was doleful and cross in the midst of all my joy. I shall make a

bad wife, I am afraid, I am too fond of spending. I had bought
two sashes and a nice little stiletto for piercing eyelet-holes

in my stays, trifles that I really did not want, so that I have
less than that slow-coach Agathe, who is so economical, and

hoards her money like a magpie. She had two hundred francs! And I
have only one hundred and fifty! I am nicely punished; I could

throw my sash down the well; it will be painful to me to wear it
now. Poor dear, I have robbed you. And Agathe was so nice about

it. She said, 'Let us send the three hundred and fifty francs in
our two names!' But I could not help telling you everything just

as it happened.
"Do you know how we managed to keep your commandments? We took

our glittering hoard, we went out for a walk, and when once
fairly on the highway we ran all the way to Ruffec, where we

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

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

you, Monsieur le Parisien, because they were all about you. Oh,
we love you dearly, dear brother; it was all summed up in those

few words. As for keeping the secret, little masqueraders like us
are capable of anything (according to our aunt), even of holding

our tongues. Our mother has been on a mysterious journey to
Angouleme, and the aunt went with her, not without solemn

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

prompted their mission, and conjectures are rife in the State of
Rastignac. The Infantas are embroidering a muslin robe with open-

work sprigs for her Majesty the Queen; the work progresses in the
most profoundsecrecy. There be but two more breadths to finish.

A decree has gone forth that no wall shall be built on the side
of Verteuil, but that a hedge shall be planted instead thereof.

Our subjects may sustain some disappointment of fruit and
espaliers, but strangers will enjoy a fair prospect. Should the

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

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

whereof she wotted not, the Princesses Agathe and Laure place at
their brother's disposal their thread, their needles, and hands

somewhat of the reddest. The two young Princes, Don Henri and Don
Gabriel, retain their fatal habits of stuffing themselves with

grape-jelly, of teasing their sisters, of taking their pleasure
by going a-bird-nesting, and of cutting switches for themselves

from the osier-beds, maugre the laws of the realm. Moreover, they
list not to learn naught, wherefore the Papal Nuncio (called of

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

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

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

great deal to tell us when you come home! You will tell me
everything, won't you? I am the oldest. From something the aunt

let fall, we think you must have had some success.
"Something was said of a lady, but nothing more was said . . .

"Of course not, in our family! Oh, by-the-by, Eugene, would you
rather that we made that piece of cambric into shirts for you

instead of pocket-handkerchiefs? If you want some really nice
shirts at once, we ought to lose no time in beginning upon them;

and if the fashion is different now in Paris, send us one for a
pattern; we want more particularly to know about the cuffs. Good-

bye! Good-bye! Take my kiss on the left side of your forehead, on
the temple that belongs to me, and to no one else in the world. I

am leaving the other side of the sheet for Agathe, who has
solemnly promised not to read a word that I have written; but,

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

"Laure de Rastignac."
"Yes!" said Eugene to himself. "Yes! Success at all costs now!

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 sins of earth."

The world lay before him. His tailor had been summoned and
sounded, and had finally surrendered. When Rastignac met M. de

Trailles, he had seen at once how great a part the tailor plays
in a young man's career; a tailor is either a deadly enemy or a

staunch friend, with an invoice for a bond of friendship; between
these two extremes there is, alack! no middle term. In this

representative of his craft Eugene discovered a man who
understood that his was a sort of paternalfunction for young men

at their entrance into life, who regarded himself as a stepping-
stone between a young man's present and future. And Rastignac in

gratitude made the man's fortune by an epigram of a kind in which
he excelled at a later period of his life.

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

Fifteen hundred francs, and as many suits of clothes as he chose
to order! At that moment the poor child of the South felt no more

doubts of any kind. The young man went down to breakfast with the
indefinable air which the consciousness" target="_blank" title="n.意识；觉悟；知觉">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 fantasticcolumn, 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; to-morrow, 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 light-hearted, generous, and enthusiastic; in
short, the fledgling bird has discovered that he has wings. A

poor student snatches at every chance pleasure much as a dog runs
all sorts of risks to steal a bone, cracking it and sucking the

marrow as he flies from pursuit; but a young man who can rattle a
few runaway gold coins in his pocket can take his pleasure

deliberately, can taste the whole of the sweets of secure
possession; he soars far above earth; he has forgotten what the

word POVERTY means; all Paris is his. Those are days when the
whole world shines radiant with light, when everything glows and

sparkles before the eyes of youth, days that bring joyousenergy
that is never brought into harness, days of debts and of painful

fears that go hand in hand with every delight. Those who do not
know the left bank of the Seine between the Rue Saint-Jacques and

the Rue des Saints-Peres know nothing of life.
"Ah! if the women of Paris but knew," said Rastignac, as he

devoured Mme. Vauquer's stewed pears (at five for a penny), "they
would come here in search of a lover."

Just then a porter from the Messageries Royales appeared at the
door of the room; they had previously heard the bell ring as the

wicket opened to admit him. The man asked for M. Eugene de
Rastignac, holding out two bags for him to take, and a form of

receipt for his signature. Vautrin's keen glance cut Eugene like
a lash.

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

"Your ship has come in," said Mme. Vauquer, eyeing the bags.
Mlle. Michonneau did not dare to look at the money, for fear her

eyes should betray her cupidity.