadbare poverty; as yet it has not sunk into the mire, it is only splashed by it,

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 balletdancer to the dark, suspicious scowl of a discounter of bills; in short, she is at once the embodiment

and interpretation of her lodginghouse, as surely as her lodginghouse 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 corpulence 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 sittingroom,

the diningroom, and the little garden; it discovers the cook, it foreshadows the lodgersthe picture of the

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 betrayed, 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 explicit on this head. How 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

Sylvie, the stout cook, hearing her mistress' shuffling footsteps, hastened to serve the lodgers' breakfasts.

Beside those who lived in the house, Mme. Vauquer took boarders who came for their meals; but these

externes usually only came to dinner, for which they paid thirty francs a month.

At the time when this story begins, the lodginghouse contained 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 commissarygeneral in the service of the Republic. With her lived Victorine

Taillefer, a schoolgirl, to whom she filled the place of mother. These two ladies paid eighteen hundred francs

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 letone to

an elderly spinster, a Mlle. 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 Mlle. Michonneau, could

only muster fortyfive 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 student, a young man from the neighborhood of

Angouleme, one of a large family who pinched and starved themselves to spare twelve hundred francs a year

for him. Misfortune had accustomed 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 centered on them, and deliberately

prepare themselves for a great career, subordinating their studies from the first to this end, carefully watching

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 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

Above the third story there was a garret where the linen was hung to dry, and a couple of attics. Christophe,

the manofallwork, slept in one, and Sylvie, the stout cook, in the other. Beside 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 dressinggown and slippers, and the

conversation usually turned on anything that had happened the evening before; comments on the dress or

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

secondfloor lodgers only paid seventytwo francs a month. Such prices as these are confined to the

Faubourg SaintMarcel and the district between La Bourbe and the Salpetriere; 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 were problematical; such shoes, in 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 fashioned, dyed and redyed;

they wore gloves that were glazed with hard wear, muchmended 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, frostbound dramas that sere

Mlle. 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 secondhand clothes dealer, a frequenter of the

backstairs of great houses, or had she been merely a courtesan? Was she expiating the flaunting triumphs of a

youth overcrowded with pleasures by an old age in which she was shunned by every passerby? 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 sounding 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 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 outspread skirts of his threadbare overcoat failed to conceal his meagre figure; his breeches hung

loosely on his shrunken limbs; the thin, bluestockinged 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 gobbler'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 devouring 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 accounts,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 slaughterhouse, or a

subinspector 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

Stately Paris ignores the existence of these faces bleached by moral or physical suffering; but, then, Paris is in

truth an ocean that no line can plumb. You may survey its surface and describe it; but 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

Two, however, of Mme. Vauquer's boarders formed a striking contrast to the rest. There was a sickly pallor,

such as is often seen in anaemic girls, in Mlle. Victorine Taillefer'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 NueveSaintGenevieve, which forms a background to this picture; but her face

was young, there was youthfulness in her voice and elasticity in her movements. This young misfortune was

not unlike a shrub, newly planted 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 materials, were also youthful. There

was the same kind of charm about her too slender form, her faintly colored face and lightbrown 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 toilette 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 Victorine might have ranked

among the fairest; but she lacked the two things which create woman a second timepretty dresses and

A book might have been made of her story. Her father was persuaded that he had sufficient reason for

declining 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 brokenhearted 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

commissarygeneral 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. Vauquer 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

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 had either come of a noble family, or that,

from his earliest childhood, he had been gently bred. If he was careful of his 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

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 welldeveloped chest, muscular arms, and strong squarefisted 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 unpleasant,

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 lent 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 goodnature. In the way he spat there was an

imperturbable coolness which seemed to indicate that this was a man who would not stick 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 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. Vauquer 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 imagine 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 generously 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 goodnature, 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 classes 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

Mlle. 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 various chronicles of

misfortunes, real or imaginary, related by the rest. Each one regarded the others with indifference, tempered

by suspicion; it was a natural result of their relative positions. Practical assistance not one could give, this

they all knew, and they had long since exhausted their stock of condolence over previous discussions of their

grievances. 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 who did not see in death the solution of the allabsorbing

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 sufficient 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 constructed. 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, condemned to be the butt of all their

jokes. At the beginning of 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 laughingstock was the retired vermicellimerchant, 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 misfortunes? Had he brought it on 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

In the year 1813, at the age of sixtynine or thereabouts, "Father Goriot" had sold his business and

retiredto 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 wretched

colored prints in frames, and wall papers that a little suburban tavern would 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

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 vermicellimaker'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, table spoons, forks, cruetstands, tureens,

dishes, and breakfast services all of silver, which were duly arranged upon shelves, besides a few more or

less handsome pieces of plate, all weighing no inconsiderable number of ounces; he could not bring himself

"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 turtledoves billing on the cover. "Poor dear! she spent on it

all the money she had saved before we were 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! I am not to be pitied. There's not much fear of my starving for some

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 fortyeight summers, though she would only own to thirtynine of themMme. 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 pleasantlooking man. Moreover, the widow saw favorable indications of character in

the welldeveloped calves of his legs and in his squareshaped nose, indications still further borne out by the

worthy man's fullmoon countenance and look of stupid goodnature. This, in all probability, was a

stronglybuild 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 elegant 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

snuffbox 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 boarding

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, Soissy,

Gentilly; she would have a box at the 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 toilette, expense justifiable on the ground that she owed it to herself and

her establishment to pay some attention to appearances when such highlyrespectable 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 henceforward 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

highlyrespected merchants in Paris, had singled out her boardinghouse 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 boardinghouses 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 isfrom the third floor), and a

beautiful garden, extending down to an avenue of lindens at the further end." Mention was made of the

It was this prospectus that attracted Mme. la Comtesse de l'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 of battle." On this Mme. Vauquer saw to her table, lighted a

fire daily in the sittingroom 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 promised

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 boardinghouse 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

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 l'Ambermesnil; it was a capital notion, which for that matter she had guessed

"Ah! my dear lady, such a wellpreserved man of his age, as sound as my eyesighta man who might make

The goodnatured Countess turned to the subject of Mme. Vauquer's dress, which was not in harmony with

After much serious consideration the two widows went shopping togetherthey 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

obligation to the Countess; and, though by no means openhanded, 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 l'Ambermesnil lent herself very

goodnaturedly to this manoeuvre, began her operations, and succeeded in obtaining a private interview; but

the overtures that she made, with a view to securing him for herself, were received with embarrassment, not

"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 l'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 wardrobe,

castoff clothing to the value of five francs. Eagerly and persistently as Mme. Vauquer sought her quondam

lodger, the Comtesse de l'Ambermesnil 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 comeran odd but common phenomenon, whose causes may readily be traced

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 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 kindness 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 selflove. 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

"If I had been there at the time," Vautrin would say at the end of the story, "I would have shown her up, and

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 responsible for her

misfortune. It had opened her eyes, so she said, with regard to him. As soon as she saw that her

blandishments were in vain, and that her outlay on her toilette 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 character. 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 restingplace short of the highest height of

affection, but we seldom stop in the steep, downward slope of hatred. Still, M. Goriot was a lodger, and the

widow's wounded selflove 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 craving 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 gherkins, no more anchovies; they have made a fool of me!" she said to Sylvie one morning, and

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 at his expense, and so gratified 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 occasions came less frequently, and at last he was

scarcely absent from the dinnertable twice a month. It was hardly expected that Mme. Vauquer should

regard the increased regularity of her boarder's habits 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

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. Apparently, such strict economy was called for, that he did without a fire all through the

winter. Mme. Vauquer asked to be paid in advance, an arrangement to which M. Goriot consented, and

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." Emptyheaded 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 (to 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

moneylender, a man 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 banished from their societyhe 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 Mme. Vauquer'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

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

"M. Goriot must be awfully rich, all the same, madame," she reported on her return, "to keep her in such

style. Just imagine it! There was a splendid carriage waiting at the corner of the Place de l'Estrapade, and

While they were at dinner that evening, Mme. Vauquer went to the window and drew the curtain, as the sun

"You are beloved of fair ladies, M. Goriotthe sun seeks you out," she said, alluding to his visitor.

"That was my daughter," he said, with a kind of pride in his voice, and the rest chose to consider this as the

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 glimpse of a lovely, fairhaired woman, slender, graceful, and much too

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

A few days later, and another young ladya tall, wellmoulded brunette, with dark hair and bright

Then the second daughter, who had first come in the morning to see her father, came shortly afterwards in the

"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

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 mistresses; nay, she thought it very knowing of

him to pass them off as his daughters. She was not at all inclined to draw a hardandfast line, or to take

umbrage at his sending for them to the Maison Vauquer; yet, inasmuch as these visits explained 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

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

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

Towards the end of the third year Father Goriot reduced his expenses still further; he went up to the third

story, and now paid fortyfive 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 haira 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 woebegone. There was no longer any doubt. Goriot was an elderly libertine, whose eyes had

only been preserved 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 taken that he might continue his career. The poor old man's mental and physical condition afforded some

grounds 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 gold snuffbox, watchchain and trinkets, disappeared one

by one. He had left off wearing the cornflower blue coat, and was sumptuously arrayed, summer as well as

winter, in a coarse chestnutbrown 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 NeuveSainteGenevieve he was no longer like

his former self. The hale vermicelli manufacturer, sixtytwo years of age, who had looked scarce forty, the

stout, comfortable, prosperous tradesman, 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

The keen, bright blue eyes had grown dull, and faded to a steelgray 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

One evening after dinner Mme. Vauquer said half banteringly to him, "So those daughters of yours don't

come to see you any more, eh?" meaning to imply her doubts as to his paternity; but Father Goriot shrank as

"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 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

lodginghouse 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 SainteGenevieve, 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 incompatible 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 fortyfive francs a month; and he would not go about dressed

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 mollusk who should be classed among the capulidoe, so one of the dinner

contingent, an employe 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 talk; he was alive, and seemed capable of

feeling; while Father Goriot (to quote the Museum official again) was invariably at zero degreesReaumur.

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 stimulated by a difficult position, that for

Rastignac's first year of study for the preliminary examinations 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

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 attitudes for the benefit of the women in

the first galleries at the OperaComique. As he passes through all these successive 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

If he begins by admiring the procession of carriages on sunny afternoons in the ChampsElysees, he soon

reaches the further stage of envying their owners. Unconsciously, Eugene had served his apprenticeship

before he went back to Angouleme for the long vacation after taking his degrees as bachelor of arts and

bachelor of law. The illusions of childhood had vanished, so also had the ideas he brought with him from the

provinces; he had returned thither with an intelligence 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 hundred

francs out of their income for him. He saw how constantly 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

He meant, like all great souls, that his success should be owing entirely to his merits; but his was

preeminently a southern temperament, the execution of his plans was sure to be marred by the vertigo that

seizes 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 highspirited young man, whose wit and courage were set off to

advantage by a graceful figure and the vigorous kind of beauty that readily strikes a woman's imagination,

need not despair of finding a protectress. These ideas occurred to him in his country walks with his sisters,

His aunt, Mme. de Marcillac, had been presented at court, and had moved among the brightest heights of that

lofty region. Suddenly the young man's ambition discerned in those recollections 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 relations; 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 genus of rich

relations, the Vicomtesse de Beauseant was the least likely to refuse. To this lady, therefore, she wrote in the

oldfashioned 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

A few days later, after Mme. de Beauseant'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

sometimes on former occasions, after a fete at the Prado, or a ball at the Odeon, splashing his silk stockings

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 sort that the faint sounds he made were

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 pleasantest in the Faubourg SaintGermain. 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 the

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 among this throng of Parisian

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 thoroughbred," "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

"Where shall I meet you again, Madame?" he asked abruptly, and the tones of his voice were full of the

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 told her that he was a cousin of Mme. de Beauseant's, 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 bestdressed women of fashion in ParisLady 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 Marquise 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, the lover of the Duchesse de Langeais, a general as simple as a child; from him Rastignac

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 SaintGermain; 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 drawingrooms, conscious that, possessing

sufficient good looks, you may hope to find aid and protection there in a feminine heart! To feel ambitious

enough to spurn the tightrope on which you must walk with the steady head of an acrobat for whom a fall is

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, smouldering fire. Who would not have paused and questioned the

future as Eugene was doing? who would not have pictured it full of success? His wondering 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 keyhole; the old man was busily engaged in an

occupation so singular and so suspicious that Rastignac thought he was only doing a piece of necessary

service to society to watch the selfstyled vermicelli maker's nocturnal industries.

The table was upturned, and Goriot had doubtless in some 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

"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, then

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 performed with marvelous dexterity.

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

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.

"Poor child!" Father Goriot said aloud. Rastignac, hearing 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. Suddenly, too, he saw a faint gleam of light on the second story; it

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.

"That is odd! Christophe drew the bolts," said Eugene, going back to his room. "You have to sit up at night, it

These incidents turned his thought from his ambitious dreams; he betook himself to his work, but his thought

wandered 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

The next morning Paris was wrapped in one of the dense fogs that throw the most punctual people out in their

calculations as to the time; even the most businesslike 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 morning it was halfpast nine, and

Mme. Vauquer still lay abed. Christophe was late, Sylvie was late, but the two sat comfortably taking their

coffee as usual. It was Sylvie's custom to take the cream off the milk destined for the boarders' breakfast 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

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

"Except him and Mme. Couture, who doesn't look twice at every penny, there's no one in the house that

doesn't try to get back with the 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 fivefranc 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

whippersnapper 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

"Yes. I met a gentleman in the street a few days ago; he said to me, 'There's a gentleman in your place, isn't

there? a tall man that 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 afterwards, 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

"Well, and for my part," said Sylvie, "a man tried to humbug me at the market wanting to know if I had seen

him put on his shirt. Such bosh! There," she cried, interrupting herself, "that's a quarter to ten striking at the

"Pooh! they are all gone out. Mme. Couture and the girl went out at eight o'clock to take the wafer at

SaintEtienne. 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

"There is madame moving overhead; I shall have to go, or she will raise a fine racket. Just keep an eye on the

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

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

"Ah, well, madame, whichever you please. Anyhow, you can have breakfast at ten o'clock. La Michonnette

and Poiret have neither of them stirred. There are only those two upstairs, and they are sleeping like the logs

"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. And here are you

"Give me my bodice, and be quick and get breakfast ready. Dish up the rest of the mutton with the potatoes,

A few moments later Mme. Vauquer came down, just in time to see the cat knock down a plate that covered a

"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;

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

The door bell rang at that moment, and Vautrin came through the sittingroom, singing loudly:

"Oh! Mamma Vauquer! goodmorning!" he cried at the sight of his hostess, and he put his arm gaily round

" 'Impertinence!' Say it!" he answered. "Come, say it! Now, isn't that what you really mean? Stop a bit, I will

"Father Goriot in the goldsmith's shop in the Rue Dauphine 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

"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 moneylender's house;

everybody knows him, Gobseck, a stuckup 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

"Doing?" said Vautrin. "Nothing; he was bent on his own undoing. He is a simpleton, stupid enough to ruin

"What may that be?" said Vautrin, pouncing on a letter in Christophe's hand. "Mme. la Comtesse Anastasie

de Restaud," he read. "Where are you going with it?" he added, as he gave the letter back to Christophe.

"What is there inside it?" said Vautrin, holding the letter up to the light. "A banknote? 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

By this time the table was set. Sylvie was boiling the milk, Mme. Vauquer was lighting a fire in the stove

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

"We have just been to say our prayers at SaintEtienne du Mont. Today is the day when we must go to see

M. Taillefer. Poor little thing! She is trembling like a leaf," Mme. Couture went on, as she seated herself

"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;

"Poor child!" said Mme. Vauquer. "Never mind, my pet, your wretch of a father is going just the way to bring

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 CommissaryGeneral'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 sending it by post; he knew my

" 'Oh woman, persecuted and injured innocent!' " exclaimed Vautrin, breaking in upon her. "So that is how

you are, is it? In a few days' time I will look into your affairs, and it will be all right, 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

"The same old story everywhere," sang Vautrin, with a satirical intonation. At this juncture, Goriot, Mlle.

Michonneau, 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

goodmorning, and took their places at the table; the clock struck ten, and the student's footstep was heard

"Ah! here you are, M. Eugene," said Sylvie; "every one is breakfasting at home today."

