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Couture recognized the livery at once.

"Mademoiselle," he cried, "your father is asking for you--



something terrible has happened! M. Frederic has had a sword

thrust in the forehead in a duel, and the doctors have given him



up. You will scarcely be in time to say good-bye to him! he is

unconscious."



"Poor young fellow!" exclaimed Vautrin. "How can people brawl

when they have a certain income of thirty thousand livres? Young



people have bad manners, and that is a fact."

"Sir!" cried Eugene.



"Well, what then, you big baby!" said Vautrin, swallowing down

his coffee imperturbably, an operation which Mlle. Michonneau



watched with such close attention that she had no emotion to

spare for the amazing news that had struck the others dumb with



amazement. "Are there not duels every morning in Paris?" added

Vautrin.



"I will go with you, Victorine," said Mme. Couture, and the two

women hurried away at once without either hats or shawls. But



before she went, Victorine, with her eyes full of tears, gave

Eugene a glance that said--"How little I thought that our



happiness should cost me tears!"

"Dear me, you are a prophet, M. Vautrin," said Mme. Vauquer.



"I am all sorts of things," said Vautrin.

"Queer, isn't it?" said Mme. Vauquer, stringing together a



succession of commonplaces suited to the occasion. "Death takes

us off without asking us about it. The young often go before the



old. It is a lucky thing for us women that we are not liable to

fight duels, but we have other complaints that men don't suffer



from. We bear children, and it takes a long time to get over it.

What a windfall for Victorine! Her father will have to



acknowledge her now!"

"There!" said Vautrin, looking at Eugene, "yesterday she had not



a penny; this morning she has several millions to her fortune."

"I say, M. Eugene!" cried Mme. Vauquer, "you have landed on your



feet!"

At this exclamation, Father Goriot looked at the student, and saw



the crumpled letter still in his hand.

"You have not read it through! What does this mean? Are you going



to be like the rest of them?" he asked.

"Madame, I shall never marry Mlle. Victorine," said Eugene,



turning to Mme. Vauquer with an expression of terror and loathing

that surprised the onlookers at this scene.



Father Goriot caught the student's hand and grasped it warmly. He

could have kissed it.



"Oh, ho!" said Vautrin, "the Italians have a good proverb--Col

tempo."



"Is there any answer?" said Mme. de Nucingen's messenger,

addressing Eugene.



"Say that I will come directly."

The man went. Eugene was in a state of such violent excitement



that he could not be prudent.

"What is to be done?" he exclaimed aloud. "There are no proofs!"



Vautrin began to smile. Though the drug he had taken was doing

its work, the convict was so vigorous that he rose to his feet,



gave Rastignac a look, and said in hollow tones, "Luck comes to

us while we sleep, young man," and fell stiff and stark, as if he



were struck dead.

"So there is a Divine Justice!" said Eugene.



"Well, if ever! What has come to that poor dear M. Vautrin?"

"A stroke!" cried Mlle. Michonneau.



"Here, Sylvie! girl, run for the doctor," called the widow. "Oh,

M. Rastignac, just go for M. Bianchon, and be as quick as you



can; Sylvie might not be in time to catch our doctor, M.

Grimprel."



Rastignac was glad of an excuse to leave that den of horrors, his

hurry for the doctor was nothing but a flight.



"Here, Christophe, go round to the chemist's and ask for

something that's good for the apoplexy."



Christophe likewise went.

"Father Goriot, just help us to get him upstairs."



Vautrin was taken up among them, carried carefully up the narrow

staircase, and laid upon his bed.



"I can do no good here, so I shall go to see my daughter," said

M. Goriot.



"Selfish old thing!" cried Mme. Vauquer. "Yes, go; I wish you may

die like a dog."






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