“But, my dear boy, the world’s demands are soon satisfied,” returned she.  “You must sleep here; that is all.  All day long you will be with me, and no one can say a word.”

A few kisses set Lucien’s mind completely at rest.  An hour later Gentil brought in a note from Chatelet.  He told Mme. de Bargeton that he had found lodgings for her in the Rue Nueve-de-Luxembourg.  Mme. de Bargeton informed herself of the exact place, and found that it was not very far from the Rue de l’Echelle.  “We shall be neighbors,” she told Lucien.

Two hours afterwards Louise stepped into the hired carriage sent by Chatelet for the removal to the new rooms.  The apartments were of the class that upholsterers furnish and let to wealthy deputies and persons of consideration on a short visit to Paris—­showy and uncomfortable.  It was eleven o’clock when Lucien returned to his inn, having seen nothing as yet of Paris except the part of the Rue Saint-Honore which lies between the Rue Neuve-de-Luxembourg and the Rue de l’Echelle.  He lay down in his miserable little room, and could not help comparing it in his own mind with Louise’s sumptuous apartments.

Just as he came away the Baron du Chatelet came in, gorgeously arrayed in evening dress, fresh from the Minister for Foreign Affairs, to inquire whether Mme. de Bargeton was satisfied with all that he had done on her behalf.  Nais was uneasy.  The splendor was alarming to her mind.  Provincial life had reacted upon her; she was painfully conscientious over her accounts, and economical to a degree that is looked upon as miserly in Paris.  She had brought with her twenty thousand francs in the shape of a draft on the Receiver-General, considering that the sum would more than cover the expenses of four years in Paris; she was afraid already lest she should not have enough, and should run into debt; and now Chatelet told her that her rooms would only cost six hundred francs per month.

“A mere trifle,” added he, seeing that Nais was startled.  “For five hundred francs a month you can have a carriage from a livery stable; fifty louis in all.  You need only think of your dress.  A woman moving in good society could not well do less; and if you mean to obtain a Receiver-General’s appointment for M. de Bargeton, or a post in the Household, you ought not to look poverty-stricken.  Here, in Paris, they only give to the rich.  It is most fortunate that you brought Gentil to go out with you, and Albertine for your own woman, for servants are enough to ruin you here.  But with your introductions you will seldom be home to a meal.”

Mme. de Bargeton and the Baron de Chatelet chatted about Paris.  Chatelet gave her all the news of the day, the myriad nothings that you are bound to know, under penalty of being a nobody.  Before very long the Baron also gave advice as to shopping, recommending Herbault for toques and Juliette for hats and bonnets; he added the address of a fashionable dressmaker to supersede Victorine.  In short, he made the lady see the necessity of rubbing off Angouleme.  Then he took his leave after a final flash of happy inspiration.