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 manner relaxed at once as he returned the
student's bow.

"Delighted to have an opportunity of making your acquaintance,"
he said.

Maxime de Trailles himself gave Eugene an uneasy glance, and
suddenly dropped his insolent manner. The mighty name had all the

power of a fairy's wand; those closed 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 lodging-
house and Father Goriot were very far remote from his thoughts.

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

"Yes, they are extinct," answered the law student. "My great-
uncle, the Chevalier de Rastignac, married the heiress of the

Marcillac family. They had only one daughter, who married the
Marechal de Clarimbault, Mme. de Beauseant's grandfather on the

mother's side. We are the younger branch of the family, and the
younger branch is all the poorer because my great-uncle, the

Vice-Admiral, lost all that he had in the King's service. The
Government during the Revolution refused to admit our claims when

the Compagnie des Indes was liquidated."
"Was not your great-uncle in command of the Vengeur before 1789?"

"Yes."
"Then he would be acquainted with my grandfather, who commanded

the Warwick."
Maxime looked at Mme. de Restaud and shrugged his shoulders, as

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 gave her. With a woman's admirable
tact, she began to smile and said:

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

and the Vengeur."
She rose to her feet and signed to Maxime to follow her, mirth

and mischief in her whole attitude, and the two went in the
direction of the boudoir. The morganatic couple (to use a

convenient German expression which has no exact 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 tell him about
it."

She came back almost immediately. She had noticed the inflection
in her husband's voice, and knew that it would not be safe to

retire to the boudoir; like all women who are compelled to study
their 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;
good-day," and he went.

"Just wait a moment, Maxime!" the Count called after him.
"Come and dine with us," said the Countess, leaving Eugene and

her husband together once more. She followed Maxime into the
little drawing-room, where they sat together sufficiently long to

feel sure that Rastignac had taken his leave.
The law student heard their laughter, and their voices, and the

pauses in their talk; he grew malicious, exerted his
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 ascendency

over this fair typical Parisian.
"Anastasie!" the Count called again to his wife.

"Poor Maxime!" she said, addressing the young man. "Come, we must
resign ourselves. This evening----"

"I hope, Nasie," he said in her ear, "that you will give orders
not to admit that youngster, whose eyes light up like live coals

when he looks at you. He will make you a declaration, and
compromise you, and then you will compel me to kill him."

"Are you mad, Maxime?" she said. "A young lad of a student is, on
the contrary, a capital lightning-conductor; is not that so? Of

course, I mean to make Restaud furiouslyjealous of him."
Maxime burst out laughing, and went out, followed by the

Countess, who stood at the window to watch him into his carriage;
he shook his whip, and made his horse prance. She only returned

when the great gate had been closed after him.
"What do you think, dear?" cried the Count, her husband, "this

gentleman's family estate is not far from Verteuil, on the
Charente; his great-uncle and my grandfather were acquainted."

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

"More than you think," said Eugene, in a low voice.
"What do you mean?" she asked quickly.

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

where I am lodging."
At the sound of this name, and the prefix that embellished it,

the Count, who was stirring the fire, let the tongs fall as
though they had burned his fingers, and rose to his feet.

"Sir," he cried, "you might have called him 'Monsieur Goriot'!"
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 carelessness:
"You could not know any one who is dearer to us both . . ."

She broke off, glanced at the piano as if some fancy had crossed
her mind, and asked, "Are you fond of music, M. de Rastignac?"

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

of folly.
"Do you sing?" she cried, going to the piano, and, sitting down

before it, she swept her fingers over the keyboard from end to
end. R-r-r-rah!

"No, madame."
The Comte de Restaud walked to and fro.

"That is a pity; you are without one great means of success.--Ca-
ro, ca-a-ro, ca-a-a-ro, non du-bi-ta-re," sang the Countess.