NOTARY. I donno if I make myself clear?
DUMONT. Goriot, do let's have happy faces!
GORIOT. Fudge! Fudge!! Fudge!!!
CURATE. Possibly on application to this conscientious jurist, light may be obtained.
ALL. The Notary; yes, yes; the Notary!
DUMONT. Now, how about this marriage?
NOTARY. Marriage is a contract, to which there are two constracting parties, John Doe and Richard Roe. I donno if I make myself clear?
ALINE. Poor lamb!
CURATE. Silence, my friend; you will expose yourself to misconstruction.
MACAIRE (_taking the stage_). As an entire stranger in this painful scene, will you permit a gentleman and a traveller to interject one word?
There sits the young man, full, I am sure, of pleasing qualities; here the young maiden, by her own confession bashfully consenting to the match; there sits that dear old gentleman, a lover of bright faces like myself, his own now dimmed with sorrow; and here-(may I be allowed to add?)-here sits this noble Roman, a father like myself, and like myself the slave of duty. Last you have me-Baron Henri-Frederic de Latour de Main de la Tonnerre de Brest, the man of the world and the man of delicacy. I find you all-permit me the expression-gravelled. A marriage and an obstacle. Now, what is marriage? The union of two souls, and, what is possibly more romantic, the fusion of two dowries. What is an obstacle? the devil. And this obstacle? to me, as a man of family, the obstacle seems grave; but to me, as a man and a brother, what is it but a word? O my friend (_to_ GORIOT), you whom I single out as the victim of the same noble failings with myself-of pride of birth, of pride of honesty-O my friend, reflect. Go now apart with your dishevelled daughter, your tearful son-in-law, and let their plaints constrain you.
Believe me, when you come to die, you will recall with pride this amiable weakness.
GORIOT. I shan't, and what's more I wun't. (CHARLES _and_ ERNESTINE _lead him up stage_, _protesting_. _All rise_, _except_ NOTARY.)
DUMONT (_front R._, _shaking hands with_ MACAIRE). Sir, you have a noble nature. (MACAIRE _picks his pocket_.) Dear me, dear me, and you are rich.
MACAIRE. I own, sir, I deceived you: I feared some wounding offer, and my pride replied. But to be quite frank with you, you behold me here, the Baron Henri-Frederic de Latour de Main de la Tonnerre de Brest, and between my simple manhood and the infinite these rags are all.
DUMONT. Dear me, and with this noble pride, my gratitude is useless.
For I, too, have delicacy: I understand you could not stoop to take a gift.
MACAIRE. A gift? a small one? never!
DUMONT. And I will never wound you by the offer.
MACAIRE (_aside_). Bitten.
BERTRAND (_aside_). Sold again.
GORIOT (_taking the stage_). But, look'ee here, he can't marry.
(_All speak together_ . . .
MACAIRE. Hey?
DUMONT. Ah!
ALINE. Hey day!
CURATE. Wherefore?
ERNESTINE. Oh!
CHARLES. Ah!
GORIOT. Not without his veyther's consent! And he hasn't got it; and what's more, he can't get it: and what's more, he hasn't got a veyther to get it from. It's the law of France.
ALINE. Then the law of France ought to be ashamed of itself.
ERNESTINE. O, couldn't we ask the Notary again?
CURATE. Indubitably you may ask him.
(_All speak together_ . . .
MACAIRE. Can't they marry?
DUMONT. Can't he marry?
ALINE. Can't she marry?
ERNESTINE. Can't we marry?
CHARLES. Can't I marry?
GORIOT. Bain't I right?
NOTARY. Constracting parties.
CURATE. Possibly to-morrow at an early hour he may be more perspicuous.
GORIOT. Ay, before he've time to get at it.
NOTARY. Unoffending jurisconsult overtaken by sorrow. Possibly by applying justice of peace might afford relief.
(_All speak together_ . . .
MACAIRE. Bravo!
DUMONT. Excellent!
CHARLES. Let's go at once!
ALINE. The very thing!