章节正文
left alone upon our deathbeds, and they are not with us then.
They ought to pass a law for dying fathers. This is awful! It
cries for vengeance! They cannot come, because my sons-in-law
forbid them! . . . Kill them! . . . Restaud and the Alsatian,
kill them both! They have murdered me between them! . . . Death
or my daughters! . . . Ah! it is too late, I am dying, and they
are not here! . . . Dying without them! . . . Nasie! Fifine! Why
do you not come to me? Your papa is going----"
"Dear Father Goriot, calm yourself. There, there, lie quietly and
rest; don't worry yourself, don't think."
"I shall not see them. Oh! the agony of it!"
"You SHALL see them."
"Really?" cried the old man, still wandering. "Oh! shall I see
them; I shall see them and hear their voices. I shall die happy.
Ah! well, after all, I do not wish to live; I cannot stand this
much longer; this pain that grows worse and worse. But, oh! to
see them, to touch their dresses--ah! nothing but their dresses,
that is very little; still, to feel something that belongs to
them. Let me touch their hair with my fingers . . . their
hair . . ."
His head fell back on the pillow, as if a sudden heavy blow had
struck him down, but his hands groped feebly over the quilt, as
if to find his daughters' hair.
"My blessing on them . . ." he said, making an effort, "my
blessing . . ."
His voice died away. Just at that moment Bianchon came into the
room.
"I met Christophe," he said; "he is gone for your cab."
Then he looked at the patient, and raised the closed eyelids with
his fingers. The two students saw how dead and lustreless the
eyes beneath had grown.
"He will not get over this, I am sure," said Bianchon. He felt
the old man's pulse, and laid a hand over his heart.
"The machinery works still; more is the pity, in his state it
would be better for him to die."
"Ah! my word, it would!"
"What is the matter with you? You are as pale as death."
"Dear fellow, the moans and cries that I have just heard. . . .
There is a God! Ah! yes, yes, there is a God, and He has made a
better world for us, or this world of ours would be a nightmare.
I could have cried like a child; but this is too tragical, and I
am sick at heart.
"We want a lot of things, you know; and where is the money to
come from?"
Rastignac took out his watch.
"There, be quick and pawn it. I do not want to stop on the way to
the Rue du Helder; there is not a moment to lose, I am afraid,
and I must wait here till Christophe comes back. I have not a
farthing; I shall have to pay the cabman when I get home again."
Rastignac rushed down the stairs, and drove off to the Rue du
Helder. The awful scene through which he had just passed
quickened his imagination, and he grew fiercelyindignant. He
reached Mme. de Restaud's house only to be told by the servant
that his mistress could see no one.
"But I have brought a message from her father, who is dying,"
Rastignac told the man.
"The Count has given us the strictest orders, sir----"
"If it is M. de Restaud who has given the orders, tell him that
his father-in-law is dying, and that I am here, and must speak
with him at once."
The man went out.
Eugene waited for a long while. "Perhaps her father is dying at
this moment," he thought.
Then the man came back, and Eugene followed him to the little
drawing-room. M. de Restaud was standing before the fireless
grate, and did not ask his visitor to seat himself.
"Monsieur le Comte," said Rastignac, "M. Goriot, your father-in-
law, is lying at the point of death in a squalid den in the Latin
Quarter. He has not a penny to pay for firewood; he is expected
to die at any moment, and keeps calling for his daughter----"
"I feel very little affection for M. Goriot, sir, as you probably
are aware," the Count answered coolly. "His character has been
compromised in connection with Mme. de Restaud; he is the author
of the misfortunes that have embittered my life and troubled my
peace of mind. It is a matter of perfect indifference to me if he
lives or dies. Now you know my feelings with regard to him.
