Towards the end of the third year Father Goriot reduced his expenses still further; he went up to the third story, and now paid forty-five francs a month. He did without snuff, told his hairdresser that he no longer required his services, and gave up wearing powder. When Goriot appeared for the first time in this condition, an exclamation1 of astonishment2 broke from his hostess at the color of his hair--a dingy3 olive gray. He had grown sadder day by day under the influence of some hidden trouble; among all the faces round the table, his was the most woe-begone. There was no longer any doubt. Goriot was an elderly libertine4, whose eyes had only been preserved by the skill of the physician from the malign5 influence of the remedies necessitated6 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 outfit7 was worn out, he replaced the fine linen8 by calico at fourteen sous the ell. His diamonds, his gold snuff-box, watch-chain and trinkets, disappeared one by one. He had left off wearing the corn-flower blue coat, and was sumptuously9 arrayed, summer as well as winter, in a coarse chestnut-brown coat, a plush waistcoat, and doeskin breeches. He grew thinner and thinner; his legs were shrunken, his cheeks, once so puffed10 out by contented11 bourgeois12 prosperity, were covered with wrinkles, and the outlines of the jawbones were distinctly visible; there were deep furrows13 in his forehead. In the fourth year of his residence in the Rue14 Neuve-SainteGenevieve he was no longer like his former self. The hale vermicelli manufacturer, sixty-two years of age, who had looked scarce forty, the stout15, comfortable, prosperous tradesman, with an almost bucolic16 air, and such a brisk demeanor17 that it did you good to look at him; the man with something boyish in his smile, had suddenly sunk into his dotage18, and had b
ecome a feeble, vacillating septuagenarian.
The keen, bright blue eyes had grown dull, and faded to a steelgray color; the red inflamed19 rims20 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 drooping21 of his lower lip and the conformation of the facial angle; and, after teasing him for some time to no purpose, they declared that cretinism was setting in.
One evening after dinner Mme. Vauquer said half 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 if his hostess had touched him with a swordpoint.
"They come sometimes," he said in a tremulous voice.
"Aha! you still see them sometimes?" cried the students. "Bravo, Father Goriot!"
The old man scarcely seemed to hear the witticisms22 at his expense that followed on the words; he had relapsed into the dreamy state of mind that these superficial observers took for senile torpor23, 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 inquisitive24 as to his concerns, never went beyond the limits of the Quarter, and lived in the lodging25-house much as oysters26 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 butt27 at dinner. For those narrow souls, or for careless youth, the misery28 in Father Goriot's withered29 face and its dull apathy30 were quite incompatible31 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 faculty32 for severe logic33 sedulously34 cultivated by elderly women during long evenings of gossip till they can always find an hypothesis to fit all circumstances, she was wont35 to reason thus:
"If Father Goriot had daughters of his own as rich as those ladies who came here seemed to be, he would not be lodging in my house, on the third floor, at forty-five francs a month; and he would not go about dressed like a poor man."
No objection could be raised to these inferences. So by the end of the month of November 1819, at the time when the curtain rises on this drama, every one in the house had come to have a very decided36 opinion as to the poor old man. He had never had either wife or daughter; excesses had reduced him to this sluggish37 condition; he was a sort of human mollusk38 who should be classed among the capulidoe, so one of the dinner contingent39, 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--Reaumur.
Eugene de Rastignac had just returned to Paris in a state of mind not unknown to young men who are conscious of unusual powers, and to those whose faculties40 are so stimulated41 by a difficult position, that for the time being they rise above the ordinary level.
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 labyrinth42 of Paris. To know its customs; to learn the language, and become familiar with the amusements of the capital, he must explore its recesses43, good and bad, follow the studies that please him best, and form some idea of the treasures contained in galleries and museums.
At this stage of his career a student grows eager and excited about all sorts of follies44 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 cravat45, 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 different human strata46 of which it is composed.
