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diff --git a/old/adpap10.txt b/old/adpap10.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f1480e4..0000000 --- a/old/adpap10.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13717 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg Etext of A Distinguished Provincial at Paris -#50 in our series by Honore de Balzac - - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check -the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! - -Please take a look at the important information in this header. -We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an -electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. - - -**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** - -**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** - -*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* - -Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and -further information is included below. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* - - - - - -Etext prepared by Dagny, dagnyj@hotmail.com -and John Bickers, jbickers@templar.actrix.gen.nz - - - - - -A DISTINGUISHED PROVINCIAL AT PARIS -(Lost Illusions Part II) - - -by HONORE DE BALZAC - - - -Translated By -Ellen Marriage - - - -PREPARER'S NOTE - - A Distinguished Provincial at Paris is part two of a trilogy. Part - one, Two Poets, begins the story of Lucien, his sister Eve, and - his friend David in the provincial town of Angouleme. Part two is - centered on Lucien's Parisian life. Part three, Eve and David, - reverts to the setting of Angouleme. Following this trilogy - Lucien's story is continued in yet another book, Scenes from a - Courtesan's Life. - - - - - -A DISTINGUISHED PROVINCIAL AT PARIS - - - - -PART I - -Mme. de Bargeton and Lucien de Rubempre had left Angouleme behind, and -were traveling together upon the road to Paris. Not one of the party -who made that journey alluded to it afterwards; but it may be believed -that an infatuated youth who had looked forward to the delights of an -elopement, must have found the continual presence of Gentil, the man- -servant, and Albertine, the maid, not a little irksome on the way. -Lucien, traveling post for the first time in his life, was horrified -to see pretty nearly the whole sum on which he meant to live in Paris -for a twelvemonth dropped along the road. Like other men who combine -great intellectual powers with the charming simplicity of childhood, -he openly expressed his surprise at the new and wonderful things which -he saw, and thereby made a mistake. A man should study a woman very -carefully before he allows her to see his thoughts and emotions as -they arise in him. A woman, whose nature is large as her heart is -tender, can smile upon childishness, and make allowances; but let her -have ever so small a spice of vanity herself, and she cannot forgive -childishness, or littleness, or vanity in her lover. Many a woman is -so extravagant a worshiper that she must always see the god in her -idol; but there are yet others who love a man for his sake and not for -their own, and adore his failings with his greater qualities. - -Lucien had not guessed as yet that Mme. de Bargeton's love was grafted -on pride. He made another mistake when he failed to discern the -meaning of certain smiles which flitted over Louise's lips from time -to time; and instead of keeping himself to himself, he indulged in the -playfulness of the young rat emerging from his hole for the first -time. - -The travelers were set down before daybreak at the sign of the -Gaillard-Bois in the Rue de l'Echelle, both so tired out with the -journey that Louise went straight to bed and slept, first bidding -Lucien to engage the room immediately overhead. Lucien slept on till -four o'clock in the afternoon, when he was awakened by Mme. de -Bargeton's servant, and learning the hour, made a hasty toilet and -hurried downstairs. - -Louise was sitting in the shabby inn sitting-room. Hotel accommodation -is a blot on the civilization of Paris; for with all its pretensions -to elegance, the city as yet does not boast a single inn where a well- -to-do traveler can find the surroundings to which he is accustomed at -home. To Lucien's just-awakened, sleep-dimmed eyes, Louise was hardly -recognizable in this cheerless, sunless room, with the shabby window- -curtains, the comfortless polished floor, the hideous furniture bought -second-hand, or much the worse for wear. - -Some people no longer look the same when detached from the background -of faces, objects, and surroundings which serve as a setting, without -which, indeed, they seem to lose something of their intrinsic worth. -Personality demands its appropriate atmosphere to bring out its -values, just as the figures in Flemish interiors need the arrangement -of light and shade in which they are placed by the painter's genius if -they are to live for us. This is especially true of provincials. Mme. -de Bargeton, moreover, looked more thoughtful and dignified than was -necessary now, when no barriers stood between her and happiness. - -Gentil and Albertine waited upon them, and while they were present -Lucien could not complain. The dinner, sent in from a neighboring -restaurant, fell far below the provincial average, both in quantity -and quality; the essential goodness of country fare was wanting, and -in point of quantity the portions were cut with so strict an eye to -business that they savored of short commons. In such small matters -Paris does not show its best side to travelers of moderate fortune. -Lucien waited till the meal was over. Some change had come over -Louise, he thought, but he could not explain it. - -And a change had, in fact, taken place. Events had occurred while he -slept; for reflection is an event in our inner history, and Mme. de -Bargeton had been reflecting. - -About two o'clock that afternoon, Sixte du Chatelet made his -appearance in the Rue de l'Echelle and asked for Albertine. The -sleeping damsel was roused, and to her he expressed his wish to speak -with her mistress. Mme. de Bargeton had scarcely time to dress before -he came back again. The unaccountable apparition of M. du Chatelet -roused the lady's curiosity, for she had kept her journey a profound -secret, as she thought. At three o'clock the visitor was admitted. - -"I have risked a reprimand from headquarters to follow you," he said, -as he greeted her; "I foresaw coming events. But if I lose my post for -it, YOU, at any rate, shall not be lost." - -"What do you mean?" exclaimed Mme. de Bargeton. - -"I can see plainly that you love Lucien," he continued, with an air of -tender resignation. "You must love indeed if YOU can act thus -recklessly, and disregard the conventions which you know so well. Dear -adored Nais, can you really imagine that Mme. d'Espard's salon, or any -other salon in Paris, will not be closed to you as soon as it is known -that you have fled from Angouleme, as it were, with a young man, -especially after the duel between M. de Bargeton and M. de Chandour? -The fact that your husband has gone to the Escarbas looks like a -separation. Under such circumstances a gentleman fights first and -afterwards leaves his wife at liberty. By all means, give M. de -Rubempre your love and your countenance; do just as you please; but -you must not live in the same house. If anybody here in Paris knew -that you had traveled together, the whole world that you have a mind -to see would point the finger at you. - -"And, Nais, do not make these sacrifices for a young man whom you have -as yet compared with no one else; he, on his side, has been put to no -proof; he may forsake you for some Parisienne, better able, as he may -fancy, to further his ambitions. I mean no harm to the man you love, -but you will permit me to put your own interests before his, and to -beg you to study him, to be fully aware of the serious nature of this -step that you are taking. And, then, if you find all doors closed -against you, and that none of the women call upon you, make sure at -least that you will feel no regret for all that you have renounced for -him. Be very certain first that he for whom you will have given up so -much will always be worthy of your sacrifices and appreciate them. - -"Just now," continued Chatelet, "Mme. d'Espard is the more prudish and -particular because she herself is separated from her husband, nobody -knows why. The Navarreins, the Lenoncourts, the Blamont-Chauvrys, and -the rest of the relations have all rallied round her; the most strait- -laced women are seen at her house, and receive her with respect, and -the Marquis d'Espard has been put in the wrong. The first call that -you pay will make it clear to you that I am right; indeed, knowing -Paris as I do, I can tell you beforehand that you will no sooner enter -the Marquise's salon than you will be in despair lest she should find -out that you are staying at the Gaillard-Bois with an apothecary's -son, though he may wish to be called M. de Rubempre. - -"You will have rivals here, women far more astute and shrewd than -Amelie; they will not fail to discover who you are, where you are, -where you come from, and all that you are doing. You have counted upon -your incognito, I see, but you are one of those women for whom an -incognito is out of the question. You will meet Angouleme at every -turn. There are the deputies from the Charente coming up for the -opening of the session; there is the Commandant in Paris on leave. -Why, the first man or woman from Angouleme who happens to see you -would cut your career short in a strange fashion. You would simply be -Lucien's mistress. - -"If you need me at any time, I am staying with the Receiver-General in -the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore, two steps away from Mme. d'Espard's. -I am sufficiently acquainted with the Marechale de Carigliano, Mme. de -Serizy, and the President of the Council to introduce you to those -houses; but you will meet so many people at Mme. d'Espard's, that you -are not likely to require me. So far from wishing to gain admittance -to this set or that, every one will be longing to make your -acquaintance." - -Chatelet talked on; Mme. de Bargeton made no interruption. She was -struck with his perspicacity. The queen of Angouleme had, in fact, -counted upon preserving her incognito. - -"You are right, my dear friend," she said at length; "but what am I to -do?" - -"Allow me to find suitable furnished lodgings for you," suggested -Chatelet; "that way of living is less expensive than an inn. You will -have a home of your own; and, if you will take my advice, you will -sleep in your new rooms this very night." - -"But how did you know my address?" queried she. - -"Your traveling carriage is easily recognized; and, besides, I was -following you. At Sevres your postilion told mine that he had brought -you here. Will you permit me to act as your harbinger? I will write as -soon as I have found lodgings." - -"Very well, do so," said she. And in those seemingly insignificant -words, all was said. The Baron du Chatelet had spoken the language of -worldly wisdom to a woman of the world. He had made his appearance -before her in faultless dress, a neat cab was waiting for him at the -door; and Mme. de Bargeton, standing by the window thinking over the -position, chanced to see the elderly dandy drive away. - -A few moments later Lucien appeared, half awake and hastily dressed. -He was handsome, it is true; but his clothes, his last year's nankeen -trousers, and his shabby tight jacket were ridiculous. Put Antinous or -the Apollo Belvedere himself into a water-carrier's blouse, and how -shall you recognize the godlike creature of the Greek or Roman chisel? -The eyes note and compare before the heart has time to revise the -swift involuntary judgment; and the contrast between Lucien and -Chatelet was so abrupt that it could not fail to strike Louise. - -Towards six o'clock that evening, when dinner was over, Mme. de -Bargeton beckoned Lucien to sit beside her on the shabby sofa, covered -with a flowered chintz--a yellow pattern on a red ground. - -"Lucien mine," she said, "don't you think that if we have both of us -done a foolish thing, suicidal for both our interests, it would only -be common sense to set matters right? We ought not to live together in -Paris, dear boy, and we must not allow anyone to suspect that we -traveled together. Your career depends so much upon my position that I -ought to do nothing to spoil it. So, to-night, I am going to remove -into lodgings near by. But you will stay on here, we can see each -other every day, and nobody can say a word against us." - -And Louise explained conventions to Lucien, who opened wide eyes. He -had still to learn that when a woman thinks better of her folly, she -thinks better of her love; but one thing he understood--he saw that he -was no longer the Lucien of Angouleme. Louise talked of herself, of -HER interests, HER reputation, and of the world; and, to veil her -egoism, she tried to make him believe that this was all on his -account. He had no claim upon Louise thus suddenly transformed into -Mme. de Bargeton, and, more serious still, he had no power over her. -He could not keep back the tears that filled his eyes. - -"If I am your glory," cried the poet, "you are yet more to me--you are -my one hope, my whole future rests with you. I thought that if you -meant to make my successes yours, you would