BERTRAND. At once, at once!
MACAIRE (_aside to_ BERTRAND). Hang on. (_Aloud_.) Charles, Charles, my lost boy! (_He falls weeping at L. table_. DUMONT _enters the office_, _and brings down cash-box to table R._ _He feels in all his pockets_: BERTRAND _from behind him making signs to_ MACAIRE, _which the latter does not see_.)
DUMONT. That's strange. I can't find the key. It's a patent key.
BERTRAND (_behind_ DUMONT, _making signs to_ MACAIRE). The key, he can't find the key.
MACAIRE. O yes, I remember. I heard it drop. (_Drops key_.) And here it is before my eyes.
DUMONT. That? That's yours. I saw it drop.
MACAIRE. I give you my word of honour I heard it fall five minutes back.
DUMONT. But I saw it.
MACAIRE. Impossible. It must be yours.
DUMONT. It is like mine, indeed. How came it in your pocket?
MACAIRE. Bitten. (_Aside_.)
BERTRAND. Sold again (_aside_) . . . You forget, Baron, it's the key of my valise; I gave it you to keep in consequence of the hole in my pocket.
MACAIRE. True, true; and that explains.
DUMONT. O, that explains. Now, all we have to do is to find mine. It's a patent key. You heard it drop.
MACAIRE. Distinctly.
BERTRAND. So I did: distinctly.
DUMONT. Here, Aline, Babette, Goriot, Curate, Charles, everybody, come here and look for my key!
SCENE VI
_To these with candles_, _all the former characters_, _except_ FIDDLERS, PEASANTS, _and_ NOTARY. _They hunt for the key_
DUMONT. It's bound to be here. We all heard it drop.
MARQUIS (_with_ BERTRAND'S _bundle_). Is this it?
ALL (_with fury_). No.
BERTRAND. Hands off, that's my luggage. (_Hunt resumed_.)
DUMONT. I heard it drop, as plain as ever I heard anything.
MARQUIS. By the way (_all start up_), what are we looking for?
ALL (_with fury_). O!!
DUMONT. Will you have the kindness to find my key? (_Hunt resumed_.)
CURATE. What description of a key-
DUMONT. A patent, patent, patent, patent key!
MACAIRE. I have it. Here it is!
ALL (_with relief_). Ah!!
DUMONT. That? What do you mean? That's yours.
MACAIRE. Pardon me.
DUMONT. It is.
MACAIRE. It isn't.
DUMONT. I tell you it is: look at that twisted handle.
MACAIRE. It can't be mine, and so it must be yours.
DUMONT. It is not. Feel in your pockets. (_To the others_.) Will you have the kindness to find my patent key?
ALL. Oh!! (_Hunt resumed_.)
MACAIRE. Ah, well, you're right. (_He slips key into_ DUMONT'S _pocket_.) An idea: suppose you felt in your pocket?
ALL (_rising_). Yes! Suppose you did!
DUMONT. I will not feel in my pockets. How could it be there? It's a patent key. This is more than any man can bear. First, Charles is one man's son, and then he's another's, and then he's nobody's, and be damned to him! And then there's my key lost; and then there's your key! What is your key? Where is your key? Where isn't it? And why is it like mine, only mine's a patent? The long and short of it is this: that I'm going to bed, and that you're all going to bed, and that I refuse to hear another word upon the subject or upon any subject. There!
MACAIRE (_aside_). Bitten.
BERTRAND (_aside_). Sold again.
(ALINE _and_ MAIDS _extinguish hanging lamps over tables_, _R. and L._ _Stage lighted only by guests' candles_.)
CHARLES. But, sir, I cannot decently retire to rest till I embrace my honoured parent. Which is it to be?
MACAIRE. Charles, to my-
DUMONT. Embrace neither of them; embrace nobody; there has been too much of this sickening folly. To bed!!! (_Exit violently R. U. E._ _All the characters troop slowly upstairs_, _talking in dumb show_. BERTRAND _and_ MACAIRE _remain in front C._, _watching them go_.)
BERTRAND. Sold again, captain?