tion of Mlle. Taillefer to enforce
his remarks by a look which recalled the late tempting proposals by
which he had sought to corrupt the student's mind.

Several days went by, and Rastignac lived in a whirl of gaiety. He dined
almost every day with Mme. de Nucingen, and went wherever she went, only
returning to the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve in the small hours. He rose
at mid-day, and dressed to go into the Bois with Delphine if the day was
fine, squandering in this way time that was worth far more than he knew.
He turned as eagerly to learn the lessons of luxury, and was as quick
to feel its fascination, as the flowers of the date palm to receive the
fertilizing pollen. He played high, lost and won large sums of money,
and at last became accustomed to the extravagant life that young men
lead in Paris. He sent fifteen hundred francs out of his first winnings
to his mother and sisters, sending handsome presents as well as the
money. He had given out that he meant to leave the Maison Vauquer; but
January came and went, and he was still there, still unprepared to go.

One rule holds good of most young men--whether rich or poor. They never
have money for the necessaries of life, but they have always money to
spare for their caprices--an anomaly which finds its explanation in
their youth and in the almost frantic eagerness with which youth grasps
at pleasure. They are reckless with anything obtained on credit, while
everything for which they must pay in ready money is made to last as
long as possible; if they cannot have all that they want, they make
up for it, it would seem, by squandering what they have. To state the
matter simply--a student is far more careful of his hat than of his
coat, because the latter being a comparatively costly article of dress,
it is in the nature of things that a tailor should be a creditor; but
it is otherwise with the hatter; the sums of money spent with him are so
modest, that he is the most independent and unmanageable of his tribe,
and it is almost impossible to bring him to terms. The young man in the
balcony of a theatre who displays a gorgeous waistcoat for the benefit
of the fair owners of opera glasses, has very probably no socks in his
wardrobe, for the hosier is another of the genus of weevils that nibble
at the purse. This was Rastignac's condition. His purse was always
empty for Mme. Vauquer, always full at the demand of vanity; there was
a periodical ebb and flow in his fortunes,