surely make my adversity -yours also, and here we are going to part already." - -"You are judging my conduct," said she; "you do not love me." - -Lucien looked at her with such a dolorous expression, that in spite of -herself, she said: - -"Darling, I will stay if you like. We shall both be ruined, we shall -have no one to come to our aid. But when we are both equally wretched, -and every one shuts their door upon us both, when failure (for we must -look all possibilities in the face), when failure drives us back to -the Escarbas, then remember, love, that I foresaw the end, and that at -the first I proposed that we should make your way by conforming to -established rules." - -"Louise," he cried, with his arms around her, "you are wise; you -frighten me! Remember that I am a child, that I have given myself up -entirely to your dear will. I myself should have preferred to overcome -obstacles and win my way among men by the power that is in me; but if -I can reach the goal sooner through your aid, I shall be very glad to -owe all my success to you. Forgive me! You mean so much to me that I -cannot help fearing all kinds of things; and, for me, parting means -that desertion is at hand, and desertion is death." - -"But, my dear boy, the world's demands are soon satisfied," returned -she. "You must sleep here; that is all. All day long you will be with -me, and no one can say a word." - -A few kisses set Lucien's mind completely at rest. An hour later -Gentil brought in a note from Chatelet. He told Mme. de Bargeton that -he had found lodgings for her in the Rue Nueve-de-Luxembourg. Mme. de -Bargeton informed herself of the exact place, and found that it was -not very far from the Rue de l'Echelle. "We shall be neighbors," she -told Lucien. - -Two hours afterwards Louise stepped into the hired carriage sent by -Chatelet for the removal to the new rooms. The apartments were of the -class that upholsterers furnish and let to wealthy deputies and -persons of consideration on a short visit to Paris--showy and -uncomfortable. It was eleven o'clock when Lucien returned to his inn, -having seen nothing as yet of Paris except the part of the Rue Saint- -Honore which lies between the Rue Neuve-de-Luxembourg and the Rue de -l'Echelle. He lay down in his miserable little room, and could not -help comparing it in his own mind with Louise's sumptuous apartments. - -Just as he came away the Baron du Chatelet came in, gorgeously arrayed -in evening dress, fresh from the Minister for Foreign Affairs, to -inquire whether Mme. de Bargeton was satisfied with all that he had -done on her behalf. Nais was uneasy. The splendor was alarming to her -mind. Provincial life had reacted upon her; she was painfully -conscientious over her accounts, and economical to a degree that is -looked upon as miserly in Paris. She had brought with her twenty -thousand francs in the shape of a draft on the Receiver-General, -considering that the sum would more than cover the expenses of four -years in Paris; she was afraid already lest she should not have -enough, and should run into debt; and now Chatelet told her that her -rooms would only cost six hundred francs per month. - -"A mere trifle," added he, seeing that Nais was startled. "For five -hundred francs a month you can have a carriage from a livery stable; -fifty louis in all. You need only think of your dress. A woman moving -in good society could not well do less; and if you mean to obtain a -Receiver-General's appointment for M. de Bargeton, or a post in the -Household, you ought not to look poverty-stricken. Here, in Paris, -they only give to the rich. It is most fortunate that you brought -Gentil to go out with you, and Albertine for your own woman, for -servants are enough to ruin you here. But with your introductions you -will seldom be home to a meal." - -Mme. de Bargeton and the Baron de Chatelet chatted about Paris. -Chatelet gave her all the news of the day, the myriad nothings that -you are bound to know, under penalty of being a nobody. Before very -long the Baron also gave advice as to shopping, recommending Herbault -for toques and Juliette for hats and bonnets; he added the address of -a fashionable dressmaker to supersede Victorine. In short, he made the -lady see the necessity of rubbing off Angouleme. Then he took his -leave after a final flash of happy inspiration. - -"I expect I shall have a box at one of the theatres to-morrow," he -remarked carelessly; "I will call for you and M. de Rubempre, for you -must allow me to do the honors of Paris." - -"There is more generosity in his character than I thought," said Mme. -de Bargeton to herself when Lucien was included in the invitation. - -In the month of June ministers are often puzzled to know what to do -with boxes at the theatre; ministerialist deputies and their -constituents are busy in their vineyards or harvest fields, and their -more exacting acquaintances are in the country or traveling about; so -it comes to pass that the best seats are filled at this season with -heterogeneous theatre-goers, never seen at any other time of year, and -the house is apt to look as if it were tapestried with very shabby -material. Chatelet had thought already that this was his opportunity -of giving Nais the amusements which provincials crave most eagerly, -and that with very little expense. - -The next morning, the very first morning in Paris, Lucien went to the -Rue Nueve-de-Luxembourg and found that Louise had gone out. She had -gone to make some indispensable purchases, to take counsel of the -mighty and illustrious authorities in the matter of the feminine -toilette, pointed out to her by Chatelet, for she had written to tell -the Marquise d'Espard of her arrival. Mme. de Bargeton possessed the -self-confidence born of a long habit of rule, but she was exceedingly -afraid of appearing to be provincial. She had tact enough to know how -greatly the relations of women among themselves depend upon first -impressions; and though she felt that she was equal to taking her -place at once in such a distinguished set as Mme. de d'Espard's, she -felt also that she stood in need of goodwill at her first entrance -into society, and was resolved, in the first place, that she would -leave nothing undone to secure success. So she felt boundlessly -thankful to Chatelet for pointing out these ways of putting herself in -harmony with the fashionable world. - -A singular chance so ordered it that the Marquise was delighted to -find an opportunity of being useful to a connection of her husband's -family. The Marquis d'Espard had withdrawn himself without apparent -reason from society, and ceased to take any active interest in -affairs, political or domestic. His wife, thus left mistress of her -actions, felt the need of the support of public opinion, and was glad -to take the Marquis' place and give her countenance to one of her -husband's relations. She meant to be ostentatiously gracious, so as to -put her husband more evidently in the wrong; and that very day she -wrote, "Mme. de Bargeton nee Negrepelisse" a charming billet, one of -the prettily worded compositions of which time alone can discover the -emptiness. - -"She was delighted that circumstances had brought a relative, of whom -she had heard, whose acquaintance she had desired to make, into closer -connection with her family. Friendships in Paris were not so solid but -that she longed to find one more to love on earth; and if this might -not be, there would only be one more illusion to bury with the rest. -She put herself entirely at her cousin's disposal. She would have -called upon her if indisposition had not kept her to the house, and -she felt that she lay already under obligations to the cousin who had -thought of her." - -Lucien, meanwhile, taking his first ramble along the Rue de la Paix -and through the Boulevards, like all newcomers, was much more -interested in the things that he saw than in the people he met. The -general effect of Paris is wholly engrossing at first. The wealth in -the shop windows, the high houses, the streams of traffic, the -contrast everywhere between the last extremes of luxury and want -struck him more than anything else. In his astonishment at the crowds -of strange faces, the man of imaginative temper felt as if he himself -had shrunk, as it were, immensely. A man of any consequence in his -native place, where he cannot go out but he meets with some -recognition of his importance at every step, does not readily accustom -himself to the sudden and total extinction of his consequence. You are -somebody in your own country, in Paris you are nobody. The transition -between the first state and the last should be made gradually, for the -too abrupt fall is something like annihilation. Paris could not fail -to be an appalling wilderness for a young poet, who looked for an echo -for all his sentiments, a confidant for all his thoughts, a soul to -share his least sensations. - -Lucien had not gone in search of his luggage and his best blue coat; -and painfully conscious of the shabbiness, to say no worse, of his -clothes, he went to Mme. de Bargeton, feeling that she must have -returned. He found the Baron du Chatelet, who carried them both off to -dinner at the Rocher de Cancale. Lucien's head was dizzy with the -whirl of Paris, the Baron was in the carriage, he could say nothing to -Louise, but he squeezed her hand, and she gave a warm response to the -mute confidence. - -After dinner Chatelet took his guests to the Vaudeville. Lucien, in -his heart, was not over well pleased to see Chatelet again, and cursed -the chance that had brought the Baron to Paris. The Baron said that -ambition had brought him to town; he had hopes of an appointment as -secretary-general to a government department, and meant to take a seat -in the Council of State as Master of Requests. He had come to Paris to -ask for fulfilment of the promises that had been given him, for a man -of his stamp could not be expected to remain a comptroller all his -life; he would rather be nothing at all, and offer himself for -election as deputy, or re-enter diplomacy. Chatelet grew visibly -taller; Lucien dimly began to recognize in this elderly beau the -superiority of the man of the world who knows Paris; and, most of all, -he felt ashamed to owe his evening's amusement to his rival. And while -the poet looked ill at ease and awkward Her Royal Highness' -ex-secretary was quite in his element. He smiled at his rival's -hesitations, at his astonishment, at the questions he put, at the -little mistakes which the latter ignorantly made, much as an old salt -laughs at an apprentice who has not found his sea legs; but Lucien's -pleasure at seeing a play for the first time in Paris outweighed the -annoyance of these small humiliations. - -That evening marked an epoch in Lucien's career; he put away a good -many of his ideas as to provincial life in the course of it. His -horizon widened; society assumed different proportions. There were -fair Parisiennes in fresh and elegant toilettes all about him; Mme. de -Bargeton's costume, tolerably ambitious though it was, looked dowdy by -comparison; the material, like the fashion and the color, was out of -date. That way of arranging her hair, so bewitching in Angouleme, -looked frightfully ugly here among the daintily devised coiffures -which he saw in every direction. - -"Will she always look like that?" said he to himself, ignorant that -the morning had been spent in preparing a transformation. - -In the provinces comparison and choice are out of the question; when a -face has grown familiar it comes to possess a certain beauty that is -taken for granted. But transport the pretty woman of the provinces to -Paris, and no one takes the slightest notice of her; her prettiness is -of the comparative degree illustrated by the saying that among the -blind the one-eyed are kings. Lucien's eyes were now busy comparing -Mme. de Bargeton with other women, just as she herself had contrasted -him with Chatelet on the previous day. And Mme. de Bargeton, on her -part, permitted herself some strange reflections upon her lover. The -poet cut a poor figure notwithstanding his singular beauty. The -sleeves of his jacket were too short; with his ill-cut country gloves -and a waistcoat too scanty for him, he looked prodigiously ridiculous, -compared with the young men in the balcony--"positively pitiable," -thought Mme. de Bargeton. Chatelet, interested in her without -presumption, taking care of her in a manner that revealed a profound -passion; Chatelet, elegant, and as much at home as an actor treading -the familiar boards of his theatre, in two days had recovered all the -ground lost in the past six months. - -Ordinary people will not admit that our sentiments towards each other -can totally change in a moment, and yet certain it is, that two lovers -not seldom fly apart even more quickly than they drew together. In -Mme. de Bargeton and in Lucien a process of disenchantment was at -work; Paris was the cause. Life had widened out before the poet's -eyes, as society came to wear a new aspect for Louise. Nothing but an -accident now was needed to sever finally the bond that united them; -nor was that blow, so terrible for Lucien, very long delayed. - -Mme. de Bargeton set Lucien down at his inn, and drove home with -Chatelet, to the intense vexation of the luckless lover. - -"What will they say about me?" he wondered, as he climbed the stairs -to his dismal