‘Yes, if I’m ruined, perhaps it is partly your fault,’ said Delphine. ‘We have so little sense when we marry! Do we know anything about the world, business, men or morals? Our fathers should think for us. Dear Father, I don’t blame you at all, forgive me for what I said. This is all my fault. No, don’t cry, Papa,’ she said, kissing her father on the forehead.
‘Don’t you cry either, my little Delphine. Bring yourself over here and I’ll kiss the tears from your eyes. There! I’m going to screw my head back on and untangle this web of affairs your husband has been weaving.’
‘No, let me do things my way; I’ll know how to bring him round. So he loves me – well then, I’ll use the hold I have on him to make him invest some capital in properties for me, as soon as possible. Perhaps I’ll make him buy Nucingen, in Alsace, in my name: he loves that place. But come tomorrow to examine his books, his affairs. Maître Derville doesn’t know anything about commerce. No, don’t come tomorrow. I don’t want to get in a fret. Madame de Beauséant’s ball is the day after tomorrow: I must do everything I can to be beautiful and rested when I go, so I’ll be a credit to my darling Eugène! Let’s go and look at his room.’
At this point another carriage stopped in the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Geneviève and Madame de Restaud’s voice was heard in the stairwell, asking Sylvie: ‘Is my father here?’ This fortunate circumstance saved Eugène, who was already thinking about leaping into bed and pretending to be asleep.
‘Ah! Father, have you heard about Anastasie?’ asked Delphine, recognizing her sister’s voice. ‘Apparently there are some strange goings-on in her domestic life too.’
‘What!’ said old man Goriot; ‘this will be the death of me. My poor head can’t take a double dose of misfortune.’
‘Good morning, Father,’ said the comtesse, as she came in. ‘Ah! You’re here, Delphine.’
Madame de Restaud seemed disconcerted by her sister’s presence.
‘Good morning, Nasie,’ said the baronne. ‘You’re surprised to find me here? I see Father every day.’
‘Since when?’
‘If you ever came to see him, you’d know.’
‘Don’t goad me, Delphine,’ said the comtesse in a pitiful voice. ‘I’m quite wretched. I’m lost, dear Father! Oh yes, well and truly lost this time!’
‘What’s the matter, Nasie?’ cried old Goriot. ‘Tell us everything, child. She’s gone white. Delphine, quickly, help her. Be good to her and I’ll love you even more than I do already, if that’s possible!’
‘Poor Nasie,’ said Madame de Nucingen, helping her sister to a seat; ‘speak. You have in us the only two people who’ll always love you enough to forgive you everything. You see, family ties are the strongest.’ She held smelling salts under her nose and the comtesse came round.
‘This will be the death of me,’ said old Goriot. ‘Now,’ he continued, poking his tan-turf fire, ‘come closer both of you. I’m cold. What’s the matter Nasie? Tell me quickly, you’re killing me …’
‘Well,’ said the poor woman, ‘my husband knows everything. Think back, Father, some time ago: do you remember that bill of exchange of Maxime’s? Well, it wasn’t the first. I’d already paid many more. At the beginning of January, Monsieur de Trailles seemed terribly low. He didn’t say anything to me, but it’s so easy to see into the heart of someone you love; it takes just the slightest thing – and then, you have premonitions. Well, I’d never known him more loving, more tender, I couldn’t have been happier. Poor Maxime! In his head, he was saying goodbye; he told me that he wanted to blow his brains out. So I pleaded with him and begged him relentlessly; once I even spent two hours on my knees. He told me he owed a hundred thousand francs! Oh Papa! A hundred thousand francs! I was out of my mind. You didn’t have them; I’d swallowed up everything you had.’
‘No,’ said old man Goriot, ‘I wouldn’t have been able to raise that kind of money, short of stealing it. But I would have done it, Nasie! I will.’
When they heard how mournfully he gasped out these words, with a groan like the rattle of a dying man, laying bare the agony of a father who finds himself powerless, the two sisters paused. Who, however selfish, could have remained indifferent to this cry of despair, which, like a stone thrown into a chasm, revealed its depth?
‘I raised it by selling something which didn’t belong to me, Father,’ said the comtesse, bursting into tears.
Delphine, moved, wept with her head pressed against her sister’s neck.
‘So it’s all true,’ she said to her.
