Just as Madame d'Espard was about to address her cousin, the
mysterious mask came between her and the Duke to whisper in her ear:

"Lucien loves you; he wrote the note. Your Prefet is his greatest foe;
how can he speak in his presence?"

The stranger moved off, leaving Madame d'Espard a prey to a double
surprise. The Marquise knew no one in the world who was capable of
playing the part assumed by this mask; she suspected a snare, and went
to sit down out of sight. The Comte Sixte du Chatelet--whom Lucien had
abridged of his ambitious _du_ with an emphasis that betrayed long
meditated revenge--followed the handsome dandy, and presently met a
young man to whom he thought he could speak without reserve.

"Well, Rastignac, have you seen Lucien? He has come out in a new
skin."

"If I were half as good looking as he is, I should be twice as rich,"
replied the fine gentleman, in a light but meaning tone, expressive of
keen raillery.

"No!" said the fat mask in his ear, repaying a thousand ironies in one
by the accent he lent the monosyllable.

Rastignac, who was not the man to swallow an affront, stood as if
struck by lightning, and allowed himself to be led into a recess by a
grasp of iron which he could not shake off.

"You young cockerel, hatched in Mother Vauquer's coop--you, whose