Chapter 123

_To these, all the former characters, less the NOTARY. The fiddles are heard without playing dolefully. Air: "O dear, what can the matter be?" in time to which the procession enters_

MACAIRE. Well, friends, what cheer?

ALINE. No wedding, no wedding! \ | GORIOT. I told 'ee he can't, and 'ee can't. | | DUMONT. Dear, dear me! > _Together._ | ERNESTINE. They won't let us marry. | | CHARLES. No wife, no father, no nothing! /

CURATE. The facts have justified the worst anticipations of our absent friend, the Notary.

MACAIRE. I perceive I must reveal myself.

DUMONT. God bless me, no!

MACAIRE. My friends, I had meant to preserve a strict incognito, for I was ashamed (I own it!) of this poor accoutrement; but when I see a face that I can render happy, say, my old Dumont, should I hesitate to work the change? Hear me, then, and you (_to the others_) prepare a smiling countenance. (_Repeating._) "Preserve this letter secretly; its terms are known only to you and me: hence when the time comes, I shall repeat them, and my son will recognise his father.--Your Unknown Benefactor."

DUMONT. The words! the letter! Charles, alas! it is your father!

CHARLES. Good Lord! (_General consternation._)

BERTRAND (_aside; smiting his brow_). I see it now; sublime!

CURATE. A highly singular eventuality.

GORIOT. Him? O well, then, I wun't. (_Goes up._)

MACAIRE. Charles, to my arms! (_Business._) Ernestine, your second father waits to welcome you. (_Business._) Goriot, noble old man, I grasp your hand. (_He doesn't._) And you, Dumont, how shall your unknown benefactor thank you for your kindness to his boy? (_A dead pause._) Charles, to my arms!

CHARLES. My father, you are still something of a stranger. I hope--er--in the course of time--I hope that may be somewhat mended. But I confess that I have so long regarded Mr. Dumont----

MACAIRE. Love him still, dear boy, love him still. I have not returned to be a burden on your heart, nor much, comparatively, on your pocket. A place by the fire, dear boy, a crust for my friend, Bertrand. (_A dead pause._) Ah, well, this is a different home-coming from that I fancied when I left the letter: I dreamed to grow rich. Charles, you remind me of your sainted mother.

CHARLES. I trust, sir, you do not think yourself less welcome for your poverty.

MACAIRE. Nay, nay--more welcome, more welcome. O, I know your--(_business_) backs! Besides, my poverty is noble. Political.... Dumont, what are your politics?

DUMONT. A plain old republican, my lord.

MACAIRE. And yours, my good Goriot?

GORIOT. I be a royalist, I be, and so be my daater.

MACAIRE. How strange is the coincidence! The party that I sought to found combined the peculiarities of both; a patriotic enterprise in which I fell. This humble fellow ... have I introduced him? You behold in us the embodiment of aristocracy and democracy. Bertrand, shake hands with my family. (_BERTRAND is rebuffed by one and the other in dead silence._)

BERTRAND. Sold again!

MACAIRE. Charles, to my arms! (_Business._)

ERNESTINE. Well, but now that he has a father of some kind, cannot the marriage go on?

MACAIRE. Angel, this very night: I burn to take my grandchild on my knees.

GORIOT. Be you that young man's veyther?

MACAIRE. Ay, and what a father!

GORIOT. Then all I've got to say is, I shan't and I wun't.

MACAIRE. Ah, friends, friends, what a satisfaction it is, what a sight is virtue! I came among you in this poor attire to test you; how nobly have you borne the test! But my disguise begins to irk me: who will lend me a good suit? (_Business._)