Eugene, accordingly, told him everything
without reserve.
"Then they think that I am ruined!" cried Father Goriot, in an agony
of jealousy and desperation. "Why, I have still thirteen hundred
livres a year! _Mon Dieu!_ Poor little girl! why did she not come to
me? I would have sold my rentes; she should have had some of the
principal, and I would have bought a life-annuity with the rest. My
good neighbor, why did not _you_ come to tell me of her difficulty? How
had you the heart to go and risk her poor little hundred francs at
play? This is heart-breaking work. You see what it is to have
sons-in-law. Oh! if I had hold of them, I would wring their necks.
_Mon Dieu! crying!_ Did you say she was crying?"
"With her head on my waistcoat," said Eugene.
"Oh! give it to me," said Father Goriot. "What! my daughter's tears
have fallen there--my darling Delphine, who never used to cry when she
was a little girl! Oh! I will buy you another; do not wear it again;
let me have it. By the terms of her marriage-contract, she ought to
have the use of her property. To-morrow morning I will go and see
Derville; he is an attorney. I will demand that her money should be
invested in her own name.
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