"I have just met with a queer adventure," he said, as he helped himself abundantly to the mutton, and cut a

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

"Yesterday evening I went to a ball given by a cousin of mine, the Vicomtesse de Beauseant. She has a

magnificent house; the rooms are hung with silkin short, it was a splendid affair, and I was as happy as a

"Quite true; I would much rather be the little careless bird than a king," said Poiret the dittoist,

"In fact"the lawstudent 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 bouquet of flowersreal flowers, that scented the airbut 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 de Gres. Oh! how my heart beat! I began to

"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

moneylender first, and the lover afterwards. Your countess is called Anastasie de Restaud, and she lives in

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh! yes, she was tremendously pretty," Eugene answered. 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 furious. 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 moneylender's

office, on the lowest rung of the ladderjust 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

Father Goriot's face, which had shone at the student's words like the sun on a bright day, clouded over all at

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

"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

Mlle. 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 to go upstairs and dress; the two ladies went

"Well, did you see?" said Mme. Vauquer, addressing Vautrin and the rest of the circle. "He is ruining himself

"Nothing will ever make me believe that that beautiful Comtesse de Restaud is anything to Father Goriot,"

"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 out that there are what we call men with a passion"

Mlle. 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

"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 springit 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

stockexchange, or music, or a collection of pictures 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 earththey 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's to give their last fivefranc

piece to her. Father Goriot here is one of that sort. He is discreet, so the Countess exploits himjust the way

of the gay world. The poor old fellow thinks of her and 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 meltingpot, and I saw him at Daddy Gobseck's in the

Rue des Gres. And now, mark what followshe 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 selfevident. So that shows

you, sir student, that all the time your Countess was smiling, dancing, flirting, swaying her peachflower

crowned head, with her gown gathered into her hand, her slippers were pinching her, as they say; she was

"You have made me wild to know the truth," cried Eugene; "I will go to call on Mme. de Restaud

"And perhaps you will find Father Goriot there, who will take payment for the assistance he politely

"And an uncommonly queer slough, too," replied Vautrin. "The mud splashes you as you drive through it in

your carriageyou are a respectable person; you go afoot and are splashedyou 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 PalaisdeJustice; 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 maintenance of

"What," cried Mme. Vauquer, "has Father Goriot really melted down his silver possetdish?"

"Then, was he fond of it?" said Eugene. "He cried while he was breaking up the cup and plate. I happened to

"There! you see how infatuated the old fellow is!" cried Vautrin. "The woman yonder can coax the soul out

The student went up to his room. Vautrin went out, and a few moments later Mme. Couture and Victorine

drove away in a cab which Sylvie had called for them. Poiret gave his arm to Mlle. 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

today for the first time. They are such a couple of dry sticks that if they happen to strike against each other

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

At four o'clock that evening, when Goriot came in, he saw, by 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 personal interview in order to arrive at an understanding with them.

"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 chimneypiece. '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. Scandalous, isn't it? And his great

"And then they both went out of the room," Mme. Couture went on, without heeding the worthy vermicelli

maker's exclamation; "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. How he can refuse to

The boarders dropped in one after another, interchanging greetings and 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 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

battledore and shuttlecock with words and ideas. The diorama, a recent invention, which carried an optical

illusion a degree further 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, Monsieurrr Poiret," said the employe from the Museum, "how is your healthorama?" Then,

without waiting for an answer, he turned to Mme. Couture and Victorine with a "Ladies, you seem

"Is dinner ready?" cried Horace Bianchon, a medical student, and a friend of Rastignac's; "my stomach is

"There is an uncommon frozerama outside," said Vautrin. "Make room there, Father Goriot! Confound it,

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

"No, it shouldn't," said the official from the Museum; "frozerama is right by the same rule that you say 'My

"Here is his Excellency the Marquis de Rastignac, Doctor of the Law of Contraries," cried Bianchon, seizing

Mlle. Michonneau came noiselessly in, bowed to the rest of the party, and took her place beside the three

"That old bat always makes me shudder," said Bianchon in a low voice, indicating Mlle. Michonneau to

Vautrin. "I have studied Gall's system, and I am sure she has the bump of Judas."

"Who has not?" answered Bianchon. "Upon my word, that ghastly old maid looks just like one of the long

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

"Aha! here is a magnificent soupeaurama," cried Poiret as Christophe came in bearing the soup with

"It was a frantic fog," said Bianchon, "a fog unparalleled, doleful, melancholy, seagreen, asthmaticala

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

"Well," Madame Vauquer cried in sharp tones, that rang above the rattle of spoons and plates and the sound

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

"You knew the flavor by the smell, I suppose," said Mme. Vauquer. "You have grown so economical, you

"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

The eight responses came like a rolling fire from every part of the room, and the laughter that followed was

the more uproarious because poor Father Goriot stared at the others with a puzzled look, like a foreigner

trying to catch the meaning of words in a language which he does not understand.

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

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,"

"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,

"Mademoiselle might make application for aliment pending her suit; she is not eating anything. Eh! eh! just

The old man had forgotten his dinner, he was so absorbed in gazing at the poor girl; the sorrow in her face

was unmistakable,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

wanting 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 something 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,

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

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 intoxicating dreams which fill a young head

so full of delicious excitement. Young men at his age take no account of obstacles nor of dangers; they see

success in every direction; imagination has free play, and turns their lives into a romance; they are saddened

or discouraged by the collapse of one of the visionary schemes that have no existence save in their heated

Eugene took unheardof 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 fivefranc piece he had brought with him in case anything might

At last he reached the Rue du Helder, and asked for the Comtesse de Restaud. He bore the contemptuous

glances of 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 antechamber, 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

"Madame is in her boudoir, and cannot see any one at present, sir," said the servant. "She gave me no answer;

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 antechamber, 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

hotwater pipes, on which towels were being dried; a dark passage and a back staircase lay beyond it. Stifled

"This way to the drawingroom, sir," said the servant, with the exaggerated respect which seemed to be one

Eugene turned so quickly that he stumbled against a bath. By good luck, he managed to keep his hat on his

head, and saved it from immersion in the water; but just as he turned, a door opened at the further 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

diningroom into the drawingroom; 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 welldressed 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

"But M. le Comte had better wait a moment longer; madame is disengaged," said Maurice, as he returned to

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 umbrella regardless of the fact that the great gate

had opened to admit a tilbury, in which a young man with a ribbon at his buttonhole was seated. Father

Goriot had scarcely time to start back and save himself. The horse took fright at the umbrella, 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 moneylender so

long as they require his services, or the sort of respect they feel it necessary to 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 reproachfully, 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 rosecolored 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 herdoubtless 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 radiant 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

"Oh! is that you M. de Rastignac? I am very glad to see you," she said, but there was something in her

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. An exact and faithful rendering of the glance might be given in the words: "Look here, my dear; I

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 halfpast two. The quickwitted 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 dressinggown in her flight,

so that she looked like a white butterfly, and Maxime hurried after her. Eugene, in a fury, followed Maxime

and the Countess, and the three stood once more face to face by the hearth in the large drawingroom. 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 Mme. de Beauseant's ball; he guessed the relation between Maxime and Mme. de Restaud; and with

the youthful audacity that commits prodigious blunders or achieves signal success, he said to himself, "This is

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 bulls's eye

twenty times out of twentytwo. 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

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 Rastignac, and held out his hand to

Maxime with a cordial "Good morning," that astonished Eugene not a little. The young provincial did not

"This gentleman," she continued, presenting Eugene to her husband, "is M. de Rastignac; he is related to

Mme. la Vicomtesse de Beauseant 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 a house takes in showing that she

only receives people of distinction as visitors in her house, produced a magical effect. The Count's stiff

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 compartments in the southern brain flew open

again; Rastignac's 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

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

"Yes, they are extinct," answered the law student. "My greatuncle, 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 greatuncle, the ViceAdmiral, 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

Maxime looked at Mme. de Restaud and shrugged his shoulders, as who should 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

"Come with me, Maxime; I have something to say to you. We will leave you two gentlemen to sail in

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 equivalent) had reached the door, when the Count interrupted 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

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 husbands'

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 understanding, 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; goodday," and he went.

"Come and dine with us," said the Countess, leaving Eugene and her husband together once more. She

followed Maxime into the little drawingroom, where they sat together sufficiently long to feel sure that

The law student heard their laughter, and their voices, and the pauses in their talk; he grew malicious, exerted

his conversational 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 mystery he meant to penetrate, hoping by its means to gain a sovereign

"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 declaration, and compromise you, and then you will

"Are you mad, Maxime?" she said. "A young lad of a student is, on the contrary, a capital

lightningconductor; 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

"What do you think, dear?" cried the Count, her husband, "this gentleman's family estate is not far from

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

"Why, only just now," said the student, "I saw a gentleman go out at the gate, Father Goriot, my next door

At the sound of this name, and the prefix that embellished it, the Count, who was stirring the fire, let the

The Countess turned pale at first at the sight of her husband's vexation, then she reddened; clearly she was

embarrassed, her answer was made in a tone that she tried to make natural, and with an air of assumed

She broke off, glanced at the piano as if some fancy had crossed her mind, and asked, "Are you fond of

"Exceedingly," answered Eugene, flushing, and disconcerted by a dim suspicion that he had somehow been

"Do you sing?" she cried, going to the piano, and, sitting down before it, she swept her fingers over the

"That is a pity; you are without one great means of success.Caro, caaro, caaaro, non dubitare,"

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

"Madame," he said, "you wish to talk with M. de Restaud; permit me to wish you goodday"

The Countess interrupted him by a gesture, saying hastily, "Whenever you come to see us, both M. de

Eugene made a profound bow and took his leave, followed by M. de Restaud, who insisted, in spite of his

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

"Come," said he to himself, "somehow 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 morning, and primrose kid gloves every evening? A fig for that old

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 occupation 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 it now, and at least I will not spend cabhire for

"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

"De Grenelle," 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 SaintDominique," he added, drawing up the step.

"I know all about that," said Eugene, severely."Everybody is laughing at me today, 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 socalled 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 fivefranc 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 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 blueandred 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

hilarity; 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 Restaud's courtyard, in the Chaussee d'Antin, he had seen the neat turnout of a

young man of sixandtwenty; in the Faubourg SaintGermain he found the luxurious equipage of a man of

"Who can be here?" said Eugene 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

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 curry comb. So far, Eugene had only been in the ballroom on the

ground floor of the Hotel Beauseant; the fete had followed so closely on the invitation, 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 character

and reflect her daily life. He was the more curious, because Mme. de Restaud's drawingroom had provided

At halfpast 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, whitepainted, crimsoncarpeted staircase, between the gilded balusters and masses of

flowering plants, to Mme. de Beauseant's apartments. He did not know the rumor current about Mme. de

Beauseant, 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 connection with that of one of the most wealthy and

distinguished Portuguese nobles, the Marquis d'AjudaPinto. 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 morganatic union. Any one who came to call on the

Vicomtesse in the early days of this friendship was sure to find the Marquis d'AjudaPinto 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 perfect solitude during that interval. She went to the

Bouffons or to the Opera with M. de Beauseant and M. d'AjudaPinto; and M. de Beauseant, like a

wellbred man of the world, always left his wife and the Portuguese as soon as he had installed them. But M.

d'AjudaPinto must marry, and a Mlle. de Rochefide was the young lady. In the whole fashionable world

there was but one person who as yet knew nothing of the arrangement, and that was Mme. de Beauseant.

Some of her friends had hinted at the possibility, and she had laughed at them, believing that envy had

prompted those ladies to try to make mischief. And now, though the bans 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'AjudaPinto was on thorns, and anxious to take his leave. He told himself that in some way or

other the news would reach Mme. de Beauseant; he would write, it would be much better to do it by letter,

So when the servant announced M. Eugene de Rastignac, the Marquis d'AjudaPinto 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 instinctively 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

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 exclamation, "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 day, our language has no name for these conversational

disasters, it is probably because they are believed to be impossible, 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 bullockdriver in Mme. de Beauseant's drawingroom. But if Mme. de

Restaud and M. de Trailles had found him horribly in the way, M. d'Ajuda hailed his coming with relief.

"Goodbye," said the Portuguese, hurrying to the door, as Eugene made his entrance into a dainty little

"Until this evening," said Mme. de Beauseant, turning her head to give the Marquis a glance. "We are going

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

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

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

When a man once enters on a course of deception, he is compelled to add lie to lie. M. d'Ajuda therefore said,

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

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 forward, 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

Those words, and the way in which M. d'Ajuda flung himself 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

"When, instead of dining with the English Ambassador," she wrote, "you go to the Rochefides, you owe me

She retraced several of the letters, for her hand was trembling so that they were indistinct; then she signed the

"Jacques," she said to the servant, who appeared immediately, "take this note to M. de Rochefide's house at

halfpast seven and ask for the Marquis d'Ajuda. If M. d'Ajuda is there, leave the note without waiting for an

Eugene was beginning to feel very uncomfortable, but at last the Vicomtesse appeared; she spoke to him, and

"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 Mlle. de

Rochefide? But is he still free? This evening the marriage shall be broken off, or else . . . But before

"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

"Madame . . ." he began; he hesitated a moment, and then went on. "Pardon me; I am in such need of

Mme. de Beauseant smiled but there was sadness in her smile; even now she felt forebodings of the coming

"If you knew how my family are situated," he went on, "you would love to play the part of a beneficent fairy

"But do I know even that? I am distantly related to you, and this obscure and remote relationship is even now

a perfect 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."

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

The audacity of the student's answer interested the Vicomtesse 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 rosecolored

drawingroom 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 jurisprudence, and, when well understood, is a highroad to success of every

"Ah! that is what I meant to say!" said Eugene. "I met Mme. de Restaud at your ball, and this morning I went

"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 believe that in Paris it is very difficult to meet with a young, beautiful, and wealthy woman of

fashion who would be willing to teach me, what you women can explain so welllife. 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

"Madame la Duchess de Langeais," Jacques cut the student short; Eugene gave expression to his intense

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

"Ah! good morning, dear," she continued, and rising and crossing the room, she grasped the Duchess' hands

as affectionately 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 newcomer 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'AjudaPinto at M. de Rochefide's door, so I thought that if I came I should find you alone."

Mme. de Beauseant's mouth did not tighten, her color did not rise, her expression did not alter, or rather, her

"This gentleman is M. Eugene de Rastignac, one of my cousins," said the Vicomtesse. "Have you any news

of General de Montriveau?" she continued. "Serizy told me yesterday that he never goes anywhere now; has

It was believed that the Duchess was desperately in love 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:

"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 Mlle. de Rochefide; the bans will be published

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

"And, as a matter of fact, he is dining with them today; the thing is settled. It is very surprising to me that

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

tomorrow, 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

"Madame, I have unwittingly plunged a dagger into Mme. de Restaud's heart; unwittinglytherein lies my

offence," said the student of law, whose keen brain had served him sufficiently 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

Mme. de Beauseant gave the student a glance, one of those glances in which a great soul can mingle dignity

and gratitude. 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

"You should not tell us that, M. de Rastignac. We women never care about anything that no one else will

"Bah!" said Eugene. "I am only twoandtwenty, 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 impossible to kneel in a more charming

confessional; you commit your sins in one drawingroom, 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

Mme. de Beauseant 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."

"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 superfinely elegant, I'm sure.")

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

"Of that I had no idea, madame," answered the law student, "so 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

"An old man who lives at the rate of two louis a month in the Faubourg SaintMarceau, where I, a poor

student, lodge likewise. He is a truly unfortunate creature, everybody laughs at himwe all call him 'Father

"Why, child that you are," cried the Vicomtesse, "Mme. de Restaud was a Mlle. Goriot!"

"The daughter of a vermicelli manufacturer," the Duchess added; "and when the little creature went to Court,

the daughter of a pastrycook was presented on the same day. Do you remember, Claire? The King began to

"Yes, certainly; the old man had two daughters; he dotes on them, so to speak, though they will scarcely

"Didn't the second daughter marry a banker with a German name?" the Vicomtesse asked, turning to Mme. de

Langeais, "a Baron de Nucingen? And her name is Delphine, is it not? Isn't she a fairhaired woman who has

a sidebox at the Opera? She comes sometimes to the Bouffons, and laughs loudly to attract attention."

"I wonder at you, dear. Why do you take so much interest in people of that kind? One must have been as

madly in love as Restaud was, to be infatuated with Mlle. Anastasie and her flour sacks. Oh! he will not find

"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 happiness 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 inlaw 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 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, mon Dieu!" said Mme. de Langeais; "yes, it seems very horrible, and yet we see such things every day.