room. - -"That poor fellow is uncommonly dull," said Chatelet, with a smile, -when the door was closed. - -"That is the way with those who have a world of thoughts in their -heart and brain. Men who have so much in them to give out in great -works long dreamed of, profess a certain contempt for conversation, a -commerce in which the intellect spends itself in small change," -returned the haughty Negrepelisse. She still had courage to defend -Lucien, but less for Lucien's sake than for her own. - -"I grant it you willingly," replied the Baron, "but we live with human -beings and not with books. There, dear Nais! I see how it is, there is -nothing between you yet, and I am delighted that it is so. If you -decide to bring an interest of a kind hitherto lacking into your life, -let it not be this so-called genius, I implore you. How if you have -made a mistake? Suppose that in a few days' time, when you have -compared him with men whom you will meet, men of real ability, men who -have distinguished themselves in good earnest; suppose that you should -discover, dear and fair siren, that it is no lyre-bearer that you have -borne into port on your dazzling shoulders, but a little ape, with no -manners and no capacity; a presumptuous fool who may be a wit in -L'Houmeau, but turns out a very ordinary specimen of a young man in -Paris? And, after all, volumes of verse come out every week here, the -worst of them better than all M. Chardon's poetry put together. For -pity's sake, wait and compare! To-morrow, Friday, is Opera night," he -continued as the carriage turned into the Rue Nueve-de-Luxembourg; -"Mme. d'Espard has the box of the First Gentlemen of the Chamber, and -will take you, no doubt. I shall go to Mme. de Serizy's box to behold -you in your glory. They are giving Les Danaides." - -"Good-bye," said she. - -Next morning Mme. de Bargeton tried to arrange a suitable toilette in -which to call on her cousin, Mme. d'Espard. The weather was rather -chilly. Looking through the dowdy wardrobe from Angouleme, she found -nothing better than a certain green velvet gown, trimmed fantastically -enough. Lucien, for his part, felt that he must go at once for his -celebrated blue best coat; he felt aghast at the thought of his tight -jacket, and determined to be well dressed, lest he should meet the -Marquise d'Espard or receive a sudden summons to her house. He must -have his luggage at once, so he took a cab, and in two hours' time -spent three or four francs, matter for much subsequent reflection on -the scale of the cost of living in Paris. Having dressed himself in -his best, such as it was, he went to the Rue Nueve-de-Luxembourg, and -on the doorstep encountered Gentil in company with a gorgeously -be-feathered chasseur. - -"I was just going round to you, sir, madame gave me a line for you," -said Gentil, ignorant of Parisian forms of respect, and accustomed to -homely provincial ways. The chasseur took the poet for a servant. - -Lucien tore open the note, and learned that Mme. de Bargeton had gone -to spend the day with the Marquise d'Espard. She was going to the -Opera in the evening, but she told Lucien to be there to meet her. Her -cousin permitted her to give him a seat in her box. The Marquise -d'Espard was delighted to procure the young poet that pleasure. - -"Then she loves me! my fears were all nonsense!" said Lucien to -himself. "She is going to present me to her cousin this very evening." - -He jumped for joy. He would spend the day that separated him from the -happy evening as joyously as might be. He dashed out in the direction -of the Tuileries, dreaming of walking there until it was time to dine -at Very's. And now, behold Lucien frisking and skipping, light of foot -because light of heart, on his way to the Terrasse des Feuillants to -take a look at the people of quality on promenade there. Pretty women -walk arm-in-arm with men of fashion, their adorers, couples greet each -other with a glance as they pass; how different it is from the terrace -at Beaulieu! How far finer the birds on this perch than the Angouleme -species! It is as if you beheld all the colors that glow in the -plumage of the feathered tribes of India and America, instead of the -sober European families. - -Those were two wretched hours that Lucien spent in the Garden of the -Tuileries. A violent revulsion swept through him, and he sat in -judgment upon himself. - -In the first place, not a single one of these gilded youths wore a -swallow-tail coat. The few exceptions, one or two poor wretches, a -clerk here and there, an annuitant from the Marais, could be ruled out -on the score of age; and hard upon the discovery of a distinction -between morning and evening dress, the poet's quick sensibility and -keen eyes saw likewise that his shabby old clothes were not fit to be -seen; the defects in his coat branded that garment as ridiculous; the -cut was old-fashioned, the color was the wrong shade of blue, the -collar outrageously ungainly, the coat tails, by dint of long wear, -overlapped each other, the buttons were reddened, and there were fatal -white lines along the seams. Then his waistcoat was too short, and so -grotesquely provincial, that he hastily buttoned his coat over it; -and, finally, no man of any pretension to fashion wore nankeen -trousers. Well-dressed men wore charming fancy materials or immaculate -white, and every one had straps to his trousers, while the shrunken -hems of Lucien's nether garments manifested a violent antipathy for -the heels of boots which they wedded with obvious reluctance. Lucien -wore a white cravat with embroidered ends; his sister had seen that M. -du Hautoy and M. de Chandour wore such things, and hastened to make -similar ones for her brother. Here, no one appeared to wear white -cravats of a morning except a few grave seniors, elderly capitalists, -and austere public functionaries, until, in the street on the other -side of the railings, Lucien noticed a grocer's boy walking along the -Rue de Rivoli with a basket on his head; him the man of Angouleme -detected in the act of sporting a cravat, with both ends adorned by -the handiwork of some adored shop-girl. The sight was a stab to -Lucien's breast; penetrating straight to that organ as yet undefined, -the seat of our sensibility, the region whither, since sentiment has -had any existence, the sons of men carry their hands in any excess of -joy or anguish. Do not accuse this chronicle of puerility. The rich, -to be sure, never having experienced sufferings of this kind, may -think them incredibly petty and small; but the agonies of less -fortunate mortals are as well worth our attention as crises and -vicissitudes in the lives of the mighty and privileged ones of earth. -Is not the pain equally great for either? Suffering exalts all things. -And, after all, suppose that we change the terms and for a suit of -clothes, more or less fine, put instead a ribbon, or a star, or a -title; have not brilliant careers been tormented by reason of such -apparent trifles as these? Add, moreover, that for those people who -must seem to have that which they have not, the question of clothes is -of enormous importance, and not unfrequently the appearance of -possession is the shortest road to possession at a later day. - -A cold sweat broke out over Lucien as he bethought himself that -to-night he must make his first appearance before the Marquise in this -dress--the Marquise d'Espard, relative of a First Gentleman of the -Bedchamber, a woman whose house was frequented by the most illustrious -among illustrious men in every field. - -"I look like an apothecary's son, a regular shop-drudge," he raged -inwardly, watching the youth of the Faubourg Saint-Germain pass under -his eyes; graceful, spruce, fashionably dressed, with a certain -uniformity of air, a sameness due to a fineness of contour, and a -certain dignity of carriage and expression; though, at the same time, -each one differed from the rest in the setting by which he had chosen -to bring his personal characteristics into prominence. Each one made -the most of his personal advantages. Young men in Paris understand the -art of presenting themselves quite as well as women. Lucien had -inherited from his mother the invaluable physical distinction of race, -but the metal was still in the ore, and not set free by the -craftsman's hand. - -His hair was badly cut. Instead of holding himself upright with an -elastic corset, he felt that he was cooped up inside a hideous shirt- -collar; he hung his dejected head without resistance on the part of a -limp cravat. What woman could guess that a handsome foot was hidden by -the clumsy boots which he had brought from Angouleme? What young man -could envy him his graceful figure, disguised by the shapeless blue -sack which hitherto he had mistakenly believed to be a coat? What -bewitching studs he saw on those dazzling white shirt fronts, his own -looked dingy by comparison; and how marvelously all these elegant -persons were gloved, his own gloves were only fit for a policeman! -Yonder was a youth toying with a cane exquisitely mounted; there, -another with dainty gold studs in his wristbands. Yet another was -twisting a charming riding-whip while he talked with a woman; there -were specks of mud on the ample folds of his white trousers, he wore -clanking spurs and a tight-fitting jacket, evidently he was about to -mount one of the two horses held by a hop-o'-my-thumb of a tiger. A -young man who went past drew a watch no thicker than a five-franc -piece from his pocket, and looked at it with the air of a person who -is either too early or too late for an appointment. - -Lucien, seeing these petty trifles, hitherto unimagined, became aware -of a whole world of indispensable superfluities, and shuddered to -think of the enormous capital needed by a professional pretty fellow! -The more he admired these gay and careless beings, the more conscious -he grew of his own outlandishness; he knew that he looked like a man -who has no idea of the direction of the streets, who stands close to -the Palais Royal and cannot find it, and asks his way to the Louvre of -a passer-by, who tells him, "Here you are." Lucien saw a great gulf -fixed between him and this new world, and asked himself how he might -cross over, for he meant to be one of these delicate, slim youths of -Paris, these young patricians who bowed before women divinely dressed -and divinely fair. For one kiss from one of these, Lucien was ready to -be cut in pieces like Count Philip of Konigsmark. Louise's face rose -up somewhere in the shadowy background of memory--compared with these -queens, she looked like an old woman. He saw women whose names will -appear in the history of the nineteenth century, women no less famous -than the queens of past times for their wit, their beauty, or their -lovers; one who passed was the heroine Mlle. des Touches, so well -known as Camille Maupin, the great woman of letters, great by her -intellect, great no less by her beauty. He overheard the name -pronounced by those who went by. - -"Ah!" he thought to himself, "she is Poetry." - -What was Mme. de Bargeton in comparison with this angel in all the -glory of youth, and hope, and promise of the future, with that sweet -smile of hers, and the great dark eyes with all heaven in them, and -the glowing light of the sun? She was laughing and chatting with Mme. -Firmiani, one of the most charming women in Paris. A voice indeed -cried, "Intellect is the lever by which to move the world," but -another voice cried no less loudly that money was the fulcrum. - -He would not stay any longer on the scene of his collapse and defeat, -and went towards the Palais Royal. He did not know the topography of -his quarter yet, and was obliged to ask his way. Then he went to -Very's and ordered dinner by way of an initiation into the pleasures -of Paris, and a solace for his discouragement. A bottle of Bordeaux, -oysters from Ostend, a dish of fish, a partridge, a dish of macaroni -and dessert,--this was the ne plus ultra of his desire. He enjoyed -this little debauch, studying the while how to give the Marquise -d'Espard proof of his wit, and redeem the shabbiness of his grotesque -accoutrements by the display of intellectual riches. The total of the -bill drew him down from these dreams, and left him the poorer by fifty -of the francs which were to have gone such a long way in Paris. He -could have lived in Angouleme for a month on the price of that dinner. -Wherefore he closed the door of the palace with awe, thinking as he -did so that he should never set foot in it again. - -"Eve was right," he said to himself, as he went back under the stone -arcading for some more money. "There is a difference between Paris -prices and prices in L'Houmeau." - -He gazed in at the tailors' windows on the way, and thought of the -costumes in the Garden of the Tuileries. - -"No," he exclaimed, "I will NOT appear before Mme. d'Espard dressed -out as I am." - -He fled to his inn, fleet as a stag, rushed up to his room, took out a -hundred crowns, and went down again to the Palais Royal, where his -future elegance lay scattered over half a score of shops. The first -tailor whose door he entered tried as many coats upon him as he would -consent to put on, and persuaded his customer that all were in the -very latest fashion. Lucien came out the owner of a green coat, a pair -of white trousers, and a "fancy waistcoat," for which outfit