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Updated: May 20, 2025
The Countess fled. "I freely forgive her," said the old man, opening his eyes; "her position is horrible; it would turn an older head than hers. Comfort Nasie, and be nice to her, Delphine; promise it to your poor father before he dies," he asked, holding Delphine's hand in a convulsive clasp. "Oh! what ails you, father?" she cried in real alarm. "Nothing, nothing," said Goriot; "it will go off.
How much did you know of Delphine's stirring up the negroes in that neighborhood?" "I did not know much of it. I only guessed. I put nothing beyond Decherd." "Did you know anything about the levee-cutting?" "Nothing whatever. They didn't tell me anything of that. I presume it didn't suit Henry Decherd to tell me everything he was doing." "I can imagine that," said Eddring.
Through a half-open door an inner boudoir was to be seen, which must have been Delphine's; it looked like her; the prevailing hue was a soft purple, or gray; a prie-dieu, a book-shelf, and desk, of a dark West Indian wood, were just visible. There was but one picture, a sad-eyed, beautiful Fate. It was the type of her nation.
Delphine's mother, with her younger children about her, sat on the stone where she had been sitting when Michel set out on his perilous quest. She and the other women could see a crowd of the men coming back, carrying some burden among them. But as they drew near to the gate, Delphine sprang forward from among them and ran and threw herself into her mother's arms.
One of Chopin's favorite musical amusements, when he was a guest at the houses of his favorite friends, was to play on the piano musical portraits of the company. At the salon of the Countess Komar, Delphine's mother, he played one evening the portraits of the two daughters of the house.
Emeline used to wonder, in the days when she and her giggling associates passed "Delphine's" window, who ever bought the dreadful hats in the left-hand window, although they admitted a certain attraction on the right. Here would be a sign: "Any Hat in this Window, Two Dollars," surrounded by cheap, dust-grained felts, gaudily trimmed, or coarse straws wreathed with cotton flowers.
"I have done so this very day!" she replied, with more happiness in her eyes than Père Jerome had ever before seen there. "Madame Delphine," he said, his own eyes sparkling, "make him your daughter's guardian; for myself, being a priest, it would not be best; but ask him; I believe he will not refuse you." Madame Delphine's face grew still brighter as he spoke. "It was in my mind," she said.
And they went away, Madame Delphine's spirit grown so exaltedly bold that she said as they went, though a violent blush followed her words: "Miché Vignevielle, I thing Père Jerome mighd be ab'e to tell you someboddie." Madame Delphine found her house neither burned nor rifled. "Ah! ma, piti sans popa! Ah I my little fatherless one!"
When it came to Delphine's he gently drew her light shawl from her shoulders, spread it over the keyboard, and then played through it, his fingers, with every tone they produced, coming in touch with the gossamer-like fabric, still warm and hallowed for him from its contact with her. It seems to have been about 1830 that Delphine first came into the composer's life.
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