Is there not a reason for it? Tell me, dear, have you ever really thought what a soninlaw is? A soninlaw

is the man for whom we bring up, you and I, a dear little one, bound to 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 beginning 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 tomorrow 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

daughterinlaw shows him the last degree of insolence. On the other hand, it is the soninlaw 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 Soninlaw 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

"Yes, that Moriot was once President of his Section during 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 person always did. I recollect the

steward telling my grandmother that she might live at Grandvilliers in complete security, because her corn

was as good as a certificate of civism. Well, then, this Loriot, who sold corn to those butchers, has never had

but one passion, they sayhe 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 understand that so long as Bonaparte was Emperor, the two sonsinlaw could

manage to put up with the old Ninetythree; 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 Joriot whenever there was no one there,

under pretence of affection. 'Come today, 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 secondsight: poor Ninetythree; 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 old Doriot have been but a splash of mud in his daughters' drawingrooms? 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 the 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. She did not raise her

head as she spoke; the words that Mme. de Langeais had meant for her in the course of her story had cut her

"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

She rose to her feet and kissed Mme. de Beauseant on the forehead as she said: "You look very charming

"Father Goriot is sublime!" said Eugene to himself, as he remembered how he had watched his neighbor

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

"The world is basely ungrateful and illnatured," 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.

"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 life that I had not read. Now I know

all. The more cold blooded your calculations, the further you will go. Strike ruthlessly; you will be feared.

Men and women for you must be nothing more than posthorses; 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 treasure; 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 something

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 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 gulf set

between the sistersindeed, they are sisters no longerthe two women who refuse to acknowledge their

father do not acknowledge each other. So Mme. de Nucingen would lap up all the mud that lies between the

Rue SaintLazare and the Rue de Grenelle 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 Benjamin; 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 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 intimate 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 madams, 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 isan 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 the

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"

It was five o'clock, and Eugene was hungry; he was afraid lest he should not be in time for dinner, a

misgiving which 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 fist at society, and vows vengeance when his

belief in himself is shaken. Just then Rastignac was overwhelmed by the words, "You have shut the Countess'

"I shall call!" he said to himself, "and if Mme. de Beauseant is right, if I never find her at homeI . . . well,

Mme. de Restaud shall meet me in every salon in Paris. I will learn to fence and have some pistol practice,

"And money?" cried an inward monitor. "How about money, where is that to come from?" And all at once

the wealth displayed in the Countess de Restaud's drawingroom 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 suddenly 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, innumerable dark thoughts gathered in his heart; his ideas widened,

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.

Arrived in the Rue NeuveSainteGenevieve, 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

povertystricken creatures about to feed like cattle in their stalls, and the sight filled him with loathing. The

transition was too sudden, and the contrast was so violent that it could not but act as a powerful stimulant; his

ambition developed and grew beyond all social bounds. On the one hand, he beheld a vision of social life in

its most charming and refined forms, of quickpulsed youth, of fair, impassioned faces invested with all the

charm of poetry, framed in a marvelous setting of luxury or art; and, on the other hand, he saw a sombre

picture, the miry verge beyond 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

determined 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

"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;

Vautrin's glance at Rastignac was halfpaternal, halfcontemptuous. "Puppy!" it seemed to say; "I should

"You 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.

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

"Any one who molests Father Goriot will have henceforward 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,

Eugene's remarks produced a sensation, and his tone silenced the dinnertable. 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

"Perhaps," Rastignac answered. "But I owe no account of myself to any one, especially as I do not try to find

"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

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 fellowlodgers, nor know that he had met

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

"That is about all he is capable of," said Bianchon to Rastignac; "I have taken a look at his head; there is only

Eugene was too intent on his thoughts to laugh at Bianchon's joke. He determined to profit by Mme. de

Beauseant's counsels, and was asking himself how he could obtain the necessary money. He grew grave. The

wide savannas of the world stretched before his eyes; all things lay before him, nothing was his. Dinner came

"So you have seen my daughter?" Goriot spoke tremulously, 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

"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

"My Dear Mother,Can you nourish your child from your breast again? I am in a position to make a rapid

fortune, but I want twelve hundred francsI must have them at all costs. Say nothing about this to my father;

perhaps he might make objections, and unless I have the money, I may be led to put an end to myself, and so

escape the clutches of despair. I will tell you everything when I see you. I will not begin to try to describe my

present situation; it would take volumes to put the whole story clearly and fully. I have not been gambling,

my kind mother, I owe no one a penny; but if you would preserve the life that you gave me, you must send

me the sum I mention. As a matter of fact, I go to see the Vicomtesse de Beauseant; she is using her influence

for me; I am obliged to go into society, and I have not a penny to lay out on clean gloves. I can manage to

exist on bread and water, or go without food, if need be, but I cannot do without the tools with which they

cultivate the vineyards in this country. I must resolutely make up my mind at once to make my way, or stick

in the mire for the rest of my days. I know that all your hopes are set on me, and I want to realize them

quickly. Sell some of your old jewelry, my kind mother; I will give you other jewels very soon. I know

enough of our affairs at home to know all that such a sacrifice means, and you must not think that I would

lightly ask you to make it; I should be a monster if I could. You must think of my entreaty as a cry forced

from me by imperative necessity. Our whole future lies in the subsidy with which I must begin my first

campaign, for life in Paris is one continual battle. If you cannot otherwise procure the whole of the money,

and are forced to sell our aunt's lace, tell her that I will send her some still handsomer," and so forth.

He wrote to ask each of his sisters for their savingswould 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

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

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

What power there must be in the petitions put up by such hearts; how pure the fervor that bears their souls to

Heaven in prayer! What exquisite joy they would find in selfsacrifice! 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 alter 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 halfopen door.

"Ah! my good neighbor, I am as much a son and brother as you are a father. You do well to fear for the

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 experiment, and three times he found her doors closed against him, though he was careful to choose an

The student studied no longer. He put in an appearance at lectures simply to answer to his name, and after

thus attesting 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 years' work into the third year, 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 would

bring him a protectress and a fortune. Twice during that week he saw Mme. de Beauseant; he did not go to

Victory for yet a few more days was with the great lady, the most poetic figure in the Faubourg

SaintGermain; and the marriage of the Marquis d'AjudaPinto with Mlle. de Rochefide 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 gradually become reconciled to the idea of

the marriage, and in the end would be brought to sacrifice d'Ajuda's morning 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 a leap

heroically from the window, she is falling headlong down the staircase," said her most intimate friend, the

Duchesse de Langeais. Yet this afterglow 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

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

In the days before the Revolution, JeanJoachim Goriot was simply a workman in the employ of a vermicelli

maker. He was a skilful, 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 mediocrity 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 eye. Nothing

there took him by surprise; he foresaw all things, knew all that was happening, and kept his own counsel; he

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 countinghouse, and he became once more the rough, slowwitted 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 allabsorbing 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 defenceless

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 ascendency 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 fatherhood developed in him till it almost became a mania. All the affection balked

by death seemed to turn to his daughters, 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 fatherinlaw, 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 Delphine 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 consequence 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

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 education. They had a chaperonluckily for them, she was a

woman who had good 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, their father would hasten to

give them their most extravagant desires, and asked nothing of them in return but a kiss. Goriot had raised the

two girls to the level of the angels; and, quite naturally, he himself was left beneath them. Poor man! he loved

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. Delphine 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 sonsinlaw 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 lodginghouse, driven there by despair when he knew that his daughters were compelled

by their husbands not only to refuse to receive him as an inmate in their houses, but even to see him no more

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

Towards the end of the first week in December Rastignac received two lettersone from his mother, and one

from his eldest sister. His heart beat fast, half with happiness, half 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 lifeblood. His mother's letter ran as follows:

"My Dear Child,I am sending you the money that you asked for. Make a good use of it. Even to save your

life I could not raise so large a sum a second time without your father's knowledge, and there would be

trouble about it. We should be obliged to mortgage the land. It is impossible to judge of the merits of schemes

of which I am ignorant; but what sort of schemes can they be, that you should fear to tell me about them?

Volumes of explanation would not have been needed; we mothers can understand at a word, and that word

would have spared me the anguish of uncertainty. I do not know how to hide the painful impression that your

letter has made upon me, my dear son. What can you have felt when you were moved to send this chill of

dread through my heart? It must have been very painful to you to write the letter that gave me so much pain

as I read it. To what courses are you committed? You are going to appear to be something that you are not,

and your whole life and success depends upon this? You are about to see a society into which you cannot

enter without rushing into expense that you cannot afford, without losing precious time that is needed for

your studies. Ah! my dear Eugene, believe your mother, crooked ways cannot lead to great ends. Patience and

endurance are the two qualities most needed in your position. I am not scolding you; I do not want any tinge

of bitterness to spoil our offering. I am only talking like a mother whose trust in you is as great as her

foresight for you. You know the steps that you must take, and I, for my part, know the purity of heart, and

how good your intentions are; so I can say to you without a doubt, 'Go forward, beloved!' If I tremble, it is

because I am a mother, but my prayers and blessings will be with you at every step. Be very careful, dear

boy. You must have a man's prudence, for it lies with you to shape the destinies of five others who are dear to

you, and must look to you. Yes, our fortunes depend upon you, and your success is ours. We all pray to God

to be with you in all that you do. Your aunt Marcillac has been most generous beyond words in this matter;

she saw at once how it was, even down to your gloves. 'But I have a weakness for the eldest!' she said gaily.

You must love your aunt very much, dear Eugene. I shall wait till you have succeeded before telling you all

that she has done for you, or her money would burn your fingers. You, who are young, do not know what it is

to part with something that is a piece of your past! But what would we not sacrifice for your sakes? Your aunt

says that I am to send you a kiss on the forehead from her, and that kiss is to bring you luck again and again,

she says. She would have written you herself, the dear kindhearted 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.

Goodbye, 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, goodbye! Do not leave us for long without news of you; and here, at the last, take a

By the time Eugene had finished the letter he was in tears. He thought of Father Goriot crushing his silver

keepsake 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 before 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

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 remorse which men seldom take into account

when they sit in judgment upon their fellowmen; but perhaps the angels in heaven, beholding it, pardon the

criminal whom our justice condemns. Rastignac opened his sister's letter; its simplicity and kindness revived

"Your letter came just at the right time, dear brother. Agathe and I had thought of so many different ways of

spending our money, that we did not know what to buy with it; and now you have come in, and, like the

servant who upset all the watches that belonged to the King of Spain, you have restored harmony; for, really

and truly, we did not know which of all the things we wanted we wanted most, and we were always

quarreling about it, never thinking, dear Eugene, of a way of spending our money which would satisfy us

completely. Agathe jumped for you. Indeed, we have been like two mad things all day, 'to such a prodigious

degree' (as aunt would say), that mother said, with her severe expression, 'Whatever can be the matter with

you, mesdemoiselles?' I think if we had been scolded a little, we should have been still better pleased. A

woman ought to be very glad to suffer for one she loves! I, however, in my inmost soul, was doleful and

cross in the midst of all my joy. I shall make a bad wife, I am afraid, I am too fond of spending. I had bought

two sashes and a nice little stiletto for piercing eyeletholes in my stays, trifles that I really did not want, so

that I have less than that slowcoach 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

"Do you know how we managed to keep your commandments? We took our glittering hoard, we went out for

a walk, and when once fairly on the highway we ran all the way to Ruffec, where we handed over the coin,

without more ado, to M. Grimbert of the Messageries Royales. We came back again like swallows on the

wing. 'Don't you think that happiness has made us lighter?' Agathe said. We said all sorts of things, which I

shall not tell you, Monsieur le Parisien, because they were all about you. Oh, we love you dearly, dear

brother; it was all summed up in those few words. As for keeping the secret, little masqueraders like us are

capable of anything (according to our aunt), even of holding our tongues. Our mother has been on a

mysterious journey to Angouleme, and the aunt went with her, not without solemn councils, from which we

were shut out, and M. le Baron likewise. They are silent as to the weighty political considerations that

prompted their mission, and conjectures are rife in the State of Rastignac. The Infantas are embroidering a

muslin robe with openwork sprigs for her Majesty the Queen; the work progresses in the most profound

secrecy. There be but two more breadths to finish. A decree has gone forth that no wall shall be built on the

side of Verteuil, but that a hedge shall be planted instead thereof. Our subjects may sustain some

disappointment of fruit and espaliers, but strangers will enjoy a fair prospect. Should the heirpresumptive

lack pocket handkerchiefs, be it known unto him that the dowager Lady of Marcillac, exploring the recesses

of her drawers and boxes (known respectively as Pompeii and Herculaneum), having brought to light a fair

piece of cambric whereof she wotted not, the Princesses Agathe and Laure place at their brother's disposal

their thread, their needles, and hands somewhat of the reddest. The two young Princes, Don Henri and Don

Gabriel, retain their fatal habits of stuffing themselves with grapejelly, of teasing their sisters, of taking their

pleasure by going abirdnesting, and of cutting switches for themselves from the osierbeds, maugre the

laws of the realm. Moreover, they list not to learn naught, wherefore the Papal Nuncio (called of the

commonalty, M. le Cure) threateneth them with excommunication, since that they neglect the sacred canons

of grammatical construction for the construction of other canon, deadly engines made of the stems of elder.

"Farewell, dear brother, never did letter carry so many wishes for your success, so much love fully satisfied.

You will have a great deal to tell us when you come home! You will tell me everything, won't you? I am the

oldest. From something the aunt let fall, we think you must have had some success.

"Of course not, in our family! Oh, bytheby, Eugene, would you rather that we made that piece of cambric

into shirts for you instead of pockethandkerchiefs? If you want some really nice shirts at once, we ought to

lose no time in beginning upon them; and if the fashion is different now in Paris, send us one for a pattern;

we want more particularly to know about the cuffs. Good bye! Goodbye! Take my kiss on the left side of

your forehead, on the temple that belongs to me, and to no one else in the world. I am leaving the other side

of the sheet for Agathe, who has solemnly promised not to read a word that I have written; but, all the same, I

mean to sit by her side while she writes, so as to be quite sure that she keeps her word.Your loving sister,

"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 foresight for me,she is like a heavenly angel forgiving the strange incomprehensible

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 discovered a man who

understood that his was a sort of paternal function for young men at their entrance into life, who regarded

himself as a steppingstone 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 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

powers 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; tomorrow, he will take the wall

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 lighthearted, 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

"Ah! if the women of Paris but knew," said Rastignac, as he devoured Mme. Vauquer's stewed pears (at five

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 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.

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

"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,

Vautrin struck an attitude, as if he were facing an antagonist. 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 falls flat and

harmless on skulls of triple brass, as cannonshot against solid masonry; then there are flaccid and

spongyfibred natures into which ideas from without sink like spent bullets into the earthworks of a redoubt.

Rastignac's head was something of the powdermagazine 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 lynxeyed;

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 orderslingers who are quick to detect the weak

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 countrymen. 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

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, seeing and hearing all things and saying nothing. Eugene, conscious of

"Be so good as to wait a moment," he said to Vautrin, as the latter rose, after slowly emptying his coffeecup,

"What for?" inquired the older man, as he put on his largebrimmed hat and took up the swordcane 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

"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 this 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

"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 sittingroom, and the student turned to go through the

"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 swordcane across the panels of the sittingroom door, and came

Rastignac looked coolly at Vautrin, drew him to the foot of the staircase, and shut the diningroom door.

They were standing in the little square lobby between the kitchen and the diningroom; the place was lighted

by an ironbarred fanlight above a door that gave access into the garden. Sylvie came out of her kitchen, and

"But there they are under the limetrees," cried Mlle. Victorine, who had risen so that she might see out into

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

"What ever can have happened?" she said. "M. Vautrin said to M. Eugene, 'Let us have an explanation!' then

Vautrin came in while she was speaking. "Mamma Vauquer," he said smiling, "don't frighten yourself at all. I

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

"Oh! this is something fresh!" he exclaimed in a bantering 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

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

"I don't want any shots fired in my garden," said Mme. Vauquer. "You will frighten the neighborhood and

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

"When I have given you ocular demonstration of the fact that I can put a bullet through the ace on a card five

times running at thirtyfive 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

"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 greenpainted 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 Trump(confound

it!)take Vautrin's word for it. What makes me like you? I will tell you byand 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

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, 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 misfortunes. 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 goodnatured 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; and, what is more, in Italian: A finespirited fellow he was! From him I learned to

follow the example set us by Providence, 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 Disorder. A duel is downright childish, my boy! utter nonsense and folly!

