water, they say----"

"We may as well give up," said the physician, addressing the surgeon.
"Nothing more can be done now; the case is hopeless."

Bianchon and the house surgeon stretched the dying man out again on his
loathsome bed.

"But the sheets ought to be changed," added the physician. "Even if
there is no hope left, something is due to human nature. I shall come
back again, Bianchon," he said, turning to the medical student. "If he
complains again, rub some laudanum over the diaphragm."

He went, and the house surgeon went with him.

"Come, Eugene, pluck up heart, my boy," said Bianchon, as soon as they
were alone; "we must set about changing his sheets, and put him into a
clean shirt. Go and tell Sylvie to bring some sheets and come and help
us to make the bed."

Eugene went downstairs, and found Mme. Vauquer engaged in setting the
table; Sylvie was helping her. Eugene had scarcely opened his mouth
before the widow walked up to him with the acidulous sweet smile of a
cautious shopkeeper who is anxious neither to lose money nor to offend a
customer.

"My dear Monsieur Eugene," she said, when he had spoken, "you know quite
as well as I do that Father Goriot has not a brass farthing left. If you
give out clean linen for a man who is just going to turn up his eyes,
you are not likely to see your sheets again, for one is sure to be
wanted to wrap him in. Now, you owe me a hundred and forty-four francs
as it is, add forty francs for the pair of sheets, and then there are
several little things, besides the candle that Sylvie will give you;
altogether it will all mount up to at least two hundred francs, which is
more than a poor widow like me can afford to lose. Lord! now, Monsieur
Eugene, look at it fairly. I have lost quite enough in these five days
since this run of ill-luck set in for me. I would rather than ten crowns
that the old gentlemen had moved out as you said. It sets the other
lodgers against the house. It would not take much to make me send him to
the workhouse. In short, just put yourself in my place. I have to think
of my establishment first, for I have my own living to make."

Eugene hurried up to Goriot's room.

"Bianchon," he cried, "the money for the watch?"

"There it is on the table, or the three hundred and sixty odd francs
that are left of it. I paid up all the old scores out of it before they
let me have the things. The pawn ticket lies there under the money."

Rastignac hurried