too, that Nucingen had sent bills for large amounts to Amsterdam,
London, Naples, and Vienna, in order to prove if necessary that
large sums had been paid away by the firm. How could we get
possession of those bills?"
Eugene heard a dull thud on the floor; Father Goriot must have
fallen on his knees.
"Great heavens! what have I done to you? Bound my daughter to
this
scoundrel who does as he likes with her!--Oh! my child, my
child!
forgive me!" cried the old man.
"Yes, if I am in the depths of
despair, perhaps you are to
blame," said Delphine. "We have so little sense when we marry!
What do we know of the world, of business, or men, or life? Our
fathers should think for us! Father dear, I am not blaming you in
the least,
forgive me for what I said. This is all my own fault.
Nay, do not cry, papa," she said, kissing him.
"Do not cry either, my little Delphine. Look up and let me kiss
away the tears. There! I shall find my wits and unravel this
skein of your husband's winding."
"No, let me do that; I shall be able to manage him. He is fond of
me, well and good; I shall use my influence to make him
invest my
money as soon as possible in landed property in my own name. Very
likely I could get him to buy back Nucingen in Alsace in my name;
that has always been a pet idea of his. Still, come to-morrow and
go through the books, and look into the business. M. Derville
knows little of mercantile matters. No, not to-morrow though. I
do not want to be upset. Mme. de Beauseant's ball will be the day
after to-morrow, and I must keep quiet, so as to look my best and
freshest, and do honor to my dear Eugene! . . . Come, let us see
his room."
But as she spoke a
carriage stopped in the Rue Nueve-Sainte-
Genevieve, and the sound of Mme. de Restaud's voice came from the
staircase. "Is my father in?" she asked of Sylvie.
This accident was luckily timed for Eugene, whose one idea had
been to throw himself down on the bed and
pretend to be asleep.
"Oh, father, have you heard about Anastasie?" said Delphine, when
she heard her sister speak. "It looks as though some strange
things had happened in that family."
"What sort of things?" asked Goriot. "This is like to be the
death of me. My poor head will not stand a double misfortune."
"Good-morning, father," said the Countess from the threshold.
"Oh! Delphine, are you here?"
Mme. de Restaud seemed taken aback by her sister's presence.
"Good-morning, Nasie," said the Baroness. "What is there so
extraordinary in my being here? _I_ see our father every day."
"Since when?"
"If you came yourself you would know."
"Don't tease, Delphine," said the Countess fretfully. "I am very
miserable, I am lost. Oh! my poor father, it is
hopeless this
time!"
"What is it, Nasie?" cried Goriot. "Tell us all about it, child!
How white she is! Quick, do something, Delphine; be kind to her,
and I will love you even better, if that were possible."
"Poor Nasie!" said Mme. de Nucingen,
drawing her sister to a
chair. "We are the only two people in the world whose love is
always sufficient to
forgive you everything. Family
affection is
the surest, you see."
The Countess inhaled the salts and revived.
"This will kill me!" said their father. "There," he went on,
stirring the smouldering fire, "come nearer, both of you. It is
cold. What is it, Nasie? Be quick and tell me, this is enough
to----"
"Well, then, my husband knows everything," said the Countess.
"Just imagine it; do you remember, father, that bill of Maxime's
some time ago? Well, that was not the first. I had paid ever so
many before that. About the
beginning of January M. de Trailles
seemed very much troubled. He said nothing to me; but it is so
easy to read the hearts of those you love, a mere
trifle is
enough; and then you feel things
instinctively. Indeed, he was
more tender and
affectionate than ever, and I was happier than I
had ever been before. Poor Maxime! in himself he was really
saying good-bye to me, so he has told me since; he meant to blow
his brains out! At last I worried him so, and begged and implored
so hard; for two hours I knelt at his knees and prayed and
entreated, and at last he told me--that he owed a hundred
thousand francs. Oh! papa! a hundred thousand francs! I was
beside myself! You had not the money, I knew, I had eaten up all
that you had----"
"No," said Goriot; "I could not have got it for you unless I had
stolen it. But I would have done that for you, Nasie! I will do
it yet."
The words came from him like a sob, a
hoarse sound like the death
rattle of a dying man; it seemed indeed like the agony of death
when the father's love was
powerless. There was a pause, and
neither of the sisters spoke. It must have been selfishness
indeed that could hear
unmoved that cry of
anguish that, like a
pebble thrown over a
precipice, revealed the depths of his
despair.
"I found the money, father, by selling what was not mine to
sell," and the Countess burst into tears.
Delphine was touched; she laid her head on her sister's shoulder,
and cried too.
"Then it is all true," she said.
Anastasie bowed her head, Mme. de Nucingen flung her arms about
her, kissed her
tenderly, and held her sister to her heart.
"I shall always love you and never judge you, Nasie," she said.
"My angels," murmured Goriot
faintly. "Oh, why should it be
trouble that draws you together?"
This warm and palpitating
affection seemed to give the Countess
courage.
"To save Maxime's life," she said, "to save all my own happiness,
I went to the money-lender you know of, a man of iron forged in
hell-fire; nothing can melt him; I took all the family diamonds
that M. de Restaud is so proud of--his and mine too--and sold
them to that M. Gobseck. SOLD THEM! Do you understand? I saved
Maxime, but I am lost. Restaud found it all out."
