"You know quite
well that I love them, I adore them! I shall be quite well again if I
can see them. . . . Go for them, my good neighbor, my dear boy, you
are kind-hearted; I wish I could repay you for your kindness, but I
have nothing to give you now, save the blessing of a dying man. Ah! if
I could only see Delphine, to tell her to pay my debt to you. If the
other cannot come, bring Delphine to me at any rate. Tell her that
unless she comes, you will not love her any more. She is so fond of
you that she will come to me then. Give me something to drink! There
is a fire in my bowels. Press something against my forehead! If my
daughters would lay their hands there, I think I should get better.
. . . _Mon Dieu!_ who will recover their money for them when I am
gone? . . . I will manufacture vermicelli out in Odessa; I will go to
Odessa for their sakes."
"Here is something to drink," said Eugene, supporting the dying man on
his left arm, while he held a cup of tisane to Goriot's lips.
"How you must love your own father and mother!" said the old man, and
grasped the student's hand in both of his. It was a feeble, trembling
grasp. "I am going to die; I shall die without seeing my daughters; do
you understand? To be always thirsting, and never to drink; that has
been my life for the last ten years.
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