I noticed, 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.