When one of two living men must be got 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 tossupheads or tailsand there you are! Now I, for instance, can hit

the ace in the middle of a card five times running, send one bullet after another through the same hole, and at

thirtyfive paces, moreover! With that little accomplishment you might think yourself certain of killing your

man, mightn't you. Well, I have fired, at twenty paces, and missed, and the rogue who had never handled a

pistol in his lifelook here!"(he unbuttoned his waistcoat and exposed 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 was oneandtwenty then (your age), and I had some beliefs

leftin 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 alternativesstupid 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 dragnets at SaintCloud, while we are gone to find out whether or no there

"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 toilette 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 mamma down yonder, a greataunt, two sisters (aged

eighteen and seventeen), two young brothers (one fifteen, and the other ten), that is about the rollcall of the

crew. The aunt brings up the two sisters; the cure comes 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 summer, it is about as much as she has; the sisters manage as best they can. I know all about

"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 manservant; 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 SaintGermain; we sleep on a trucklebed, and dream of a mansion! I do not blame

you for wanting these things. 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 newlycut 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. 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 mollusk 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 a

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 a 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, 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 becoming 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 around 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 swinefaugh!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 Mme. 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 on your forehead. I

knew it, I could read it'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 all to come from? You have drained your sisters' little

hoard (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 fivefranc 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 problemhow 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 skilful 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 six thousand francs. You will see officials buying estates on twelve thousand francs a year.

You will see women who sell themselves body and soul to drive in a carriage belonging to the son of a peer

of France, who has a right to drive in the middle 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 anywhere in Paris without stumbling on some infernal

complication. 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

"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 bondslaves who do the work

of the world without a reward for their toilGod 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 moment, 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

"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 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' strictures will never change it. Mankind are not perfect, but one

age is more or less hypocritical than another, and then simpletons 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 patriarachal 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 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 our old

friend Vautrin's, and made an amiable woman very happy, to say nothing 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. Fortyseven out of every sixty great matches here in Paris are made after

"Next to nothing," returned the other, with a slight involuntary 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 loneliness, despair, and poverty,

and who has no suspicion that 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 sacrificing 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 AmbiguComique in the evening;

you pawn your watch to buy her a shawl. I need not remind you of the fiddlefaddle 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

savagesIllinois and Hurons, who live on the proceed 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 gamebag 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 goodnatured 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 hobnobs with his

"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 bankersenior 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 have only 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 children, as I know. Victorine is gentle and

amiable; she will soon twist her father round her fingers, and set his head spinning 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 ultraroyalist; he is not one of those fools who never change their opinions.

Of all pieces of advice, my cherub, I would give you thisdon'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 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 everything 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 principle, I shall have a fixed and immovable opinionI 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 fencingmaster about to lunge)"turn him off into the

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

"There! there! Keep cool!" said the other. "Don't behave like a baby. But if you find any amusement in it, be

indignant, flare up! Say 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 remember 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 banknote for a

thousand francs, with aggravating circumstances, 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 crowbar, dark deeds both of them! You yourself will do every one of those things that I

suggest to you today, bar the bloodshed. Do you believe that there is any absolute standard in this world?

Despise mankind and find out the meshes that you can slip through 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

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

"Just as you please, my fine fellow; I did 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.

"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 himself, 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 language. 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

"To be faithful to an ideal of virtue! A heroic martyrdom! 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 mean that I must make up

my mind to lie, and fawn, and cringe, and swagger, and flatter, and dissemble? 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, 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 thing than

thisto 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

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

"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 Nucingen goes," Father Goriot's voice spoke from

"Very well then, she is going to the Marechale 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

"How did you find that out, my good Goriot?" said Eugene, 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

"YOU will see them both!" he said, giving artless expression to a pang of jealousy.

"I do not know," answered Eugene. "I will go to Mme. de Beauseant and ask her for an introduction to the

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 wrongdoing does not dare to behold himself in the mirror of

consciousness; mature age has seen itself; and therein lies the whole difference between these two phases of

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 other

animals. What physiognomist is as quick to discern character as a dog is to discover from a stranger's face

whether this is a friend or no? Those bywords"atoms," "affinities"are facts surviving in modern

languages for the confusion 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 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 friendship had, however, scarcely

reached the stage at which confidences are made. Though Eugene had spoken of his wish to meet Mme. de

Nucingen, it 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

sonsinlaw have behaved 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 all 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 ChampsElysees, after finding out from their waitingmaids 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 as if 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,

"Are they not my own flesh and blood? I love the very horses that draw them; I envy the little lapdog on

their 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

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 am I, sir, after all? An old carcase, 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 toilette. 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 drawingroom.

That walk was a turningpoint 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 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, and

received one of the terrible blows against which young hearts are defenceless. 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

"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 glovethe 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

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 generous compact which should bind the

benefactor to the recipient, and the first article in that bond, between two largehearted 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

"Madame," he faltered out, "I would not have come to trouble you about a trifling matter; be so kind as to

"Very well, come and dine with me," she said, a little confused by the harsh way in which she had spoken, for

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 diningroom, where the Vicomte was waiting for his wife. In the time of the Restoration the

luxury of the table was carried, as is well known, to the highest degree, and M. de Beauseant, like many jaded

men of the world, had few pleasures left but those of good cheer; in this matter, in fact, he was a gourmand of

the schools of Louis XVIII. and of the Duc d'Escars, and luxury was supplemented by splendor. Eugene,

dining for the first time in a house where the traditions of grandeur had descended through many generations,

had never seen any spectacle like this that now 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 selfpossession which

preeminently 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 lodginghouse, 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 numberless forms, clamorous or mute, that corruption takes in Paris,

commonsense begins to wonder what mental aberration 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 moneychanger'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 Paris, if skilfully drawn, would furnish a most dramatic picture of modern civilization.

In vain Mme. de Beauseant looked at Eugene as if asking him to speak; the student was tonguetied in the

"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."

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

" 'A Frenchman loves danger, because in danger there is glory,' to quote M. de Chateaubriand," said

A few moments later he was sitting beside Mme. de Beauseant 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

"You must talk to me, you know," said Mme. de Beauseant. "Ah! look! There is Mme. de Nucingen in the

The Vicomtesse glanced as she spoke at the box where Mlle. de Rochefide should have been; M. d'Ajuda was

"It is lucky for her that she has some distinction in her face. Just see how she fidgets with her operaglass!

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 making 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 welldressed cousin, who seemed to have

"If you look at her so persistently, you will make people talk, M. de Rastignac. You will never succeed if you

"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

"How could I aspire to find any one else to listen to me?" he asked, with a keen glance at his cousin. "Her

Grace the Duchesse 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 to her ball on Monday? I shall

"Willingly," she said. "If you have a liking for her already, your affairs of the heart are like 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 happens to be a banker's wife. All those ladies of

"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

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

"How noble, how sublime a woman is when she loves like that!" he said to himself. "And HE could forsake

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 its 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 said to himself. And he looked at Mme. de Nucingen as a man measures

The Vicomtesse turned to him, and the expression of her eyes thanked him a thousand times for his

"Do you know Mme. de Nucingen well enough to present M. de Rastignac to her?" she asked of the Marquis

"She will be delighted," said the Marquis. The handsome Portuguese rose as he spoke and took the student's

"Madame," said the Marquis, "I have the honor of presenting to you the Chevalier Eugene de Rastignac; he is

a cousin of Mme. de Beauseant's. You have made so deep an impression upon him, that I thought I would fill

Words spoken half jestingly to cover their somewhat disrespectful import; but such an implication, if

carefully disguised, never gives offence to a woman. Mme. de Nucingen smiled, and offered Eugene the

"I do not venture to suggest that you should stay with me, monsieur," she said. "Those who are so fortunate

"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,"

"Are you really going to stay with me, monsieur?" asked the Baroness. "Then we shall make each other's

acquaintance. Mme. de Restaud told me about you, and has made me anxious to meet you."

"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 Mme. 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, monsieur," said the banker's wife. "We shall be quite old

"Although a friendship with you could not be like an ordinary friendship," said Rastignac; "I should never

Such stereotyped phrases as these, in the mouths of beginners, 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, womanlike, being at a loss

how to reply to the student's outspoken admiration, she answered a previous remark.

"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 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,

"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 fails 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 inexhaustible

treasures of passion, and, like Cherubino, I am the lover of all women, until the day comes when I find 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 Beauseant 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

Nothing pleases a woman better than to listen to such whispered words as these; the most puritanical among

them listens even when she ought not to reply to them; and Rastignac, 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

"If Matame infites you to come," said the Baron, a thickset Alsatian, with indications of a sinister cunning in

"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 Beauseant, 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 rupture that rends the soul; so, happy in his

delusion, Eugene went with the Vicomtesse to the peristyle, where people were waiting till their carriages

"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

"But it is not certain that she does not still love the faithless lover," said Mme. de Beauseant.

The student meanwhile walked back from the TheatreItalien to the Rue NeuveSainteGenevieve, making

the most delightful plans as he went. He had noticed how closely Mme. de Restaud had scrutinized him when

he sat beside Mme. de Nucingen, and inferred that the Countess' doors would not be closed in the future. Four

important houses were now open to himfor he meant to stand well with the Marechale; he had four

supporters in the inmost circle of society in Paris. Even now it was clear to him that, once involved in this

intricate 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

"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, indeed, he was not sufficient of a diplomatist to sum up

a situation, 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 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 characters who do not yield to temptation, for whom the slightest deviation from the line of rectitude is

a crime. To these magnificent types of uncompromising Right we owe two masterpiecesthe 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 conscience, 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

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.

"Did she enjoy it?. . . . Just come inside," and the old man left his bed, unlocked the door, and promptly

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 window was curtainless, the walls were damp, in places the varnished wallpaper 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

oldfashioned 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 a ewer and basin and

shaving apparatus. A pair of shoes stood in one corner; a nighttable 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 crossbar

against which Father Goriot had crushed and twisted his possetdish stood near the hearth. The old man's hat

was lying on a brokendown bureau. An armchair 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 lodginghouse. 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

"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 grasped

The student repeated the Baroness' remarks with some embellishments of his own, the old man listening the

"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 sonsinlaw, I should be too happy, and I dare say there is no perfect happiness here below. If I might

live with themsimply 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

"Dear me, why should I want anything better?" he replied, 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?); 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 understand 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 somehow 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 cur; 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,

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, communicates 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 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

"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 part, I fell in love with

"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

"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. Mon Dieu! so

"None at all," said Eugene to himself; aloud he answered, "She told me to tell you that your daughter sends

"Goodnight, 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 tonight,

"Poor old fellow!" said Eugene as he lay down. "It is enough to melt a heart of stone. His daughter no more

Ever after this conference Goriot looked upon his neighbor as a friend, a confidant such as he had never

hoped to find; and there was established between the two the only relationship 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 certainly

(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 beginnings of a friendship that grew up between the old man and his neighbor; but for this friendship the

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 which lay before him; and now, as he remembered yesterday's proposal, the thought of

Mlle. 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 newcomer. "Eight hundred thousand francs!" a voice cried in

his ears, but suddenly he took refuge in the memories of yesterday evening, thinking that his extemporized

passion for Mme. de Nucingen was 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

delicious 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

"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.

"Perhaps you will see Mme. de Nucingen today," said Eugene, addressing Goriot in an undertone. "She will

welcome 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 will 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.

"What makes you look so solemn?" said the medical student, putting an arm through Eugene's as they went

"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?"

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

"Is he well stricken in years, this mandarin of yours? Pshaw! after all, young or old, paralytic, or well and

"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 for dresses and a carriage, and all her whims, in fact?"

"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 apiece 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

"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 Capuchins. 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

"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.

"Sir,I have heard from my father that you are fond of Italian music. I shall be delighted if you will do me

the pleasure of accepting a seat in my box. La Fodor and Pellegrini will sing on Saturday, so I am sure that

you will not refuse me. M. de Nucingen and I shall be pleased if you will dine with us; we shall be quite by

ourselves. If you will come and be my escort, my husband will be glad to be relieved from his conjugal

"Let me see it," said Father Goriot, when Eugene had read the letter. "You are going, aren't you?" he added,

when he had smelled the writingpaper. "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

Eugene did not know the fever or vanity that possessed some women in those days; how should he imagine

that to open a door in the Faubourg SaintGermain a banker's wife would go to almost any length. For the

coterie of the Faubourg SaintGermain 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 PetitChateau, as they were called,

were Mme. de Beauseant and her friends the Duchesse de Langeais and the Duchesse de Maufrigneause.

Rastignac was alone in his ignorance of the frantic efforts made by women who lived in the Chauseed'Antin

to enter this seventh heaven and shine among the brightest constellations of their sex. But his cautious

disposition stood him in good stead, and kept his judgment cool, and the not altogether enviable power of

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 tomorrow, 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 success 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 the 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 resistance. In other words, the

Eugene lingered over his toilette with an enjoyment of all its little details that is grateful to a young man's

selflove, 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

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 lodginghouse is a very characteristic trait. No one can put on a new coat but every one

"Clk! clk! clk!" cried Bianchon, making the sound with his tongue against the roof of his mouth, like a driver

"Yes, in compartments, watertight and floats, guaranteed fast color, all prices from twentyfive to forty

sous, neat check patterns in the latest fashion and best taste, will wash, halflinen, halfcotton, halfwool; a

certain cure for toothache and other complaints under the patronage of the Royal College of Physicians!

children like it! a remedy for headache, indigestion, and all other diseases affecting the throat, eyes, and

ears!" cried Vautrin, with a 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 Grrrand 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, boum! boum! Mister Clarinette, there you are out of tune!" he added

"Goodness! what an amusing man!" said Mme. Vauquer to Mme. Couture; "I should never feel dull with him

This burlesque of Vautrin's was the signal for an outburst of merriment, and under cover of jokes and

laughter Eugene caught a glance from Mlle. Taillefer; she had leaned over to say a few words in Mme.

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

Rastignac reached the house in the Rue SaintLazare, one of those manywindowed houses with a

meanlooking 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 drawingroom; the room was painted in the Italian fashion, and decorated

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

"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

"Perhaps. Yet, no," she went on; "it is a domestic quarrel, which ought to be buried in the depths of the heart.

I am very unhappy; did I not tell you so the day before yesterday? Golden chains are the heaviest of all

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

"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 teteatete,

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.

"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

"Oh! that is impossible," cried the law student; "but I am curious to know what these troubles can be that a

"Ah! if I were to tell you about them, you would shun me," she said. "Your love for me is as yet only the

conventional gallantry that men use to masquerade in; and, if you really loved me, you would be driven to

despair. I must keep silence, you see. Let us talk of something else, for pity's sake," she added. "Let me show

"No; let us stay here," answered Eugene; he sat down on the sofa before the fire, and boldly took Mme. de

Nucingen's hand in his. She surrendered it to him; he even felt the pressure of her fingers in one of the

"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,

"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."

"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

"To the PalaisRoyal," she said to the coachman; "stop near the TheatreFrancais."

She seemed to be too troubled and excited to answer the innumerable questions that Eugene put to her. He

When the carriage stopped at last, the Baroness gave the law student a glance that silenced his wild words, for

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

"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 housesI do not

know where they are, but there are some near the PalaisRoyal. 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 my troubles

"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 backshe can refuse me nothing now!"

