gentleman
said (and he seemed to me to be a very good sort of man, besides being
very well got up), it is an act of obedience to the laws to rid society
of a criminal, however virtuous he may be. Once a thief, always a thief.
Suppose he were to take it into his head to murder us all? The deuce! We
should be guilty of manslaughter, and be the first to fall victims into
the bargain!"

Mlle. Michonneau's musings did not permit her to listen very closely to
the remarks that fell one by one from Poiret's lips like water dripping
from a leaky tap. When once this elderly babbler began to talk, he would
go on like clockwork unless Mlle. Michonneau stopped him. He started
on some subject or other, and wandered on through parenthesis after
parenthesis, till he came to regions as remote as possible from his
premises without coming to any conclusions by the way.

By the time they reached the Maison Vauquer he had tacked together a
whole string of examples and quotations more or less irrelevant to
the subject in hand, which led him to give a full account of his own
deposition in the case of the Sieur Ragoulleau _versus_ Dame Morin, when
he had been summoned as a witness for the defence.

As they entered the dining-room, Eugene de Rastignac was talking apart
with Mlle. Taillefer; the conversation appeared to be of such thrilling
interest that the pair never noticed the two older lodgers as they
passed through the room. None of this was thrown away on Mlle.
Michonneau.

"I knew how it would end," remarked that lady, addressing Poiret. "They
have been making eyes at each other in a heartrending way for a week
past."

"Yes," he answered. "So she was found guilty."

"Who?"

"Mme. Morin."

"I am talking about Mlle. Victorine," said Mlle, Michonneau, as she
entered Poiret's room with an absent air, "and you answer, 'Mme. Morin.'
Who may Mme. Morin be?"

"What can Mlle. Victorine be guilty of?" demanded Poiret.

"Guilty of falling in love with M. Eugene de Rastignac and going further
and further without knowing exactly where she is going, poor innocent!"

That morning Mme. de Nucingen had driven Eugene to despair. In his own
mind he had completely surrendered himself to Vautrin, and deliberately
shut his eyes to the motive for the friendship which that extraordinary
man professed for him, nor would he look to the consequences of such an
alliance. Nothing short of a miracle could extricate him now out of the
gulf into whic