“I freely forgive her,” said the old man, opening his eyes; “her position is horrible; it would turn an older head than hers. Comfort Nasie, and be nice to her, Delphine; promise it to your poor father before he dies,” he asked, holding Delphine’s hand in a convulsive clasp.
“Oh! what ails you, father?” she cried in real alarm.
“Nothing, nothing,” said Goriot; “it will go off. There is something heavy pressing on my forehead, a little headache.... Ah! poor Nasie, what a life lies before her!”
Just as he spoke, the Countess came back again and flung herself on her knees before him. “Forgive me!” she cried.
“Come,” said her father, “you are hurting me still more.”
“Monsieur,” the Countess said, turning to Rastignac, “misery made me unjust to you. You will be a brother to me, will you not?” and she held out her hand. Her eyes were full of tears as she spoke.
“Nasie,” cried Delphine, flinging her arms round her sister, “my little Nasie, let us forget and forgive.”
“No, no,” cried Nasie; “I shall never forget!”
“Dear angels,” cried Goriot, “it is as if a dark curtain over my eyes had been raised; your voices have called me back to life. Kiss each other once more. Well, now, Nasie, that bill will save you, won’t it?”
“I hope so. I say, papa, will you write your name on it?”