Eugene took the dainty little purse, inquired the way of a secondhand clothesdealer, and hurried to number

9, which happened to be the nearest gaminghouse. He mounted the staircase, surrendered his hat, and asked

the way to the roulettetable, 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 thirtysix numbers, and it turns up, you will win thirtysix louis,"

Eugene staked the whole of his money on the number 21 (his own age). There was a cry of surprise; before

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

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

"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 who is down on his

Rastignac's head was swimming; he saw ten of his louis pass into the whitehaired man's possession, and

went downstairs 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

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

"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 you ask how I, with seven hundred thousand francs of my 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 separate 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 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 selflove 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 oneandtwenty, you, the soul of honor, with the unsullied conscience of youth, will ask me how

a woman can bring herself to accept money in such a way? MON DIEU! is it not natural to share everything

with the one to whom we owe 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 for life? Who that believes in love foresees such an end to

"You do not know how I suffered today 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, Anastasie 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 Indian shawl

worth a thousand 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!

tonight, 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 hands; Eugene drew them away and looked at her; she

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

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

"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

"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 banknotes. "In conscience I owe you a

Eugene's maiden conscience resisted; but when the Baroness said, "I am bound to look on you as an

"That was what I was dreading to hear," she cried, turning pale. "Oh, if you would that I should be anything

to you, swear to me that you will never reenter a gaminghouse. Great Heaven! that I should corrupt you! I

They had reached the Rue SaintLazare by this time. The contrast between the ostentation of wealth in the

house, and the wretched condition of its mistress, dazed the student; and Vautrin's cynical words began to

"Seat yourself there," said the Baroness, pointing to a low chair beside the fire. "I have a difficult letter to

"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

"She is charming," thought Eugene, more and more in love. He looked round him at the room; there was an

"Therese, take this to M. de Marsay, and give it into his hands yourself. If he is not at home, bring the letter

Dinner was announced. Rastignac gave his arm to Mme. de Nucingen, she led the way into a pretty

diningroom, 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

"Oh! you will succeed," she said laughing. "You will see. All that you wish will come to pass. _I_ did not

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 made her so lovely that every one indulged in those small slanders against which women are

defenceless; for the scandal that is uttered lightly is often seriously believed. Those who know Paris, believe

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 PalaisRoyal; Eugene reproached

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

He grew vexed. Then, with one of those impatient gestures that fill a lover with ecstasy, she gave him her

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 bestdressed women in Paris would be his; but, as a setoff, he saw his hopes of fortune brought

to nothing; and as soon as he realized 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

banknote in his pocket, and found any quantity of plausible excuses for appropriating it.

He reached the Rue NeuveSainteGenevieve 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 "telling him all about his daughter," to use his own expression. Eugene, accordingly, told him

"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! Mon 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 lifeannuity with

the rest. My good neighbor, why did not YOU 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 heartbreaking work. You see what it is to have

sonsin law. Oh! if I had hold of them, I would wring their necks. Mon Dieu! crying! Did you say she was

"Oh! give it to me," said Father Goriot. "What! my daughter's tears have fallen theremy 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 marriagecontract, she ought to have the use of her property. Tomorrow morning I

will go and see Derville; he is an attorney. I will demand that her money should be invested in her own name.

"Here, father; this is a banknote for a thousand francs that she wanted me to keep out of our winnings. Keep

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 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 timeI, who would sell the Father, Son and Holy Ghost to save one

"An honest man!" said Eugene to himself as he lay down. "Upon my word, I think I will be an honest man all

my life; it is so pleasant to obey the voice of conscience." Perhaps none but believers in God do good in

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 Marechale 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 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

Rastignac received several invitations. His cousin presented 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 upon

The next morning, at breakfast, he related the story of his success for the benefit of Father Goriot and the

"And do you suppose," cried that coldblooded logician, "that a young man of fashion can live here in the

Rue NeuveSainteGenevieve, in the Maison Vauqueran exceedingly respectable boardinghouse 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 Rastignac; but, after all, it

is in the Rue NeuveSainteGenevieve, 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

halfpaternal jocularity, "you must have three horses, a tilbury for the mornings, and a closed carriage for the

evening; 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 look any further. Love and the Church

demand a fair altarcloth. 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 provender, a

thousand francs for a place to roost in. Well, my boy, for all these little wants of ours we had need to have

twentyfive 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, goodbye to success, and goodbye to your mistress! I am

forgetting your valet and your groom! Is Christophe going to carry your billetsdoux for you? Do you mean

to employ the stationery you use at present? Suicidal 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,

Vautrin winked and leered in the direction of Mlle. Taillefer 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 NeuveSainteGenevieve in the small

hours. He rose at midday, 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 as the money. He had given out that he meant to leave the Maison Vauquer; but

One rule holds good of most young menwhether rich or poor. They never have money for the necessaries

of life, but they have always money to spare for their capricesan 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 simplya 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, would pay his jeweler

exorbitant prices for gold watches and chains, and then, to meet the exigencies of play, would carry them to

the pawnbroker, that discreet and forbiddinglooking 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 requirements. 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 pleasures of this extravagant life, and decided that he must continue 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 Bianchon one day as they left the dinner table.

The medical student took this for a joke, but it was not a jest. Eugene had dined in the house that night for the

first time for a long while, and had looked thoughtful during the meal. He had taken his place beside Mlle.

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 the

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 wintertime 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 masculine 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 the sight of the law student, who quite believed that Vautrin had left the room. He now

took up his position cunningly in the sittingroom 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,

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 Beauseant'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 impression on his heart. If in the earliest days the student had fancied himself to be master, Mme. de

Nucingen had since become the stronger of the two, for she had skilfully 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 themselves 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 demonstrative, was obeying a sentiment of dignity, and either repented 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 betrayed, 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 somewhat 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 held her so cheap that she was determined

that Eugene should not think her an easy conquest, and for this very reasonhe knew that de Marsay had

been his predecessor. Finally, after the degradation of submission to the pleasure of a heartless young rake, it

was so sweet to her to wander in the flowerstrewn 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 how many flowers are mown down in a young woman's soul

Whatever her reasons may have been, Delphine was playing 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 selflove was engaged; he could not suffer his first

passage of love to end in a defeat, and persisted in his suit like a sportsman determined to bring down at least

one partridge to celebrate his first Feast of SaintHubert. The pressure of anxiety, his wounded selflove, 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 Mlle. Taillefer. Poverty would clamor so loudly that more than once he was on the point of yielding to

the cunning temptations of the terrible sphinx, whose glance had so often exerted a strange spell over him.

Poiret and Mlle. Michonneau went up to their rooms; and Rastignac, thinking that he was alone with the

women in the diningroom, sat between Mme. Vauquer and Mme. Couture, who was nodding over the

woolen cuffs that she was knitting by the stove, and looked at Mlle. Taillefer so tenderly that she lowered her

"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

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

"You, for instance, mademoiselle; you feel sure of your heart today, but are you sure that it will never

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.

"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

"So there is to be an engagement of marriage between M. le Chevalier Eugene de Rastignac and Mlle.

Victorine Taillefer, is there?" The words were uttered in Vautrin's deep voice, and Vautrin appeared at the

"I might make a worse choice," said Rastignac, laughing. Vautrin's voice had thrown him into the most

Mme. Vauquer followed the two ladies, meaning to pass the evening in their room, an arrangement that

"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

The tempter took out a pocketbook, and drew thence three banknotes, 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 Count 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

"You must see," said Eugene, struggling to hide a convulsive tremor, "that after what has passed between us,

"Quite right; I should be sorry to hear you speak otherwise," 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 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 desireshonors,

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 lie 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 these

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 today, 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."

"Why no; I am a goodnatured 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 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 selfconstituted king. Times have altered

strangely. Once you could say to a bravo, 'Here are a hundred crowns; go and kill Monsieur Soandso 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

"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 childrenwhich will probably be the case, for I have

no anxiety to raise slips of myself hereyou 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," he said, and he snapped his

thumbnail against his teeth. "A man, in short, is everything 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 displayedgreat thoughts and feelingsand for these, and these only, I live. A sentimentwhat is that

but the whole world in a thought? Look at Father Goriot. For him, his two girls are the whole universe; they

are the clue by which he finds his way through creation. Well, for my own part, I have fathomed the depths of

life, there is only one real sentimentcomradeship between man and man. Pierre and Jaffier, that is my

passion. I knew 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

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 selfrespect by justifying their blameworthy actions to

"He may do as he likes; I shall not marry Mlle. 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

For some days the Countess had paid more and more attention 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, and made good his losses.

Most men who have their way to make are more or less of 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 he had given was still in the other's possession; and on

receiving a reply in the affirmative, he repaid the three thousand francs with a not unnatural relief.

"I know, I know," Vautrin broke in. "You are still acting like a child. You are making mountains out of

Two days later, Poiret and Mlle. 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,

"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 headwho would think it likely that such a man would continue to

lend an ear to this supposed independent gentleman of the Rue de Buffon, 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 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 quilldrivers, confined 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 thousand francs, a climate

where the bonus flourishes like a halfhardy annual in spite of some difficulties of culture. A characteristic

trait that best reveals the feeble narrowmindedness of these inhabitants of petty officialdom is a kind of

involuntary, 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 Excellency Monseigneur le

Ministre," five words which produce as much effect as the il Bondo Cani of the Calife 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 this peculiar radiance invests everything 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 titleHis Excellencyvouch 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? Pronounce 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 Government 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 vise or a thumbscrew, and he becomes part of the machinery of

Government. Wherefore, M. Gondureau, who seemed to know something of human nature, recognized Poiret

at once as one of those 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 unmasked 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 Mlle. Michonneau. "Very well, his Excellency is at this moment absolutely

certain that the socalled Vautrin, who lodges at the Maison Vauquer, is a convict who escaped from penal

"TrompelaMort?" said Pioret. "Dear me, he is very lucky if he deserves that nickname."

"Well, yes," said the detective. "They call him so because he has been so lucky as not to lose his life in the

very risky businesses that he has carried through. He is a dangerous man, you see! He has qualities that are

out of the common; the thing he is wanted for, in fact, was a matter which gained him no end of credit with

"Yes, according to his notions. He agreed to take another man's crime upon himselfa 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

"But if his Excellency the Minister of Police is certain that M. Vautrin is this TrompelaMort, why should

"Oh yes," said Poiret, "if the Minister, as you have been so obliging as to tell us, really knows for a

"Certainty is not the word; he only suspects. You will soon understand how things are. Jacques Collin,

nicknamed TrompelaMort, 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 affairs, which want a man of

"Ha! ha! do you see the pun, mademoiselle?" asked Poiret. "This gentleman calls himself a man of

"This socalled 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

"No, sir. A convict's wife is usually an illegitimate connection. We call them concubines."

"Why, these are abominations that his Excellency ought not to allow. Since you have the honor of seeing his

Excellency, you, who seem to have philanthropic ideas, ought really to enlighten him as to their immoral

"But the Government does not hold them up as models of all the virtues, my dear sir"

"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. TrompelaMort not only holds large sums for his friends the convicts, but he has other amounts which

"No. The Society of the Ten Thousand is not an association 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 mysterious 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 TrompelaMort, and take possession of his

funds, we should strike at the root of this evil. So this job is a kind of Government affaira State

secretand 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."

Mlle. Michonneau interposed at this point with, "What is there to hinder TrompelaMort from making off

"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. Besides, Collin is not the sort of fellow to play such a trick; he would be disgraced,

"But none of all this explains why you do not come and take him without more ado," remarked Mlle.

"Very well, mademoiselle, I will explainbut," 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.TrompelaMort,

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 lodginghouse. He is cunning, that

he is! You don't catch him napping. Then M. Vautrin is a man of consequence, who transacts a good deal of

"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 Coignard affair, the sham Comte de SainteHelene; if he had been the real Comte de

SainteHelene, we should have been in the wrong box. We want to be quite sure what we are about."

"TrompelaMort would not let a woman come near him," said the detective. "I will tell you a secrethe

"Still, I do not see what I can do, supposing that I did agree to identify him for two thousand francs."

"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

"But, my dear sir, suppose there are no letters at all," said Mlle. Michonneau; "am I to have the two thousand

"It is such a thing to do for so little! It lies on your conscience just the same, and I must quiet my conscience,

"I assure you," said Poiret, "that mademoiselle has a great deal of conscience, and not only so, she is a very

"Well, now," Mlle. Michonneau went on, "make it three thousand francs if he is TrompelaMort, and

"Done!" said Gondureau, "but on the condition that the thing is settled tomorrow."

"You are a sly one," said the detective as he rose to his feet. "Good bye till tomorrow, then. And if you

should want to see me in a hurry, go to the Petite Rue SaintAnne at the bottom of the Cour de la

SainteChapelle. There is 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

"Why didn't you close with him? It would be three hundred francs a year," said Poiret to Mlle. Michonneau.

"Why didn't I?" she asked. "Why, it wants thinking over. Suppose that M. Vautrin is this TrompelaMort,

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

"And suppose you did warn him," Poiret went on, "didn't that gentleman say that he was closely watched?

"Anyhow," thought Mlle. 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

Mlle. 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 Mlle. 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

By the time they reached the Maison Vauquer he had tacked 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

As they entered the diningroom, Eugene de Rastignac was talking apart with Mlle. Taillefer; the

conversation appeared to be of such thrilling interest that the pair never noticed the two older lodgers as they

"I knew how it would end," remarked that lady, addressing Poiret. "They have been making eyes at each

"I am talking about Mlle. Victorine," said Mlle, Michonneau, as she entered Poiret's room with an absent air,

"Guilty of falling in love with M. Eugene de Rastignac and going further and further without knowing exactly

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 motive 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 Mlle. Taillefer. To Victorine it seemed as if she heard an angel's

voice, that heaven was opening above her; the Maison Vauquer took strange and wonderful hues, like a stage

fairypalace. She loved and she was loved; 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.

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 throatsuch 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 eloquent,

more entrancing than the noblest deeds done for love's sake in the most famous romances. This plainsong 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.

"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

tomorrow in the redoubt at Clignancourt. By halfpast eight in the morning Mlle. 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 uncommonly handy thing to know."

Rastignac heard him in dazed bewilderment; he could not find a word in reply. Just then Goriot came in, and

"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 Rastignac 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 still have a few dubious tatters of the swaddling 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 character 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,

The old vermicelli dealer lighted his dip at one of the lamps as he spoke. Eugene went with him, his curiosity

"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 complete 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 SaintLazare, 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

thirtysix thousand francs a year, the interest on her money, and I shall insist on having her eight hundred

Eugene was dumb. He folded his arms and paced up and down in his cheerless, untidy room. Father Goriot

waited till the student's back was turned, and seized the opportunity to go to the chimneypiece 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

selfishness on my part; I have an interested motive in helping you to change lodgings. You will not refuse me

"There is a room on the fifth floor, up above your rooms, 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 ChampsElysees, where they go every day, so I shall be sure of seeing them,

whereas now I am sometimes too late. And thenperhaps 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 lighthearted and gay. Her soul is recovering, 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 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."

"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

today. 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 would die, if his gout would have the sense to attack his stomach,

how happy my poor child would be! You would be my soninlaw; you would be her husband in the eyes of

the world. Bah! she has known no happiness, that excuses everything. 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 so nicelooking, papa;

isn't he? He is kindhearted! 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 morning; I felt as light as a feather. I told her how you had given the

banknote to me; it moved my darling to tears. But what can this be on your chimneypiece?" said Father

Eugene stared at his neighbor in dumb and dazed bewilderment. He thought of Vautrin, of that duel to be

fought tomorrow 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 chimneypiece, saw the little

square case, opened it, and found a watch of Breguet's make wrapped in paper, on which these words were

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, 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

"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, I do know very well. You are not ashamed of me, are you? Not you! Let me embrace you," and he

"You will make her very happy; promise me that you will! You will go to her this evening, will you not?"

"My word, yes! Will you go to old Taillefer's while I go to Mme. de Nucingen? Ask him to make an

"Really, young man!" cried Father Goriot, with a change of countenance; "are you really paying court to his

daughter, as those simpletons were saying down below? . . . Tonnerre de dieu! you have no notion what a tap

a la Goriot is like, and if you are playing a double game, I shall put a stop to it by one blow of the fist. . . Oh!

"I swear to you that I love but one woman in the world," said the student. "I only knew it a moment ago."

"But young Taillefer has been called out; the duel comes off to morrow morning, and I have heard it said

"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

"Gentlemen!" shouted Christophe, "the soup is ready, and every one is waiting for you."

"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

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

"Why, what has come to you today?" inquired Mme. Vauquer. "You are as merry as a skylark."

"Well, yes, bargain. I have just delivered a lot of goods, and I shall be paid a handsome commission on

themMlle. 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 dare say?" he added,

"Bless my soul, you ought to stand as model for a burlesque Hercules," said the young painter.

"I will, upon my word! if Mlle. Michonneau will consent to sit as the Venus of PereLachaise," replied

"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 are you 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 Mlle. 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 Laffite, no political allusions intended.Come,

you Turk!" he added, looking at Christophe, who did not offer to stir. "Christophe! Here! What, you don't

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 righthand 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."

These exclamations came from all parts of the table like squibs from a set firework.

