"
"Did they enjoy themselves?" It was Father Goriot who spoke. He had
recognized Eugene.
"Oh! he thinks of nothing but his daughters," said Bianchon. "Scores
of times last night he said to me, 'They are dancing now! She has her
dress.' He called them by their names. He made me cry, the devil take
it, calling with that tone in his voice, for 'Delphine! my little
Delphine! and Nasie!' Upon my word," said the medical student, "it was
enough to make any one burst out crying."
"Delphine," said the old man, "she is there, isn't she? I knew she was
there," and his eyes sought the door.
"I am going down now to tell Sylvie to get the poultices ready," said
Bianchon. "They ought to go on at once."
Rastignac was left alone with the old man. He sat at the foot of the
bed, and gazed at the face before him, so horribly changed that it was
shocking to see.
"Noble natures cannot dwell in this world," he said; "Mme de Beauseant
has fled from it, and there he lies dying. What place indeed is there
in the shallow petty frivolous thing called society for noble thoughts
and feelings?"
Pictures of yesterday's ball rose up in his memory, in strange
contrast to the deathbed before him.
Pages:
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429