ot dare to believe it."

The tears gathered and stood without overflowing the red sockets.

"Ah! if I were rich still, if I had kept my money, if I had not given
all to them, they would be with me now; they would fawn on me and cover
my cheeks with their kisses! I should be living in a great mansion; I
should have grand apartments and servants and a fire in my room; and
_they_ would be about me all in tears, and their husbands and their
children. I should have had all that; now--I have nothing. Money brings
everything to you; even your daughters. My money. Oh! where is my money?
If I had plenty of money to leave behind me, they would nurse me and
tend me; I should hear their voices, I should see their faces. Ah, God!
who knows? They both of them have hearts of stone. I loved them too
much; it was not likely that they should love me. A father ought always
to be rich; he ought to keep his children well in hand, like unruly
horses. I have gone down on my knees to them. Wretches! this is the
crowning act that brings the last ten years to a proper close. If you
but knew how much they made of me just after they were married. (Oh!
this is cruel torture!) I had just given them each eight hundred
thousand francs; they were bound to be civil to me after that, and their
husbands too were civil. I used to go to their houses: it was 'My kind
father' here, 'My dear father' there. There was always a place for me at
their tables. I used to dine with their husbands now and then, and they
were very respectful to me. I was still worth something, they thought.
How should they know? I had not said anything about my affairs. It
is worth while to be civil to a man who has given his daughters eight
hundred thousand francs apiece; and they showed me every attention
then--but it was all for my money. Grand people are not great. I
found that out by experience! I went to the theatre with them in their
carriage; I might stay as long as I cared to stay at their evening
parties. In fact, they acknowledged me their father; publicly they owned
that they were my daughters. But I was always a shrewd one, you see,
and nothing was lost upon me. Everything went straight to the mark and
pierced my heart. I saw quite well that it was all sham and pretence,
but there is no help for such things as these. I felt less at my ease at
their dinner-table than I did downstairs here. I had nothing to say for
myself. So these grand folks would ask in my son-in-law's ear