MACAIRE. The honest man, Bertrand, that's God's noblest work. He carries the bag, my boy. Would you have me define honesty? the strategic point for theft. Bertrand, if I'd three hundred a year, I'd be honest to-morrow. BERTRAND. Ah! don't you wish you may get it! MACAIRE. Bertrand, I will bet you my head against your own--the longest odds I can imagine--that with honesty for my spring-board, I leap through history like a paper hoop, and come out among posterity heroic and immortal. SCENE II _To these, all the former characters, less the NOTARY. The fiddles are heard without playing dolefully. Air: "O dear, what can the matter be?" in time to which the procession enters_ MACAIRE. Well, friends, what cheer? ALINE. No wedding, no wedding! \ | GORIOT. I told 'ee he can't, and 'ee can't. | | DUMONT. Dear, dear me! > _Together._ | ERNESTINE. They won't let us marry. | | CHARLES. No wife, no father, no nothing! / CURATE. The facts have justified the worst anticipations of our absent friend, the Notary. MACAIRE. I perceive I must reveal myself. DUMONT. God bless me, no! MACAIRE. My friends, I had meant to preserve a strict incognito, for I was ashamed (I own it!) of this poor accoutrement; but when I see a face that I can render happy, say, my old Dumont, should I hesitate to work the change? Hear me, then, and you (_to the others_) prepare a smiling countenance. (_Repeating._) "Preserve this letter secretly; its terms are known only to you and me: hence when the time comes, I shall repeat them, and my son will recognise his father.--Your Unknown Benefactor." DUMONT. The words! the letter! Charles, alas! it is your father! CHARLES. Good Lord! (_General consternation._) BERTRAND (_aside; smiting his brow_). I see it now; sublime! CURATE. A highly singular eventuality. GORIOT. Him? O well, then, I wun't. (_Goes up._) MACAIRE. Charles, to my arms! (_Business._) Ernestine, your second father waits to welcome you. (_Business._) Goriot, noble old man, I grasp your hand. (_He doesn't._) And you, Dumont, how shall your unknown benefactor thank you for your kindness to his boy? (_A dead pause._) Charles, to my arms! CHARLES. My father, you are still something of a stranger. I hope--er--in the course of time--I hope that may be somewhat mended. But I confess that I have so long regarded Mr. Dumont---- MACAIRE. Love him still, dear boy, love him still. I have not returned to be a burden on your heart, nor much, comparatively, on your pocket. A place by the fire, dear boy, a crust for my friend, Bertrand. (_A dead pause._) Ah, well, this is a different home-coming from that I fancied when I left the letter: I dreamed to grow rich. Charles, you remind me of your sainted mother.