," he said, bringing down a hand on Christophe's head, and
spinning the man round like a thimble; "you will have a famous tip."

By this time the table was set. Sylvie was boiling the milk, Mme.
Vauquer was lighting a fire in the stove with some assistance from
Vautrin, who kept humming to himself:

"The same old story everywhere,
A roving heart and a roving glance."

When everything was ready, Mme. Couture and Mlle. Taillefer came in.

"Where have you been this morning, fair lady?" said Mme. Vauquer,
turning to Mme. Couture.

"We have just been to say our prayers at Saint-Etienne du Mont. To-day
is the day when we must go to see M. Taillefer. Poor little thing! She
is trembling like a leaf," Mme. Couture went on, as she seated herself
before the fire and held the steaming soles of her boots to the blaze.

"Warm yourself, Victorine," said Mme. Vauquer.

"It is quite right and proper, mademoiselle, to pray to Heaven to soften
your father's heart," said Vautrin, as he drew a chair nearer to the
orphan girl; "but that is not enough. What you want is a friend who
will give the monster a piece of his mind; a barbarian that has three
millions (so they say), and will not give you a dowry; and a pretty girl
needs a dowry nowadays."

"Poor child!" said Mme. Vauquer. "Never mind, my pet, your wretch of a
father is going just the way to bring trouble upon himself."

Victorine's eyes filled with tears at the words, and the widow checked
herself at a sign from Mme. Couture.

"If we could only see him!" said the Commissary-General's widow; "if I
could speak to him myself and give him his wife's last letter! I
have never dared to run the risk of sending it by post; he knew my
handwriting----"

"'Oh woman, persecuted and injured innocent!'" exclaimed Vautrin,
breaking in upon her. "So that is how you are, is it? In a few days'
time I will look into your affairs, and it will be all right, you shall
see."

"Oh! sir," said Victorine, with a tearful but eager glance at Vautrin,
who showed no sign of being touched by it, "if you know of any way
of communicating with my father, please be sure and tell him that his
affection and my mother's honor are more to me than all the money in the
world. If you can induce him to relent a little towards me, I will pray
to God for you. You may be sure of my gratitude----"

"_The same old story everywhere_," sang Vautrin, with a satirical
intonation. At this juncture, Goriot, Mlle. Mic