“‘M. de Rastignac is a man with whom it is better not to quarrel,’ said the countess, laughing.
“‘I am quite of that opinion,’ was his candid reply. ‘I have always been right about my aversions—and my friendships as well,’ he added. ‘Perhaps my enemies are quite as useful to me as my friends. I have made a particular study of modern phraseology, and of the natural craft that is used in all attack or defence. Official eloquence is one of our perfect social products.
“‘One of your friends is not clever, so you speak of his integrity and his candor. Another’s work is heavy; you introduce it as a piece of conscientious labor; and if the book is ill written, you extol the ideas it contains. Such an one is treacherous and fickle, slips through your fingers every moment; bah! he is attractive, bewitching, he is delightful! Suppose they are enemies, you fling every one, dead or alive, in their teeth. You reverse your phraseology for their benefit, and you are as keen in detecting their faults as you were before adroit in bringing out the virtues of your friends. This way of using the mental lorgnette is the secret of conversation nowadays, and the whole art of the complete courtier. If you neglect it, you might as well go out as an unarmed knight-banneret to fight against men in armor. And I make use of it, and even abuse it at times. So we are respected—I and my friends; and, moreover, my sword is quite as sharp as my tongue.’
“One of Foedora’s most fervid worshipers, whose presumption was notorious, and who even made it contribute to his success, took up the glove thrown down so scornfully by Rastignac. He began an unmeasured eulogy of me, my performances, and my character. Rastignac had overlooked this method of detraction. His sarcastic encomiums misled the countess, who sacrificed without mercy; she betrayed my secrets, and derided my pretensions and my hopes, to divert her friends.
“‘There is a future before him,’ said Rastignac. ‘Some day he may be in a position to take a cruel revenge; his talents are at least equal to his courage; and I should consider those who attack him very rash, for he has a good memory——’
“‘And writes Memoirs,’ put in the countess, who seemed to object to the deep silence that prevailed.
“‘Memoirs of a sham countess, madame,’ replied Rastignac. ‘Another sort of courage is needed to write that sort of thing.’
“‘I give him credit for plenty of courage,’ she answered; ‘he is faithful to me.’
“I was greatly tempted to show myself suddenly among the railers, like the shade of Banquo in Macbeth. I should have lost a mistress, but I had a friend! But love inspired me all at once, with one of those treacherous and fallacious subtleties that it can use to soothe all our pangs.
“If Foedora loved me, I thought, she would be sure to disguise her feelings by some mocking jest. How often the heart protests against a lie on the lips!