so only just now. We were talking about you, and she insisted
that you were beautiful, and that she herself was only pretty!"
"Pretty!" said the Countess. "She is as hard as a
marble statue."
"And if I am?" cried Delphine, flushing up, "how have you treated
me? You would not recognize me; you closed the doors of every
house against me; you have never let an opportunity of mortifying
me slip by. And when did I come, as you were always doing, to
drain our poor father, a thousand francs at a time, till he is
left as you see him now? That is all your doing, sister! I myself
have seen my father as often as I could. I have not turned him
out of the house, and then come and fawned upon him when I wanted
money. I did not so much as know that he had spent those twelve
thousand francs on me. I am
economical, as you know; and when
papa has made me presents, it has never been because I came and
begged for them."
"You were better off than I. M. de Marsay was rich, as you have
reason to know. You always were as
slippery as gold. Good-bye; I
have neither sister nor----"
"Oh! hush, hush, Nasie!" cried her father.
"Nobody else would repeat what everybody has ceased to believe.
You are an
unnatural sister!" cried Delphine.
"Oh, children, children! hush! hush! or I will kill myself before
your eyes."
"There, Nasie, I
forgive you," said Mme. de Nucingen; "you are
very
unhappy. But I am kinder than you are. How could you say
THAT just when I was ready to do anything in the world to help
you, even to be reconciled with my husband, which for my own sake
I---- Oh! it is just like you; you have behaved
cruelly to me all
through these nine years."
"Children, children, kiss each other!" cried the father. "You are
angels, both of you."
"No. Let me alone," cried the Countess shaking off the hand that
her father had laid on her arm. "She is more
merciless than my
husband. Any one might think she was a model of all the virtues
herself!"
"I would rather have people think that I owed money to M. de
Marsay than own that M. de Trailles had cost me more than two
hundred thousand francs," retorted Mme. de Nucingen.
"DELPHINE!" cried the Countess, stepping towards her sister.
"I shall tell you the truth about yourself if you begin to
slander me," said the Baroness coldly.
"Delphine! you are a ----"
Father Goriot
sprang between them, grasped the Countess' hand,
and laid his own over her mouth.
"Good heavens, father! What have you been handling this morning?"
said Anastasie.
"Ah! well, yes, I ought not to have touched you," said the poor
father, wiping his hands on his
trousers, "but I have been
packing up my things; I did not know that you were coming to see
me."
He was glad that he had drawn down her wrath upon himself.
"Ah!" he sighed, as he sat down, "you children have broken my
heart between you. This is killing me. My head feels as if it
were on fire. Be good to each other and love each other! This
will be the death of me! Delphine! Nasie! come, be
sensible; you
are both in the wrong. Come, Dedel," he added, looking through
his tears at the Baroness, "she must have twelve thousand francs,
you see; let us see if we can find them for her. Oh, my girls, do
not look at each other like that!" and he sank on his knees
beside Delphine. "Ask her to
forgive you--just to please me," he
said in her ear. "She is more
miserable than you are. Come now,
Dedel."
"Poor Nasie!" said Delphine, alarmed at the wild extravagant
grief in her father's face, "I was in the wrong, kiss me----"
"Ah! that is like balm to my heart," cried Father Goriot. "But
how are we to find twelve thousand francs? I might offer myself
as a
substitute in the army----"
"Oh! father dear!" they both cried, flinging their arms about
him. "No, no!"
"God
reward you for the thought. We are not worth it, are we,
Nasie?" asked Delphine.
"And besides, father dear, it would only be a drop in the
bucket," observed the Countess.
"But is flesh and blood worth nothing?" cried the old man in his
despair. "I would give body and soul to save you, Nasie. I would
do a murder for the man who would
rescue you. I would do, as
Vautrin did, go to the hulks, go----" he stopped as if struck by
a
thunderbolt, and put both hands to his head. "Nothing left!" he
cried, tearing his hair. "If I only knew of a way to steal money,
but it is so hard to do it, and then you can't set to work by
yourself, and it takes time to rob a bank. Yes, it is time I was
dead; there is nothing left me to do but to die. I am no good in
the world; I am no longer a father! No. She has come to me in her
extremity, and,
wretch that I am, I have nothing to give her. Ah!
you put your money into a life annuity, old
scoundrel; and had
you not daughters? You did not love them. Die, die in a ditch,
like the dog that you are! Yes, I am worse than a dog; a beast
would not have done as I have done! Oh! my head . . . it throbs
as if it would burst."
"Papa!" cried both the young women at once, "do, pray, be
reasonable!" and they clung to him to prevent him from dashing
his head against the wall. There was a sound of sobbing.
Eugene, greatly alarmed, took the bill that bore Vautrin's
signature, saw that the stamp would
suffice for a larger sum,
altered the figures, made it into a regular bill for twelve
thousand francs, payable to Goriot's order, and went to his
neighbor's room.
"Here is the money, madame," he said, handing the piece of paper
to her. "I was asleep; your conversation awoke me, and by this
means I
learned all that I owed to M. Goriot. This bill can be
discounted, and I shall meet it punctually at the due date."
The Countess stood
motionless and
speechless, but she held the
bill in her fingers.
