hands to feel their cool
freshness. He saw faint rose tints
through the cashmere of the dressing gown; it had fallen slightly
open, giving glimpses of a bare
throat, on which the student's
eyes rested. The Countess had no need of the adventitious aid of
corsets; her
girdle defined the outlines of her
slender waist;
her
throat was a
challenge to love; her feet,
thrust into
slippers, were daintily small. As Maxime took her hand and kissed
it, Eugene became aware of Maxime's
existence, and the Countess
saw Eugene.
"Oh! is that you M. de Rastignac? I am very glad to see you," she
said, but there was something in her manner that a shrewd
observer would have taken as a hint to depart.
Maxime, as the Countess Anastasie had called the young man with
the
haughtyinsolence of
bearing, looked from Eugene to the lady,
and from the lady to Eugene; it was
sufficientlyevident 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
hope you intend to send this little whipper-snapper about his
business."
The Countess consulted the young man's face with an intent
submissiveness that betrays all the secrets of a woman's heart,
and Rastignac all at once began to hate him
violently. To begin
with, the sight of the fair carefully arranged curls on the
other's
comely head had convinced him that his own crop was
hideous; Maxime's boots,
moreover, were
elegant and spotless,
while his own, in spite of all his care, bore some traces of his
recent walk; and, finally, Maxime's
overcoat fitted the outline
of his figure
gracefully, he looked like a pretty woman, while
Eugene was wearing a black coat at half-past two. The quick-
witted child of the Charente felt the
disadvantage at which he
was placed beside this tall,
slender dandy, with the clear gaze
and the pale face, one of those men who would ruin orphan
children without
scruple. Mme. de Restaud fled into the next room
without
waiting for Eugene to speak; shaking out the skirts of
her dressing-gown in her
flight, so that she looked like a white
butterfly, and Maxime
hurried after her. Eugene, in a fury,
followed Maxime and the Countess, and the three stood once more
face to face by the
hearth in the large drawing-room. The law
student felt quite sure that the
odious Maxime found him in the
way, and even at the risk of displeasing Mme. de Restaud, he
meant to annoy the dandy. It had struck him all at once that he
had seen the young man before at Mme. de Beauseant's ball; he
guessed the relation between Maxime and Mme. de Restaud; and with
the
youthfulaudacity that commits
prodigious blunders or
achieves signal success, he said to himself, "This is my rival; I
mean to cut him out."
Rash resolve! He did not know that M. le Comte Maxime de Trailles
would wait till he was insulted, so as to fire first and kill his
man. Eugene was a
sportsman and a good shot, but he had not yet
hit the bulls's eye twenty times out of twenty-two. The young
Count dropped into a low chair by the
hearth, took up the tongs,
and made up the fire so
violently and so sulkily, that
Anastasie's fair face suddenly clouded over. She turned to
Eugene, with a cool, questioning glance that asked
plainly, "Why
do you not go?" a glance which well-bred people regard as a cue
to make their exit.
Eugene assumed an
amiable expression.
"Madame," he began, "I hastened to call upon you----"
He stopped short. The door opened, and the owner of the tilbury
suddenly appeared. He had left his hat outside, and did not greet
the Countess; he looked meditatively at Rastignac, and held out
his hand to Maxime with a
cordial "Good morning," that astonished
Eugene not a little. The young
provincial did not understand the
amenities of a
triple alliance.
"M. de Restaud," said the Countess, introducing her husband to
the law student.
Eugene bowed profoundly.
"This gentleman," she continued, presenting Eugene to her
husband, "is M. de Rastignac; he is
related to Mme. la Vicomtesse