Eugene at last went to call upon the marquise; but, on attempting to
pass into the house, the porter stopped him, saying that Madame la
marquise was out. As he was getting back into his carriage the Marquis
de Listomere came home.
"Come in, Eugene," he said. "My wife is at home."
Pray excuse the marquis. A husband, however good he may be, never
attains perfection. As they went up the staircase Rastignac perceived
at least a dozen blunders in worldly wisdom which had, unaccountably,
slipped into this page of the glorious book of his life.
When Madame de Listomere saw her husband ushering in Eugene she could
not help blushing. The young baron saw that sudden color. If the most
humble-minded man retains in the depths of his soul a certain conceit
of which he never rids himself, any more than a woman ever rids
herself of coquetry, who shall blame Eugene if he did say softly in
his own mind: "What! that fortress, too?" So thinking, he posed in his
cravat. Young men may not be grasping but they like to get a new coin
in their collection.
Monsieur de Listomere seized the "Gazette de France," which he saw on
the mantelpiece, and carried it to a window, to obtain, by
journalistic help, an opinion of his own on the state of France.
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