"Delphine," she said, with a white face, and her whole frame
quivering with
indignation, anger, and rage, "I forgave you
everything; God is my
witness that I forgave you, but I cannot
forgive this! So this gentleman was there all the time, and you
knew it! Your petty spite has let you to wreak your
vengeance on
me by betraying my secrets, my life, my children's lives, my
shame, my honor! There, you are nothing to me any longer. I hate
you. I will do all that I can to
injure you. I will . . ."
Anger paralyzed her; the words died in her dry parched throat.
"Why, he is my son, my child; he is your brother, your
preserver!" cried Goriot. "Kiss his hand, Nasie! Stay, I will
embrace him myself," he said, straining Eugene to his breast in a
frenzied clasp. "Oh my boy! I will be more than a father to you;
if I had God's power, I would fling worlds at your feet. Why
don't you kiss him, Nasie? He is not a man, but an angel, a angel
out of heaven."
"Never mind her, father; she is mad just now."
"Mad! am I? And what are you?" cried Mme. de Restaud.
"Children, children, I shall die if you go on like this," cried
the old man, and he staggered and fell on the bed as if a bullet
had struck him.--"They are killing me between them," he said to
himself.
The Countess fixed her eyes on Eugene, who stood stock still; all
his faculties were numbed by this
violent scene.
"Sir? . . ." she said, doubt and
inquiry in her face, tone, and
bearing; she took no notice now of her father nor of Delphine,
who was
hastily unfastening his waistcoat.
"Madame," said Eugene, answering the question before it was
asked, "I will meet the bill, and keep silence about it."
"You have killed our father, Nasie!" said Delphine, pointing to
Goriot, who lay
unconscious on the bed. The Countess fled.
"I
freelyforgive her," said the old man,
opening his eyes; "her
position is
horrible; it would turn an older head than hers.
Comfort Nasie, and be nice to her, Delphine; promise it to your
poor father before he dies," he asked,
holding Delphine's hand in
a convulsive clasp.
"Oh! what ails you, father?" she cried in real alarm.
"Nothing, nothing," said Goriot; "it will go off. There is
something heavy pressing on my
forehead, a little
headache. . . .
Ah! poor Nasie, what a life lies before her!"
Just as he spoke, the Countess came back again and flung herself
on her knees before him. "Forgive me!" she cried.
"Come," said her father, "you are hurting me still more."
"Monsieur," the Countess said, turning to Rastignac, "misery made
me
unjust to you. You will be a brother to me, will you not?" and
she held out her hand. Her eyes were full of tears as she spoke.
"Nasie," cried Delphine, flinging her arms round her sister, "my
little Nasie, let us forget and
forgive."
"No, no," cried Nasie; "I shall never forget!"
"Dear angels," cried Goriot, "it is as if a dark curtain over my
eyes had been raised; your voices have called me back to life.
Kiss each other once more. Well, now, Nasie, that bill will save
you, won't it?"
"I hope so. I say, papa, will you write your name on it?"
"There! how
stupid of me to forget that! But I am not feeling at
all well, Nasie, so you must not remember it against me. Send and
let me know as soon as you are out of your
strait. No, I will go
to you. No, after all, I will not go; I might meet your husband,
and I should kill him on the spot. And as for signing away your
property, I shall have a word to say about that. Quick, my child,
and keep Maxime in order in future."
Eugene was too bewildered to speak.
"Poor Anastasie, she always had a
violent temper," said Mme. de
Nucingen, "but she has a good heart."
"She came back for the endorsement," said Eugene in Delphine's
ear.
"Do you think so?"
"I only wish I could think
otherwise. Do not trust her," he
answered, raising his eyes as if he confided to heaven the
thoughts that he did not
venture to express.
"Yes. She is always
acting a part to some extent."
"How do you feel now, dear Father Goriot?" asked Rastignac.
"I should like to go to sleep," he replied.
Eugene helped him to bed, and Delphine sat by the bedside,
holding his hand until he fell asleep. Then she went.
"This evening at the Italiens," she said to Eugene, "and you can
let me know how he is. To-morrow you will leave this place,
monsieur. Let us go into your room.--Oh! how frightful!" she
cried on the
threshold. "Why, you are even worse lodged than our
father. Eugene, you have behaved well. I would love you more if
that were possible; but, dear boy, if you are to succeed in life,
you must not begin by flinging twelve thousand francs out of the
windows like that. The Comte de Trailles is a confirmed gambler.
My sister shuts her eyes to it. He would have made the twelve
thousand francs in the same way that he wins and loses heaps of
gold."
A groan from the next room brought them back to Goriot's bedside;
to all appearances he was asleep, but the two lovers caught the
words, "They are not happy!" Whether he was awake or sleeping,
the tone in which they were
spoken went to his daughter's heart.
She stole up to the pallet-bed on which her father lay, and
kissed his
forehead. He opened his eyes.
"Ah! Delphine!" he said.
"How are you now?" she asked.
"Quite comfortable. Do not worry about me; I shall get up
presently. Don't stay with me, children; go, go and be happy."
Eugene went back with Delphine as far as her door; but he was not
easy about Goriot, and would not stay to dinner, as she proposed.