ta-re_," sang the Countess.

Eugene had a second time waved a magic wand when he uttered Goriot's
name, but the effect seemed to be entirely opposite to that produced by
the formula "related to Mme. de Beauseant." His position was not
unlike that of some visitor permitted as a favor to inspect a private
collection of curiosities, when by inadvertence he comes into collision
with a glass case full of sculptured figures, and three or four heads,
imperfectly secured, fall at the shock. He wished the earth would open
and swallow him. Mme. de Restaud's expression was reserved and chilly,
her eyes had grown indifferent, and sedulously avoided meeting those of
the unlucky student of law.

"Madame," he said, "you wish to talk with M. de Restaud; permit me to
wish you good-day----"

The Countess interrupted him by a gesture, saying hastily, "Whenever you
come to see us, both M. de Restaud and I shall be delighted to see you."

Eugene made a profound bow and took his leave, followed by M. de
Restaud, who insisted, in spite of his remonstrances, on accompanying
him into the hall.

"Neither your mistress nor I are at home to that gentleman when he
calls," the Count said to Maurice.

As Eugene set foot on the steps, he saw that it was raining.

"Come," said he to himself, "somehow I have just made a mess of it, I
do not know how. And now I am going to spoil my hat and coat into the
bargain. I ought to stop in my corner, grind away at law, and never
look to be anything but a boorish country magistrate. How can I go
into society, when to manage properly you want a lot of cabs, varnished
boots, gold watch chains, and all sorts of things; you have to wear
white doeskin gloves that cost six francs in the morning, and primrose
kid gloves every evening? A fig for that old humbug of a Goriot!"

When he reached the street door, the driver of a hackney coach, who had
probably just deposited a wedding party at their door, and asked nothing
better than a chance of making a little money for himself without his
employer's knowledge, saw that Eugene had no umbrella, remarked his
black coat, white waistcoat, yellow gloves, and varnished boots, and
stopped and looked at him inquiringly. Eugene, in the blind desperation
that drives a young man to plunge deeper and deeper into an abyss, as if
he might hope to find a fortunate issue in its lowest depths, nodded
in reply to the driver's signal, and stepped into the cab; a few stray
petals of or