"Then, M. Goriot sitting there is the father of a countess," said Mme.
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. He
determined to profit by Mme. de Beauseant's counsels, and was asking
himself how he could obtain the necessary money. He grew grave. The
wide savannas of the world stretched before his eyes; all things lay
before him, nothing was his. Dinner came to an end, the others went,
and he was left in the dining-room.
"So you have seen my daughter?" 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:--
"My Dear Mother,--Can you nourish your child from your breast
again? I am in a position to make a rapid fortune, but I want
twelve hundred francs--I must have them at all costs.
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