Anastasie bowed her head; Madame de Nucingen threw her arms around her and kissed her tenderly, pressing her against her heart: ‘In here, you will always be loved without being judged,’ she said to her.
‘My sweet angels,’ said Goriot weakly, ‘why do you only ever embrace each other in times of misfortune?’
‘To save Maxime’s life, which is to say, everything my happiness depends on,’ the comtesse went on, encouraged by these signs of warm and heartfelt tenderness, ‘I went to that pawnbroker you know, Monsieur Gobseck, a man made in hell, for nothing can soften his heart, and took him the family diamonds which Monsieur de Restaud holds so dear: his, mine, the lot, I sold them. Sold them! Do you hear me? He was saved. But, as for me, I’m dead. Restaud knows everything.’
‘Who told him? How? I could kill them!’ cried old Goriot.
‘Yesterday, he called me into his room. I went in … “Anastasie,” he said to me in a certain tone … (oh! his voice was enough, I guessed immediately) … “Where are your diamonds?” “In my room.” “No,” he said, looking at me, “they’re over there on my dresser.” And he showed me the jewel case, which he’d covered with his handkerchief. “Do you know where they came from?” he asked me. I fell to my knees … I wept, I asked him what death he would have me die.’
‘You said that!’ shouted old Goriot. ‘In the sacred name of God, any man who lays a finger on either of you, for as long as I live, may rest assured that I’ll roast him alive! Yes, I’ll rip him to pieces like …’
Old man Goriot ran out of breath, his words rasping in his throat.
‘In the end, dear Sister, he asked me to do something harder than dying. May heaven spare any other woman from having to hear what I did!’
‘I’ll murder that man,’ muttered old Goriot. ‘But he only has one life and he owes me two. Tell us, what was it?’ he continued, looking at Anastasie.
‘Well,’ continued the comtesse after a pause; ‘he looked at me: “Anastasie,” he said, “I’ll draw a veil over this affair, we’ll stay together, we have children. I won’t call out Monsieur de Trailles, I might miss, and if I rid myself of him any other way I’d have human justice to answer to. To kill him in your arms would bring dishonour on the children. But if you don’t want to see either your children, their father or myself destroyed by this, you must meet two conditions. Tell me: are either of the children mine?” I said yes. “Which one?” he asked. “Ernest, the eldest.” “Good,” he said. “Now, swear to me that you will obey me in one respect.” I swore that I would. “You will sign your assets over to me when I ask you to do so.” ’
‘Don’t sign,’ cried old Goriot. ‘Never sign such a thing. Hah! Pah! You, Monsieur de Restaud, have no idea how to make a woman happy: she’ll find happiness where she can, and you think you can punish her for your own pathetic impotence? Enough; what about me, I’m still here! He’ll find me blocking his way, Nasie, you can rest assured. Ah, so he values his heir, does he? Well, well. I’ll kidnap his son, who after all, dammit, is my grandson. Don’t I have a right to see him, the brat? I’ll take him to my village, I’ll make sure he’s well looked after, you can be sure of that. I’ll bring that monster to his knees, I’ll say to him: “This is between the two of us! If you want your son, give my daughter back her fortune and let her do exactly what she wants.” ’
‘Father!’
‘That’s right, your father, that’s who I am! Ah! I’m a true father. I won’t let that ra
scally toff mistreat my daughters. Damn it! I must have the blood of a tiger in my veins, I could eat them both alive. Oh children! Is this your life? It will be the death of me. How will you fare when I’m no longer here? Fathers should live as long as their children. Lord, this world of yours is so badly made! And yet you have a son yourself, or so we’re told. You should prevent us from suffering for our children. My dearest angels, how can it be! You only come here when you’re in trouble. You only ever tell me about your tears. Yes, yes, you love me, I can see that. Very well, bring your sorrows here! My heart is vast, there’s room for them all. Yes, go ahead and tear it to shreds: each shard will become a whole new father’s heart. I want to bear your burdens, to suffer for you. Ah! You were so happy when you were little …’
‘Those were our only good times,’ said Delphine. ‘Do you remember how we’d tumble down off the sacks in the big granary?’