If he begins by admiring the procession of carriages on sunny afternoons in the Champs-Elysees, he soon reaches the further stage of envying their owners. Unconsciously, Eugene had served his apprenticeship47 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 thither48 with an intelligence developed, with loftier ambitions, and saw things as they were at home in the old manor49 house. His father and mother, his two brothers and two sisters, with an aged50 aunt, whose whole fortune consisted in annuities51, lived on the little estate of Rastignac. The whole property brought in about three thousand francs; and though the amount varied52 with the season (as must always be the case in a vinegrowing 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 crumb53 was wasted in the house, nor that the wine they drank was made from the second pressing; a multitude of small things, which it is useless to speak of in detail here, made him burn to distinguish himself, and his ambition to succeed increased tenfold.
He meant, like all great souls, that his success should be owing entirely54 to his merits; but his was pre-eminently a southern temperament55, the execution of his plans was sure to be marred56 by the vertigo57 that seizes on youth when youth sees itself alone in a wide sea, uncertain how to spend its energies, whither to steer58 its course, how to adapt its sails to the winds. At first he determined59 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 graceful60 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, whom he had once joined so gaily61. The girls thought him very much changed.
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 old-fashioned style, recommending Eugene to her; pointing out to her nephew that if he succeeded in pleasing Mme. de Beauseant, the Vicomtesse would introduce him to other relations. A few days after his return to Paris, therefore, Rastignac sent his aunt's letter to Mme. de Beauseant. The Vicomtesse replied by an invitation to a ball for the following evening. This was the position of affairs at the Maison Vauquer at the end of November 1819.
A few days later, after Mme. de Beauseant's ball, Eugene came in at two o'clock in the morning. The persevering62 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 beheld63 the pomp and splendor64 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 thereby65, and ruining his pumps.
It so happened that Christophe took a look into the street before drawing the bolts of the door; and Rastignac, coming in at that moment, could go up to his room without making any noise, followed by Christophe, who made a great deal. Eugene exchanged his dress suit for a shabby overcoat and slippers66, kindled67 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 drowned by Christophe's heavy tramp on the stairs.
Eugene sat absorbed in thought for a few moments before plunging68 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 Saint-Germain. And not only so, she was, by right of her fortune, and the name she bore, one of the most conspicuous69 figures in that aristocratic world. Thanks to the aunt, thanks to Mme. de Marcillac's letter of introduction, the poor student had been kindly70 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 gilded71 salons72; 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 throng73 of Parisian divinities, one of those women who are sure to attract a young man's fancy.
The Comtesse Anastasie de Restaud was tall and gracefully74 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 fiery75 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 mythology76 of love is extinct, doomed77 to perish by modern dandyism. But for Rastignac, Mme. Anastasie de Restaud was the woman for whom he had sighed. He had contrived78 to write his name twice upon the list of partners upon her fan, and had snatched a few words with her during the first quadrille.
"Where shall I meet you again, Madame?" he asked abruptly79, and the tones of his voice were full of the vehement80 energy that women like so well.
"Oh, everywhere!" said she, "in the Bois, at the Bouffons, in my own house."
With the impetuosity of his adventurous81 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 insolent82 youth of that period; the coterie83 of Maulincourts, Maximes de Trailles, de Marsays, Ronquerolles, Ajuda-Pintos, and Vandenesses who shone there in all the glory of coxcombry84 among the best-dressed women of fashion in Paris--Lady Brandon, the Duchesse de Langeais, the Comtesse de Kergarouet, Mme. de Serizy, the Duchesse de Carigliano, the Comtesse Ferraud, Mme. de Lanty, the Marquise d'Aiglemont, Mme. Firmiani, the Marquise de Listomere and the Marquise d'Espard, the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse and the Grandlieus. Luckily, therefore, for him, the novice85 happened upon the Marquis de Montriveau, the lover of the Duchesse de Langeais, a general as simple as a child; from him Rastignac learned that the Comtesse lived in the Rue du Helder.