he gave -two hundred francs. Ere long he found a very elegant pair of ready- -made shoes that fitted his foot; and, finally, when he had made all -necessary purchases, he ordered the tradespeople to send them to his -address, and inquired for a hairdresser. At seven o'clock that evening -he called a cab and drove away to the Opera, curled like a Saint John -of a Procession Day, elegantly waistcoated and gloved, but feeling a -little awkward in this kind of sheath in which he found himself for -the first time. - -In obedience to Mme. de Bargeton's instructions, he asked for the box -reserved for the First Gentleman of the Bedchamber. The man at the box -office looked at him, and beholding Lucien in all the grandeur assumed -for the occasion, in which he looked like a best man at a wedding, -asked Lucien for his order. - -"I have no order." - -"Then you cannot go in," said the man at the box office drily. - -"But I belong to Mme. d'Espard's party." - -"It is not our business to know that," said the man, who could not -help exchanging a barely perceptible smile with his colleague. - -A carriage stopped under the peristyle as he spoke. A chasseur, in a -livery which Lucien did not recognize, let down the step, and two -women in evening dress came out of the brougham. Lucien had no mind to -lay himself open to an insolent order to get out of the way from the -official. He stepped aside to let the two ladies pass. - -"Why, that lady is the Marquise d'Espard, whom you say you know, sir," -said the man ironically. - -Lucien was so much the more confounded because Mme. de Bargeton did -not seem to recognize him in his new plumage; but when he stepped up -to her, she smiled at him and said: - -"This has fallen out wonderfully--come!" - -The functionaries at the box office grew serious again as Lucien -followed Mme. de Bargeton. On their way up the great staircase the -lady introduced M. de Rubempre to her cousin. The box belonging to the -First Gentleman of the Bedchamber is situated in one of the angles at -the back of the house, so that its occupants see and are seen all over -the theatre. Lucien took his seat on a chair behind Mme. de Bargeton, -thankful to be in the shadow. - -"M. de Rubempre," said the Marquise with flattering graciousness, -"this is your first visit to the Opera, is it not? You must have a -view of the house; take this seat, sit in front of the box; we give -you permission." - -Lucien obeyed as the first act came to an end. - -"You have made good use of your time," Louise said in his ear, in her -first surprise at the change in his appearance. - -Louise was still the same. The near presence of the Marquise d'Espard, -a Parisian Mme. de Bargeton, was so damaging to her; the brilliancy of -the Parisienne brought out all the defects in her country cousin so -clearly by contrast; that Lucien, looking out over the fashionable -audience in the superb building, and then at the great lady, was twice -enlightened, and saw poor Anais de Negrepelisse as she really was, as -Parisians saw her--a tall, lean, withered woman, with a pimpled face -and faded complexion; angular, stiff, affected in her manner; pompous -and provincial in her speech; and, and above all these things, dowdily -dressed. As a matter of fact, the creases in an old dress from Paris -still bear witness to good taste, you can tell what the gown was meant -for; but an old dress made in the country is inexplicable, it is a -thing to provoke laughter. There was neither charm nor freshness about -the dress or its wearer; the velvet, like the complexion had seen -wear. Lucien felt ashamed to have fallen in love with this cuttle-fish -bone, and vowed that he would profit by Louise's next fit of virtue to -leave her for good. Having an excellent view of the house, he could -see the opera-glasses pointed at the aristocratic box par excellence. -The best-dressed women must certainly be scrutinizing Mme. de -Bargeton, for they smiled and talked among themselves. - -If Mme. d'Espard knew the object of their sarcasms from those feminine -smiles and gestures, she was perfectly insensible to them. In the -first place, anybody must see that her companion was a poor relation -from the country, an affliction with which any Parisian family may be -visited. And, in the second, when her cousin had spoken to her of her -dress with manifest misgivings, she had reassured Anais, seeing that, -when once properly dressed, her relative would very easily acquire the -tone of Parisian society. If Mme. de Bargeton needed polish, on the -other hand she possessed the native haughtiness of good birth, and -that indescribable something which may be called "pedigree." So, on -Monday her turn would come. And, moreover, the Marquise knew that as -soon as people learned that the stranger was her cousin, they would -suspend their banter and look twice before they condemned her. - -Lucien did not foresee the change in Louise's appearance shortly to be -worked by a scarf about her throat, a pretty dress, an elegant -coiffure, and Mme. d'Espard's advice. As they came up the staircase -even now, the Marquise told her cousin not to hold her handkerchief -unfolded in her hand. Good or bad taste turns upon hundreds of such -almost imperceptible shades, which a quick-witted woman discerns at -once, while others will never grasp them. Mme. de Bargeton, -plentifully apt, was more than clever enough to discover her -shortcomings. Mme. d'Espard, sure that her pupil would do her credit, -did not decline to form her. In short, the compact between the two -women had been confirmed by self-interest on either side. - -Mme. de Bargeton, enthralled, dazzled, and fascinated by her cousin's -manner, wit, and acquaintances, had suddenly declared herself a votary -of the idol of the day. She had discerned the signs of the occult -power exerted by the ambitious great lady, and told herself that she -could gain her end as the satellite of this star, so she had been -outspoken in her admiration. The Marquise was not insensible to the -artlessly admitted conquest. She took an interest in her cousin, -seeing that she was weak and poor; she was, besides, not indisposed to -take a pupil with whom to found a school, and asked nothing better -than to have a sort of lady-in-waiting in Mme. de Bargeton, a -dependent who would sing her praises, a treasure even more scarce -among Parisian women than a staunch and loyal critic among the -literary tribe. The flutter of curiosity in the house was too marked -to be ignored, however, and Mme. d'Espard politely endeavored to turn -her cousin's mind from the truth. - -"If any one comes to our box," she said, "perhaps we may discover the -cause to which we owe the honor of the interest that these ladies are -taking----" - -"I have a strong suspicion that it is my old velvet gown and -Angoumoisin air which Parisian ladies find amusing," Mme. de Bargeton -answered, laughing. - -"No, it is not you; it is something that I cannot explain," she added, -turning to the poet, and, as she looked at him for the first time, it -seemed to strike her that he was singularly dressed. - -"There is M. du Chatelet," exclaimed Lucien at that moment, and he -pointed a finger towards Mme. de Serizy's box, which the renovated -beau had just entered. - -Mme. de Bargeton bit her lips with chagrin as she saw that gesture, -and saw besides the Marquise's ill-suppressed smile of contemptuous -astonishment. "Where does the young man come from?" her look said, and -Louise felt humbled through her love, one of the sharpest of all pangs -for a Frenchwoman, a mortification for which she cannot forgive her -lover. - -In these circles where trifles are of such importance, a gesture or a -word at the outset is enough to ruin a newcomer. It is the principal -merit of fine manners and the highest breeding that they produce the -effect of a harmonious whole, in which every element is so blended -that nothing is startling or obtrusive. Even those who break the laws -of this science, either through ignorance or carried away by some -impulse, must comprehend that it is with social intercourse as with -music, a single discordant note is a complete negation of the art -itself, for the harmony exists only when all its conditions are -observed down to the least particular. - -"Who is that gentleman?" asked Mme. d'Espard, looking towards -Chatelet. "And have you made Mme. de Serizy's acquaintance already?" - -"Oh! is that the famous Mme. de Serizy who has had so many adventures -and yet goes everywhere?" - -"An unheard-of-thing, my dear, explicable but unexplained. The most -formidable men are her friends, and why? Nobody dares to fathom the -mystery. Then is this person the lion of Angouleme?" - -"Well, M. le Baron du Chatelet has been a good deal talked about," -answered Mme. de Bargeton, moved by vanity to give her adorer the -title which she herself had called in question. "He was M. de -Montriveau's traveling companion." - -"Ah!" said the Marquise d'Espard, "I never hear that name without -thinking of the Duchesse de Langeais, poor thing. She vanished like a -falling star.--That is M. de Rastignac with Mme. de Nucingen," she -continued, indicating another box; "she is the wife of a contractor, a -banker, a city man, a broker on a large scale; he forced his way into -society with his money, and they say that he is not very scrupulous as -to his methods of making it. He is at endless pains to establish his -credit as a staunch upholder of the Bourbons, and has tried already to -gain admittance into my set. When his wife took Mme. de Langeais' box, -she thought that she could take her charm, her wit, and her success as -well. It is the old fable of the jay in the peacock's feathers!" - -"How do M. and Mme. de Rastignac manage to keep their son in Paris, -when, as we know, their income is under a thousand crowns?" asked -Lucien, in his astonishment at Rastignac's elegant and expensive -dress. - -"It is easy to see that you come from Angouleme," said Mme. d'Espard, -ironically enough, as she continued to gaze through her opera-glass. - -Her remark was lost upon Lucien; the all-absorbing spectacle of the -boxes prevented him from thinking of anything else. He guessed that he -himself was an object of no small curiosity. Louise, on the other -hand, was exceedingly mortified by the evident slight esteem in which -the Marquise held Lucien's beauty. - -"He cannot be so handsome as I thought him," she said to herself; and -between "not so handsome and "not so clever as I thought him" there -was but one step. - -The curtain fell. Chatelet was now paying a visit to the Duchesse de -Carigliano in an adjourning box; Mme. de Bargeton acknowledged his bow -by a slight inclination of the head. Nothing escapes a woman of the -world; Chatelet's air of distinction was not lost upon Mme. d'Espard. -Just at that moment four personages, four Parisian celebrities, came -into the box, one after another. - -The most striking feature of the first comer, M. de Marsay, famous for -the passions which he had inspired, was his girlish beauty; but its -softness and effeminacy were counteracted by the expression of his -eyes, unflinching, steady, untamed, and hard as a tiger's. He was -loved and he was feared. Lucien was no less handsome; but Lucien's -expression was so gentle, his blue eyes so limpid, that he scarcely -seemed to possess the strength and the power which attract women so -strongly. Nothing, moreover, so far had brought out the poet's merits; -while de Marsay, with his flow of spirits, his confidence in his power -to please, and appropriate style of dress, eclipsed every rival by his -presence. Judge, therefore, the kind of figure that Lucien, stiff, -starched, unbending in clothes as new and unfamiliar as his -surroundings, was likely to cut in de Marsay's vicinity. De Marsay -with his wit and charm of manner was privileged to be insolent. From -Mme. d'Espard's reception of this personage his importance was at once -evident to Mme. de Bargeton. - -The second comer was a Vandenesse, the cause of the scandal in which -Lady Dudley was concerned. Felix de Vandenesse, amiable, intellectual, -and modest, had none of the characteristics on which de Marsay prided -himself, and owed his success to diametrically opposed qualities. He -had been warmly recommended to Mme. d'Espard by her cousin Mme. de -Mortsauf. - -The third was General de Montriveau, the author of the Duchesse de -Langeais' ruin. - -The fourth, M. de Canalis, one of the most famous poets of the day, -and as yet a newly risen celebrity, was prouder of his birth than of -his genius, and dangled in Mme. d'Espard's train by way of concealing -his love for the Duchesse de Chaulieu. In spite of his graces and the -affectation that spoiled them, it was easy to discern the vast, -lurking ambitions that plunged him at a later day into the storms of -political life. A face that might be called insignificantly pretty and -caressing manners thinly disguised the man's deeply-rooted egoism and -habit of continually calculating the chances of a career which at that -time looked problematical enough; though his choice of Mme. de -Chaulieu (a woman past forty) made interest for him at Court, and -brought him the applause of the Faubourg Saint-Germain and the gibes -of the Liberal party, who dubbed him "the poet of the sacristy." - -Mme. de Bargeton, with these remarkable figures before her, no longer -wondered at the slight esteem in which the Marquise held Lucien's