ount of impression it makes is not to be determined
so exactly. Sometimes, in an impressible nature, the idea works havoc,
but there are, no less, natures so robustly protected, that this sort
of projectile falls flat and harmless on skulls of triple brass,
as cannon-shot against solid masonry; then there are flaccid and
spongy-fibred natures into which ideas from without sink like spent
bullets into the earthworks of a redoubt. Rastignac's head was something
of the powder-magazine order; the least shock sufficed to bring about an
explosion. He was too quick, too young, not to be readily accessible
to ideas; and open to that subtle influence of thought and feeling in
others which causes so many strange phenomena that make an impression
upon us of which we are all unconscious at the time. Nothing escaped his
mental vision; he was lynx-eyed; in him the mental powers of perception,
which seem like duplicates of the senses, had the mysterious power
of swift projection that astonishes us in intellects of a high
order--slingers who are quick to detect the weak spot in any armor.

In the past month Eugene's good qualities and defects had rapidly
developed with his character. Intercourse with the world and the
endeavor to satisfy his growing desires had brought out his defects.
But Rastignac came from the South side of the Loire, and had the good
qualities of his countrymen. He had the impetuous courage of the South,
that rushes to the attack of a difficulty, as well as the southern
impatience of delay or suspense. These traits are held to be defects in
the North; they made the fortune of Murat, but they likewise cut short
his career. The moral would appear to be that when the dash and boldness
of the South side of the Loire meets, in a southern temperament, with
the guile of the North, the character is complete, and such a man will
gain (and keep) the crown of Sweden.

Rastignac, therefore, could not stand the fire from Vautrin's batteries
for long without discovering whether this was a friend or a foe. He felt
as if this strange being was reading his inmost soul, and dissecting
his feelings, while Vautrin himself was so close and secretive that
he seemed to have something of the profound and unmoved serenity of
a sphinx, seeing and hearing all things and saying nothing. Eugene,
conscious of that money in his pocket, grew rebellious.

"Be so good as to wait a moment," he said to Vautrin, as the latter
rose, after slowly empt