Ah, what it is to be young, eager to see the world, greedily on the watch for any chance that brings you nearer the woman of your dreams, and behold86 two houses open their doors to you! To set foot in the Vicomtesse de Beauseant's house in the Faubourg Saint-Germain; to fall on your knees before a Comtesse de Restaud in the Chaussee d'Antin; to look at one glance across a vista87 of Paris drawing-rooms, conscious that, possessing sufficient good looks, you may hope to find aid and protection there in a feminine heart! To feel ambitious enough to spurn88 the tight-rope on which you must walk with the steady head of an acrobat89 for whom a fall is impossible, and to find in a charming woman the best of all balancing poles.
He sat there with his thoughts for a while, Law on the one hand, and Poverty on the other, beholding90 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 grunt91 of an overburdened St. Joseph, broke the silence of the night. It vibrated through the student, who took the sound for a death groan92. He opened his door noiselessly, went out upon the landing, and saw a thin streak93 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 self-styled 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 wrought94 metal into ingots.
"Peste! what a man!" said Rastignac, as he watched Goriot's muscular arms; there was not a sound in the room while the old man, with the aid of the rope, was kneading the silver like dough95. "Was he then, indeed, a thief, or a receiver of stolen goods, who affected96 imbecility and decrepitude97, and lived like a beggar that he might carry on his pursuits the more securely?" Eugene stood for a moment revolving98 these questions, then he looked again through the keyhole.
Father Goriot had unwound his coil of rope; he had covered the table with a blanket, and was now employed in rolling the flattened99 mass of silver into a bar, an operation which he performed with marvelous dexterity100.
"Why, he must be as strong as Augustus, King of Poland!" said Eugene to himself when the bar was nearly finished.
Father Goriot looked sadly at his handiwork, tears fell from his eyes, he blew out the dip which had served him for a light while he manipulated the silver, and Eugene heard him sigh as he lay down again.
"He is mad," thought the student.
"Poor child!" Father Goriot said aloud. Rastignac, hearing those words, concluded to keep silence; he would not hastily condemn101 his neighbor. He was just in the doorway102 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 came from M. Vautrin's room.
"There are a good many mysteries here for a lodging-house!" he said to himself.
He went part of the way downstairs and listened again. The rattle103 of gold reached his ears. In another moment the light was put out, and again he distinctly heard the breathing of two men, but no sound of a door being opened or shut. The two men went downstairs, the faint sounds growing fainter as they went.
"Who is there?" cried Mme. Vauquer out of her bedroom window.
"I, Mme. Vauquer," answered Vautrin's deep bass104 voice. "I am coming in."
"That is odd! Christophe drew the bolts," said Eugene, going back to his room. "You have to sit up at night, it seems, if you really mean to know all that is going on about you in Paris."
These incidents turned his 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 clenched105 fists. When a young man makes up his mind that he will work all night, the chances are that seven times out of ten he will sleep till morning. Such vigils do not begin before we are turned twenty.
The next morning Paris was wrapped in one of the dense106 fogs that throw the most punctual people out in their calculations as to the time; even the most business-like folk fail to keep their appointments in such weather, and ordinary mortals wake up at noon and fancy it is eight o'clock. On this 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 destined107 for the boarders' breakfast for her own, and to boil the remainder for some time, so that madame should not discover this illegal exaction108.
"Sylvie," said Christophe, as he dipped a piece of toast into the coffee, "M. Vautrin, who is not such a bad sort, all the same, had two people come to see him again last night. If madame says anything, mind you say nothing about it."
"Has he given you something?"
"He gave me a five-franc piece this month, which is as good as saying, 'Hold your tongue.' "
"Except him and Mme. Couture, who 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 miserable109 five-franc piece. There is Father Goriot, who has cleaned his shoes himself these two years past. There is that old beggar Poiret, who goes without blacking altogether; he would sooner drink it than put it on his boots. Then there is that whipper-snapper of a student, who gives me a couple of francs, Two francs will not pay for my brushes, and he sells his old clothes, and gets more for them than they are worth. Oh! they're a shabby lot!"
