in Father Goriot's withered face
and its dull apathy were quite incompatible with wealth or any sort of
intelligence. As for the creatures whom he called his daughters, all
Mme. Vauquer's boarders were of her opinion. With the faculty for severe
logic sedulously cultivated by elderly women during long evenings of
gossip till they can always find an hypothesis to fit all circumstances,
she was wont to reason thus:

"If Father Goriot had daughters of his own as rich as those ladies who
came here seemed to be, he would not be lodging in my house, on the
third floor, at forty-five francs a month; and he would not go about
dressed like a poor man."

No objection could be raised to these inferences. So by the end of
the month of November 1819, at the time when the curtain rises on this
drama, every one in the house had come to have a very decided opinion as
to the poor old man. He had never had either wife or daughter; excesses
had reduced him to this sluggish condition; he was a sort of human
mollusk who should be classed among the capulidoe, so one of the dinner
contingent, an _employe_ at the Museum, who had a pretty wit of his own.
Poiret was an eagle, a gentleman, compared with Goriot. Poiret would
join the talk, argue, answer when he was spoken to; as a matter of
fact, his talk, arguments, and responses contributed nothing to the
conversation, for Poiret had a habit of repeating what the others said
in different words; still, he did join in the talk; he was alive, and
seemed capable of feeling; while Father Goriot (to quote the Museum
official again) was invariably at zero degrees--Reaumur.

Eugene de Rastignac had just returned to Paris in a state of mind not
unknown to young men who are conscious of unusual powers, and to those
whose faculties are so stimulated by a difficult position, that for the
time being they rise above the ordinary level.

Rastignac's first year of study for the preliminary examinations in law
had left him free to see the sights of Paris and to enjoy some of its
amusements. A student has not much time on his hands if he sets himself
to learn the repertory of every theatre, and to study the ins and outs
of the labyrinth of Paris. To know its customs; to learn the language,
and become familiar with the amusements of the capital, he must explore
its recesses, good and bad, follow the studies that please him best, and
form some idea of the treasures contained in galleries and museums.

At this