"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

"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,

"Those little cakes are mouldy 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 Museum official having

taken it into his head to mimic a catcall rather like the caterwauling of the animal in question, eight voices

But the palm was awarded to Bianchon for the nasal accent with which he rendered the cry of "Umbrellas to

A few seconds later, and there was a headsplitting 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 absorbed 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; tomorrow 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 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

Eugene heard all this, and could not answer a word; his tongue seemed to be glued to the roof of his mouth,

an irresistible 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, Mlle. Victorine, Vautrin,

and Father Goriot, Rastignac watched as though in a dream how Mme. Vauquer busied herself by collecting

"There is no one like M. Vautrin for a bit of fun like this," said Sylvie. "There, just hark at Christophe, he is

"Goodbye, 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"

"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

linetrees last summer, and then it is an improving work that might edify your young lady."

"Just look, those two yonder have dropped off where they sit," said Vautrin, shaking the heads of the two

He altered the sleeping student's position, settled his head more comfortably on the back of his chair, kissed

"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 wifethere'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 Madame Vauquer and put his arm round her waist, "put on your bonnet, your best flowered silk,

"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 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

Sylvie took him by the arm, supported him upstairs, and flung him just as he was, like a package, across the

"Poor young fellow!" said Mme. Couture, putting back Eugene's hair that had fallen over his eyes; "he is like

"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 Mlle. 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

"Pooh!" put in Mme. Vauquer, "he does not hear.Here, Sylvie! come and help me to dress. I shall put on

"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."

"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 diningroom, and Eugene slept 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 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.

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

"After all, he only took two glasses, mamma," said Victorine, passing 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.

"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

"Oh, no, you are wrong!" said Mme. Couture. "M. Vautrin is a worthy man; he reminds me a little of my late

husband, poor dear M. Couture, rough but kindhearted; 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

"Well," he remarked, folding his arms, "here is a picture! It would have suggested some pleasing pages to

Bernardin de SaintPierre (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 you are

sleeping.There is something touching and attractive to me about this young man, madame," he continued;

"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 (nonot 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, Mlle.

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

The heavy footsteps of the coquettish widow, who was coming down the stairs, interrupted Vautrin's

fortunetelling. "Here is Mamma Vauquerre, fair as a starrrr, 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

"There is a man who can talk the language of French gallantry!" said the widow, bending to speak in Mme.

"Goodbye, 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

"Goodbye, dear," said Mme. Vauquer to her lodger. "Do you think that M. Vautrin means to run away with

"Oh! mamma dear, suppose it should really happen as that kind M. Vautrin said!" said Victorine with a sigh

"Why, it wouldn't take much to bring it to pass," said the elderly lady; "just a fall from his horse, and your

"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. Blackhearted,

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

"It would be very hard if my fortune is to cost some 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."

"Mon 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

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 comfortable. Before they left the room, Victorine

snatched an opportunity when her guardian's back was turned, and pressed a kiss on Eugene's forehead,

feeling all the joy that 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

That evening's merrymaking, in the course of which Vautrin 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

laMort with Mlle. 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 PereLachaise that finally decided his fate. Mlle. 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 SaintAnne, still thinking that it was

the district superintendentone Gondureauwith 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. Mlle. 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 Mlle. 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 treacherous revelations

made by the prisoners the police were hoping to lay their hands on a considerable sum of money. But on

hinting her suspicions to the old fox of the Petite Rue Saint Anne, that officer began to smile, and tried to

"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

As Mlle. Michonneau seemed mystified, Gondureau explained 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 thinkinghis council; a chump is a contemptuous epithet that implies how little a human head is worth

"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 leftwe can kill him if he takes it into his head to make the

least resistance. We are reckoning on several methods of killing Collin tomorrow morning. It saves a trial,

and society is rid of him without all the expense of guarding and feeding him. What with getting up the case,

summoning witnesses, paying their expenses, 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 goodfornothings, over and above the three

thousand francs that you are going to have. There is a saving in time as well. One good thrust of the bayonet

into TrompelaMort'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."

"Really, you are talking in a very sensible manner tonight, 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 outofthe way style.

Paris is Paris, you see! That is the explanation of my life.I have the honor to wish you a goodevening,

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 Mlle. Michonneau, "there are idiots who are scared out of their wits by the

word police. That was a very pleasantspoken gentleman, and what he wants you to do is as easy as saying

The next day was destined to be one of the most extraordinary in the annals of the Maison Vauquer. Hitherto

the most startling occurrence in its tranquil existence had been the portentous, meteorlike 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

In the first place, Goriot and Eugene de Rastignac both slept till close upon eleven o'clock. Mme. Vauquer,

who came home about midnight from the Gaite, lay abed till halfpast ten. Christophe, after a prolonged

slumber (he had finished Vautrin's first bottle of wine), was behindhand with his work, but Poiret and Mlle.

Michonneau uttered no complaint, though breakfast was delayed. As for Victorine and Mme. Couture, they

also lay late. Vautrin went out before eight o'clock, and only came back just as breakfast was ready. Nobody

protested, therefore, when Sylvie and Christophe went up at a quarter past eleven, knocked at all the doors,

and announced that breakfast was waiting. While Sylvie and the man were upstairs, Mlle. Michonneau, who

came down first, poured the contents of the phial into the silver cup belonging to Vautrinit 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

"I feel neither false vanity nor anger where you are concerned, 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 have never loved before. What can have happened? Anxiety has

taken hold of me. I 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 out 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 soon, will you not? If you are busy, a line will be enough. Say, 'I will hasten to you,' or

else, 'I am ill.' But if you were ill my father would have come to tell me so. What can have happened? . . ."

"Yes, indeed, what has happened?" exclaimed Eugene, and, hurrying down to the diningroom, he crumpled

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. Taillefer's servants; Mme. Couture recognized the livery at once.

"Mademoiselle," he cried, "your father is asking for yousomething terrible has happened! M. Frederic has

had a sword thrust in the forehead in a duel, and the doctors have given him up. You will scarcely be in time

"Poor young fellow!" exclaimed Vautrin. "How can people brawl when they have a certain income of thirty

"Well, what then, you big baby!" said Vautrin, swallowing down his coffee imperturbably, an operation

which Mlle. Michonneau watched with such close attention that she had no emotion to spare for the amazing

news that had struck the others dumb with amazement. "Are there not duels every morning in Paris?" added

"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

"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

"There!" said Vautrin, looking at Eugene, "yesterday she had not a penny; this morning she has several

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 Mlle. Victorine," said Eugene, turning to Mme. Vauquer with an expression of

Father Goriot caught the student's hand and grasped it warmly. He could have kissed it.

The man went. Eugene was in a state of such violent excitement that he could not be prudent.

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

"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 hurry for the doctor was nothing but a flight.

"Here, Christophe, go round to the chemist's and ask for something that's good for the apoplexy."

Vautrin was taken up among them, carried carefully up the narrow staircase, and laid upon his bed.

"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 Mlle. Michonneau to Mme. Vauquer; the former, with some

Mme. Vauquer went down to her room, and left Mlle. 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,"

Vautrin was turned over; Mlle. Michonneau gave his shoulder a sharp slap, and the two portentous letters

"There, you have earned your three thousand francs very easily," exclaimed Poiret, supporting Vautrin while

Mlle. Michonneau slipped on the shirt again."Ouf! How heavy he is," he added, as he laid the convict

"Hush! Suppose there is a strongbox 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

"Where is the harm? It is money stolen from all sorts of people, so it doesn't belong to any one now. But we

"Here is the ether," said that lady. "I must say that this is an eventful day. Lord! that man can't have had a

"Lord! Yes, he looks as if he were sleeping. Sylvie has gone for a doctor. I say, Mlle. 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

say that redhaired people are either the worst or the best. Is he one of the good ones, I wonder?"

"Round a pretty woman's neck, you mean," said Mlle Michonneau, hastily. "Just go away, M. Poiret. It is a

woman's duty to nurse 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 evening he had meant to prevent the murder arranged for halfpast eight that morning. What had

happened? What ought he to do now? He trembled to think that he himself might be implicated. Vautrin's

"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

The Pilote 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 news into provincial districts

"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 Victorine one of the richest heiresses in Paris! If we had known that, eh? What a game of chance

"Shut up, Bianchon; I shall never marry her. I am in love with a charming woman, and she is in love with me,

"You said that as if you were screwing yourself up to be faithful to her. I should like to see the woman worth

"What is the matter with you? Are you mad? Give us your hand," said Bianchon, "and let me feel your pulse.

"Just go to Mother Vauquer's," said Rastignac; "that scoundrel Vautrin has dropped down like one dead."

"Aha!" said Bianchon, leaving Rastignac to his reflections, "you confirm my suspicions, and now I mean to

The law student's long walk was a memorable one for him. He made in some sort a survey of his conscience.

After a close scrutiny, after hesitation and selfexamination, his honor at any rate came out scatheless 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 himself. "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

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 make 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!"

"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 pay 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 humiliating. 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

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 halfpast four, to return to the Maison Vauquer through the

Bianchon had given Vautrin an emetic, reserving the contents of the stomach for chemical analysis at the

hospital. Mlle. Michonneau's officious alacrity had still further strengthened 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 lodginghouse. Vautrin was standing in front of the stove in the diningroom 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 gaze of Vautrin. It was the same look that had read his thoughts beforethe look

"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."

"You really might be sorry to see me still alive," said Vautrin in Rastignac's ear, thinking that he guessed the

"Mlle. Michonneau was talking the day before yesterday about a gentleman named TrompelaMort," said

Vautrin seemed thunderstruck. He turned pale, and staggered back. He turned his magnetic glance, like a ray

of vivid light, on Mlle. Michonneau; the old maid shrank and trembled under the influence of that strong will,

and collapsed into a chair. The mask of goodnature 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 understood this scene in the least, they looked on in mute amazement.

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

"In the name of the King and the Law!" said an officer, but the words were almost lost in a murmur of

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 the entrance to the sittingroom, and two

more men 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 cobblestones under the window. All chance of

salvation by flight was cut off for TrompelaMort, 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 suggestion of strength mingled with

cunning in the short, brickred crop of hair, the whole head was in harmony with his powerful 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 wild cat. He started back with savage energy and a fierce growl

that 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 instantly

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 cauldron 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 reflection that flashed across his brain like lightning. He began to smile, and

"You are not in the politest of humors today," he remarked to the chief, and he held out his hands to the

"Gentlemen," he said, "put on the bracelets or the handcuffs. I call on those present to witness that I make no

A murmur of admiration ran through the room at the sudden outpouring like fire and lava flood from this

"There's a sell for you, master crusher," the convict added, looking at the famous director of police.

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, addressing a little, whitehaired old man who had seated

himself at the end of the table; and after drawing a printed form from the portfolio, was proceeding to draw

up a document. "I acknowledge myself to be Jacques Collin, otherwise known as TrompelaMort,

condemned to twenty years' penal servitude, 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 other lodgers, "those three

sneaking wretches yonder would have drawn claret on Mamma Vauquer's domestic hearth. The rogues have

"Good Lord!" she cried, "this does give one a turn; and me at the Gaite with him only last night!" she said to

"Summon your philosophy, mamma," Collin resumed. "Is it a misfortune to have sat in my box at the Gaite

yesterday 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 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;

"Don't you trouble yourself," he went on; "I can get in my money. They are too much afraid of me to swindle

The convicts' prison, its language and customs, its sudden sharp transitions from the humorous to the

horrible, its appalling 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 degenerate race, a brutal,

supple, clearheaded race of savages. In one moment Collin became the poet of an inferno, wherein all

thoughts and passions that move human nature (save repentance) 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

"Who betrayed me?" said Collin, and his terrible eyes traveled round the room. Suddenly they rested on Mlle.

"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. My ledgers are here," he said tapping his forehead. "Now I know who sold me! It

could only be that blackguard FildeSoie. That is who it was, old catchpoll, eh?" he said, turning to the

chief. "It was timed so neatly to get the banknotes up above there. There is nothing left for youspies! As

for FildeSoie, 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 Michonnette?" 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 dragging 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 will all turn themselves inside out to help their generaltheir good

TrompelaMortto 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."

"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 weakkneed than others; he lifts up his voice against the colossal fraud of

the Social Contract, as Jean Jacques did, whose pupil he is proud to declare himself. In short, I stand here

singlehanded against a Government and a whole subsidized machinery of tribunals and police, and I am a

"Ye gods!" cried the painter, "what a magnificent sketch one might make of him!"

"Look here, you gentlemeninwaiting 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 FildeSoie 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

"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 gratitude. Receive my adieux, and permit

"Goodbye, 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 defence, called, "One, two!" like a fencingmaster, and lunged. "If anything goes

The strange speaker's manner was sufficiently burlesque, so that no one but Rastignac knew that there was a

As soon as the police, soldiers, and detectives had left the house, Sylvie, who was rubbing her mistress'

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 Mlle.

Michonneau, a thin, shriveled, deadalive, mummylike figure, crouching by the stove; her eyes were

downcast, as if she feared that the green eyeshade 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. Mlle. 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

In the twinkling of an eye it was clear that every one in the room, save Poiret, was of the medical student's

opinion, so that the latter, strong in the support of the majority, went up to that elderly person.

"You are more intimate with Mlle. Michonneau than the rest of us," he said; "speak to her, make her

"I have paid beforehand for the quarter; I have as much right to be here as any one else," she said, with a

"Never mind that! we will club together and pay you the money back," said Rastignac.

"Monsieur is taking Collin's part" she said, with a questioning, malignant glance at the law student; "it is not

Eugene started forward at the words, as if he meant to spring upon her and wring her neck. That glance, and

"Let us have no more of Mlle. Judas," said the painter, turning to Mme. Vauquer. "If you don't show the

Michonneau 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

At this Mme. Vauquer recovered miraculously. She sat up and folded her arms; her eyes were wide open

"Why, do you really mean to be the ruin of my establishment, my dear sir? There is M.

VautrinGoodness," 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

"Gentlemen, let us take our hats and go and dine at Flicoteaux'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

"Come, now," she said; "you would not be the ruin of my establishment, would you, eh? There's a dear, kind

soul. You see what a pass these gentlemen have brought me to; just go up to your room for this evening."

"Gentlemen," cried Poiret, his heart swelling with the courage that love gives to the ovine male, "respect the

"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 Mlle. Michonneau, with whom Mme. Vauquer was

"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

"Oh! mademoiselle, what is to be done?" cried Mme. Vauquer. "I am a ruined woman. You can't stay here;

These alternate exclamations, and a suggestion of hostile intentions, borne out by the behavior of the

insurgents, compelled Mlle. Michonneau to take her departure. She made some stipulations, 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. Vauquer, who regarded this choice of an opposition

establishment as an atrocious insult. "Go and lodge with the Buneaud; the wine would give a cat the colic,

The boarders stood aside in two rows to let her pass; not a word was spoken. Poiret looked so wistfully after

Mlle. 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 Mlle. Michonneau, burst out laughing at the sight of him.

"Hist!st!st! Poiret," shouted the painter. "Hallo! I say, Poiret, hallo!" The employe from the Museum

"Get along with you; you must be dying to go, trahit sua quemque voluptas!" said Bianchon.

Mlle. 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

A messenger came in at that moment with a letter for Mme. Vauquer, who read it through, and collapsed in

"The house might as well be burned 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 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 as her lady

But it was Goriot who came in, looking so radiant, so flushed with happiness, that he seemed to have grown

The good soul made straight for Eugene, who was standing wrapped in thought in a corner, and laid a hand

"Then you haven't heard the news?" said Eugene. "Vautrin was an escaped convict; they have just arrested

"Very well, but what business is it of ours?" replied Father Goriot. "I am going to dine with my daughter in

He carried off Rastignac with him by main force, and they departed in as great a hurry as a pair of eloping

"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 today! The haricot mutton has caught! Bah! you

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 today. Indifference to the fate of others is a matter of course in this

selfish world, which, on the morrow of 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 clearheadedness, 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

"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. I have been working like a porter in

my shirt sleeves, helping 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

"Upside down?" repeated Father Goriot. "Why, the world has never been so rightside 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

"Why, hurry up there!" cried Father Goriot, letting down the window in front. "Get on faster; I will give you

With this prospect before him the cabman crossed Paris with miraculous celerity.

