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Vauquer in a low voice. "And of a baroness," answered Rastignac. "That is about all he is capable of," said Bianchon to Rastignac; "I have taken a look at his head; there is only one bump the bump of Paternity; he must be an eternal father." Eugene was too intent on his thoughts to laugh at Bianchon's joke.
She found the physicians still in consultation. But Bianchon's opinion carried the day, and the only question now was how to try the remedies. "At any rate, we shall have a splendid post-mortem," said one of his opponents, "and there will be two cases to enable us to make comparisons."
As sober as a camel and active as a stag, he was steadfast in his ideas and his conduct. The happy phase of Bianchon's life began on the day when the famous surgeon had proof of the qualities and the defects which, these no less than those, make Doctor Horace Bianchon doubly dear to his friends.
Eugene had scarcely finished reading Bianchon's scrawl, when he looked up and saw the little circular gold locket that contained the hair of Goriot's two daughters in Mme. Vauquer's hands. "How dared you take it?" he asked. "Good Lord! is that to be buried along with him?" retorted Sylvie. "It is gold." "Of course it shall!"
"For a man who thinks of nothing but his vine-stocks and poles, he has some spunk," said Lousteau. "Well, he must have something!" replied Bianchon. Madame de la Baudraye, the only person who could hear Bianchon's remark, laughed so knowingly, and at the same time so bitterly, that the physician could guess the mystery of this woman's life; her premature wrinkles had been puzzling him all day.
Michel Chrestien, a believer in the religion of Christ, the divine lawgiver, who taught the equality of men, would defend the immortality of the soul from Bianchon's scalpel, for Horace Bianchon was before all things an analyst. There was plenty of discussion, but no bickering. Vanity was not engaged, for the speakers were also the audience.
Sylvie asked ten francs for sewing the old man in his winding-sheet and making him ready for the grave, and Eugene and Bianchon calculated that they had scarcely sufficient to pay for the funeral, if nothing was forthcoming from the dead man's family. So it was the medical student who laid him in a pauper's coffin, despatched from Bianchon's hospital, whence he obtained it at a cheaper rate.
On learning of my situation for he extracted my secrets with a quiet craftiness and good nature, of which the remembrance touches my heart to this day, he gave up for a time the ambition of his whole life; for twenty-two years he had been carrying water in the street, and he now devoted his hundred crowns to my future prospects." Desplein at these words clutched Bianchon's arm tightly.
And this was why. Between the door of the apartment where he had taken the lorette's farewell kiss, and that of the drawing-room, where the Muse was reclining, bewildered by such a succession of shocks, Lousteau had remembered little De la Baudraye's precarious health, his fine fortune, and Bianchon's remark about Dinah, "She will be a rich widow!" and he said to himself, "I would a hundred times rather have Madame de la Baudraye for a wife than Felicie!"
And this was why. Between the door of the apartment where he had taken the lorette's farewell kiss, and that of the drawing-room, where the Muse was reclining, bewildered by such a succession of shocks, Lousteau had remembered little De la Baudraye's precarious health, his fine fortune, and Bianchon's remark about Dinah, "She will be a rich widow!" and he said to himself, "I would a hundred times rather have Madame de la Baudraye for a wife than Felicie!"
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