‘Father! There’s more,’ said Anastasie in Goriot’s ear, making him jump. ‘I didn’t get a hundred thousand francs for the diamonds. Maxime has been served with a writ. We only have twelve thousand francs left to pay. He has promised to be good, to stop gambling. His love is all I have left in the world and I’ve paid for it so dearly I would die if I should lose that too. I’ve sacrificed fortune, honour, peace of mind and children for him. Oh! At least let Maxime keep his freedom and his honour, so he can remain in society where he’ll be able to make a name for himself. He doesn’t just owe me my happiness now: we have children who could be fortuneless. If he ends up in Sainte-Pélagie,203 all is lost!’
‘I don’t have the money, Nasie. Nothing left, nothing, nothing at all! The end of the world has come. Oh! The world is falling to pieces, there’s no doubt about it. Run, save yourselves! Ah! I still have my silver buckles, and six pieces of cutlery, the first I ever owned in my life. After that, all I have left is a life annuity of twelve hundred francs …’
‘What have you done with your perpetuity?’
‘I sold it and kept back this little bit of income for my needs. I had to find twelve thousand francs to furnish some rooms for Fifine.’
‘At home, Delphine?’ Madame de Restaud said to her sister.
‘Oh! What does that matter!’ old Goriot went on; ‘the twelve thousand francs have gone.’
‘I can guess,’ said the comtesse. ‘For Monsieur de Rastignac. Ah! Poor Delphine, don’t do it. Look what has become of me.’
‘My dear, Monsieur de Rastignac is not the kind of young man who would ruin his mistress.’
‘Thank you, Delphine. Given the dire straits I’m in, I might have expected better from you; but then, you’ve never loved me.’
‘Of course she loves you, Nasie,’ cried old Goriot; ‘she told me so just before you arrived. We were talking about you and she said that you were beautiful, whereas she was just pretty!’
‘Pretty, her!’ retorted the comtesse; ‘she’s as cold as charity.’
‘That’s as may be,’ said Delphine, flushing, ‘and what of your conduct towards me? You disowned me, you made sure every door would be closed to me, wherever I wanted to go; in short, you’ve never passed over the slightest opportunity to hurt me. And as for me, have I been coming here, as you have, to bleed our poor father – a thousand francs here, a thousand francs there – of his entire fortune and reduce him to the state he’s in now? This is your handiwork, Sister. I have seen father as often as I could, I never showed him the door and I didn’t come and suck up to him whenever I needed something. I didn’t even know that he’d spent those twelve thousand francs on me. I live within my means, as you know. What’s more, I’ve never angled for the gifts Papa has given me.’
‘You were luckier than me: Monsieur de Marsay was rich, as you have reason to know. You’ve always been as filthy as lucre. Farewell. I have neither sister, nor …’
‘Hold your tongue, Nasie!’ shouted old Goriot.
‘What kind of a sister repeats gossip that everyone knows to be unfounded? You’re a monster,’ Delphine said to her.
‘Children, children, hold your tongues, or I’ll kill myself here and now.’
‘Come, Nasie, I forgive you,’ continued Madame de Nucingen; ‘you’re upset. But I won’t stoop to your level. To say that to me at a time when I was prepared to do anything to help you, even share my husband’s bed, something I wouldn’t do for myself nor … That’s on a par with every other wrong you’ve done me these past nine years.’
‘Children, children, give each other a kiss and be done!’ said their father. ‘You’re angels, both of you.’
‘No, let go of me,’ cried the comtesse, brushing her father’s hand off her arm as he tried to hug her. ‘She cares about me even less than my husband does. To hear her talk, you’d think she was a model of all the virtues!’
‘I’d rather people thought I owed money to Monsieur de Marsay, than have to confess that Monsieur de Trailles has cost me over two hundred thousand francs,’ replied Madame de Nucingen.
‘Delphine!’ cried the comtesse, moving towards her.
‘I’m telling you the truth, whereas you are slandering me,’ retaliated the baronne, coldly.
‘Delphine! You …’
Old Goriot sprang forward to restrain the comtesse and put his hand over her mouth to stop her finishing her sentence.
‘Good Lord, Father! Whatever have you been handling this morning?’ Anastasie asked him.
‘You’re right, that was a mistake,’ said her poor father, wiping his hands on his trousers. ‘But I didn’t know you were coming. I’m moving out.’
He was happy to have earned himself a reproach which would deflect his daughter’s anger onto him.
