Volume 15 / Act 2 — SCENE III
Reading edition
To these, the Marquis, L.C.
Marquis. Is this the house of John Paul Dumont, once of Lyons?
Dumont. It is, sir, and I am he, at your disposal.
Marquis. I am the Marquis Villers-Cotterets de la Cherté de Médoc. (Sensation.)
Marcaire. Marquis, delighted, I am sure.
Marquis (to Dumont). I come, as you perceive, unfollowed; my errand, therefore, is discreet. I come (producing notes from breast-pocket) equipped with thirty thousand francs; my errand, therefore, must be generous. Can you not guess?
Dumont. Not I, my lord.
Marquis (repeating). “Preserve this letter,” etc.
Marcaire. Bitten!
Bertrand. Sold again! (Aside.) (A pause.)
Aline. Well, I never did!
Dumont. Two fathers!
Marquis. Two? Impossible.
Dumont. Not at all. This is the other.
Marquis. This man?
Marcaire. This is the man, my lord; here stands the father. Charles, to my arms! (Charles backs.)
Dumont. He knew the letter.
Marquis. Well, so did I.
Curate. The judgment of Solomon.
Goriot. What did I tell ’ee? he can’t marry.
Ernestine. Couldn’t they both consent?
Marquis. But he’s my living image.
Marcaire. Mine, Marquis, mine.
Marquis. My figure, I think?
Marcaire. Ah, Charles, Charles!
Curate. We used to think his physiognomy resembled Dumont’s.
Dumont. Come to look at him, he’s really like Goriot.
Ernestine. O papa, I hope he’s not my brother.
Goriot. What be talking of? I tell ’ee, he’s like our Curate.
Charles. Gentlemen, my head aches.
Marquis. I have it: the involuntary voice of nature, at me, my son.
Macaire. Nay, Charles, but look at me.
Charles. Gentlemen, I am unconscious of the smallest natural inclination for either.
Marquis. Another thought: what was his mother’s name?
Macaire. What was the name of his mother by you?
Marquis. Sir, you are silenced.
Macaire. Silenced by honour. I had rather lose my boy than compromise his sainted mother.
Marquis. A thought; twins might explain it: had you not two foundlings?
Dumont. Nay, sir, one only; and, judging by the miseries of this evening, I should say, thank God!
Macaire. My friends, leave me alone with the Marquis. It is only a father that can understand a father’s heart. Bertrand, follow the members of my family. (They troop out, L.U.E. and R.U.E., the fiddlers playing. Air: “O dear, what can the matter be?”)