| Macaire. Hey? Dumont. Ah! Aline. Heyday! Curate. Wherefore? Ernestine. O! Charles. Ah! | } | Together. |
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.
| 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? | } | Together. |
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.