Father Goriot | Page 9

near relation, had taken charge of the little orphan.
Unluckily, the widow of the commissary-general to the armies of the
Republic had nothing in the world but her jointure and her widow's
pension, and some day she might be obliged to leave the helpless,
inexperienced girl to the mercy of the world. The good soul, therefore,
took Victorine to mass every Sunday, and to confession once a
fortnight, thinking that, in any case, she would bring up her ward to be
devout. She was right; religion offered a solution of the problem of the

young girl's future. The poor child loved the father who refused to
acknowledge her. Once every year she tried to see him to deliver her
mother's message of forgiveness, but every year hitherto she had
knocked at that door in vain; her father was inexorable. Her brother, her
only means of communication, had not come to see her for four years,
and had sent her no assistance; yet she prayed to God to unseal her
father's eyes and to soften her brother's heart, and no accusations
mingled with her prayers. Mme. Couture and Mme. Vauquer exhausted
the vocabulary of abuse, and failed to find words that did justice to the
banker's iniquitous conduct; but while they heaped execrations on the
millionaire, Victorine's words were as gentle as the moan of the
wounded dove, and affection found expression even in the cry drawn
from her by pain.
Eugene de Rastignac was a thoroughly southern type; he had a fair
complexion, blue eyes, black hair. In his figure, manner, and his whole
bearing it was easy to see that he had either come of a noble family, or
that, from his earliest childhood, he had been gently bred. If he was
careful of his wardrobe, only taking last year's clothes into daily wear,
still upon occasion he could issue forth as a young man of fashion.
Ordinarily he wore a shabby coat and waistcoat, the limp black cravat,
untidily knotted, that students affect, trousers that matched the rest of
his costume, and boots that had been resoled.
Vautrin (the man of forty with the dyed whiskers) marked a transition
stage between these two young people and the others. He was the kind
of man that calls forth the remark: "He looks a jovial sort!" He had
broad shoulders, a well-developed chest, muscular arms, and strong
square-fisted hands; the joints of his fingers were covered with tufts of
fiery red hair. His face was furrowed by premature wrinkles; there was
a certain hardness about it in spite of his bland and insinuating manner.
His bass voice was by no means unpleasant, and was in keeping with
his boisterous laughter. He was always obliging, always in good spirits;
if anything went wrong with one of the locks, he would soon unscrew it,
take it to pieces, file it, oil and clean and set it in order, and put it back
in its place again; "I am an old hand at it," he used to say. Not only so,
he knew all about ships, the sea, France, foreign countries, men,

business, law, great houses and prisons,-- there was nothing that he did
not know. If any one complained rather more than usual, he would
offer his services at once. He had several times lent money to Mme.
Vauquer, or to the boarders; but, somehow, those whom he obliged felt
that they would sooner face death than fail to repay him; a certain
resolute look, sometimes seen on his face, inspired fear of him, for all
his appearance of easy good-nature. In the way he spat there was an
imperturbable coolness which seemed to indicate that this was a man
who would not stick at a crime to extricate himself from a false
position. His eyes, like those of a pitiless judge, seemed to go to the
very bottom of all questions, to read all natures, all feelings and
thoughts. His habit of life was very regular; he usually went out after
breakfast, returning in time for dinner, and disappeared for the rest of
the evening, letting himself in about midnight with a latch key, a
privilege that Mme. Vauquer accorded to no other boarder. But then he
was on very good terms with the widow; he used to call her "mamma,"
and put his arm round her waist, a piece of flattery perhaps not
appreciated to the full! The worthy woman might imagine this to be an
easy feat; but, as a matter of fact, no arm but Vautrin's was long enough
to encircle her.
It was a characteristic trait of his generously to pay fifteen francs a
month for the cup of coffee with a dash of brandy in it, which he took
after dinner. Less superficial observers than young men engulfed