d Father Goriot.

"And then they both went out of the room," Mme. Couture went on, without
heeding the worthy vermicelli maker's exclamation; "father and son bowed
to me, and asked me to excuse them on account of urgent business! That
is the history of our call. Well, he has seen his daughter at any rate.
How he can refuse to acknowledge her I cannot think, for they are as
alike as two peas."

The boarders dropped in one after another, interchanging greetings and
empty jokes that certain classes of Parisians regard as humorous and
witty. Dulness is their prevailing ingredient, and the whole point
consists in mispronouncing a word or a gesture. This kind of argot is
always changing. The essence of the jest consists in some catchword
suggested by a political event, an incident in the police courts, a
street song, or a bit of burlesque at some theatre, and forgotten in a
month. Anything and everything serves to keep up a game of battledore
and shuttlecock with words and ideas. The diorama, a recent invention,
which carried an optical illusion a degree further than panoramas, had
given rise to a mania among art students for ending every word with
_rama_. The Maison Vauquer had caught the infection from a young artist
among the boarders.

"Well, Monsieur-r-r Poiret," said the _employe_ from the Museum, "how
is your health-orama?" Then, without waiting for an answer, he turned to
Mme. Couture and Victorine with a "Ladies, you seem melancholy."

"Is dinner ready?" cried Horace Bianchon, a medical student, and a
friend of Rastignac's; "my stomach is sinking _usque ad talones_."

"There is an uncommon _frozerama_ outside," said Vautrin. "Make room
there, Father Goriot! Confound it, your foot covers the whole front of
the stove."

"Illustrious M. Vautrin," put in Bianchon, "why do you say _frozerama_?
It is incorrect; it should be _frozenrama_."

"No, it shouldn't," said the official from the Museum; "_frozerama_ is
right by the same rule that you say 'My feet are _froze_.'"

"Ah! ah!"

"Here is his Excellency the Marquis de Rastignac, Doctor of the Law of
Contraries," cried Bianchon, seizing Eugene by the throat, and almost
throttling him.

"Hallo there! hallo!"

Mlle. Michonneau came noiselessly in, bowed to the rest of the party,
and took her place beside the three women without saying a word.

"That old bat always makes me shudder," said Bianchon in a low voice,
indicating Mlle. Michonneau to Vautrin. "I have s