good -looks. And when conversation began, when intellects so keen, so -subtle, were revealed in two-edged words with more meaning and depth -in them than Anais de Bargeton heard in a month of talk at Angouleme; -and, most of all, when Canalis uttered a sonorous phrase, summing up a -materialistic epoch, and gilding it with poetry--then Anais felt all -the truth of Chatelet's dictum of the previous evening. Lucien was -nothing to her now. Every one cruelly ignored the unlucky stranger; he -was so much like a foreigner listening to an unknown language, that -the Marquise d'Espard took pity upon him. She turned to Canalis. - -"Permit me to introduce M. de Rubempre," she said. "You rank too high -in the world of letters not to welcome a debutant. M. de Rubempre is -from Angouleme, and will need your influence, no doubt, with the -powers that bring genius to light. So far, he has no enemies to help -him to success by their attacks upon him. Is there enough originality -in the idea of obtaining for him by friendship all that hatred has -done for you to tempt you to make the experiment?" - -The four newcomers all looked at Lucien while the Marquise was -speaking. De Marsay, only a couple of paces away, put up an eyeglass -and looked from Lucien to Mme. de Bargeton, and then again at Lucien, -coupling them with some mocking thought, cruelly mortifying to both. -He scrutinized them as if they had been a pair of strange animals, and -then he smiled. The smile was like a stab to the distinguished -provincial. Felix de Vandenesse assumed a charitable air. Montriveau -looked Lucien through and through. - -"Madame," M. de Canalis answered with a bow, "I will obey you, in -spite of the selfish instinct which prompts us to show a rival no -favor; but you have accustomed us to miracles." - -"Very well, do me the pleasure of dining with me on Monday with M. de -Rubempre, and you can talk of matters literary at your ease. I will -try to enlist some of the tyrants of the world of letters and the -great people who protect them, the author of Ourika, and one or two -young poets with sound views." - -"Mme. la Marquise," said de Marsay, "if you give your support to this -gentleman for his intellect, I will support him for his good looks. I -will give him advice which will put him in a fair way to be the -luckiest dandy in Paris. After that, he may be a poet--if he has a -mind." - -Mme. de Bargeton thanked her cousin by a grateful glance. - -"I did not know that you were jealous of intellect," Montriveau said, -turning to de Marsay; "good fortune is the death of a poet." - -"Is that why your lordship is thinking of marriage?" inquired the -dandy, addressing Canalis, and watching Mme. d'Espard to see if the -words went home. - -Canalis shrugged his shoulders, and Mme. d'Espard, Mme. de Chaulieu's -niece, began to laugh. Lucien in his new clothes felt as if he were an -Egyptian statue in its narrow sheath; he was ashamed that he had -nothing to say for himself all this while. At length he turned to the -Marquise. - -"After all your kindness, madame, I am pledged to make no failures," -he said in those soft tones of his. - -Chatelet came in as he spoke; he had seen Montriveau, and by hook or -crook snatched at the chance of a good introduction to the Marquise -d'Espard through one of the kings of Paris. He bowed to Mme. de -Bargeton, and begged Mme. d'Espard to pardon him for the liberty he -took in invading her box; he had been separated so long from his -traveling companion! Montriveau and Chatelet met for the first time -since they parted in the desert. - -"To part in the desert, and meet again in the opera-house!" said -Lucien. - -"Quite a theatrical meeting!" said Canalis. - -Montriveau introduced the Baron du Chatelet to the Marquise, and the -Marquise received Her Royal Highness' ex-secretary the more graciously -because she had seen that he had been very well received in three -boxes already. Mme. de Serizy knew none but unexceptionable people, -and moreover he was Montriveau's traveling companion. So potent was -this last credential, that Mme. de Bargeton saw from the manner of the -group that they accepted Chatelet as one of themselves without demur. -Chatelet's sultan's airs in Angouleme were suddenly explained. - -At length the Baron saw Lucien, and favored him with a cool, -disparaging little nod, indicative to men of the world of the -recipient's inferior station. A sardonic expression accompanied the -greeting, "How does HE come here?" he seemed to say. This was not lost -on those who saw it; for de Marsay leaned towards Montriveau, and said -in tones audible to Chatelet: - -"Do ask him who the queer-looking young fellow is that looks like a -dummy at a tailor's shop-door." - -Chatelet spoke a few words in his traveling companion's ear, and while -apparently renewing his acquaintance, no doubt cut his rival to -pieces. - -If Lucien was surprised at the apt wit and the subtlety with which -these gentlemen formulated their replies, he felt bewildered with -epigram and repartee, and, most of all, by their offhand way of -talking and their ease of manner. The material luxury of Paris had -alarmed him that morning; at night he saw the same lavish expenditure -of intellect. By what mysterious means, he asked himself, did these -people make such piquant reflections on the spur of the moment, those -repartees which he could only have made after much pondering? And not -only were they at ease in their speech, they were at ease in their -dress, nothing looked new, nothing looked old, nothing about them was -conspicuous, everything attracted the eyes. The fine gentleman of -to-day was the same yesterday, and would be the same to-morrow. Lucien -guessed that he himself looked as if he were dressed for the first -time in his life. - -"My dear fellow," said de Marsay, addressing Felix de Vandenesse, -"that young Rastignac is soaring away like a paper-kite. Look at him -in the Marquise de Listomere's box; he is making progress, he is -putting up his eyeglass at us! He knows this gentleman, no doubt," -added the dandy, speaking to Lucien, and looking elsewhere. - -"He can scarcely fail to have heard the name of a great man of whom we -are proud," said Mme. de Bargeton. "Quite lately his sister was -present when M. de Rubempre read us some very fine poetry." - -Felix de Vandenesse and de Marsay took leave of the Marquise d'Espard, -and went off to Mme. de Listomere, Vandenesse's sister. The second act -began, and the three were left to themselves again. The curious women -learned how Mme. de Bargeton came to be there from some of the party, -while the others announced the arrival of a poet, and made fun of his -costume. Canalis went back to the Duchesse de Chaulieu, and no more -was seen of him. - -Lucien was glad when the rising of the curtain produced a diversion. -All Mme. de Bargeton's misgivings with regard to Lucien were increased -by the marked attention which the Marquise d'Espard had shown to -Chatelet; her manner towards the Baron was very different from the -patronizing affability with which she treated Lucien. Mme. de -Listomere's box was full during the second act, and, to all -appearance, the talk turned upon Mme. de Bargeton and Lucien. Young -Rastignac evidently was entertaining the party; he had raised the -laughter that needs fresh fuel every day in Paris, the laughter that -seizes upon a topic and exhausts it, and leaves it stale and -threadbare in a moment. Mme. d'Espard grew uneasy. She knew that an -ill-natured speech is not long in coming to the ears of those whom it -will wound, and waited till the end of the act. - -After a revulsion of feeling such as had taken place in Mme. de -Bargeton and Lucien, strange things come to pass in a brief space of -time, and any revolution within us is controlled by laws that work -with great swiftness. Chatelet's sage and politic words as to Lucien, -spoken on the way home from the Vaudeville, were fresh in Louise's -memory. Every phrase was a prophecy, it seemed as if Lucien had set -himself to fulfil the predictions one by one. When Lucien and Mme. de -Bargeton had parted with their illusions concerning each other, the -luckless youth, with a destiny not unlike Rousseau's, went so far in -his predecessor's footsteps that he was captivated by the great lady -and smitten with Mme. d'Espard at first sight. Young men and men who -remember their young emotions can see that this was only what might -have been looked for. Mme. d'Espard with her dainty ways, her delicate -enunciation, and the refined tones of her voice; the fragile woman so -envied, of such high place and high degree, appeared before the poet -as Mme. de Bargeton had appeared to him in Angouleme. His fickle -nature prompted him to desire influence in that lofty sphere at once, -and the surest way to secure such influence was to possess the woman -who exerted it, and then everything would be his. He had succeeded at -Angouleme, why should he not succeed in Paris? - -Involuntarily, and despite the novel counter fascination of the stage, -his eyes turned to the Celimene in her splendor; he glanced furtively -at her every moment; the longer he looked, the more he desired to look -at her. Mme. de Bargeton caught the gleam in Lucien's eyes, and saw -that he found the Marquise more interesting than the opera. If Lucien -had forsaken her for the fifty daughters of Danaus, she could have -borne his desertion with equanimity; but another glance--bolder, more -ardent and unmistakable than any before--revealed the state of -Lucien's feelings. She grew jealous, but not so much for the future as -for the past. - -"He never gave me such a look," she thought. "Dear me! Chatelet was -right!" - -Then she saw that she had made a mistake; and when a woman once begins -to repent of her weaknesses, she sponges out the whole past. Every one -of Lucien's glances roused her indignation, but to all outward -appearance she was calm. De Marsay came back in the interval, bringing -M. de Listomere with him; and that serious person and the young -coxcomb soon informed the Marquise that the wedding guest in his -holiday suit, whom she had the bad luck to have in her box, had as -much right to the appellation of Rubempre as a Jew to a baptismal -name. Lucien's father was an apothecary named Chardon. M. de -Rastignac, who knew all about Angouleme, had set several boxes -laughing already at the mummy whom the Marquise styled her cousin, and -at the Marquise's forethought in having an apothecary at hand to -sustain an artificial life with drugs. In short, de Marsay brought a -selection from the thousand-and-one jokes made by Parisians on the -spur of the moment, and no sooner uttered than forgotten. Chatelet was -at the back of it all, and the real author of this Punic faith. - -Mme. d'Espard turned to Mme. de Bargeton, put up her fan, and said, -"My dear, tell me if your protege's name is really M. de Rubempre?" - -"He has assumed his mother's name," said Anais, uneasily. - -"But who was his father?" - -"His father's name was Chardon." - -"And what was this Chardon?" - -"A druggist." - -"My dear friend, I felt quite sure that all Paris could not be -laughing at any one whom I took up. I do not care to stay here when -wags come in in high glee because there is an apothecary's son in my -box. If you will follow my advice, we will leave it, and at once." - -Mme. d'Espard's expression was insolent enough; Lucien was at a loss -to account for her change of countenance. He thought that his -waistcoat was in bad taste, which was true; and that his coat looked -like a caricature of the fashion, which was likewise true. He -discerned, in bitterness of soul, that he must put himself in the -hands of an expert tailor, and vowed that he would go the very next -morning to the most celebrated artist in Paris. On Monday he would -hold his own with the men in the Marquise's house. - -Yet, lost in thought though he was, he saw the third act to an end, -and, with his eyes fixed on the gorgeous scene upon the stage, dreamed -out his dream of Mme. d'Espard. He was in despair over her sudden -coldness; it gave a strange check to the ardent reasoning through -which he advanced upon this new love, undismayed by the immense -difficulties in the way, difficulties which he saw and resolved to -conquer. He roused himself from these deep musings to look once more -at his new idol, turned his head, and saw that he was alone; he had -heard a faint rustling sound, the door closed--Madame d'Espard had -taken her cousin with her. Lucien was surprised to the last degree by -the sudden desertion; he did not think long about it, however, simply -because it was inexplicable. - -When the carriage was rolling along the Rue de Richelieu on the way to -the Faubourg Saint-Honore, the Marquise spoke to her cousin in a tone -of suppressed irritation. - -"My dear child, what are you thinking about? Pray wait till an -apothecary's son has made a name for himself before you trouble -yourself about him. The Duchesse de Chaulieu does not acknowledge -Canalis even now, and he is famous and a man of good family. This -young fellow is neither your son nor your lover, I suppose?" added the -haughty dame, with a keen, inquisitive glance at her cousin. - -"How fortunate for me that I kept the little scapegrace at a -distance!" thought Madame de Bargeton. - -"Very well," continued the Marquise, taking the expression in her -cousin's eyes for an answer, "drop him, I beg of you. Taking an -illustrious name in that way!