Public opinion may blame me, but I care nothing for public
opinion. Just now I have other and much more important matters to
think about than the things that fools and chatterers may say
about me. As for Mme. de Restaud, she cannot leave the house; she
is in no condition to do so. And, besides, I shall not allow her
to leave it. Tell her father that as soon as she has done her
duty by her husband and child she shall go to see him. If she has
any love for her father, she can be free to go to him, if she
chooses, in a few seconds; it lies entirely with her----"
"Monsieur le Comte, it is no business of mine to criticise your
conduct; you can do as you please with your wife, but may I count
upon your keeping your word with me? Well, then, promise me to
tell her that her father has not twenty-four hours to live; that
he looks in vain for her, and has cursed her already as he lies
on his deathbed,--that is all I ask."
"You can tell her yourself," the Count answered, impressed by the
thrill of indignation in Eugene's voice.
The Count led the way to the room where his wife usually sat. She
was drowned in tears, and lay crouching in the depths of an
armchair, as if she were tired of life and longed to die. It was
piteous to see her. Before venturing to look at Rastignac, she
glanced at her husband in evident and abjectterror that spoke of
complete prostration of body and mind; she seemed crushed by a
tyranny both mental and physical. The Count jerked his head
towards her; she construed this as a permission to speak.
"I heard all that you said, monsieur. Tell my father that if he
knew all he would forgive me. . . . I did not think there was
such torture in the world as this; it is more than I can endure,
monsieur!--But I will not give way as long as I live," she said,
turning to her husband. "I am a mother.--Tell my father that I
have never sinned against him in spite of appearances!" she cried
aloud in her despair.
Eugene bowed to the husband and wife; he guessed the meaning of
the scene, and that this was a terrible crisis in the Countess'
life. M. de Restaud's manner had told him that his errand was a
fruitless one; he saw that Anastasie had no longer any liberty of
action. He came away mazed and bewildered, and hurried to Mme. de
Nucingen. Delphine was in bed.
"Poor dear Eugene, I am ill," she said. "I caught cold after the
ball, and I am afraid of pneumonia. I am waiting for the doctor
to come."
"If you were at death's door," Eugene broke in, "you must be
carried somehow to your father. He is calling for you. If you
could hear the faintest of those cries, you would not feel ill
any longer."
"Eugene, I dare say my father is not quite so ill as you say; but
I cannot bear to do anything that you do not approve, so I will
do just as you wish. As for HIM, he would die of grief I know if
I went out to see him and brought on a dangerous illness. Well, I
will go as soon as I have seen the doctor.--Ah!" she cried out,
"you are not wearing your watch, how is that?"
Eugene reddened.
"Eugene, Eugene! if you have sold it already or lost it. . . .
Oh! it would be very wrong of you!"
The student bent over Delphine and said in her ear, "Do you want
to know? Very well, then, you shall know. Your father has nothing
left to pay for the shroud that they will lay him in this
evening. Your watch has been pawned, for I had nothing either."
Delphine sprang out of bed, ran to her desk, and took out her
purse. She gave it to Eugene, and rang the bell, crying:
"I will go, I will go at once, Eugene. Leave me, I will dress.
Why, I should be an unnatural daughter! Go back; I will be there
before you.--Therese," she called to the waiting-woman, "ask M.
de Nucingen to come upstairs at once and speak to me."
Eugene was almost happy when he reached the Rue Nueve-Sainte-
Genevieve; he was so glad to bring the news to the dying man that
one of his daughters was coming. He fumbled in Delphine's purse
for money, so as to dismiss the cab at once; and discovered that
the young, beautiful, and wealthy woman of fashion had only
seventy francs in her private purse. He climbed the stairs and
found Bianchon supporting Goriot, while the house surgeon from
the hospital was applying moxas to the patient's back--under the
direction of the physician, it was the last expedient of science,
and it was tried in vain.
"Can you feel them?" asked the physician. But Goriot had caught
sight of Rastignac, and answered, "They are coming, are they
not?"
"There is hope yet," said the surgeon; "he can speak."
"Yes," said Eugene, "Delphine is coming."
"Oh! that is nothing!" said Bianchon; "he has been talking about
his daughters all the time. He calls for them as a man impaled
calls for water, they say----"
"We may as well give up," said the physician, addressing the
surgeon. "Nothing more can be done now; the case is hopeless."
