together she chatted away about you. 'He is so nice-looking,
papa; isn't he? He is kind-hearted! 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 chimney-piece?" said Father Goriot
at last. Rastignac had showed no sign, and he was dying of
impatience.
Eugene stared at his neighbor in dumb and dazed
bewilderment. He
thought of Vautrin, of that duel to be fought to-morrow 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 chimney-piece, saw the little square
case, opened it, and found a watch of Breguet's make wrapped in
paper, on which these words were written:
"I want you to think of me every hour, BECAUSE . . .
"DELPHINE."
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 well as for his daughter's sake.
"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 mans
laughter to kill that animal;
he is a pig with a calf's brains.--You will take me with you,
will you not?"
"Yes, dear Father Goriot; you know very well how fond I am of
you----"
"Yes, I do know very well. You are not
ashamed of me, are you?
Not you! Let me
embrace you," and he flung his arms around the
student's neck.
"You will make her very happy; promise me that you will! You will
go to her this evening, will you not?"
"Oh! yes. I must go out; I have some
urgent business on hand."
"Can I be of any use?"
"My word, yes! Will you go to old Taillefer's while I go to Mme.
de Nucingen? Ask him to make an appointment with me some time
this evening; it is a matter of life and death."
"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! the thing is impossible!"
"I swear to you that I love but one woman in the world," said the
student. "I only knew it a moment ago."
"Oh! what happiness!" cried Goriot.
"But young Taillefer has been called out; the duel comes off to-
morrow morning, and I have heard it said that he may lose his
life in it."
"But what business is it of yours?" said Goriot.
"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 singing:
"Oh! Richard, oh my king!
All the world abandons thee!
Broum! broum! broum! broum! broum!
The same old story everywhere,
A roving heart and a . . . tra la la."
"Gentlemen!" shouted Christophe, "the soup is ready, and every
one is
waiting for you."
"Here," Vautrin called down to him, "come and take a bottle of my
Bordeaux."
"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
obliged to sit together.
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 humor. His
assurance and
coolness filled
Eugene with consternation.
"Why, what has come to you to-day?" inquired Mme. Vauquer. "You
are as merry as a skylark."
"I am always in spirits after I have made a good
bargain."
"Bargain?" said Eugene.
"Well, yes,
bargain. I have just delivered a lot of goods, and I
shall be paid a handsome
commission on them--Mlle. 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, winking at the
superannuated clerk.
"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 Pere-Lachaise," replied Vautrin.
"There's Poiret," suggested Bianchon.
"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 answer to your own name?
Bring us some
liquor, Turk!"
"Here it is, sir," said Christophe,
holding out the bottle.
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 right-
hand 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."
"Oh! oh!"
"Booououh!"
"Prrr!"
These exclamations came from all parts of the table like squibs
from a set firework.
"Come, now, Mama Vauquer, a couple of bottles of
champagne,"
called Vautrin.
"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 it, I have some
currantcordial."
"That
currantcordial 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,
champagne, by all means; I
will pay for it," he added.
"Sylvie," called Mme. Vauquer, "bring in some biscuits, and the
little cakes."
"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 cat-call
rather like the caterwauling of the animal in question, eight
voices
simultaneously struck up with the following variations:
"Scissors to grind!"
"Chick-weeds for singing bir-ds!"
"Brandy-snaps, ladies!"
"China to mend!"
"Boat ahoy!"
"Sticks to beat your wives or your clothes!"
"Old clo'!"
"Cherries all ripe!"
But the palm was awarded to Bianchon for the nasal
accent with
which he rendered the cry of "Umbrellas to me-end!"
A few seconds later, and there was a head-splitting
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; to-
morrow 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 thousand----"
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