--Why, it is a piece of impudence that -will meet with its desserts in society. It is his mother's name, I -dare say; but just remember, dear, that the King alone can confer, by -a special ordinance, the title of de Rubempre on the son of a daughter -of the house. If she made a mesalliance, the favor would be enormous, -only to be granted to vast wealth, or conspicuous services, or very -powerful influence. The young man looks like a shopman in his Sunday -suit; evidently he is neither wealthy nor noble; he has a fine head, -but he seems to me to be very silly; he has no idea what to do, and -has nothing to say for himself; in fact, he has no breeding. How came -you to take him up?" - -Mme. de Bargeton renounced Lucien as Lucien himself had renounced her; -a ghastly fear lest her cousin should learn the manner of her journey -shot through her mind. - -"Dear cousin, I am in despair that I have compromised you." - -"People do not compromise me," Mme. d'Espard said, smiling; "I am only -thinking of you." - -"But you have asked him to dine with you on Monday." - -"I shall be ill," the Marquise said quickly; "you can tell him so, and -I shall leave orders that he is not to be admitted under either name." - -During the interval Lucien noticed that every one was walking up and -down the lobby. He would do the same. In the first place, not one of -Mme. d'Espard's visitors recognized him nor paid any attention to him, -their conduct seemed nothing less than extraordinary to the provincial -poet; and, secondly, Chatelet, on whom he tried to hang, watched him -out of the corner of his eye and fought shy of him. Lucien walked to -and fro, watching the eddying crowd of men, till he felt convinced -that his costume was absurd, and he went back to his box, ensconced -himself in a corner, and stayed there till the end. At times he -thought of nothing but the magnificent spectacle of the ballet in the -great Inferno scene in the fifth act; sometimes the sight of the house -absorbed him, sometimes his own thoughts; he had seen society in -Paris, and the sight had stirred him to the depths. - -"So this is my kingdom," he said to himself; "this is the world that I -must conquer." - -As he walked home through the streets he thought over all that had -been said by Mme. d'Espard's courtiers; memory reproducing with -strange faithfulness their demeanor, their gestures, their manner of -coming and going. - -Next day, towards noon, Lucien betook himself to Staub, the great -tailor of that day. Partly by dint of entreaties, and partly by virtue -of cash, Lucien succeeded in obtaining a promise that his clothes -should be ready in time for the great day. Staub went so far as to -give his word that a perfectly elegant coat, a waistcoat, and a pair -of trousers should be forthcoming. Lucien then ordered linen and -pocket-handkerchiefs, a little outfit, in short, of a linen-draper, -and a celebrated bootmaker measured him for shoes and boots. He bought -a neat walking cane at Verdier's; he went to Mme. Irlande for gloves -and shirt studs; in short, he did his best to reach the climax of -dandyism. When he had satisfied all his fancies, he went to the Rue -Neuve-de-Luxembourg, and found that Louise had gone out. - -"She was dining with Mme. la Marquise d'Espard," her maid said, "and -would not be back till late." - -Lucien dined for two francs at a restaurant in the Palais Royal, and -went to bed early. The next day was Sunday. He went to Louise's -lodging at eleven o'clock. Louise had not yet risen. At two o'clock he -returned once more. - -"Madame cannot see anybody yet," reported Albertine, "but she gave me -a line for you." - -"Cannot see anybody yet?" repeated Lucien. "But I am not anybody----" - -"I do not know," Albertine answered very impertinently; and Lucien, -less surprised by Albertine's answer than by a note from Mme. de -Bargeton, took the billet, and read the following discouraging -lines:-- - -"Mme. d'Espard is not well; she will not be able to see you on Monday. -I am not feeling very well myself, but I am about to dress and go to -keep her company. I am in despair over this little disappointment; but -your talents reassure me, you will make your way without -charlatanism." - -"And no signature!" Lucien said to himself. He found himself in the -Tuileries before he knew whither he was walking. - -With the gift of second-sight which accompanies genius, he began to -suspect that the chilly note was but a warning of the catastrophe to -come. Lost in thought, he walked on and on, gazing at the monuments in -the Place Louis Quinze. - -It was a sunny day; a stream of fine carriages went past him on the -way to the Champs Elysees. Following the direction of the crowd of -strollers, he saw the three or four thousand carriages that turn the -Champs Elysees into an improvised Longchamp on Sunday afternoons in -summer. The splendid horses, the toilettes, and liveries bewildered -him; he went further and further, until he reached the Arc de -Triomphe, then unfinished. What were his feelings when, as he -returned, he saw Mme. de Bargeton and Mme. d'Espard coming towards him -in a wonderfully appointed caleche, with a chasseur behind it in -waving plumes and that gold-embroidered green uniform which he knew -only too well. There was a block somewhere in the row, and the -carriages waited. Lucien beheld Louise transformed beyond recognition. -All the colors of her toilette had been carefully subordinated to her -complexion; her dress was delicious, her hair gracefully and -becomingly arranged, her hat, in exquisite taste, was remarkable even -beside Mme. d'Espard, that leader of fashion. - -There is something in the art of wearing a hat that escapes -definition. Tilted too far to the back of the head, it imparts a bold -expression to the face; bring it too far forward, it gives you a -sinister look; tipped to one side, it has a jaunty air; a well-dressed -woman wears her hat exactly as she means to wear it, and exactly at -the right angle. Mme. de Bargeton had solved this curious problem at -sight. A dainty girdle outlined her slender waist. She had adopted her -cousin's gestures and tricks of manner; and now, as she sat by Mme. -d'Espard's side, she played with a tiny scent bottle that dangled by a -slender gold chain from one of her fingers, displayed a little -well-gloved hand without seeming to do so. She had modeled herself on -Mme. d'Espard without mimicking her; the Marquise had found a cousin -worthy of her, and seemed to be proud of her pupil. - -The men and women on the footways all gazed at the splendid carriage, -with the bearings of the d'Espards and Blamont-Chauvrys upon the -panels. Lucien was amazed at the number of greetings received by the -cousins; he did not know that the "all Paris," which consists in some -score of salons, was well aware already of the relationship between -the ladies. A little group of young men on horseback accompanied the -carriage in the Bois; Lucien could recognize de Marsay and Rastignac -among them, and could see from their gestures that the pair of -coxcombs were complimenting Mme. de Bargeton upon her transformation. -Mme. d'Espard was radiant with health and grace. So her indisposition -was simply a pretext for ridding herself of him, for there had been no -mention of another day! - -The wrathful poet went towards the caleche; he walked slowly, waited -till he came in full sight of the two ladies, and made them a bow. -Mme. de Bargeton would not see him; but the Marquise put up her -eyeglass, and deliberately cut him. He had been disowned by the -sovereign lords of Angouleme, but to be disowned by society in Paris -was another thing; the booby-squires by doing their utmost to mortify -Lucien admitted his power and acknowledged him as a man; for Mme. -d'Espard he had positively no existence. This was a sentence, it was a -refusal of justice. Poor poet! a deadly cold seized on him when he saw -de Marsay eying him through his glass; and when the Parisian lion let -that optical instrument fall, it dropped in so singular a fashion that -Lucien thought of the knife-blade of the guillotine. - -The caleche went by. Rage and a craving for vengeance took possession -of his slighted soul. If Mme. de Bargeton had been in his power, he -could have cut her throat at that moment; he was a Fouquier-Tinville -gloating over the pleasure of sending Mme. d'Espard to the scaffold. -If only he could have put de Marsay to the torture with refinements of -savage cruelty! Canalis went by on horseback, bowing to the prettiest -women, his dress elegant, as became the most dainty of poets. - -"Great heavens!" exclaimed Lucien. "Money, money at all costs! money -is the one power before which the world bends the knee." ("No!" cried -conscience, "not money, but glory; and glory means work! Work! that -was what David said.") "Great heavens! what am I doing here? But I -will triumph. I will drive along this avenue in a caleche with a -chasseur behind me! I will possess a Marquise d'Espard." And flinging -out the wrathful words, he went to Hurbain's to dine for two francs. - -Next morning, at nine o'clock, he went to the Rue Neuve-de-Luxembourg -to upbraid Louise for her barbarity. But Mme. de Bargeton was not at -home to him, and not only so, but the porter would not allow him to go -up to her rooms; so he stayed outside in the street, watching the -house till noon. At twelve o'clock Chatelet came out, looked at Lucien -out of the corner of his eye, and avoided him. - -Stung to the quick, Lucien hurried after his rival; and Chatelet, -finding himself closely pursued, turned and bowed, evidently intending -to shake him off by this courtesy. - -"Spare me just a moment for pity's sake, sir," said Lucien; "I want -just a word or two with you. You have shown me friendship, I now ask -the most trifling service of that friendship. You have just come from -Mme. de Bargeton; how have I fallen into disgrace with her and Mme. -d'Espard?--please explain." - -"M. Chardon, do you know why the ladies left you at the Opera that -evening?" asked Chatelet, with treacherous good-nature. - -"No," said the poor poet. - -"Well, it was M. de Rastignac who spoke against you from the -beginning. They asked him about you, and the young dandy simply said -that your name was Chardon, and not de Rubempre; that your mother was -a monthly nurse; that your father, when he was alive, was an -apothecary in L'Houmeau, a suburb of Angouleme; and that your sister, -a charming girl, gets up shirts to admiration, and is just about to be -married to a local printer named Sechard. Such is the world! You no -sooner show yourself than it pulls you to pieces. - -"M. de Marsay came to Mme. d'Espard to laugh at you with her; so the -two ladies, thinking that your presence put them in a false position, -went out at once. Do not attempt to go to either house. If Mme. de -Bargeton continued to receive your visits, her cousin would have -nothing to do with her. You have genius; try to avenge yourself. The -world looks down upon you; look down in your turn upon the world. Take -refuge in some garret, write your masterpieces, seize on power of any -kind, and you will see the world at your feet. Then you can give back -the bruises which you have received, and in the very place where they -were given. Mme. de Bargeton will be the more distant now because she -has been friendly. That is the way with women. But the question now -for you is not how to win back Anais' friendship, but how to avoid -making an enemy of her. I will tell you of a way. She has written -letters to you; send all her letters back to her, she will be sensible -that you are acting like a gentleman; and at a later time, if you -should need her, she will not be hostile. For my own part, I have so -high an opinion of your future, that I have taken your part -everywhere; and if I can do anything here for you, you will always -find me ready to be of use." - -The elderly beau seemed to have grown young again in the atmosphere of -Paris. He bowed with frigid politeness; but Lucien, woe-begone, -haggard, and undone, forgot to return the salutation. He went back to -his inn, and there found the great Staub himself, come in person, not -so much to try his customer's clothes as to make inquiries of the -landlady with regard to that customer's financial status. The report -had been satisfactory. Lucien had traveled post; Mme. de Bargeton -brought him back from Vaudeville last Thursday in her carriage. Staub -addressed Lucien as "Monsieur le Comte," and called his customer's -attention to the artistic skill with which he had brought a charming -figure into relief. - -"A young man in such a costume has only to walk in the Tuileries," he -said, "and he will marry an English heiress within a fortnight." - -Lucien brightened a little under the influences of the German tailor's -joke, the perfect fit of his new clothes, the fine cloth, and the -sight of a graceful figure which met his eyes in the looking-glass. -Vaguely he told himself that Paris was the capital of chance, and for -the moment he believed in chance. Had he not a volume of poems and a -magnificent romance entitled The Archer of Charles IX. in manuscript? -He had hope for the future. Staub promised the overcoat and the rest -of the clothes the next day. - -The next day the bootmaker, linen-draper, and tailor all returned -armed each with his bill, which Lucien, still under the charm of -provincial habits, paid forthwith, not knowing how otherwise to rid -himself of them. After he had paid, there remained but three hundred -and sixty francs out of the two thousand which he had brought with him -from Angouleme, and he had been but one week in Paris! Nevertheless, -he dressed and went to take a stroll in the Terrassee des Feuillants. -He had his day of triumph. He looked so handsome and so graceful, he -was so well dressed, that women looked at him; two or three were so -much struck with his beauty, that they turned their heads to look -again. Lucien studied the gait and carriage of the young men on the -Terrasse, and took a lesson in fine manners while he meditated on his -three hundred and sixty francs. - -That evening, alone in his chamber, an idea occurred to him which -threw a light on the problem of his existence at the Gaillard-Bois, -where he lived on the plainest fare, thinking to economize in this -way. He asked for his account, as if he meant to leave, and discovered -that he was indebted to his landlord to the extent of a hundred -francs. The next morning was spent in running around the Latin -Quarter, recommended for its cheapness by David. For a long while he -looked about till, finally, in the Rue de Cluny, close to the -Sorbonne, he discovered a place where he could have a furnished room -for such a price as he could afford to pay. He settled with his -hostess of the Gaillard-Bois, and took up his quarters in the Rue de -Cluny that same day. His removal only cost him the cab fare. - -When he had taken possession of his poor room, he made a packet of -Mme. de Bargeton's letters, laid them on the table, and sat down to -write to her; but before he wrote he fell to thinking over that fatal -week. He did not tell himself that he had been the first to be -faithless; that for a sudden fancy he had been ready to leave his -Louise without knowing what would become of her in Paris. He saw none -of his own shortcomings, but he saw his present position, and blamed -Mme. de Bargeton for it. She was to have lighted his way; instead she -had ruined him. He grew indignant, he grew proud, he worked himself -into a paroxysm of rage, and set himself to compose the following -epistle:-- - - "What would you think, madame, of a woman who should take a fancy - to some poor and timid child full of the noble superstitions which - the grown man calls 'illusions;' and using all the charms of - woman's coquetry, all her most delicate ingenuity, should feign a - mother's love to lead that child astray? Her fondest promises, the - card-castles which raised his wonder, cost her nothing; she leads - him on, tightens her hold upon him, sometimes coaxing, sometimes - scolding him for his want of confidence, till the child leaves his - home and follows her blindly to the shores of a vast sea. Smiling, - she lures him into a frail skiff, and sends him forth alone and - helpless to face the storm. Standing safe on the rock, she laughs - and wishes him luck. You are that woman; I am that child. - - "The child has a keepsake in his hands, something which might - betray the wrongs done by your beneficence, your kindness in - deserting him. You might have to blush if you saw him struggling - for life, and chanced to recollect that once you clasped him to - your breast. When you read these words the keepsake will be in - your own safe keeping; you are free to forget everything. - - "Once you pointed out fair hopes to me in the skies, I awake to - find reality in the squalid poverty of Paris. While you pass, and - others bow before you, on your brilliant path in the great world, - I, I whom you deserted on the threshold, shall be shivering in the - wretched garret to which you consigned me. Yet some pang may - perhaps trouble your mind amid festivals and pleasures; you may - think sometimes of the child whom you thrust into the depths. If - so, madame, think of him without remorse. Out of the depths of his - misery the child offers you the one thing left to him--his - forgiveness in a last look. Yes, madame, thanks to you, I have - nothing left. Nothing! was not the world created from nothing? - Genius should follow the Divine example; I begin with God-like - forgiveness, but as yet I know not whether I possess the God-like - power. You need only tremble lest I should go astray; for you - would be answerable for my sins. Alas! I pity you, for you will - have no part in the future towards which I go, with work as my - guide." - -After penning this rhetorical effusion, full of the sombre dignity -which an artist of one-and-twenty is rather apt to overdo, Lucien's -thoughts went back to them at home. He saw the pretty rooms which -David had furnished for him, at the cost of part of his little store, -and a vision rose before him of quiet, simple pleasures in the past. -Shadowy figures came about him; he saw his mother and Eve and David, -and heard their sobs over his leave-taking, and at that he began to -cry himself, for he felt very lonely in Paris, and friendless and -forlorn. - -Two or three days later he wrote to his sister:-- - - "My dear Eve,--When a sister shares the life of a brother who - devotes himself to art, it is her sad privilege to take more - sorrow than joy into her life; and I am beginning to fear that I - shall be a great trouble to you. Have I not abused your goodness - already? have not all of you sacrificed yourselves to me? It is - the memory of the past, so full of family happiness, that helps me - to bear up in my present loneliness. Now that I have tasted the - first beginnings of poverty and the treachery of the world of - Paris, how my thoughts have flown to you, swift as an eagle back - to its eyrie, so that I might be with true affection again. Did - you see sparks in the candle? Did a coal pop out of the fire? Did - you hear singing in your ears? And did mother say, 'Lucien is - thinking of us,' and David answer, 'He is fighting his way in the - world?' - - "My Eve, I am writing this letter for your eyes only. I cannot - tell any one else all that has happened to me, good and bad, - blushing for both, as I write, for good here is as rare as evil - ought to be. You shall have a great piece of news in a very few - words. Mme. de Bargeton was ashamed of me, disowned me, would not - see me, and gave me up nine days after we came to Paris. She saw - me in the street and looked another way; when, simply to follow - her into the society to which she meant to introduce me, I had - spent seventeen hundred and sixty francs out of the two thousand I - brought from Angouleme, the money so hardly scraped together. 'How - did you spend it?' you will ask. Paris is a strange bottomless - gulf, my poor sister; you can dine here for less than a franc, yet - the simplest dinner at a fashionable restaurant costs fifty - francs; there are waistcoats and trousers to be had for four - francs and two francs each; but a fashionable tailor never charges - less than a hundred francs. You pay for everything; you pay a - halfpenny to cross the kennel in the street when it rains; you - cannot go the least little way in a cab for less than thirty-two - sous. - - "I have been staying in one of the best parts of Paris, but now I - am living at the Hotel de Cluny, in the Rue de Cluny, one of the - poorest and darkest slums, shut in between three churches and the - old buildings of the Sorbonne. I have a furnished room on the - fourth floor; it is very bare and very dirty, but, all the same, I - pay fifteen francs a month for it. For breakfast I spend a penny - on a roll and a halfpenny for milk, but I dine very decently for - twenty-two sous at a restaurant kept by a man named Flicoteaux in - the Place de la Sorbonne itself. My expenses every month will not - exceed sixty francs, everything included, until the winter begins - --at least I hope not. So my two hundred and forty francs ought to - last me for the first four months. Between now and then I shall - have sold The Archer of Charles IX. and the Marguerites no doubt. - Do not be in the least uneasy on my account. If the present is - cold and bare and poverty-stricken, the blue distant future is - rich and splendid; most great men have known the vicissitudes - which depress but cannot overwhelm me. - - "Plautus, the great comic Latin poet, was once a miller's lad. - Machiavelli wrote The Prince at night, and by day was a common - working-man like any one else; and more than all, the great - Cervantes, who lost an arm at the battle of Lepanto, and helped to - win that famous day, was called a 'base-born, handless dotard' by - the scribblers of his day; there was an interval of ten years - between the appearance of the first part and the second of his - sublime Don Quixote for lack of a publisher. Things are not so bad - as that nowadays. Mortifications and want only fall to the lot of - unknown writers; as soon as a man's name is known, he grows rich, - and I will be rich. And besides, I live within myself, I spend - half the day at the Bibliotheque Sainte-Genevieve, learning all - that I want to learn; I should not go far unless I knew more than - I do. So at this moment I am almost happy. In a few days I have - fallen in with my life very gladly. I begin the work that I love - with daylight, my subsistence is secure, I think a great deal, and - I study. I do not see that I am open to attack at any point, now - that I have renounced a world where my vanity might suffer at any - moment. The great men of every age are obliged to lead lives - apart. What are they but birds in the forest? They sing, nature - falls under the spell of their song, and no one should see them. - That shall be my lot, always supposing that I can carry out my - ambitious plans. - - "Mme. de Bargeton I do not regret. A woman who could behave as she - behaved does not deserve a thought. Nor am I sorry that I left - Angouleme. She did wisely when she flung me into the sea of Paris - to sink or swim. This is the place for men of letters and thinkers - and poets; here you cultivate glory, and I know how fair the - harvest is that we reap in these days. Nowhere else can a writer - find the living works of the great dead, the works of art which - quicken the imagination in the galleries and museums here; nowhere - else will you find great reference libraries always open in which - the intellect may find pasture. And lastly, here in Paris there is - a spirit which you breathe in the air; it infuses the least - details, every literary creation bears traces of its influence. - You learn more by talk in a cafe, or at a theatre, in one half - hour, than you would learn in ten years in the provinces. Here, in - truth, wherever you go, there is always something to see, - something to learn, some comparison to make. Extreme cheapness and - excessive dearness--there is Paris for you; there is honeycomb - here for every bee, every nature finds its own nourishment. So, - though life is hard for me just now, I repent of nothing. On the - contrary, a fair future spreads out before me, and my heart - rejoices though it is saddened for the moment. Good-bye my dear - sister. Do not expect letters from me regularly; it is one of the - peculiarities of Paris that one really does not know how the time - goes. Life is so alarmingly rapid. I kiss the mother and you and - David more tenderly than ever." - -The name of Flicoteaux is engraved on many memories. Few indeed were -the students who lived in the Latin Quarter during the last twelve -years of the Restoration and did not frequent that temple sacred to -hunger and impecuniosity. There a dinner of three courses, with a -quarter bottle of wine or a bottle of beer, could be had for eighteen -sous; or for twenty-two sous the quarter bottle becomes a bottle. -Flicoteaux, that friend of youth, would beyond a doubt have amassed a -colossal fortune but for a line on his bill of fare, a line which -rival establishments are wont to print in capital letters, thus--BREAD -AT DISCRETION, which, being interpreted, should read "indiscretion." - -Flicoteaux has been nursing-father to many an illustrious name. -Verily, the heart of more than one great man ought to wax warm with -innumerable recollections of inexpressible enjoyment at the sight of -the small, square window panes that look upon the Place de la -Sorbonne, and the Rue Neuve-de-Richelieu. Flicoteaux II. and -Flicoteaux III. respected the old exterior, maintaining the dingy hue -and general air of a respectable, old-established house, showing -thereby the depth of their contempt for the charlatanism of the shop- -front, the kind of advertisement which feasts the eyes at the expense -of the stomach, to which your modern restaurant almost always has -recourse. Here you beheld no piles of straw-stuffed game never -destined to make the acquaintance of the spit, no fantastical fish to -justify the mountebank's remark, "I saw a fine carp to-day; I expect -to buy it this day week." Instead of the prime vegetables more -fittingly described by the word primeval, artfully displayed in the -window for the delectation of the military man and his fellow country- -woman the nursemaid, honest Flicoteaux exhibited full salad-bowls -adorned with many a rivet, or pyramids of stewed prunes to rejoice the -sight of the customer, and assure him that the word "dessert," with -which other handbills made too free, was in this case no charter to -hoodwink the public. Loaves of six pounds' weight, cut in four -quarters, made