Father Goriot HonorĂ© de Balzac (love books to read .TXT) đ
- Author: Honoré de Balzac
Book online «Father Goriot HonorĂ© de Balzac (love books to read .TXT) đ». Author HonorĂ© de Balzac
All the young men roared with laughter.
âHad you there, Poiret!â
âPoir-r-r-rette! she had you there!â
âScore two points to Mamma Vauquer,â said Vautrin.
âDid any of you notice the fog this morning?â asked the official.
âIt was a frantic fog,â said Bianchon, âa fog unparalleled, doleful, melancholy, sea-green, asthmaticalâ âa Goriot of a fog!â
âA Goriorama,â said the art student, âbecause you couldnât see a thing in it.â
âHey! Milord GùÎriotte, they air talking about yoo-o-ou!â
Father Goriot, seated at the lower end of the table, close to the door through which the servant entered, raised his face; he had smelt at a scrap of bread that lay under his table napkin, an old trick acquired in his commercial capacity, that still showed itself at times.
âWell,â Madame Vauquer cried in sharp tones, that rang above the rattle of spoons and plates and the sound of other voices, âand is there anything the matter with the bread?â
âNothing whatever, madame,â he answered; âon the contrary, it is made of the best quality of corn; flour from Etampes.â
âHow could you tell?â asked EugĂšne.
âBy the color, by the flavor.â
âYou knew the flavor by the smell, I suppose,â said Mme. Vauquer. âYou have grown so economical, you will find out how to live on the smell of cooking at last.â
âTake out a patent for it, then,â cried the Museum official; âyou would make a handsome fortune.â
âNever mind him,â said the artist; âhe does that sort of thing to delude us into thinking that he was a vermicelli maker.â
âYour nose is a corn-sampler, it appears?â inquired the official.
âCorn what?â asked Bianchon.
âCorn-el.â
âCorn-et.â
âCorn-elian.â
âCorn-ice.â
âCorn-ucopia.â
âCorn-crake.â
âCorn-cockle.â
âCorn-orama.â
The eight responses came like a rolling fire from every part of the room, and the laughter that followed was the more uproarious because poor Father Goriot stared at the others with a puzzled look, like a foreigner trying to catch the meaning of words in a language which he does not understand.
âCorn?â ââ âŠâ he said, turning to Vautrin, his next neighbor.
âCorn on your foot, old man!â said Vautrin, and he drove Father Goriotâs cap down over his eyes by a blow on the crown.
The poor old man thus suddenly attacked was for a moment too bewildered to do anything. Christophe carried off his plate, thinking that he had finished his soup, so that when Goriot had pushed back his cap from his eyes his spoon encountered the table. Everyone burst out laughing. âYou are a disagreeable joker, sir,â said the old man, âand if you take any further liberties with meâ ââ
âWell, what then, old boy?â Vautrin interrupted.
âWell, then, you shall pay dearly for it some dayâ ââ
âDown below, eh?â said the artist, âin the little dark corner where they put naughty boys.â
âWell, mademoiselle,â Vautrin said, turning to Victorine, âyou are eating nothing. So papa was refractory, was he?â
âA monster!â said Mme. Couture.
âMademoiselle might make application for aliment pending her suit; she is not eating anything. Eh! eh! just see how Father Goriot is staring at Mlle. Victorine.â
The old man had forgotten his dinner, he was so absorbed in gazing at the poor girl; the sorrow in her face was unmistakableâ âthe slighted love of a child whose father would not recognize her.
âWe are mistaken about Father Goriot, my dear boy,â said EugĂšne in a low voice. âHe is not an idiot, nor wanting in energy. Try your Gall system on him, and let me know what you think. I saw him crush a silver dish last night as if it had been made of wax; there seems to be something extraordinary going on in his mind just now, to judge by his face. His life is so mysterious that it must be worth studying. Oh! you may laugh, Bianchon; I am not joking.â
âThe man is a subject, is he?â said Bianchon; âall right! I will dissect him, if he will give me the chance.â
âNo; feel his bumps.â
âHm!â âhis stupidity might perhaps be contagious.â
The next day Rastignac dressed himself very elegantly, and about three oâclock in the afternoon went to call on Mme. de Restaud. On the way thither he indulged in the wild intoxicating dreams which fill a young head so full of delicious excitement. Young men at his age take no account of obstacles nor of dangers; they see success in every direction; imagination has free play, and turns their lives into a romance; they are saddened or discouraged by the collapse of one of the visionary schemes that have no existence save in their heated fancy. If youth were not ignorant and timid, civilization would be impossible.
EugĂšne took unheard-of pains to keep himself in a spotless condition, but on his way through the streets he began to think about Mme. de Restaud and what he should say to her. He equipped himself with wit, rehearsed repartees in the course of an imaginary conversation, and prepared certain neat speeches Ă la Talleyrand, conjuring up a series of small events which should prepare the way for the declaration on which he had based his future; and during these musings the law student was bespattered with mud, and by the time he reached the Palais Royal he was obliged to have his boots blacked and his trousers brushed.
âIf I were rich,â he said, as he changed the five-franc piece he had brought with him in case anything might happen, âI would take a cab, then I could think at my ease.â
At last he reached the Rue du Helder, and asked for the Comtesse de Restaud. He bore the contemptuous glances of the servants, who had seen him cross the court on foot, with the cold fury of a man who knows that he will succeed some day. He understood the meaning of their glances at once, for he had felt his inferiority as soon as he entered the court, where a smart cab was waiting. All the delights of life in Paris seemed to be implied by this visible and manifest sign of luxury and extravagance. A fine horse, in magnificent harness, was pawing the ground, and all at once the law student felt out of humor with himself. Every compartment
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