"Pooh!" said Sylvie, sipping110 her coffee, "our places are the best in the Quarter, that I know. But about that great big chap Vautrin, Christophe; has any one told you anything about him?"
"Yes. I met a gentleman in the street a few days ago; he said 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 spoil many a match.' "
"Well, and for my part," said Sylvie, "a man tried to humbug111 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 Val-de-Grace, and not a soul stirring!"
"Pooh! they are all gone out. Mme. Couture and the girl went out at eight o'clock to take the wafer at Saint-Etienne. Father Goriot started off somewhere with a parcel, and the student won't be back from his lecture till ten o'clock. I saw them go while I was sweeping112 the stairs; Father Goriot knocked up against me, and his parcel was as hard as iron. What is the old fellog up to, I wonder? He is as good as a plaything for the rest of them; they can never let him alone; but he is a good man, all the same, and worth more than all of them put together. He doesn't give you much himself, but he sometimes sends you with a message to ladies who fork out famous tips; they are dressed grandly, too."
"His daughters, as he calls them, eh? There are a dozen of them."
"I have never been to more than two--the two who came here."
"There is madame moving overhead; I shall have to go, or she will paise a fine racket. Just keep an eye on the milk, Christophe; don't let the cat get at it."
Sylvie went up to her mistress' room.
"Sylvie! How is this? It's nearly ten o'clock, and you let me sleep like a dormouse! Such a thing has never happened before."
"It's the fog; it is that thick, you could cut it with a knife."
"But how about breakfast?"
"Bah! the boarders are possessed113, I'm sure. They all cleared out before there was a wink114 of daylight."
"Do speak properly, Sylvie," Mme. Fauquer retorted; "say a blink 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 they are."
"But, Sylvie, you put their names together as if----"
"As if what?" said Sylvie, bursting into a guffaw115. "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 undid116 the door. And here are you imagining that----?"
"Give me my bodice, and be quick and get breakfast ready. Dish up the rest of the mutton with the potatoes, and you can put the stewed117 pears on the table, those at five a penny."
A few moments later Mme. Vauquer came down, just in time to see the cat knock down a plate that covered a bowl of milk, and begin to lap in all haste.
"Mistigris!" she cried.
The cat fled, but promptly118 returned to rub against her ankles.
"Oh! yes, you can wheedle119, you old hypocrite!" she said. "Sylvie! Sylvie!"
"Yes, madame; what is it?"
"Just see what the cat has done!"
"It is all that stupid Christophe's fault. I told him to stop and lay the table. What has become of him? Don't you worry, madame; Father Goriot shall have it. I will fill it up with water, and he won't know the difference; he never notices anything, not even what he eats."
"I wonder where the old heathen can have gone?" said Mme. Vauquer, setting the plates round the table.
"Who knows? He is up to all sorts of tricks."
"I have overslept myself," said Mme. Vauquer.
"But madame looks as fresh as a rose, all the same."
The door bell rang at that moment, and Vautrin came through the sitting-room120, singing loudly:
" 'Tis the same old story everywhere, A roving heart and a roving glance . .
"Oh! Mamma Vauquer! good-morning!" he cried at the sight of his hostess, and he put his arm gaily round her waist.
"There! have done----"
" 'Impertinence!' Say it!" he answered. "Come, say it! Now, isn't that what you really mean? Stop a bit, I will help you to set the table. Ah! I am a nice man, am I not?
"For the locks of brown and the golden hair A sighing lover . . .
"Oh! I have just seen something so funny---
. . . . led by chance."
"What?" asked the widow.
