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Updated: May 10, 2025
Though the Countess aspired to reign in Paris and tried to keep pace with Mesdames the Duchesses de Maufrigneuse and du Chaulieu, the Marquises d'Espard and d'Aiglemont, the Comtesses Feraud, de Montcornet, and de Restaud, Madame de Camps, and Mademoiselle des Touches, she did not yield to the addresses of the young Vicomte de Portenduere, who made her his idol.
It had struck him all at once that he had seen the young man before at Mme. de Beauseant's ball; he guessed the relation between Maxime and Mme. de Restaud; and with the youthful audacity that commits prodigious blunders or achieves signal success, he said to himself, "This is my rival; I mean to cut him out." Rash resolve!
"What may that be?" said Vautrin, pouncing on a letter in Christophe's hand. "Mme. la Comtesse Anastasie de Restaud," he read. "Where are you going with it?" he added, as he gave the letter back to Christophe. "To the Rue du Helder. I have orders to give this into her hands myself." "What is there inside it?" said Vautrin, holding the letter up to the light. "A banknote? No."
"Poor, dear gentleman, is he as bad at that?" said Therese. "You don't want me now, I must go and look after my dinner; it is half-past four," remarked Sylvie. The next instant she all but collided with Mme. de Restaud on the landing outside. There was something awful and appalling in the sudden apparition of the Countess.
"Are you really going to stay with me, monsieur?" asked the Baroness. "Then we shall make each other's acquaintance. Mme. de Restaud told me about you, and has made me anxious to meet you." "She must be very insincere, then, for she has shut her door on me." "What?" "Madame, I will tell you honestly the reason why; but I must crave your indulgence before confiding such a secret to you.
Public opinion may blame me, but I care nothing for public opinion. Just now I have other and much more important matters to think about than the things that fools and chatterers may say about me. As for Mme. de Restaud, she cannot leave the house; she is in no condition to do so. And, besides, I shall not allow her to leave it.
So that shows you, sir student, that all the time your Countess was smiling, dancing, flirting, swaying her peach-flower crowned head, with her gown gathered into her hand, her slippers were pinching her, as they say; she was thinking of her protested bills, or her lover's protested bills." "You have made me wild to know the truth," cried Eugene; "I will go to call on Mme. de Restaud to-morrow."
They ought to pass a law for dying fathers. This is awful! It cries for vengeance! They cannot come, because my sons-in-law forbid them!... Kill them!... Restaud and the Alsatian, kill them both! They have murdered me between them!... Death or my daughters!... Ah! it is too late, I am dying, and they are not here!... Dying without them!... Nasie! Fifine! Why do you not come to me?
Eugene had been dazzled at first by the brilliant assembly, and had scarcely exchanged a few words with the Vicomtesse; he had been content to single out a goddess among this throng of Parisian divinities, one of those women who are sure to attract a young man's fancy. The Comtesse Anastasie de Restaud was tall and gracefully made; she had one of the prettiest figures in Paris.
"No," she answered herself, and sat down beside the bed. As Mme. de Restaud seemed to wish to sit by her father, Eugene went down to take a little food. The boarders were already assembled. "Well," remarked the painter, as he joined them, "it seems that there is to be a death-orama upstairs." "Charles, I think you might find something less painful to joke about," said Eugene.
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