. . . I have no daughters, my
sons-in-law killed them. No, since their marriages they have been dead
to me. Fathers should petition the Chambers to pass a law against
marriage. If you love your daughters, do not let them marry. A
son-in-law is a rascal who poisons a girl's mind and contaminates her
whole nature. Let us have no more marriages! It robs us of our
daughters; we are left alone upon our deathbeds, and they are not with
us then. They ought to pass a law for dying fathers. This is awful!
It cries for vengeance! They cannot come, because my sons-in-law
forbid them! . . . Kill them! . . . Restaud and the Alsatian, kill
them both! They have murdered me between them! . . . Death or my
daughters! . . . Ah! it is too late, I am dying, and they are not
here! . . . Dying without them! . . . Nasie! Fifine! Why do you not
come to me? Your papa is going----"
"Dear Father Goriot, calm yourself. There, there, lie quietly and
rest; don't worry yourself, don't think."
"I shall not see them. Oh! the agony of it!"
"You _shall_ see them."
"Really?" cried the old man, still wandering. "Oh! shall I see them; I
shall see them and hear their voices.
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