oor baron of Angouleme, was a
characteristic son of the South. His complexion was clear, hair black,
eyes blue. His figure, manner, and habitual poses proved that he was a
scion of a noble family, and that his early education had been based on
aristocratic traditions. The connecting link between these two
individuals and the other boarders was Vautrin--the man of forty, with
the dyed whiskers. He was one of that sort of men who are familiarly
described as "jolly good fellows." His face, furrowed with premature
wrinkles, showed signs of hardness which belied his insinuating address.
He was invariably obliging, with a breezy cheerfulness, though at times
there was a steely expression in the eyes which inspired his
fellow-boarders with a sense of fear. He knew or guessed the affairs of
everybody in the house, but no one could divine his real business or his
most inmost thoughts.

_II.--The Beginnings of the Tragedy_

Such a household ought to offer, and did present in miniature, the
elements of a complete society. Among the inmates there was, as in the
world at large, one poor discouraged creature--a butt on whom mocking
pleasantries were rained. This patient sufferer was the old vermicelli
maker, Goriot. Six years before, he had come to live at the Maison
Vauquer, having, so he said, retired from business. He dressed
handsomely, wore a gold watch, with thick gold chain and seals,
flourished a gold snuff-box, and, when Madame Vauquer insinuated that he
was a gallant, he smiled with the complacency of vanity tickled. Among
the china and silver articles with which he decorated his sitting-room
were a dish and porringer, on the cover of which were figures
representing two doves billing and cooing.

"That," said Goriot, "is the present which my wife made to me on the
first anniversary of our wedding-day. Poor dear, she bought it with the
little savings she hoarded before our marriage. Look you, madame, I
would rather scratch the ground with my nails for a living than part
with that porringer. God be praised, however, I shall be able to drink
my coffee out of this dish every morning during the rest of my days. I
cannot complain. I have on the shelf, as the saying is, plenty of baked
bread for a long time to come."

At the close of his first year Goriot began to practise little
economies; at the end of the second he removed his rooms to the second
floor, and did without a fire all the winter. This although, as Madame
Va