The Baron spent an hour, from noon till one, in dyeing his hair and whiskers. At nine in the evening, having taken a bath before dinner, he made a toilet worthy of a bridegroom and scented himself--a perfect Adonis. Madame de Nucingen, informed of this metamorphosis, gave herself the treat of inspecting her husband. “Good heavens!” cried she, “what a ridiculous figure! Do, at least, put on a black satin stock instead of that white neckcloth which makes your whiskers look so black; besides, it is so ‘Empire,’ quite the old fogy. You look like some super-annuated parliamentary counsel. And take off these diamond buttons; they are worth a hundred thousand francs apiece--that slut will ask you for them, and you will not be able to refuse her; and if a baggage is to have them, I may as well wear them as earrings.” The unhappy banker, struck by the wisdom of his wife’s reflections, obeyed reluctantly. “Ridikilous, ridikilous! I hafe never telt you dat you shall be ridikilous when you dressed yourself so smart to see your little Mensieur de Rastignac!” “I should hope that you never saw me make myself ridiculous. Am I the woman to make such blunders in the first syllable of my dress? Come, turn about. Button your coat up to the neck, all but the two top buttons, as the Duc de Maufrigneuse does. In short, try to look young.” “Monsieur,” said Georges, “here is Mademoiselle Eugenie.” “Adie, motame,” said the banker, and he escorted his wife as far as her own rooms, to make sure that she should not overhear their conference. On his return, he took Europe by the hand and led her into his room with a sort of ironical respect. “Vell, my chilt, you are a happy creature, for you are de maid of dat most beautiful voman in de vorlt. And your fortune shall be made if you vill talk to her for me and in mine interests.” “I would not do such a thing for ten thousand francs!” exclaimed Europe. “I would have you to know, Monsieur le Baron, that I am an honest girl.” “Oh yes. I expect to pay dear for your honesty. In business dat is vat ve call curiosity.” “And that is not everything,” Europe went on. “If you should not take madame’s fancy--and that is on the cards--she would be angry, and I am done for!--and my place is worth a thousand francs a year.” “De capital to make ein tousant franc is twenty tousand franc; and if I shall gif you dat, you shall not lose noting.” “Well, to be sure, if that is the tone you take about it, my worthy old fellow,” said Europe, “that is quite another story.--Where is the money?” “Here,” replied the Baron, holding up the banknotes, one at a time. He noted the flash struck by each in turn from Europe’s eyes, betraying the greed he had counted on. “That pays for my place, but how about my principles, my conscience?” said Europe, cocking her crafty little nose and giving the Baron a serio-comic leer.