‘Ah!’ he went on, sitting down, ‘you’ve split my heart in two. I’m dying, children! The inside of my skull feels as if it’s on fire. Be good now, be kind to each other! You’ll be the death of me. Delphine, Nasie, come: you’re both right, you’re both wrong. Now, Dedel,’ he went on, turning to the baronne, his eyes full of tears, ‘she needs twelve thousand francs, let’s see if we can find them. Don’t look at each other like that.’ He went down on his knees before Delphine. ‘Do it to make me happy, ask her to forgive you,’ he said in her ear; ‘she’s the worst off here, isn’t she?’
‘Dearest Nasie,’ said Delphine, horrified by her father’s wild, stricken look, pain written all over his face; ‘I’ve wronged you, kiss me …’
‘Ah! balm for my bleeding heart,’ cried old man Goriot. ‘But where will we find twelve thousand francs? What if I enlisted in the reserves?’
‘Ah! Father!’ said the two daughters, putting their arms around him; ‘no, no.’
‘God will reward you for that thought; we could never do so in our lifetimes! Isn’t that so, Nasie?’ said Delphine.
‘Poor Father, it would in any case be a drop in the ocean,’ the comtesse pointed out.
‘Can nothing be done then, with this blood of mine?’ the old man cried out in desperation. ‘I’ll swear allegiance to the man who saves you, Nasie! I’ll kill a man for him. I’ll be like Vautrin, I’ll do time! I …’ He stopped as if struck by lightning. ‘Nothing left!’ he said, tearing his hair out. ‘If only I knew a place to rob, but even then it’s hard to know what to steal. And you need time and people to take on the Bank.204 Well, all that’s left is death. I may as well die. Yes, I’m a wreck. I’m no longer a father! She asks, she needs! And I have nothing, wretch that I am. “Ah! You’ve money tied up in your life annuity, you mean old rascal, and you have daughters! Why, don’t you love them? Die, die, like a dog, for that’s what you are!” Yes, I’m worse than a dog – a dog wouldn’t be capable of this! Argh! My head! It’s boiling!’
‘Why, Papa,’ cried the two young women, putting their arms around him to stop him banging his head against the wall; ‘pull yourself together.’
He started sobbing. Eugène, in horror, snatched up the bill endorsed to Vautrin,205 stamped as valid for a larger amount; he corrected the figure and made it out to Goriot, turning i
t into a genuine bill of exchange for twelve thousand francs, then went in.
‘Your money, Madame, in full,’ he said, handing her the paper. ‘I was asleep; your conversation woke me and so I found out what I owed Monsieur Goriot. Here’s the security, which you can convert into cash; I’ll pay it off faithfully.’
The comtesse, rigid, held the paper in her hand.
‘Delphine,’ she said, pale and shaking with fury, rage and wrath, ‘I would have forgiven you everything, as God is my witness, but now this! What? Monsieur was here and you knew it? You were petty enough to take your revenge by letting me reveal my every secret, every detail of my life, my children, my shame, my honour! Hah! You mean nothing to me now, I hate you, I’ll do you as much harm as I can, I …’ She choked, her throat dry with rage.
‘Why, he’s my son, our child, your brother, your saviour,’ cried old Goriot. ‘Kiss him, Nasie! Look, I’ll kiss him,’ he continued, throwing his arms around Eugène in a kind of frenzy. ‘Oh! child! I’ll be more than a father to you: I’ll be a whole family. If only I were God, I’d throw the universe at your feet. Go on, Nasie, kiss him! He’s no mere mortal, but an angel, truly an angel.’
‘Ignore her, Father, she’s acting like a madwoman at the moment,’ said Delphine.
‘Madwoman! Madwoman! What does that make you, then?’ retorted Madame de Restaud.
‘Children, I’ll die if you go on like this,’ cried the old man, falling onto his bed as if struck by a bullet. ‘They’re killing me!’ he murmured.
The comtesse looked at Eugène, who stood there, stunned at the violence of the scene: ‘Monsieur,’ she said, with a challenging gesture, tone of voice and expression, paying no attention to her father, whose waistcoat Delphine had quickly unbuttoned.
‘Madame, I’ll pay up and say nothing,’ he replied, before she could phrase her question.
‘You’ve killed our father, Nasie!’ said Delphine, showing the old man, unconscious, to her sister, who ran out of the room.