"How? Who told him? I will kill him," cried Goriot.
"Yesterday he sent to tell me to come to his room. I went. . . .
'Anastasie,' he said in a voice--oh! such a voice; that was
enough, it told me everything--'where are your diamonds?'--'In my
room----'--'No,' he said, looking straight at me, 'there they are
on that chest of drawers----' and he lifted his
handkerchief and
showed me the
casket. 'Do you know where they came from?' he
said. I fell at his feet. . . . I cried; I
besought him to tell
me the death he wished to see me die."
"You said that!" cried Goriot. "By God in heaven,
whoever lays a
hand on either of you so long as I am alive may
reckon on being
roasted by slow fires! Yes, I will cut him in pieces like . . ."
Goriot stopped; the words died away in his throat.
"And then, dear, he asked something worse than death of me. Oh!
heaven
preserve all other women from
hearing such words as I
heard then!"
"I will murder that man," said Goriot quietly. "But he has only
one life, and he deserves to die twice.--And then, what next?" he
added, looking at Anastasie.
"Then," the Countess resumed, "there was a pause, and he looked
at me. 'Anastasie,' he said, 'I will bury this in silence; there
shall be no
separation; there are the children. I will not kill
M. de Trailles. I might miss him if we fought, and as for other
ways of getting rid of him, I should come into
collision with the
law. If I killed him in your arms, it would bring
dishonor on
THOSE children. But if you do not want to see your children
perish, nor their father nor me, you must first of all
submit to
two conditions. Answer me. Have I a child of my own?' I answered,
'Yes,'--'Which?'--'Ernest, our
eldest boy.'--'Very well,' he
said, 'and now swear to obey me in this particular from this time
forward.' I swore. 'You will make over your property to me when I
require you to do so.' "
"Do nothing of the kind!" cried Goriot. "Aha! M. de Restaud, you
could not make your wife happy; she has looked for happiness and
found it
elsewhere, and you make her suffer for your own
ineptitude? He will have to
reckon with me. Make yourself easy,
Nasie. Aha! he cares about his heir! Good, very good. I will get
hold of the boy; isn't he my
grandson? What the blazes! I can
surely go to see the brat! I will stow him away somewhere; I will
take care of him, you may be quite easy. I will bring Restaud to
terms, the monster! I shall say to him, 'A word or two with you!
If you want your son back again, give my daughter her property,
and leave her to do as she pleases.' "
"Father!"
"Yes. I am your father, Nasie, a father indeed! That rogue of a
great lord had better not ill-treat my daughter. Tonnerre! What
is it in my veins? There is the blood of a tiger in me; I could
tear those two men to pieces! Oh! children, children! so this is
what your lives are! Why, it is death! . . . What will become of
you when I shall be here no longer? Fathers ought to live as long
as their children. Ah! Lord God in heaven! how ill Thy world is
ordered! Thou hast a Son, if what they tell us is true, and yet
Thou leavest us to suffer so through our children. My darlings,
my darlings! to think that trouble only should bring you to me,
that I should only see you with tears on your faces! Ah! yes,
yes, you love me, I see that you love me. Come to me and pour out
your griefs to me; my heart is large enough to hold them all. Oh!
you might rend my heart in pieces, and every
fragment would make
a father's heart. If only I could bear all your sorrows for you!
. . . Ah! you were so happy when you were little and still with
me. . . ."
"We have never been happy since," said Delphine. "Where are the
old days when we slid down the sacks in the great granary?"
"That is not all, father," said Anastasie in Goriot's ear. The
old man gave a startled
shudder. "The diamonds only sold for a
hundred thousand francs. Maxime is hard pressed. There are twelve
thousand francs still to pay. He has given me his word that he
will be steady and give up play in future. His love is all that I
have left in the world. I have paid such a
fearful price for it
that I should die if I lose him now. I have sacrificed my
fortune, my honor, my peace of mind, and my children for him. Oh!
do something, so that at the least Maxime may be at large and
live undisgraced in the world, where he will
assuredly make a
career for himself. Something more than my happiness is at stake;
the children have nothing, and if he is sent to Sainte-Pelagie
all his prospects will be ruined."
"I haven't the money, Nasie. I have NOTHING--nothing left. This
is the end of everything. Yes, the world is crumbling into ruin,
I am sure. Fly! Save yourselves! Ah!--I have still my silver
buckles left, and half-a-dozen silver spoons and forks, the first
I ever had in my life. But I have nothing else except my life
annuity, twelve hundred francs . . ."
"Then what has become of your money in the funds?"
"I sold out, and only kept a
trifle for my wants. I wanted twelve
thousand francs to furnish some rooms for Delphine."
"In your own house?" asked Mme. de Restaud, looking at her
sister.
"What does it matter where they were?" asked Goriot. "The money
is spent now."
"I see how it is," said the Countess. "Rooms for M. de Rastignac.
Poor Delphine, take
warning by me!"
"M. de Rastignac is
incapable of ruining the woman he loves,
dear."
"Thanks! Delphine. I thought you would have been kinder to me in
my troubles, but you never did love me."
"Yes, yes, she loves you, Nasie," cried Goriot; "she was
saying