"Give me those things, I will go upstairs and estimate their value; Iwill come back and tell you what it is to a fraction. Jeweller'sgold," examining a long chain, "eighteen or nineteen carats."The goodman held out his huge hand and received the mass of gold,which he carried away.。，
your opera-box, we should even then not have enough for the。， "Aunt, here is my mother's thimble; I have always kept it carefully inmy dressing-case," said Charles, presenting a pretty gold thimble toMadame Grandet, who for many years had longed for one.
。， Charles was too much a man of the world, his parents had made him toohappy, he had received too much adulation in society, to be possessedof noble sentiments. The grain of gold dropped by his mother into hisheart was beaten thin in the smithy of Parisian society; he had spreadit superficially, and it was worn away by the friction of life.Charles was only twenty-one years old. At that age the freshness ofyouth seems inseparable from candor and sincerity of soul. The voice,the glance, the face itself, seem in harmony with the feelings; andthus it happens that the sternest judge, the most sceptical lawyer,the least complying of usurers, always hesitate to admit decrepitudeof heart or the corruption of worldly calculation while the eyes arestill bathed in purity and no wrinkles seam the brow. Charles, so far,had had no occasion to apply the maxims of Parisian morality; up tothis time he was still endowed with the beauty of inexperience. Andyet, unknown to himself, he had been inoculated with selfishness. Thegerms of Parisian political economy, latent in his heart, wouldassuredly burst forth, sooner or later, whenever the carelessspectator became an actor in the drama of real life.
"What!" exclaimed his uncle, with well-acted pride, "are you not mynephew? Your honor is ours. Is not your name Grandet?"。， Eugenie, not being able to understand the question of her father'sfortune, stopped short in her calculations.