Macaire. Ah! brown—a whitey-brown.
Goriot. I tell ’ee what, Dumont, this is all very well; but in that case, I’ll be danged if he gets my daater. (General consternation.)
Dumont. O Goriot, let’s have happy faces!
Goriot. Happy faces be danged! I want to marry my daater; I want your son. But who be this? I don’t know, and you don’t know, and he don’t know. He may be anybody; by Jarge, he may be nobody! (Exclamations.)
Curate. The situation is crepuscular.
Ernestine. Father, and Mr. Dumont (and you, too, Charles), I wish to say one word. You gave us leave to fall in love; we fell in love; and as for me, my father, I will either marry Charles or die a maid.
Charles. And you, sir, would you rob me in one day of both a father and a wife?
Dumont (weeping). Happy faces, happy faces!
Goriot. I know nothing about robbery; but she cannot marry without my consent, and that she cannot get.