"But I am not off till you pay me a sacred debt--that little supper,
you know, heh?" said Blondet, who was rather too much given to good
cheer, and got himself treated when he was out of funds.

"What supper?" asked Lucien with a little stamp of impatience.

"You don't remember? In that I recognize my prosperous friend; he has
lost his memory."

"He knows what he owes us; I will go bail for his good heart," said
Finot, taking up Blondet's joke.

"Rastignac," said Blondet, taking the young dandy by the arm as he
came up the room to the column where the so-called friends were
standing. "There is a supper in the wind; you will join us--unless,"
he added gravely, turning to Lucien, "Monsieur persists in ignoring a
debt of honor. He can."

"Monsieur de Rubempre is incapable of such a thing; I will answer for
him," said Rastignac, who never dreamed of a practical joke.

"And there is Bixiou, he will come too," cried Blondet; "there is no
fun without him. Without him champagne cloys my tongue, and I find
everything insipid, even the pepper of satire."

"My friends," said Bixiou, "I see you have gathered round the wonder
of the day. Our dear Lucien has revived the Metamorphoses of Ovid.
Just as the gods used to turn into strange vegetables and other things
to seduce the ladies, he has turned the Chardon (the Thistle) into a
gentleman to bewitch--whom? Charles X.!--My dear boy," he went on,