The cab stopped in the Rue d'Artois. Father Goriot stepped out first and flung ten francs to the man with the

"Come along upstairs," he said to Rastignac. They crossed a courtyard, and climbed up to the third floor of a

new and handsome house. There 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 set of chambers; an anteroom, a

little drawingroom, a bedroom, and a study, looking out upon a garden. The furniture and the decorations of

the little drawingroom 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 firescreen down on the

Therese 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 Rastignac's overwrought nerves, after the day's strain and excitement that had wearied heart and

"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

"But you must see your rooms," said Mme. de Nucingen. She took his hand and led him into a room carpeted

and furnished like her own; indeed, down to the smallest details, it was a reproduction in miniature of

"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 be; I can dare to say so, since we

"Ah! that is what I wanted. You will not mind me, will you? I shall go and come like a good fairy who makes

himself felt everywhere without being seen, shall I not? Eh, Delphinette, Ninette, Dedelwas 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! 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 themselves; always

"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

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 drawingroom 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

But Eugene had submitted so lately to that solemn selfquestioning, 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 abandoning his highminded

"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 Ilove you, why should you shrink back from such a slight

obligation? If you but knew what a pleasure 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. Of, 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

Father Goriot was looking on and listening to this pretty quarrel with a placid smile, as if he had found some

"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 today? Did not a lady in 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. "Mon Dieu! papa, make up his mind for him, or I will go away and never see him any

"I will make up your mind," said Goriot, coming down from the clouds. "Now, my dear M. Eugene, the next

"All right, I will give you credit," said the other, drawing out a cheap leather pocketbook, much the worse

for wear. "I have turned Jew myself; I paid for everything; here are the invoices. You do not owe a penny for

anything here. It did not come to very muchfive thousand francs at most, and I am going to lend you the

money myself. I am not a womanyou can refuse me. You shall give me a receipt on a scrap of paper, and

Delphine and Eugene looked at each other in amazement, tears sprang to their eyes. Rastignac held out his

"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 proceedings 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 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 fortnight past I have been laughing in my

sleeve, thinking to myself, 'How happy they are going to be!' andwell, 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

"Dear father, what a father you are! No, there is not another father like you under the sun. If Eugene loved

"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.

"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 than his fingers had

"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 more than that," he said in her ear, with another

Eugene sat dumb with amazement in the presence of this inexhaustible love; he gazed at Goriot, and his face

"Oh! my Eugene, that is nobly said," and Mme. de Nucingen kissed the law student on the forehead.

"He gave up Mlle. Taillefer and her millions for you," said Father Goriot. "Yes, the little thing was in love

"Eugene," Delphine said in his ear, "I have one regret now this evening. Ah! how I will love you! and for

"This is the happiest day I have had since you two were married!" cried Goriot. "God may send me any

suffering, so long as I do 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 colorthat 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

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 mehow little it takes to make me happy! Will you come and see

me sometimes? I shall be just above, so it is only a step. Promise me, say that you will!"

"Hush! hush! I should make you say it a hundred times over if I followed my own wishes. Let us have

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

"You see!" Delphine said with a look at Eugene, "so long as my father is with us, he monopolizes me. He will

Eugene had himself already felt certain twinges of jealousy, and could not blame this speech that contained

"And when will the rooms be ready?" asked Eugene, looking round. "We must all leave them this evening, I

"Yes, but tomorrow you must come and dine with me," she answered, with an eloquent glance. "It is our

It was midnight. Mme. de Nucingen's carriage was waiting 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 selfless love was

deeper and more steadfast than his own. For this worshiper Delphine was always pure and fair, and her

father's adoration drew its fervor from a whole past as well as a future of love.

They found Mme. Vauquer by the stove, with Sylvie and 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 furniture 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.

"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 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 very penny on the nail too."

"Why, no there isn't! he said so himself!" said Mme. Vauquer. "And to think that all these things have

happened 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 lodginghouses

are not liable to revolutions. 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 tobut there, it is the end of the world, that is just what it is!"

"And to think that Mlle. Michonneau who made all this mischief is to have a thousand crowns a year for it, so

"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"

But the two faithful lodgers, who retained but shadowy recollections of the misfortunes of their

lodginghouse, announced to their hostess without more ado that they were about to remove to the Chaussee

"Sylvie!" cried the widow, "this is the last straw.Gentlemen, 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! And what is to be done with the haricots!Oh, well, if I am to be left here all by myself, you shall go

"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 ladylove'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 rooms; and that in a very

"God send it may, my dear sir! but bad luck has come to lodge here. There'll be a death in the house before

ten days are out, you'll see," and she gave a lugubrious look round the diningroom. "Whose turn will it be, I

"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."

The poor woman could not finish her sentence; she clasped her hands and hid her face on the back of her

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,

"Well," said Eugene to himself, as he read the note a second time, "Mme. de Beauseant says pretty plainly

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 impatience 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

womanthat is to say, if she appears to him amid the splendid accessories that form a necessary background

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 sentiments. 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 obligations

to discharge, that she must fulfil 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,

brazenfronted, ostentatious, thriftless charlatan. If at the Court of Louis XIV. there was not a woman but

envied Mlle. 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 Duc 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

If there are exceptions who do not subscribe to these Draconian 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 everflowing 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 circumstances of power and grandeur,

meant to enter the lists fully armed; the burning ambition of conquest 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, ambition may become something

very noble, subduing to itself every thought of personal interest, and setting as the endthe greatness, not of

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 childhood 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 idealthe 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 a 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

"Madame is in her room," Therese came to tell him. The woman's voice made him start.

He found Delphine lying back in her low chair by the fireside, 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

"Guess what I bring for you," said Eugene, sitting down beside her. He took possession of her arm to kiss her

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 youto thee" (she whispered the more intimate word in his ear); "but Therese

is in my dressingroom, let us be prudent.This happinessyes, for I may call it so, when it comes to me

through YOUis surely more than a triumph for selflove? 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 Parisienne, 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

"Mme. de Beauseant's note seems to say very plainly that she does not expect to see the Baron de Nucingen

"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 honor of 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 threatened. In this predicament, it seems that my sister sold her diamonds to a Jewthe

beautiful 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

At one o'clock that morning Eugene was still with Mme. de Nucingen. In the midst of their lovers' farewell, a

farewell 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

"Ah! have we changed places, and am I the child tonight?" 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

"Everything, will you not?" cried the old man. "Go to bed. Tomorrow our happy life will begin."

Next day, Goriot and Rastignac were ready to leave the lodginghouse, 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 NeuveSainte

Genevieve, and a carriage stopped before the door of the Maison Vauquer. Mme. de 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 superintend 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 NueveSainte Genevieve. 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

"Ah! thank heaven that you thought of asking him to give an account of the money settled on me before I was

"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 something so important happened that you must come here about it? In a few minutes we should

"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 come 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

"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 compel 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 condition 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 short, he put himself in 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 practise 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 ledgershe 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 straightforward they are pretty 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 PereLachaise. I know something about

business still. He has sunk his money in speculation, he says; very well then, there is something to show for

itbills, 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 fortyeight hours? I would not stand it a dayno, 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

existence. Your money is settled upon you, God be thanked! and, luckily, your attorney, Maitre Derville, is

an honest man. Good Lord! you shall have your snug little million, your fifty thousand francs 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 concession

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 correspondence, the whole business. I shall have no peace until I know for certain

"Oh! father dear, be careful how you set about it! If there is the least hint of vengeance in the business, if you

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

"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 lifebody and soul and consciencethe same through and

throughhideous! 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 stalkinghorse."

"But there is law to be had! There is a Place de Greve for sonsinlaw of that sort," cried her father; "why, I

"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 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 conscience, and the price is liberty to be Eugene's wife in all but

name. 'I connive at your errors, and you allow me to commit crimes and ruin poor families!' Is that

sufficiently explicit? Do you know what he means by speculations? He buys up land in his own name, then

he finds men of straw to run 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

bankruptcy. 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

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

"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

"Do not cry either, my little Delphine. Look up and let me kiss away the tears. There! I shall find my wits and

"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

tomorrow and go through the books, and look into the business. M. Derville knows little of mercantile

matters. No, not tomorrow though. I do not want to be upset. Mme. de Beauseant's ball will be the day after

tomorrow, and I must keep quiet, so as to look my best and freshest, and do honor to my dear Eugene! . . .

But as she spoke a carriage stopped in the Rue NueveSainte 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

"Oh, father, have you heard about Anastasie?" said Delphine, when she heard her sister speak. "It looks as

"What sort of things?" asked Goriot. "This is like to be the death of me. My poor head will not stand a double

"Goodmorning, father," said the Countess from the threshold. "Oh! Delphine, are you here?"

"Goodmorning, Nasie," said the Baroness. "What is there so extraordinary in my being here? _I_ see our

"Don't tease, Delphine," said the Countess fretfully. "I am very miserable, I am lost. Oh! my poor father, it is

"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."

"This will kill me!" said their father. "There," he went on, stirring the smouldering fire, "come nearer, both of

"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 beginning 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 is enough; and then you feel things instinctively. Indeed, he

was more tender and affectionate than ever, and I was happier than I had ever been before. Poor Maxime! in

himself he was really saying goodbye to me, so he has told me since; he meant to blow his brains out! At

last I worried him so, and begged and implored so hard; for two hours I knelt at his knees and prayed and

entreated, and at last he told methat 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 got it for you unless I had stolen it. But I would have done that for you,

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

"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.

Anastasie bowed her head, Mme. de Nucingen flung her arms about her, kissed her tenderly, and held her

"My angels," murmured Goriot faintly. "Oh, why should it be trouble that draws you together?"

"To save Maxime's life," she said, "to save all my own happiness, I went to the moneylender 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 ofhis and mine tooand sold them to that M. Gobseck. Sold them! Do you understand? I saved

"Yesterday he sent to tell me to come to his room. I went. . . . 'Anastasie,' he said in a voiceoh! such a

voice; that was enough, it told me everything'where are your diamonds?''In my room' 'No,' he

said, looking straight at me, 'there they are on that chest of drawers' and he lifted his handkerchief and

showed me the casket. 'Do you know where they came from?' he said. I fell at his feet. . . . I cried; I besought

"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 . . ."

"And then, dear, he asked something worse than death of me. Oh! heaven preserve all other women from

"I will murder that man," said Goriot quietly. "But he has only one life, and he deserves to die twice.And

"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

"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 ineptitude? He will have

to reckon with me. Make yourself easy, Nasie. Aha! he cares about his heir! 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

"Yes. I am your father, Nasie, a father indeed! That rogue of a great lord had better not illtreat 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

"We have never been happy since," said Delphine. "Where are the old days when we slid down the sacks in

"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 a fearful price for it that I should 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.

Something more than my happiness is at stake; the children have nothing, and if he is sent to SaintePelagie

"I haven't the money, Nasie. I have nothingnothing left. This is the end of everything. Yes, the world is

crumbling into ruin, I am sure. Fly! Save yourselves! Ah!I have still my silver buckles left, and

halfadozen silver spoons and forks, the first I ever had in my life. But I have nothing else except my life

"I sold out, and only kept a trifle for my wants. I wanted twelve thousand francs to furnish some rooms for

"I see how it is," said the Countess. "Rooms for M. de Rastignac. Poor Delphine, take warning by me!"

"Thanks! Delphine. I thought you 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!"

"And if I am?" cried Delphine, flushing up, "how have you treated me? You would not recognize me; you

closed 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 thousand 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

"You were better off than I. M. de Marsay was rich, as you have reason to know. You always were as

"Nobody else would repeat what everybody has ceased to believe. You are an unnatural sister!" cried

"There, Nasie, I forgive you," said Mme. de Nucingen; "you are very unhappy. But I am kinder than you are.

How could you say that just when I was ready to do anything in the world to help you, even to be reconciled

with my husband, which for my own sake I Oh! it is just like you; you have behaved cruelly to me all

"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

"I shall tell you the truth about yourself if you begin to slander me," said the Baroness coldly.

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

"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 extravagant grief in her father's face, "I was in the wrong,

"Ah! that is like balm to my heart," cried Father Goriot. "But how are we to find twelve thousand francs? I

"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

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

"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. This bill can be discounted, and I shall

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 let you to wreak your vengeance on me by

betraying my secrets, my life, my children's lives, my shame, my honor! There, you are nothing to me any

"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; if I had God's power, I would fling worlds at your feet. Why don't you kiss him,

"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

"Sir? . . ." she said, doubt and inquiry in her face, tone, and bearing; she took no notice now of her father nor

"Madame," said Eugene, answering the question before it was asked, "I will meet the bill, and keep silence

"You have killed our father, Nasie!" said Delphine, pointing to Goriot, who lay unconscious on the bed. The

"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

"Nothing, nothing," said Goriot; "it will go off. There is something heavy pressing on my forehead, a little

Just as he spoke, the Countess came back again and flung herself on her knees before him. "Forgive me!" she

"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."

"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?"

"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 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."

"Poor Anastasie, she always had a violent temper," said Mme. de Nucingen, "but she has a good heart."

"I only wish I could think otherwise. Do not trust her," he answered, raising his eyes as if he confided to

Eugene helped him to bed, and Delphine sat by the bedside, holding his hand until he fell asleep. Then she

"This evening at the Italiens," she said to Eugene, "and you can let me know how he is. Tomorrow you will

leave this place, monsieur. Let us go into your room.Oh! how frightful!" she cried on the threshold. "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 thousand 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 appearances he was asleep, but the

two lovers caught the words, "They are not happy!" Whether he was awake or sleeping, the tone in which

they were spoken went to his daughter's heart. She stole up to the palletbed on which her father lay, and

"Quite comfortable. Do not worry about me; I shall get up presently. Don't stay with me, children; go, go and

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 smelled it to find out the

quality of the flour, the medical student, studying him closely, saw that the action was purely mechanical, and

Bianchon went the more willingly because his change of place brought him next to the old lodger.

"It is all up with him, or I am much mistaken! Something 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 though they were covered with a film of fine dust, do you notice?

"None. It might be possible to stave death off for a time if a way could be found of setting up a reaction in the

lower extremities; but if the symptoms do not abate by tomorrow 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

"Yes, there was," said Rastignac, remembering how the two daughters had struck blow on blow at their

That evening at the opera Rastignac chose his words carefully, lest he should give Mme. de Nucingen

"Do not be anxious about him," she said, however, as soon as Eugene began, "our father has really a strong

constitution, but this morning we gave him a shock. Our whole fortunes were in peril, so the thing was

serious, you see. I could not live if your affection did not make me insensible to troubles that I should once

have thought too hard to bear. At this moment I have but one fear left, but one misery to dreadto lose the

love that has made me feel glad to live. Everything else is as nothing to me compared with our 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 miserable marriages

from him? Why did he allow us to marry when we did? Was it not his duty to think for us and foresee for us?

Today I know he suffers as much as we do, but how can it be helped? And as for comforting him, we could

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 selfabsorbed, 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,

"I am thinking about what you said just now. Hitherto I have always felt sure that I cared far more for you

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 sincere and youthful love; a few more words,

"Eugene," she said, changing the conversation, "I wonder whether you know what has been happening? All

Paris will go to Mme. de Beauseant's tomorrow. The Rochefides and the Marquis d'Ajuda have agreed to

keep the matter a profound secret, but tomorrow the king will sign the marriagecontract, and your poor

cousin the Vicomtesse knows nothing of it as yet. She cannot put off her ball, and the Marquis will not be

"The world laughs at baseness and connives at it. But this will kill Mme. de Beauseant."

"Oh, no," said Delphine, smiling, "you do not know that kind of woman. Why, all Paris will be there, and so

"Perhaps, after all, it is one of those absurd reports that people set in circulation here."

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 of 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 lodginghouse. Neither Father

"Aha!" said the painter as Eugene came in, "Father Goriot has broken down at last. Bianchon is upstairs with

him. One of his daughtersthe Comtesse de Restauramacame 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."

"It is this, sir," said the widow. "You and M. Goriot should by rights have moved out on the 15th of February.

That was three days ago; to day is the 18th, I ought really to be paid a month in advance; but if you will

"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 morning 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, andLord, forgive mebut I thought

"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

"Nothing but a miracle can save him now. Serous congestion has set in; I have put on mustard plasters, and

"Quite out of the question. He must stay where he is, and be kept as quiet as possible"

"He will give no opinion till tomorrow 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 pretends 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

"Was it the Countess?" asked Eugene. "A tall, darkhaired woman, with large bright eyes, slender figure, and

"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."

"How they will enjoy themselves tomorrow," said Father Goriot when they were alone. "They are going to a

"What were you doing this morning, papa, to make yourself so poorly this evening that you have to stop in

"Oh, she was very miserable," he answered, gathering up all his strength to speak. "It was this way, my boy.

