he said to himself. He felt ashamed of those letters.

What power there must be in the petitions put up by such hearts; how
pure the fervor that bears their souls to Heaven in prayer! What
exquisite joy they would find in self-sacrifice! What a pang for his
mother's heart if she could not send him all that he asked for! And
this noble affection, these sacrifices made at such terrible cost,
were to serve as the ladder by which he meant to climb to Delphine de
Nucingen. A few tears, like the last grains of incense flung upon the
sacred alter fire of the hearth, fell from his eyes. He walked up and
down, and despair mingled with his emotion. Father Goriot saw him
through the half-open door.

"What is the matter, sir?" he asked from the threshold.

"Ah! my good neighbor, I am as much a son and brother as you are a
father. You do well to fear for the Comtesse Anastasie; there is one
M. Maxime de Trailles, who will be her ruin."

Father Goriot withdrew, stammering some words, but Eugene failed to
catch their meaning.

The next morning Rastignac went out to post his letters. Up to the
last moment he wavered and doubted, but he ended by flinging them into
the box. "I shall succeed!" he said to himself. So says the gambler;
so says the great captain; but the three words that have been the
salvation of some few, have been the ruin of many more.

A few days after this Eugene called at Mme. de Restaud's house; she
was not at home. Three times he tried the experiment, and three times