Bianchon and the house surgeon stretched the dying man out again
on his loathsome bed.
"But the sheets ought to be changed," added the physician. "Even
if there is no hope left, something is due to human nature. I
shall come back again, Bianchon," he said, turning to the medical
student. "If he complains again, rub some laudanum over the
diaphragm."
He went, and the house surgeon went with him.
"Come, Eugene, pluck up heart, my boy," said Bianchon, as soon as
they were alone; "we must set about changing his sheets, and put
him into a clean shirt. Go and tell Sylvie to bring some sheets
and come and help us to make the bed."
Eugene went downstairs, and found Mme. Vauquer engaged in setting
the table; Sylvie was helping her. Eugene had scarcely opened his
mouth before the widow walked up to him with the acidulous sweet
smile of a cautiousshopkeeper who is anxious neither to lose
money nor to offend a customer.
"My dear Monsieur Eugene," she said, when he had spoken, "you
know quite as well as I do that Father Goriot has not a brass
farthing left. If you give out clean linen for a man who is just
going to turn up his eyes, you are not likely to see your sheets
again, for one is sure to be wanted to wrap him in. Now, you owe
me a hundred and forty-four francs as it is, add forty francs for
the pair of sheets, and then there are several little things,
besides the candle that Sylvie will give you; altogether it will
all mount up to at least two hundred francs, which is more than a
poor widow like me can afford to lose. Lord! now, Monsieur
Eugene, look at it fairly. I have lost quite enough in these five
days since this run of ill-luck set in for me. I would rather
than ten crowns that the old gentlemen had moved out as you said.
It sets the other lodgers against the house. It would not take
much to make me send him to the workhouse. In short, just put
yourself in my place. I have to think of my establishment first,
for I have my own living to make."
Eugene hurried up to Goriot's room.
"Bianchon," he cried, "the money or the watch?"
"There it is on the table, or the three hundred and sixty odd
francs that are left of it. I paid up all the old scores out of
it before they let me have the things. The pawn ticket lies there
under the money."
Rastignac hurrieddownstairs.
They ought to pass a law for dying fathers. This is awful! It
cries for vengeance! They cannot come, because my sons-in-law
forbid them! . . . Kill them! . . . Restaud and the Alsatian,
kill them both! They have murdered me between them! . . . Death
or my daughters! . . . Ah! it is too late, I am dying, and they
are not here! . . . Dying without them! . . . Nasie! Fifine! Why
do you not come to me? Your papa is going----"
"Dear Father Goriot, calm yourself. There, there, lie quietly and
rest; don't worry yourself, don't think."
"I shall not see them. Oh! the agony of it!"
"You SHALL see them."
"Really?" cried the old man, still wandering. "Oh! shall I see
them; I shall see them and hear their voices. I shall die happy.
Ah! well, after all, I do not wish to live; I cannot stand this
much longer; this pain that grows worse and worse. But, oh! to
see them, to touch their dresses--ah! nothing but their dresses,
that is very little; still, to feel something that belongs to
them. Let me touch their hair with my fingers . . . their
hair . . ."
His head fell back on the pillow, as if a sudden heavy blow had
struck him down, but his hands groped feebly over the quilt, as
if to find his daughters' hair.
"My blessing on them . . ." he said, making an effort, "my
blessing . . ."
His voice died away. Just at that moment Bianchon came into the
room.
"I met Christophe," he said; "he is gone for your cab."
Then he looked at the patient, and raised the closed eyelids with
his fingers. The two students saw how dead and lustreless the
eyes beneath had grown.
"He will not get over this, I am sure," said Bianchon. He felt
the old man's pulse, and laid a hand over his heart.
"The machinery works still; more is the pity, in his state it
would be better for him to die."
"Ah! my word, it would!"
"What is the matter with you? You are as pale as death."
"Dear fellow, the moans and cries that I have just heard. . . .
There is a God! Ah! yes, yes, there is a God, and He has made a
better world for us, or this world of ours would be a nightmare.
I could have cried like a child; but this is too tragical, and I
am sick at heart.
