Having reached the spot, the false Madame de Saint-Esteve said to Nucingen with a hideous smile:
“We must go a short way on foot; I am not such a fool as to have given you the right address.”
“You tink of eferytink!” said the baron.
“It is my business,” said she.
Asie led Nucingen to the Rue Barbette, where, in furnished lodgings kept by an upholsterer, he was led up to the fourth floor.
On finding Esther in a squalid room, dressed as a work-woman, and employed on some embroidery, the millionaire turned pale. At the end of a quarter of an hour, while Asie affected to talk in whispers to Esther, the young old man could hardly speak.
“Montemisselle,” said he at length to the unhappy girl, “vill you be so goot as to let me be your protector?”
“Why, I cannot help myself, monsieur,” replied Esther, letting fall two large tears.
“Do not veep. I shall make you de happiest of vomen. Only permit that I shall lof you—you shall see.”
“Well, well, child, the gentleman is reasonable,” said Asie. “He knows that he is more than sixty, and he will be very kind to you. You see, my beauty, I have found you quite a father—I had to say so,” Asie whispered to the banker, who was not best pleased. “You cannot catch swallows by firing a pistol at them.—Come here,” she went on, leading Nucingen into the adjoining room. “You remember our bargain, my angel?”