Since 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 setting for a jewel. Her mantuamaker, a woman without a conscience, would not give her

credit, so Nasie's waitingwoman 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 balldress until the money is paid. The gown is ready, and the ball is tomorrow

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 scoundrel 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 toilette, 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 on 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 banknote for a thousand francs is under my pillow; it warms me to have it lying there 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 mistress, did any one ever hear the like! I shall be quite well tomorrow. 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. Tomorrow 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

"Come," he said, "do not talk any more, you must rest" Just then Bianchon came up, and Eugene went

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 givea task impossible to describe in the squeamish phraseology of the epoch.

Leeches must be applied to the wasted body, the poultices and hot footbaths, and other details of the

treatment required the physical strength and devotion of the two young men. Mme. de Restaud did not come;

"I expected she would come herself; but it would have been a pity for her to come, she would have been

"What are you doing, dear friend? I have been loved for a very little while, and I am neglected already? In the

confidences of heart and heart, I have learned to know your soulyou are too noble not to be faithful for

ever, for you know that love with all its infinite subtle changes of feeling is never the same. Once you said, as

we were listening to the Prayer in Mose in Egitto, 'For some it is the monotony of a single note; for others, it

is the infinite of sound.' Remember that I am expecting you this evening to take me to Mme. de Beauseant's

ball. Every one knows now that the King signed M. d'Ajuda's marriagecontract 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

"I am waiting till the doctor comes to know if there is any hope of your father's life. He is lying dangerously

ill. I will come and bring you the news, but I am afraid it may be a sentence of death. When I come you can

At halfpast 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

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

Eugene, half heartbroken, entered Delphine's. Her hair had been dressed; she wore her dancing slippers; she

had only to put on her balldress; but when the artist is giving the finishing stroke to his creation, the last

"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

"Do go, Monsieur Eugene, or you will vex madame," said Therese, hurrying him away; and Eugene was too

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

He had seen society in its three great phasesObedience, Struggle, and Revolt; the Family, the World, and

Vautrin; and he hesitated in his choice. Obedience was dull, Revolt impossible, 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 obedience 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 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 circumstances in the case, differences of temperament, divergent

interests, innumerable complications of family life that excuse the apparent offence.

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 sublime, he adored for the pleasure she had brought as her dower;

and Delphine loved Rastignac as Tantalus would have loved some angel who had satisfied his hunger and

"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 affections, we will just go in to see

"Very well," she said. "Yes, but afterwards. Dear Eugene, do be nice, and don't preach to me. Come."

"I can hear the deathrattle 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 selfsacrifice, that

had brought about this struggle between life and death, of the price that had been paid for Anastasie's golden

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 grand 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 worldits 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 toilettes, and

radiant with smiles. Ministers and ambassadors, the most distinguished men at court, men bedizened with

decorations, stars, and ribbons, men who bore the most illustrious names in France, had gathered about the

The music of the orchestra vibrated in wave after wave of sound from the golden ceiling of the palace, now

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.

"Madame," he said, in an unsteady voice, taking her speech as a reproach, "I shall be the last to go, that is

"Good," she said, and she took his hand. "You are perhaps the only one 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

"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

Rastignac went. He asked for the Marquis d'Ajuda at the 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

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 had been

a fatal mistake; but a proud gleam shone in his eyes, and with deplorable courage he kept his noblest feelings

"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 large in

"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 be long 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 the world. At five o'clock this morning I shall set out on my journey; I mean to bury

myself in the remotest 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

Again she broke off; the weight of her sorrow was more than she could bear. In such moments as these

"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,

freshhearted 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

She stood for a moment. Then she covered her eyes with her hands for an instant, dashed away the tears,

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. 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 palletbed on

which Father Goriot was lying. The Vicomtesse misread his melancholy; she withdrew her hand from his

Eugene was soon claimed by Delphine. She was delighted by 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

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 last. She had taken leave of M. de Beauseant, who had gone off to

bed, saying again as he went, "It is a great pity, my dear, to shut yourself up at your age! Pray stay among

Mme. de Beauseant saw the Duchesse, and, in spite of herself, 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

"I could not let you go without a word, dearest; the remorse 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

our 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

Montriveau was not here tonight; do you understand what that means?None of those who saw you

tonight, Clara, will ever forget you. I mean to make one last effort. If I fail, I shall go into a convent. Clara,

"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

"Goodbye, Antoinette!" said Mme. de Beauseant. "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 Beauseant into her

traveling carriage, and received her last farewells, spoken amid fastfalling tears; for no greatness is so great

that it can rise above the laws of human affection, or live beyond the jurisdiction of pain, as certain

demagogues would have the people believe. Eugene returned on foot to the Maison Vauquer through the cold

"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

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 drawersresult, nix. I asked him about it while his mind was clear, and he told me he had not a

"I have twenty francs left," said Rastignac; "but I will take them to the roulette table, I shall be sure to win."

"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 dispensary 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 hospital; poor fellow, he would be better there. Well, come along, I leave you in charge; you

The two young men went back to the room where the old man was lying. Eugene was startled at the change

"How are you, papa?" he said, bending over the palletbed. 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

"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 we 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 is 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

"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 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 HotelDieu. 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 exercised; 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 mysterious 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 postmortem examination. There is an old

man at the Hospital for Incurables, an imbecile patient, in his case the effusion has followed the direction of

"Did they enjoy themselves?" It was Father Goriot who spoke. He had recognized Eugene.

"Oh! he thinks of nothing but his daughters," said Bianchon. "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! and Nasie!' Upon my word," said the medical

"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

Rastignac was left alone with the old man. He sat at the foot of the bed, and gazed at the face before him, so

"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

Pictures of yesterday's ball rose up in his memory, in strange contrast to the deathbed before him. Bianchon

"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

"Oh! it is an interesting case from a scientific point of view," said the medical student, with all the enthusiasm

"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 offence

at this speech. "Doctors who have seen a good deal of practice never see anything but the disease, but, my

He went. Eugene was left alone with the old man, and with an apprehension of a crisis that set in, in fact,

"Yes. My head felt as if it were being screwed up 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!

"I can hear Christophe coming upstairs," Eugene answered. "He is bringing up some firewood that that young

"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!)

Eugene went over to Christophe and whispered in the man's ear, "I will pay you well, and Sylvie too, for your

"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

"They will come before long," the old man went on. "I know them so well. My tenderhearted 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, 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 can come back to earth, and be

near them in spirit? I have heard some such things said. It is true? It is as if I could see them at this moment

as they used to be when we all lived in the Rue de la Jussienne. They used to come downstairs of a morning.

'Goodmorning, 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 coaxing ways. We always had breakfast together, too, every

morning, and they had dinner with mein 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 making some. I will go to Odessa and manufacture starch there. I am an old hand, I

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 important business, when it is all finished she can go.' The gentleman looked angry, I

thought. I was just going away when Mme. de Restaud came out into an antechamber 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 Baronne, that is another story! I could not speak to her either, and I did not even see

her. Her waitingwoman 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 midday 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 know your children. . . . Oh! my friend, do

not marry; do not have children! You give them life; they give you your deathblow. 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

"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; nowI have nothing. Money brings everything to

you; even your daughters. My money. Oh! where is my money? If I had plenty of money to leave behind me,

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! this 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 married. (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. How should they know? I had not said

anything about my affairs. It is worth while to be civil to a man who has given his daughters eight hundred

thousand francs apiece; and they showed me every attention thenbut 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 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

pretence, but there is no help for such things as these. I felt less at my ease at their dinnertable than I did

downstairs here. I had nothing to say for myself. So these grand folks would ask in my soninlaw's ear,

'Who may that gentleman be?' 'The fatherinlaw with the money bags; 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

sometimes, 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 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 everything, 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

"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 changed me and whitened my hair and drained

my life; why dost Thou make me to suffer so today? Have I not more than expiated the sin of loving them

too much? They themselves have been the instruments of vengeance; they have tortured me for my sin of

"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 mistressthey were everything in the world to me. They were

always wanting something or other, dresses and ornaments, and what not; 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 fearful! 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 protest! The country will go to

ruin if a father's rights are trampled under foot. That is easy to see. The whole world turns on fatherly love;

fatherly love is the foundation of society; 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 that 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 have had nothing but disappointments to devour. Disappointment has been my daily

bread; I have lived on humiliation 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 today they will not give me one hour! I am

hungering 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

"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 humbled

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 punished. I, and I only, am to blame for all their

sins; I spoiled them. Today they are as eager for pleasure as they used to be for sugarplums. 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 theybut I sinned through love.

"My heart would open at the sound of their voices. I can hear them; they are coming. Yes! yes! they are

coming. The law demands that they should be present at their father's deathbed; the law is on my side. It

would only cost them the hire of a cab. I would pay that. Write 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

"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 methey 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 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 deathbeds. 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 do die like a dog? This is to be my

rewardI 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 is in the

room? She is more tenderhearted 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 fortunes! 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.I am going to fetch them, dear father; I will bring them back to

"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 intelligence shone in his eyes. "Go to the

authorities, to the Public Prosecutor, let them bring them here; come they shall!"

"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

kindhearted; I wish I could repay you for your kindness, but I have nothing 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

"Here is something to drink," said Eugene, supporting the dying man on his left arm, while he held a cup of

"How you must love your own father and mother!" said the old man, and grasped the student's hand 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 sonsinlaw 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 sonin 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 deathbeds, 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 sonsinlaw forbid them! . . . Kill them! . . . Restaud and the Alsatian, 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."

"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 dressesah! 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

Then he looked at the patient, and raised the closed eyelids with his fingers. The two students saw how dead

"He will not get over this, I am sure," said Bianchon. He felt the old man's pulse, and laid a hand over his

"The machinery works still; more is the pity, in his state it would be better for him to die."

"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;

"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

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 indignant. He reached Mme. de Restaud's house

"But I have brought a message from her father, who is dying," Rastignac told the man.

"If it is M. de Restaud who has given the orders, tell him that his fatherinlaw is dying, and that I am here,

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

"Monsieur le Comte," said Rastignac, "M. Goriot, your fatherinlaw, is lying at the point of death in a

squalid den in the Latin Quarter. He has not a penny to pay for firewood; he is expected to die at any

"I feel very little affection for M. Goriot, sir, as you probably are aware," the Count answered coolly. "His

character has been compromised in connection with Mme. de Restaud; he is the author of the misfortunes that

have embittered 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

"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 your keeping your word with me? Well, then, promise me to tell her that her

father has not twentyfour hours to live; that he looks in vain for her, and has cursed her already as he lies on

"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

"I heard all that you said, monsieur. Tell my father that 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

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 mazed and bewildered, and hurried to

"Poor dear Eugene, I am ill," she said. "I caught cold after the ball, and I am afraid of pneumonia. I am

"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

"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

Delphine sprang out of bed, ran to her desk, and took out her purse. She gave it to Eugene, and rang the bell,

"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 waitingwoman, "ask M. de Nucingen to come

Eugene was almost happy when he reached the Rue NueveSainte 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 backunder the direction of the

"Can you feel them?" asked the physician. But Goriot had caught sight of Rastignac, and answered, "They are

"Oh! that is nothing!" said Bianchon; "he has been talking about his daughters all the time. He calls for them

"We may as well give up," said the physician, addressing the surgeon. "Nothing more can be done now; the

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, turning to the medical student. "If he complains

"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 some sheets and come and help

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 just going to 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 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 illluck set in for me. I would rather than

ten crowns that the old gentlemen 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

"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 of it before they let me have the things. The pawn ticket lies there under the money."

"Here, madame" he said in disgust, "let us square accounts. M. Goriot will not stay much longer in your

"Yes, he will go out feet foremost, poor old gentleman," she said, counting the francs with a halffacetious,

"You won't forget Sylvie," said Mme. Vauquer in Eugene's ear; "she has been sitting up these two nights."

"Take the sheets that have had the sides turned into the middle, number 7. Lord! they are plenty good enough

Eugene, by this time, was part of the way upstairs, and did not overhear the elderly economist.

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

"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

Eugene went to the chimneypiece and found the little plait of faded golden hairMme. Goriot's hair, no

doubt. He read the name on the little round locket, ANASTASIE on the one side, DELPHINE on the other. It

was the symbol of his own heart that the father always wore on his breast. The curls of hair inside the locket

were so fine and soft that is 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 something

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 impression on the students, that the dying man felt their hot tears falling on

Bianchon made a sign to his friend to follow his example, knelt down and pressed his arms under the sick

man, and Rastignac 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:

Two words, two inarticulate murmurs, shaped into words by the soul which fled forth with them as they left

"Poor dear!" cried Sylvie, melted by that exclamation; the expression of the great love raised for the last time

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 even at the last. They laid Father Goriot upon his wretched bed with reverent hands. Thenceforward

there was no expression on his face, only the 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 timeand the mechanism itself would be

"He will lie like this for several hours, and die so quietly at last, that we shall not know when he goes; there

As he spoke there was a footstep on the staircase, and a young woman hastened up, panting for breath.

But it was not Delphine; it was Therese, her waitingwoman, 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 heartbreaking to hear her"

"That will do, Therese. If she came now, it would be trouble thrown away. M. Goriot cannot recognize any

"You don't want me now, I must go and look after my dinner; it is halfpast four," remarked Sylvie. The next

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 sight of her father's passive features, from

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 henceforth; 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 . . ."

"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!"

Just then Goriot's eyelids unclosed; it was only a muscular contraction, but the Countess' sudden start of

"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

"Well," remarked the painter, as he joined them, "it seems that there is to be a deathorama 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

The terrible cry brought Sylvie, Rastignac, and Bianchon; 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

"Come, sit down to dinner, gentlemen," said Mme. Vauquer, "or the soup will be cold."

"I have closed his eyes and composed his limbs," said Bianchon. "When the certificate has been officially

registered at the Mayor's office, we will sew him in his winding sheet and bury him somewhere. What do you

"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 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 yourselves, and let the

"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

And this was all the funeral oration delivered over him who had been for Eugene the type and embodiment of

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, gluttony, 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. Before 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 fatherinlaw in the grave. He sent Christophe with the letters; then he went to

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 appeared to act for them, and Rastignac had already been obliged to pay the priest. Sylvie

asked ten francs for sewing the old man in his windingsheet 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

forthcoming from the dead man's family. So it was the medical student who laid him in a pauper's coffin,

"Let us play those wretches a trick," said he. "Go to the cemetery, buy a grave for five years at

PereLachaise, and arrange with the Church and the undertaker to have a thirdclass funeral. If the daughters

and their husbands decline to repay you, you can carve this on the headstone'HERE LIES M. GORIOT,

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 Restauda fruitless errand. He went no further than the doorstep in

"Monsieur and Madame can see no visitors. They have just lost their father, and are in deep grief over their

Eugene's Parisian experience told him that it was idle to press the point. Something clutched strangely at his

"Sell some of your ornaments," he wrote hastily in the porter's room, "so that your father may be decently

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

lodginghouse about three o'clock. In spite of himself, the tears came into his eyes. The coffin, in its scanty

covering of black cloth, was standing there on the pavement before the gate, on two chairs. A withered sprig

of hyssop was soaking in the holy water bowl of silverplated copper; there was not a soul in the street, not a

passerby 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 pretence of mourning for him; he had neither friends

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

"Good Lord! is that to be buried along with him?" retorted Sylvie. "It is gold."

"Of course it shall!" Eugene answered indignantly; "he shall at any rate take one thing that may represent his

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

SaintEtienne du Mont was only a little distance from the Rue NueveSainteGenevieve. 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 was his only fellowmourner; 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

"Yes, Monsieur Eugene," said Christophe, "he was a good and worthy man, who never said one word louder

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 ecclesiatics 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 chorister agreed to share with Eugene and

"There is no one else to follow us," remarked the priest, "so we may as well go quickly, and so save time; it is

But just as the coffin was put in the hearse, two empty carriages, with the armorial bearings of the Comte de

Restaud and the Baron de Nucingen, arrived and followed in the procession to PereLachaise. 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 priest and lackeys disappeared

at once. The two grave diggers flung in several spadefuls of earth, and then stopped and asked Rastignac 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. When such tears fall on earth, their radiance reaches heaven. And with that tear 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 wentRastignac was left alone.

He went a few paces further, 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 between 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

And by way of throwing down the glove to Society, Rastignac went to dine with Mme. de Nucingen.

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