"We want a lot of things, you know; and where is the money to
come from?"
Rastignac took out his watch.
"There, be quick and pawn it. I do not want to stop on the way to
the Rue du Helder; there is not a moment to lose, I am afraid,
and I must wait here till Christophe comes back. I have not a
farthing; I shall have to pay the cabman when I get home again."
Rastignac rushed down the stairs, and drove off to the Rue du
Helder. The awful scene through which he had just passed
quickened his imagination, and he grew fiercelyindignant. He
reached Mme. de Restaud's house only to be told by the servant
that his mistress could see no one.
"But I have brought a message from her father, who is dying,"
Rastignac told the man.
"The Count has given us the strictest orders, sir----"
"If it is M. de Restaud who has given the orders, tell him that
his father-in-law is dying, and that I am here, and must speak
with him at once."
The man went out.
Eugene waited for a long while. "Perhaps her father is dying at
this moment," he thought.
Then the man came back, and Eugene followed him to the little
drawing-room. M. de Restaud was standing before the fireless
grate, and did not ask his visitor to seat himself.
"Monsieur le Comte," said Rastignac, "M. Goriot, your father-in-
law, is lying at the point of death in a squalid den in the Latin
Quarter. He has not a penny to pay for firewood; he is expected
to die at any moment, and keeps calling for his daughter----"
"I feel very little affection for M. Goriot, sir, as you probably
are aware," the Count answered coolly. "His character has been
compromised in connection with Mme. de Restaud; he is the author
of the misfortunes that have embittered my life and troubled my
peace of mind. It is a matter of perfect indifference to me if he
lives or dies. Now you know my feelings with regard to him.
Public opinion may blame me, but I care nothing for public
opinion. Just now I have other and much more important matters to
think about than the things that fools and chatterers may say
about me. As for Mme. de Restaud, she cannot leave the house; she
is in no condition to do so. And, besides, I shall not allow her
to leave it. Tell her father that as soon as she has done her
duty by her husband and child she shall go to see him. If she has
any love for her father, she can be free to go to him, if she
chooses, in a few seconds; it lies entirely with her----"
"Monsieur le Comte, it is no business of mine to criticise your
conduct; you can do as you please with your wife, but may I count
upon your keeping your word with me? Well, then, promise me to
tell her that her father has not twenty-four hours to live; that
he looks in vain for her, and has cursed her already as he lies
on his deathbed,--that is all I ask."
"You can tell her yourself," the Count answered, impressed by the
thrill of indignation in Eugene's voice.
The Count led the way to the room where his wife usually sat. She
was drowned in tears, and lay crouching in the depths of an
armchair, as if she were tired of life and longed to die. It was
piteous to see her. Before venturing to look at Rastignac, she
glanced at her husband in evident and abjectterror that spoke of
complete prostration of body and mind; she seemed crushed by a
tyranny both mental and physical. The Count jerked his head
towards her; she construed this as a permission to speak.
"I heard all that you said, monsieur. Tell my father that if he
knew all he would forgive me. . . . I did not think there was
such torture in the world as this; it is more than I can endure,
monsieur!--But I will not give way as long as I live," she said,
turning to her husband. "I am a mother.--Tell my father that I
have never sinned against him in spite of appearances!" she cried
aloud in her despair.
Eugene bowed to the husband and wife; he guessed the meaning of
the scene, and that this was a terrible crisis in the Countess'
life. M. de Restaud's manner had told him that his errand was a
fruitless one; he saw that Anastasie had no longer any liberty of
action. He came away mazed and bewildered, and hurried to Mme. de
Nucingen. Delphine was in bed.
"Poor dear Eugene, I am ill," she said. "I caught cold after the
ball, and I am afraid of pneumonia. I am waiting for the doctor
to come."
"If you were at death's door," Eugene broke in, "you must be
carried somehow to your father. He is calling for you. If you
could hear the faintest of those cries, you would not feel ill
any longer."
