get
it back for you."

"Well, now," Poiret remarked to Mlle. Michonneau, "there are idiots
who are scared out of their wits by the word police. That was a very
pleasant-spoken gentleman, and what he wants you to do is as easy as
saying 'Good-day.'"

The next day was destined to be one of the most extraordinary in the
annals of the Maison Vauquer. Hitherto the most startling occurrence in
its tranquil existence had been the portentous, meteor-like apparition
of the sham Comtesse de l'Ambermesnil. But the catastrophes of this
great day were to cast all previous events into the shade, and supply an
inexhaustible topic of conversation for Mme. Vauquer and her boarders so
long as she lived.

In the first place, Goriot and Eugene de Rastignac both slept till close
upon eleven o'clock. Mme. Vauquer, who came home about midnight from
the Gaite, lay a-bed till half-past ten. Christophe, after a prolonged
slumber (he had finished Vautrin's first bottle of wine), was behindhand
with his work, but Poiret and Mlle. Michonneau uttered no complaint,
though breakfast was delayed. As for Victorine and Mme. Couture, they
also lay late. Vautrin went out before eight o'clock, and only came back
just as breakfast was ready. Nobody protested, therefore, when Sylvie
and Christophe went up at a quarter past eleven, knocked at all the
doors, and announced that breakfast was waiting. While Sylvie and the
man were upstairs, Mlle. Michonneau, who came down first, poured the
contents of the phial into the silver cup belonging to Vautrin--it was
standing with the others in the bain-marie that kept the cream hot for
the morning coffee. The spinster had reckoned on this custom of the
house to do her stroke of business. The seven lodgers were at last
collected together, not without some difficulty. Just as Eugene came
downstairs, stretching himself and yawning, a commissionaire handed him
a letter from Mme. de Nucingen. It ran thus:--

"I feel neither false vanity nor anger where you are concerned, my
friend. Till two o'clock this morning I waited for you. Oh, that waiting
for one whom you love! No one that had passed through that torture could
inflict it on another. I know now that you have never loved before.
What can have happened? Anxiety has taken hold of me. I would have come
myself to find out what had happened, if I had not feared to betray the
secrets of my heart. How can I walk out or drive out at this time of
day? Would it not be