"
Just then a porter from the Messageries Royales appeared at the door
of the room; they had previously heard the bell ring as the wicket
opened to admit him. The man asked for M. Eugene de Rastignac, holding
out two bags for him to take, and a form of receipt for his signature.
Vautrin's keen glance cut Eugene like a lash.
"Now you will be able to pay for those fencing lessons and go to the
shooting gallery," he said.
"Your ship has come in," said Mme. Vauquer, eyeing the bags.
Mlle. Michonneau did not dare to look at the money, for fear her eyes
should betray her cupidity.
"You have a kind mother," said Mme. Couture.
"You have a kind mother, sir," echoed Poiret.
"Yes, mamma has been drained dry," said Vautrin, "and now you can have
your fling, go into society, and fish for heiresses, and dance with
countesses who have peach blossom in their hair. But take my advice,
young man, and don't neglect your pistol practice."
Vautrin struck an attitude, as if he were facing an antagonist.
Rastignac, meaning to give the porter a tip, felt in his pockets and
found nothing. Vautrin flung down a franc piece on the table.
"Your credit is good," he remarked, eyeing the student, and Rastignac
was forced to thank him, though, since the sharp encounter of wits at
dinner that day, after Eugene came in from calling on Mme.
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