expiate their
extravagance by such privations as are endured by travelers lost in a
Sahara; but they never take the smallest fancy for economy. They venture
forth to masked balls; they take journeys into the provinces; they turn
out well dressed on the boulevards when the weather is fine. And then
they find in each other the devoted kindness which is known only among
proscribed races. It costs a woman in luck no effort to bestow some
help, for she says to herself, "I may be in the same plight by Sunday!"

However, the most efficient protector still is the purchaser of dress.
When this greedy money-lender finds herself the creditor, she stirs
and works on the hearts of all the old men she knows in favor of the
mortgaged creature in thin boots and a fine bonnet.

In this way Madame du Val-Noble, unable to foresee the downfall of one
of the richest and cleverest of stockbrokers, was left quite unprepared.
She had spent Falleix's money on her whims, and trusted to him for all
necessaries and to provide for the future.

"How could I have expected such a thing in a man who seemed such a good
fellow?"

In almost every class of society the good fellow is an open-handed man,
who will lend a few crowns now and again without expecting them back,
who always behaves in accordance with a certain code of delicate feeling
above mere vulgar, obligatory, and commonplace morality. Certain men,
regarded as virtuous and honest, have, like Nucingen, ruined their
benefactors; and certain others, who have been through a criminal court,
have an ingenious kind of honesty towards women. Perfect virtue, the
dream of Moliere, an Alceste, is exceedingly rare; still, it is to be
found everywhere, even in Paris. The "good fellow" is the product of a
certain facility of nature which proves nothing. A man is a good fellow,
as a cat is silky, as a slipper is made to slip on to the foot. And so,
in the meaning given to the word by a kept woman, Falleix ought to have
warned his mistress of his approaching bankruptcy and have given her
enough to live upon.

D'Estourny, the dashing swindler, was a good fellow; he cheated at
cards, but he had set aside thirty thousand francs for his mistress. And
at carnival suppers women would retort on his accusers: "No matter.
You may say what you like, Georges was a good fellow; he had charming
manners, he deserved a better fate."

These girls laugh laws to scorn, and adore a certain kind of generosity;
they sell t