"Father Goriot in the goldsmith's shop in the Rue Dauphine at half-past eight this morning. They buy old spoons and forks and gold lace there, and Goriot sold a piece of silver plate for a good round sum. It had been twisted out of shape very neatly121 for a man that's not used to the trade."
"Really? You don't say so?"
"Yes. One of my friends is expatriating himself; I had been to see him off on board the Royal Mail steamer, and was coming back here. I waited after that to see what Father Goriot would do; it is a comical affair. He came back to this quarter of the world, to the Rue des Gres, and went into a money-lender's house; everybody knows him, Gobseck, a stuck-up rascal122, that would make dominoes out of his father's bones, a Turk, a heathen, an old Jew, a Greek; it would be a difficult matter to rob HIM, for he puts all his coin into the Bank."
"Then what was Father Goriot doing there?"
"Doing?" said Vautrin. "Nothing; he was bent123 on his own undoing124. He is a simpleton, stupid enough to ruin himself by running after----"
"There he is!" cried Sylvie.
"Christophe," cried Father Goriot's voice, "come upstairs with me."
Christophe went up, and shortly afterwards came down again.
"Where are you going?" Mme. Vauquer asked of her servant.
"Out on an errand for M. Goriot."
"What may that be?" said Vautrin, pouncing125 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.
"To the Rue du Helder. I have orders to give this into her hands myself."
"What is there inside it?" said Vautrin, holding the letter up to the light. "A banknote? No." He peered into the envelope. "A receipted account!" he cried. "My word! 'tis a gallant126 old dotard. Off with you, old chap," he said, bringing down a hand on Christophe's head, and spinning the man round like a thimble; "you will have a famous tip."
By this time the table was set. Sylvie was boiling the milk, Mme. Vauquer was lighting127 a fire in the stove with some assistance from Vautrin, who kept humming to himself:
"The same old story everywhere, A roving heart and a roving glance."
When everything was ready, Mme. Couture and Mlle. Taillefer came in.
"Where have you been this morning, fair lady?" said Mme. Vauquer, turning to Mme. Couture.
"We have just been to say our prayers at Saint-Etienne du Mont. To-day 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 before the fire and held the steaming qoles of her boots to the blaze.
"Warm yourself, Victorine," said Mme. Vauquer.
"It is quite right and proper, mademoiselle, to pray to Heaven to soften128 your father's heart," said Vautrin, as he drew a chair nearer to the orphan129 girl; "but that is not enough. What you want is a friend who will give the monster a piece of his mind; a barbarian130 that has three millions (so they say), and will not give you a dowry; and a pretty girl needs a dowry nowadays."
"Poor child!" said Mme. Vauquer. "Never mind, my pet, your wretch131 of a father is going just the way to bring trouble upon himself."
Victorine's eyes filled with tears at the words, and the widow checked herself at a sign from Mme. Couture.
"If we could only see him!" said the Commissary-General's widow; "if I could speak to him myself and give him his wife's last letter! I have never dared to run the risk of sending it by post; he knew my handwriting----"
" 'Oh woman, persecuted132 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 towards me, I will `ray to God for you. You may be sure of my gratitude----"
"The same old story everywhere," sang Vautrin, with a satirical intonation133. At this juncture134, Goriot, Mlle. Michonneau, and Poiret came downstairs together; possibly the scent135 of the gravy136 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 outside.
"Ah! here you are, M. Eugene," said Sylvie; "every one is breakfasting at home to-day."
The student exchanged greetings with the lodgers137, and sat down beside Goriot.
"I have just met with a queer adventure," he said, as he helped himself abundantly to the mutton, and cut a slice of bread, which Mme. Vauquer's eyes gauged138 as usual.
"An adventure?" queried139 Poiret.
"Well, and what is there to astonish you in that, old boy?" Vautrin asked of Poiret. "M. Eugene is cut out for that kind of thing."
Mlle. Taillefer stole a timid glance at the young student.
