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Father Goriot by Honoré de Balzac
page 339 of 375 (90%)
nothing of the world; they loved me with all their hearts. _Mon Dieu!_
why could they not always be little girls? (Oh! my head! this racking
pain in my head!) Ah! ah! forgive me, children, this pain is fearful;
it must be agony indeed, for you have used me to endure pain. _Mon
Dieu!_ if only I held their hands in mine, I should not feel it at
all.--Do you think that they are on the way? Christophe is so stupid;
I ought to have gone myself. _He_ will see them. But you went to the
ball yesterday; just tell me how they looked. They did not know that I
was ill, did they, or they would not have been dancing, poor little
things? Oh! I must not be ill any longer. They stand too much in need
of me; their fortunes are in danger. And such husbands as they are
bound to! I must get well! (Oh! what pain this is! what pain this is!
. . . ah! ah!)--I must get well, you see; for they _must_ have money,
and I know how to set about making some. I will go to Odessa and
manufacture starch there. I am an old hand, I will make millions. (Oh!
this is agony!)"

Goriot was silent for a moment; it seemed to require his whole
strength to endure the pain.

"If they were here, I should not complain," he said. "So why should I
complain now?"

He seemed to grow drowsy with exhaustion, and lay quietly for a long
time. Christophe came back; and Rastignac, thinking that Goriot was
asleep, allowed the man to give his story aloud.

"First of all, sir, I went to Madame la Comtesse," he said; "but she
and her husband were so busy that I couldn't get to speak to her. When
I insisted that I must see her, M. de Restaud came out to me himself,
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