y had a
consultation of doctors yesterday, by what his man tells me.--I have
already eased him of a thousand francs under pretence of seeking the
fair one."

And Contenson related Nucingen's meeting with Esther, adding that the
Baron had now some further information.

"All right," said Peyrade, "we will find his Dulcinea; tell the Baron
to come to-night in a carriage to the Champs-Elysees--the corner of the
Avenue de Gabriel and the Allee de Marigny."

Peyrade saw Contenson out, and knocked at his daughter's rooms, as
he always knocked to be let in. He was full of glee; chance had just
offered the means, at last, of getting the place he longed for.

He flung himself into a deep armchair, after kissing Lydie on the
forehead, and said:

"Play me something."

Lydie played him a composition for the piano by Beethoven.

"That is very well played, my pet," said he, taking Lydie on his knees.
"Do you know that we are one-and-twenty years old? We must get married
soon, for our old daddy is more than seventy----"

"I am quite happy here," said she.

"You love no one but your ugly old father?" asked Peyrade.

"Why, whom should I love?"

"I am dining at home, my darling; go and tell Katt. I am thinking of
settling, of getting an appointment, and finding a husband worthy of
you; some good young man, very clever, whom you may some day be proud
of----"

"I have never seen but one yet that I should have liked for a
husband----"

"You have seen one then?"

"Yes, in the Tuileries," replied Lydie. "He walked past me; he was
giving his arm to the Comtesse de Serizy."

"And his name is?"

"Lucien de Rubempre.--I was sitting with Katt under a lime-tree,
thinking of nothing. There were two ladies sitting by me, and one said
to the other, 'There are Madame de Serizy and that handsome Lucien de
Rubempre.'--I looked at the couple that the two ladies were watching.
'Oh, my dear!' said the other, 'some women are very lucky! That woman
is allowed to do everything she pleases just because she was a de
Ronquerolles, and her husband is in power.'--'But, my dear,' said the
other lady, 'Lucien costs her very dear.'--What did she mean, papa?"

"Just nonsense, such as people of fashion will talk," replied Peyrade,
with an air of perfect candor. "Perhaps they were alluding to political
matters."

"Well, in short, you asked me a question, so I answer you. If you want
me to marry, find me a husband just like that young man."

"Sil