"Tell us about your adventure!" demanded M. Vautrin.
"Yesterday evening I went to a ball given by a cousin of mine, the Vicomtesse de Beauseant. She has a magnificent house; the rooms are hung with silk--in short, it was a splendid affair, and I was as happy as a king---"
"Fisher," put in Vautrin, interrupting.
"What do you mean, sir?" said Eugene sharply.
"I said 'fisher,' because kingfishers see a good deal more fun than kings."
"Quite true; I would much rather be the little careless bird than a king," said Poiret the ditto-ist, "because----"
"In fact"--the law-student cut him short--"I danced with one of the handsomest women in the room, a charming countess, the most exquisite140 creature I have ever seen. There was peach blossom in her hair, and she had the loveliest bouquet141 of flowers--real flowers, that scented142 the air----but 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 think----"
"That she was coming here," said Vautrin, with a keen look at the student. "I expect that she was going to call on old Gobseck, a money-lender. If ever you explore a Parisian woman's heart, you will find the money-lender first, and the lover afterwards. Your countess is called Anastasie de Restaud, and she lives in the Rue du Helder."
The student stared hard at Vautrin. Father Goriot raised his head at the words, and gave the two speakers a glance so full of intelligence and uneasiness that the lodgers beheld him with astonishment.
"Then Christophe was too late, and she must have gone to him!" cried Goriot, with anguish143 in his voice.
"It is just as I guessed," said Vautrin, leaning over to whisper in Mme. Vauquer's ear.
Goriot went on with his breakfast, but seemed unconscious of what he was doing. He had never looked more stupid nor more taken up with his own thoughts than he did at that moment.
"Who the devil could have told you her name, M. Vautrin?" asked Eugene.
"Aha! there you are!" answered Vautrin. "Old Father Goriot there knew it quite well! and why should I not know it too?"
"M. Goriot?" the student cried.
"What is it?" asked the old man. "So she was very beautiful, was she, yesterday night?"
"Who?"
"Mme. de Restaud."
"Look at the old wretch," said Mme. Vauquer, speaking to Vautrin; "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 frigate144 in full sail, a galloping145 horse, or a woman dancing."
"So the wheel turns," said Vautrin; "yesterday night at a duchess' ball, this morning in a money-lender's office, on the lowest rung of the ladder--just like a Parisienne! If their husbands cannot afford to pay for their frantic146 extravagance, they will sell themselves. Or if they cannot do that, they will tear out their mothers' hearts to find something to pay for their splendor. They will turn the world upside down. Just a Parisienne through and through!"
Father Goriot's face, which had shone at the student's words like the sun on a bright day, clouded over all at once at this cruel speech of Vautrin's.
"Well," said Mme. Vauquer, "but where is your adventure? Did you speak to her? Did you ask her if she wanted to study law?"
"She did not see me," said Eugene. "But only think of meeting one of the prettiest women in Paris in the Rue des Gres at nine o'clock! She could not have reached home after the ball till two o'clock this morning. Wasn't it queer? There is no place like Paris for this sort of adventures."
"Pshaw! much funnier things than THAT happen here!" exclaimed Vautrin.
Mlle. Taillefer had scarcely heeded147 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 out, and Father Goriot followed their example.
"Well, did you see?" said Mme. Vauquer, addressing Vautrin and the rest of the circle. "He is ruining himself for those women, that is plain."
"Nothing will ever make me believe that that beautiful Comtesse de Restaud is anything to Father Goriot," cried the student.
"Well, and if you don't," broke in Vautrin, "we are not set on convincing you. You are too young to know Paris thoroughly148 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 trumpet149 to a trooper's horse. "Aha!" said Vautrin, stopping in his speech to give her a searching glance, "so we have had our little experiences, have we?"
The old maid lowered her eyes like a nun150 who sees a statue.
