“Monsieur, I do not recognize that you have any right either to meddle in my affairs, or to make me waste a cigarette,” said Lucien, throwing away his cigarette that had gone out. “Good-day, monsieur,” said Corentin. “We shall not meet again.--But there will certainly be a moment in your life when you would give half your fortune to have called me back from these stairs.” In answer to this threat, Carlos made as though he were cutting off a head. “Now to business!” cried he, looking at Lucien, who was as white as ashes after this dreadful interview. If among the small number of my readers who take an interest in the moral and philosophical side of this book there should be only one capable of believing that the Baron de Nucingen was happy, that one would prove how difficult it is to explain the heart of a courtesan by any kind of physiological formula. Esther was resolved to make the poor millionaire pay dearly for what he called his day of triumph. And at the beginning of February 1830 the house-warming party had not yet been given in the “little palace.” “Well,” said Esther in confidence to her friends, who repeated it to the Baron, “I shall open house at the Carnival, and I mean to make my man as happy as a cock in plaster.” The phrase became proverbial among women of her kidney. The Baron gave vent to much lamentation; like married men, he made himself very ridiculous, he began to complain to his intimate friends, and his dissatisfaction was generally known. Esther, meanwhile, took quite a serious view of her position as the Pompadour of this prince of speculators. She had given two or three small evening parties, solely to get Lucien into the house. Lousteau, Rastignac, du Tillet, Bixiou, Nathan, the Comte de Brambourg--all the cream of the dissipated crew--frequented her drawing-room. And, as leading ladies in the piece she was playing, Esther accepted Tullia, Florentine, Fanny Beaupre, and Florine--two dancers and two actresses--besides Madame du Val-Noble. Nothing can be more dreary than a courtesan’s home without the spice of rivalry, the display of dress, and some variety of type.