honneau, and Poiret came
downstairs together; possibly the scent of the gravy which Sylvie was
making to serve with the mutton had announced breakfast. The seven
people thus assembled bade each other good-morning, and took their
places at the table; the clock struck ten, and the student's footstep
was heard outside.

"Ah! here you are, M. Eugene," said Sylvie; "every one is breakfasting
at home to-day."

The student exchanged greetings with the lodgers, and sat down beside
Goriot.

"I have just met with a queer adventure," he said, as he helped himself
abundantly to the mutton, and cut a slice of bread, which Mme. Vauquer's
eyes gauged as usual.

"An adventure?" queried Poiret.

"Well, and what is there to astonish you in that, old boy?" Vautrin
asked of Poiret. "M. Eugene is cut out for that kind of thing."

Mlle. Taillefer stole a timid glance at the young student.

"Tell us about your adventure!" demanded M. Vautrin.

"Yesterday evening I went to a ball given by a cousin of mine, the
Vicomtesse de Beauseant. She has a magnificent house; the rooms are hung
with silk--in short, it was a splendid affair, and I was as happy as a
king---"

"Fisher," put in Vautrin, interrupting.

"What do you mean, sir?" said Eugene sharply.

"I said 'fisher,' because kingfishers see a good deal more fun than
kings."

"Quite true; I would much rather be the little careless bird than a
king," said Poiret the ditto-ist, "because----"

"In fact"--the law-student cut him short--"I danced with one of the
handsomest women in the room, a charming countess, the most exquisite
creature I have ever seen. There was peach blossom in her hair, and she
had the loveliest bouquet of flowers--real flowers, that scented the
air----but there! it is no use trying to describe a woman glowing with
the dance. You ought to have seen her! Well, and this morning I met this
divine countess about nine o'clock, on foot in the Rue de Gres. Oh! how
my heart beat! I began to think----"

"That she was coming here," said Vautrin, with a keen look at the
student. "I expect that she was going to call on old Gobseck, a
money-lender. If ever you explore a Parisian woman's heart, you will
find the money-lender first, and the lover afterwards. Your countess is
called Anastasie de Restaud, and she lives in the Rue du Helder."

The student stared hard at Vautrin. Father Goriot raised his head at the
words, and gave the two speakers a glance so full of intellig