"Eugene, I dare say my father is not quite so ill as you say; but
I cannot bear to do anything that you do not approve, so I will
do just as you wish. As for HIM, he would die of grief I know if
I went out to see him and brought on a dangerous illness. Well, I
will go as soon as I have seen the doctor.--Ah!" she cried out,
"you are not wearing your watch, how is that?"
Eugene reddened.
"Eugene, Eugene! if you have sold it already or lost it. . . .
Oh! it would be very wrong of you!"
The student bent over Delphine and said in her ear, "Do you want
to know? Very well, then, you shall know. Your father has nothing
left to pay for the shroud that they will lay him in this
evening. Your watch has been pawned, for I had nothing either."
Delphine sprang out of bed, ran to her desk, and took out her
purse. She gave it to Eugene, and rang the bell, crying:
"I will go, I will go at once, Eugene. Leave me, I will dress.
Why, I should be an unnatural daughter! Go back; I will be there
before you.--Therese," she called to the waiting-woman, "ask M.
de Nucingen to come upstairs at once and speak to me."
Eugene was almost happy when he reached the Rue Nueve-Sainte-
Genevieve; he was so glad to bring the news to the dying man that
one of his daughters was coming. He fumbled in Delphine's purse
for money, so as to dismiss the cab at once; and discovered that
the young, beautiful, and wealthy woman of fashion had only
seventy francs in her private purse. He climbed the stairs and
found Bianchon supporting Goriot, while the house surgeon from
the hospital was applying moxas to the patient's back--under the
direction of the physician, it was the last expedient of science,
and it was tried in vain.
"Can you feel them?" asked the physician. But Goriot had caught
sight of Rastignac, and answered, "They are coming, are they
not?"
"There is hope yet," said the surgeon; "he can speak."
"Yes," said Eugene, "Delphine is coming."
"Oh! that is nothing!" said Bianchon; "he has been talking about
his daughters all the time. He calls for them as a man impaled
calls for water, they say----"
"We may as well give up," said the physician, addressing the
surgeon. "Nothing more can be done now; the case is hopeless."
Bianchon and the house surgeon stretched the dying man out again
on his loathsome bed.
"But the sheets ought to be changed," added the physician. "Even
if there is no hope left, something is due to human nature. I
shall come back again, Bianchon," he said, turning to the medical
student. "If he complains again, rub some laudanum over the
diaphragm."
He went, and the house surgeon went with him.
"Come, Eugene, pluck up heart, my boy," said Bianchon, as soon as
they were alone; "we must set about changing his sheets, and put
him into a clean shirt. Go and tell Sylvie to bring some sheets
and come and help us to make the bed."
Eugene went downstairs, and found Mme. Vauquer engaged in setting
the table; Sylvie was helping her. Eugene had scarcely opened his
mouth before the widow walked up to him with the acidulous sweet
smile of a cautiousshopkeeper who is anxious neither to lose
money nor to offend a customer.
"My dear Monsieur Eugene," she said, when he had spoken, "you
know quite as well as I do that Father Goriot has not a brass
farthing left. If you give out clean linen for a man who is just
going to turn up his eyes, you are not likely to see your sheets
again, for one is sure to be wanted to wrap him in. Now, you owe
me a hundred and forty-four francs as it is, add forty francs for
the pair of sheets, and then there are several little things,
besides the candle that Sylvie will give you; altogether it will
all mount up to at least two hundred francs, which is more than a
poor widow like me can afford to lose. Lord! now, Monsieur
Eugene, look at it fairly. I have lost quite enough in these five
days since this run of ill-luck set in for me. I would rather
than ten crowns that the old gentlemen had moved out as you said.
It sets the other lodgers against the house. It would not take
much to make me send him to the workhouse. In short, just put
yourself in my place. I have to think of my establishment first,
for I have my own living to make."
Eugene hurried up to Goriot's room.
"Bianchon," he cried, "the money or the watch?"
"There it is on the table, or the three hundred and sixty odd
francs that are left of it. I paid up all the old scores out of
it before they let me have the things. The pawn ticket lies there
under the money."
Rastignac hurrieddownstairs.
