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I have held his kindness cheap, and slighted his affection; many and many a time I have given him pain, ungrateful wretch that I am!" "He knew it," said Rastignac. Just then Goriot's eyelids unclosed; it was only a muscular contraction, but the Countess' sudden start of reviving hope was no less dreadful than the dying eyes. "Is it possible that he can hear me?" cried the Countess.
"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.
Come, you Turk!" he added, looking at Christophe, who did not offer to stir. "Christophe! Here! What, you don't answer to your own name? Bring us some liquor, Turk!" "Here it is, sir," said Christophe, holding out the bottle. Vautrin filled Eugene's glass and Goriot's likewise, then he deliberately poured out a few drops into his own glass, and sipped it while his two neighbors drank their wine.
This morning he went out with all the spoons and forks he has left, I don't know why. He had got himself up to look quite young, and Lord, forgive me but I thought he had rouge on his cheeks; he looked quite young again." "I will be responsible," said Eugene, shuddering with horror, for he foresaw the end. He climbed the stairs and reached Father Goriot's room. The old man was tossing on his bed.
Taillefer; she had leaned over to say a few words in Mme. Couture's ear. "The cab is at the door," announced Sylvie. "But where is he going to dine?" asked Bianchon. "With Madame la Baronne de Nucingen." "M. Goriot's daughter," said the law student. At this, all eyes turned to the old vermicelli maker; he was gazing at Eugene with something like envy in his eyes.
Rastignac and Christophe and the two undertaker's men were the only followers of the funeral. The Church of Saint-Etienne du Mont was only a little distance from the Rue Nueve-Sainte-Genevieve. When the coffin had been deposited in a low, dark, little chapel, the law student looked round in vain for Goriot's two daughters or their husbands.
Goriot spoke tremulously, and the sound of his voice broke in upon Eugene's dreams. The young man took the elder's hand, and looked at him with something like kindness in his eyes. "You are a good and noble man," he said. "We will have some talk about your daughters by and by." He rose without waiting for Goriot's answer, and went to his room. There he wrote the following letter to his mother:
Though Goriot's eyes seemed to have shrunk in their sockets, though they were weak and watery, owing to some glandular affection which compelled him to wipe them continually, she considered him to be a very gentlemanly and pleasant-looking man.
Todgers would have met her sympathetically, they would have understood each other at the head of it. Into Goriot's yearnings over his fashionable daughters the sounds and sights and smells of his horrible home have all been gathered; they deepen and strengthen his poor story throughout.
I should make you say it a hundred times over if I followed my own wishes. Let us have dinner." The three behaved like children that evening, and Father Goriot's spirits were certainly not the least wild. He lay at his daughter's feet, kissed them, gazed into her eyes, rubbed his head against her dress; in short, no young lover could have been more extravagant or more tender. "You see!"
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