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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libertine
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| n.淫荡者；adj.放荡的，自由思想的 | |
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malign
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| adj.有害的；恶性的；恶意的；v.诽谤，诬蔑 | |
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necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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sumptuously
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| 奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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bourgeois
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| adj./n.追求物质享受的(人)；中产阶级分子 | |
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furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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bucolic
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| adj.乡村的；牧羊的 | |
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demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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dotage
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| n.年老体衰；年老昏聩 | |
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inflamed
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| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rims
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| n.（圆形物体的）边( rim的名词复数 )；缘；轮辋；轮圈 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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witticisms
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| n.妙语，俏皮话( witticism的名词复数 ) | |
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torpor
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| n.迟钝；麻木；（动物的）冬眠 | |
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24
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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oysters
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| 牡蛎( oyster的名词复数 ) | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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28
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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29
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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30
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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31
incompatible
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| adj.不相容的，不协调的，不相配的 | |
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32
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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33
logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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34
sedulously
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| ad.孜孜不倦地 | |
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35
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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36
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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37
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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38
mollusk
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| n.软体动物 | |
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39
contingent
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| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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41
stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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42
labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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43
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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44
follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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45
cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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46
strata
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| n.地层（复数）；社会阶层 | |
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47
apprenticeship
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| n.学徒身份；学徒期 | |
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48
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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49
manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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51
annuities
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| n.养老金；年金( annuity的名词复数 )；（每年的）养老金；年金保险；年金保险投资 | |
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52
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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53
crumb
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| n.饼屑，面包屑，小量 | |
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54
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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55
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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56
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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57
vertigo
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| n.眩晕 | |
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58
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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59
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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60
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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61
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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62
persevering
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| a.坚忍不拔的 | |
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63
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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64
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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65
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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66
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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67
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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68
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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69
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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72
salons
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| n.（营业性质的）店( salon的名词复数 )；厅；沙龙（旧时在上流社会女主人家的例行聚会或聚会场所）；（大宅中的）客厅 | |
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73
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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74
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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75
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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mythology
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| n.神话，神话学，神话集 | |
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77
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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80
vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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81
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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83
coterie
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| n.(有共同兴趣的)小团体，小圈子 | |
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84
coxcombry
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| n.（男子的）虚浮，浮夸，爱打扮 | |
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85
novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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86
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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88
spurn
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| v.拒绝，摈弃；n.轻视的拒绝；踢开 | |
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acrobat
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| n.特技演员，杂技演员 | |
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90
beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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91
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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92
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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93
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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94
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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dough
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| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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97
decrepitude
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| n.衰老；破旧 | |
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98
revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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99
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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100
dexterity
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| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
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101
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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102
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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103
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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104
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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105
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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107
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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108
exaction
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| n.强求，强征；杂税 | |
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109
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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111
humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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112
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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113
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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114
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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115
guffaw
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| n.哄笑；突然的大笑 | |
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116
Undid
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| v. 解开, 复原 | |
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117
stewed
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| adj.焦虑不安的，烂醉的v.炖( stew的过去式和过去分词 )；煨；思考；担忧 | |
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118
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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119
wheedle
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| v.劝诱，哄骗 | |
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120
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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121
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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123
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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124
undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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125
pouncing
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的现在分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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127
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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128
soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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129
orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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130
barbarian
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| n.野蛮人；adj.野蛮(人)的；未开化的 | |
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131
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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132
persecuted
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| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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133
intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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134
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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135
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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136
gravy
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| n.肉汁；轻易得来的钱，外快 | |
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137
lodgers
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| n.房客，租住者( lodger的名词复数 ) | |
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138
gauged
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| adj.校准的；标准的；量规的；量计的v.（用仪器）测量( gauge的过去式和过去分词 )；估计；计量；划分 | |
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139
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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140
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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141
bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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142
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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143
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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144
frigate
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| n.护航舰，大型驱逐舰 | |
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145
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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146
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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147
heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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148
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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149
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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150
nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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