- blessing [´blesiŋ]
n.祝福 (初中英语单词) - imagination [i,mædʒi´neiʃən] n.想象(力) (初中英语单词)
- fiercely [´fiəsli] ad.凶猛地，残忍地 (初中英语单词)
- mistress [´mistris] n.女主人；情妇；女能手 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- visitor [´vizitə] n.访问者；来宾；参观者 (初中英语单词)
- affection [ə´fekʃən] n.友爱；慈爱 (初中英语单词)
- character [´kæriktə] n.特性；性质；人物；字 (初中英语单词)
- connection [kə´nekʃən] n.联系；关系；联运 (初中英语单词)
- evident [´evidənt] a.明显的，明白的 (初中英语单词)
- terror [´terə] n.恐怖；惊骇 (初中英语单词)
- mental [´mentl] a.精神的；心理的 (初中英语单词)
- physical [´fizikəl] a.物质的；有形的 (初中英语单词)
- permission [pə´miʃən] n.允许；同意；许可 (初中英语单词)
- monsieur [mə´sjə:] n.先生 (初中英语单词)
- forgive [fə´giv] vt.原谅，谅解，宽恕 (初中英语单词)
- torture [´tɔ:tʃə] n.&vt.折磨；痛苦；拷问 (初中英语单词)
- errand [´erənd] n.差使，使命 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- approve [ə´pru:v] v.赞成；同意；批准 (初中英语单词)
- illness [´ilnis] n.生病，不健康，疾病 (初中英语单词)
- sprang [spræŋ] spring 的过去式 (初中英语单词)
- dismiss [dis´mis] vt.解散；下课；解雇 (初中英语单词)
- wealthy [´welθi] a.富有的；丰富的 (初中英语单词)
- physician [fi´ziʃən] n.(内科)医生 (初中英语单词)
- downstairs [,daun´steəz] ad.在楼下 a.楼下的 (初中英语单词)
- anxious [´æŋkʃəs] a.担忧的；渴望的 (初中英语单词)
- offend [ə´fend] v.犯错误；违犯；犯罪 (初中英语单词)
- spoken [´spəukən] speak的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- altogether [,ɔ:ltə´geðə] ad.完全；总而言之 (初中英语单词)
- establishment [i´stæbliʃmənt] n.建(成)立；研究所 (初中英语单词)
- indifference [in´difrəns] n.冷淡；无足轻重 (高中英语单词)
- criticise [´kritisaiz] v.批评；批判；评论 (高中英语单词)
- indignation [,indig´neiʃən] n.愤慨；气愤 (高中英语单词)
- crisis [´kraisis] n.转折点；危机 (高中英语单词)
- hurried [´hʌrid] a.仓促的，慌忙的 (高中英语单词)
- surgeon [´sə:dʒən] n.外科医生；军医 (高中英语单词)
- feebly [´fi:bli] ad.虚弱地；贫乏地 (英语四级单词)
- indignant [in´dignənt] a.义愤的，愤慨的 (英语四级单词)
- coolly [´ku:li] ad.冷(静地)，沉着地 (英语四级单词)
- shroud [ʃraud] n.尸衣；覆盖物；罩 (英语四级单词)
- unnatural [,ʌn´nætʃərəl] a.不自然的 (英语四级单词)
- upstairs [,ʌp´steəz] ad.在楼上 a.楼上的 (英语四级单词)
- expedient [ik´spi:diənt] a.合适的 n.权宜之计 (英语四级单词)
- cautious [´kɔ:ʃəs] a.小心的；谨慎的 (英语四级单词)
- firewood [´faiəwud] n.柴，薪 (英语六级单词)
- calling [´kɔ:liŋ] n.点名；职业；欲望 (英语六级单词)
- abject [´æbdʒekt] a.卑鄙的；可怜的 (英语六级单词)
- pneumonia [nju:´məuniə] n.肺炎 (英语六级单词)
- loathsome [´ləuðsəm] a.讨厌的，令人作呕的 (英语六级单词)
- shopkeeper [´ʃɔp,ki:pə] n.(小店)店主 (英语六级单词)
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