so delighted several
people of taste, and I obtained the honor of taking her to a first
presentation of some wretched farce or other. A box scarcely cost five
francs, but I had not a brass farthing. I was but half-way through
the volume of Memoirs; I dared not beg for assistance of Finot, and
Rastignac, my providence, was away. These constant perplexities were the
bane of my life.

"We had once come out of the theatre when it was raining heavily,
Foedora had called a cab for me before I could escape from her show
of concern; she would not admit any of my excuses--my liking for wet
weather, and my wish to go to the gaming-table. She did not read my
poverty in my embarrassed attitude, or in my forced jests. My eyes would
redden, but she did not understand a look. A young man's life is at the
mercy of the strangest whims! At every revolution of the wheels during
the journey, thoughts that burned stirred in my heart. I tried to pull
up a plank from the bottom of the vehicle, hoping to slip through the
hole into the street; but finding insuperable obstacles, I burst into a
fit of laughter, and then sat stupefied in calm dejection, like a man in
a pillory. When I reached my lodging, Pauline broke in through my first
stammering words with:

"'If you haven't any money----?'

"Ah, the music of Rossini was as nothing compared with those words. But
to return to the performance at the Funambules.

"I thought of pawning the circlet of gold round my mother's portrait
in order to escort the countess. Although the pawnbroker loomed in
my thoughts as one of the doors of a convict's prison, I would rather
myself have carried my bed thither than have begged for alms. There is
something so painful in the expression of a man who asks money of you!
There are loans that mulct us of our self-respect, just as some rebuffs
from a friend's lips sweep away our last illusion.

"Pauline was working; her mother had gone to bed. I flung a stealthy
glance over the bed; the curtains were drawn back a little; Madame
Gaudin was in a deep sleep, I thought, when I saw her quiet, sallow
profile outlined against the pillow.

"'You are in trouble?' Pauline said, dipping her brush into the
coloring.

"'It is in your power to do me a great service, my dear child,' I
answered.

"The gladness in her eyes frightened me.

"'Is it possible that she loves me?' I thought. 'Pauline,' I began.
I went and sat near to her, so as to study her. My tones had been