good the promise of "bread at discretion." Such was the -plenty of the establishment, that Moliere would have celebrated it if -it had been in existence in his day, so comically appropriate is the -name. - -Flicoteaux still subsists; so long as students are minded to live, -Flicoteaux will make a living. You feed there, neither more nor less; -and you feed as you work, with morose or cheerful industry, according -to the circumstances and the temperament. - -At that time his well-known establishment consisted of two dining- -halls, at right angles to each other; long, narrow, low-ceiled rooms, -looking respectively on the Rue Neuve-de-Richelieu and the Place de la -Sorbonne. The furniture must have come originally from the refectory -of some abbey, for there was a monastic look about the lengthy tables, -where the serviettes of regular customers, each thrust through a -numbered ring of crystallized tin plate, were laid by their places. -Flicoteaux I. only changed the serviettes of a Sunday; but Flicoteaux -II. changed them twice a week, it is said, under pressure of -competition which threatened his dynasty. - -Flicoteaux's restaurant is no banqueting-hall, with its refinements -and luxuries; it is a workshop where suitable tools are provided, and -everybody gets up and goes as soon as he has finished. The coming and -going within are swift. There is no dawdling among the waiters; they -are all busy; every one of them is wanted. - -The fare is not very varied. The potato is a permanent institution; -there might not be a single tuber left in Ireland, and prevailing -dearth elsewhere, but you would still find potatoes at Flicoteaux's. -Not once in thirty years shall you miss its pale gold (the color -beloved of Titian), sprinkled with chopped verdure; the potato enjoys -a privilege that women might envy; such as you see it in 1814, so -shall you find it in 1840. Mutton cutlets and fillet of beef at -Flicoteaux's represent black game and fillet of sturgeon at Very's; -they are not on the regular bill of fare, that is, and must be ordered -beforehand. Beef of the feminine gender there prevails; the young of -the bovine species appears in all kinds of ingenious disguises. When -the whiting and mackerel abound on our shores, they are likewise seen -in large numbers at Flicoteaux's; his whole establishment, indeed, is -directly affected by the caprices of the season and the vicissitudes -of French agriculture. By eating your dinners at Flicoteaux's you -learn a host of things of which the wealthy, the idle, and folk -indifferent to the phases of Nature have no suspicion, and the student -penned up in the Latin Quarter is kept accurately informed of the -state of the weather and good or bad seasons. He knows when it is a -good year for peas or French beans, and the kind of salad stuff that -is plentiful; when the Great Market is glutted with cabbages, he is at -once aware of the fact, and the failure of the beetroot crop is -brought home to his mind. A slander, old in circulation in Lucien's -time, connected the appearance of beef-steaks with a mortality among -horseflesh. - -Few Parisian restaurants are so well worth seeing. Every one at -Flicoteaux's is young; you see nothing but youth; and although earnest -faces and grave, gloomy, anxious faces are not lacking, you see hope -and confidence and poverty gaily endured. Dress, as a rule, is -careless, and regular comers in decent clothes are marked exceptions. -Everybody knows at once that something extraordinary is afoot: a -mistress to visit, a theatre party, or some excursion into higher -spheres. Here, it is said, friendships have been made among students -who became famous men in after days, as will be seen in the course of -this narrative; but with the exception of a few knots of young fellows -from the same part of France who make a group about the end of a -table, the gravity of the diners is hardly relaxed. Perhaps this -gravity is due to the catholicity of the wine, which checks good -fellowship of any kind. - -Flicoteaux's frequenters may recollect certain sombre and mysterious -figures enveloped in the gloom of the chilliest penury; these beings -would dine there daily for a couple of years and then vanish, and the -most inquisitive regular comer could throw no light on the -disappearance of such goblins of Paris. Friendships struck up over -Flicoteaux's dinners were sealed in neighboring cafes in the flames of -heady punch, or by the generous warmth of a small cup of black coffee -glorified by a dash of something hotter and stronger. - -Lucien, like all neophytes, was modest and regular in his habits in -those early days at the Hotel de Cluny. After the first unlucky -venture in fashionable life which absorbed his capital, he threw -himself into his work with the first earnest enthusiasm, which is -frittered away so soon over the difficulties or in the by-paths of -every life in Paris. The most luxurious and the very poorest lives are -equally beset with temptations which nothing but the fierce energy of -genius or the morose persistence of ambition can overcome. - -Lucien used to drop in at Flicoteaux's about half-past four, having -remarked the advantages of an early arrival; the bill-of-fare was more -varied, and there was still some chance of obtaining the dish of your -choice. Like all imaginative persons, he had taken a fancy to a -particular seat, and showed discrimination in his selection. On the -very first day he had noticed a table near the counter, and from the -faces of those who sat about it, and chance snatches of their talk, he -recognized brothers of the craft. A sort of instinct, moreover, -pointed out the table near the counter as a spot whence he could -parlay with the owners of the restaurant. In time an acquaintance -would grow up, he thought, and then in the day of distress he could no -doubt obtain the necessary credit. So he took his place at a small -square table close to the desk, intended probably for casual comers, -for the two clean serviettes were unadorned with rings. Lucien's -opposite neighbor was a thin, pallid youth, to all appearance as poor -as himself; his handsome face was somewhat worn, already it told of -hopes that had vanished, leaving lines upon his forehead and barren -furrows in his soul, where seeds had been sown that had come to -nothing. Lucien felt drawn to the stranger by these tokens; his -sympathies went out to him with irresistible fervor. - -After a week's exchange of small courtesies and remarks, the poet from -Angouleme found the first person with whom he could chat. The -stranger's name was Etienne Lousteau. Two years ago he had left his -native place, a town in Berri, just as Lucien had come from Angouleme. -His lively gestures, bright eyes, and occasionally curt speech -revealed a bitter apprenticeship to literature. Etienne had come from -Sancerre with his tragedy in his pocket, drawn to Paris by the same -motives that impelled Lucien--hope of fame and power and money. - -Sometimes Etienne Lousteau came for several days together; but in a -little while his visits became few and far between, and he would stay -away for five or six days in succession. Then he would come back, and -Lucien would hope to see his poet next day, only to find a stranger in -his place. When two young men meet daily, their talk harks back to -their last conversation; but these continual interruptions obliged -Lucien to break the ice afresh each time, and further checked an -intimacy which made little progress during the first few weeks. On -inquiry of the damsel at the counter, Lucien was told that his future -friend was on the staff of a small newspaper, and wrote reviews of -books and dramatic criticism of pieces played at the Ambigu-Comique, -the Gaite, and the Panorama-Dramatique. The young man became a -personage all at once in Lucien's eyes. Now, he thought, he would lead -the conversation on rather more personal topics, and make some effort -to gain a friend so likely to be useful to a beginner. The journalist -stayed away for a fortnight. Lucien did not know that Etienne only -dined at Flicoteaux's when he was hard up, and hence his gloomy air of -disenchantment and the chilly manner, which Lucien met with gracious -smiles and amiable remarks. But, after all, the project of a -friendship called for mature deliberation. This obscure journalist -appeared to lead an expensive life in which petits verres, cups of -coffee, punch-bowls, sight-seeing, and suppers played a part. In the -early days of Lucien's life in the Latin Quarter, he behaved like a -poor child bewildered by his first experience of Paris life; so that -when he had made a study of prices and weighed his purse, he lacked -courage to make advances to Etienne; he was afraid of beginning a -fresh series of blunders of which he was still repenting. And he was -still under the yoke of provincial creeds; his two guardian angels, -Eve and David, rose up before him at the least approach of an evil -thought, putting him in mind of all the hopes that were centered on -him, of the happiness that he owed to the old mother, of all the -promises of his genius. - -He spent his mornings in studying history at the Bibliotheque Sainte- -Genevieve. His very first researches made him aware of frightful -errors in the memoirs of The Archer of Charles IX. When the library -closed, he went back to his damp, chilly room to correct his work, -cutting out whole chapters and piecing it together anew. And after -dining at Flicoteaux's, he went down to the Passage du Commerce to see -the newspapers at Blosse's reading-room, as well as new books and -magazines and poetry, so as to keep himself informed of the movements -of the day. And when, towards midnight, he returned to his wretched -lodgings, he had used neither fuel nor candle-light. His reading in -those days made such an enormous change in his ideas, that he revised -the volume of flower-sonnets, his beloved Marguerites, working them -over to such purpose, that scarce a hundred lines of the original -verses were allowed to stand. - -So in the beginning Lucien led the honest, innocent life of the -country lad who never leaves the Latin Quarter; devoting himself -wholly to his work, with thoughts of the future always before him; who -finds Flicoteaux's ordinary luxurious after the simple home-fare; and -strolls for recreation along the alleys of the Luxembourg, the blood -surging back to his heart as he gives timid side glances to the pretty -women. But this could not last. Lucien, with his poetic temperament -and boundless longings, could not withstand the temptations held out -by the play-bills. - -The Theatre-Francais, the Vaudeville, the Varietes, the Opera-Comique -relieved him of some sixty francs, although he always went to the pit. -What student could deny himself the pleasure of seeing Talma in one of -his famous roles? Lucien was fascinated by the theatre, that first -love of all poetic temperaments; the actors and actresses were awe- -inspiring creatures; he did not so much as dream of the possibility of -crossing the footlights and meeting them on familiar terms. The men -and women who gave him so much pleasure were surely marvelous beings, -whom the newspapers treated with as much gravity as matters of -national interest. To be a dramatic author, to have a play produced on -the stage! What a dream was this to cherish! A dream which a few bold -spirits like Casimir Delavigne had actually realized. Thick swarming -thoughts like these, and moments of belief in himself, followed by -despair gave Lucien no rest, and kept him in the narrow way of toil -and frugality, in spite of the smothered grumblings of more than one -frenzied desire. - -Carrying prudence to an extreme, he made it a rule never to enter the -precincts of the Palais Royal, that place of perdition where he had -spent fifty francs at Very's in a single day, and nearly five hundred -francs on his clothes; and when he yielded to temptation, and saw -Fleury, Talma, the two Baptistes, or Michot, he went no further than -the murky passage where theatre-goers used to stand in a string from -half-past five in the afternoon till the hour when the doors opened, -and belated comers were compelled to pay ten sous for a place near the -ticket-office. And after waiting for two hours, the cry of "All -tickets are sold!" rang not unfrequently in the ears of disappointed -students. When the play was over, Lucien went home with downcast eyes, -through streets lined with living attractions, and perhaps fell in -with one of those commonplace adventures which loom so large in a -young and timorous imagination. - -One day Lucien counted over his remaining stock of money, and took -alarm at the melting of his funds; a cold perspiration broke out upon -him when he thought that the time had come when he must find a -publisher, and try also to find work for which a publisher would pay -him. The young journalist, with whom he had made a one-sided -friendship, never came now to Flicoteaux's. Lucien was waiting for a -chance--which failed to present itself. In Paris there are no chances -except for men with a very wide circle of acquaintance; chances of -success of every kind increase with the number of your connections; -and, therefore, in this sense also the chances are in favor of the big -battalions. Lucien had sufficient provincial foresight still left, and -had no mind to wait until only a last few coins remained to him. He -resolved to face the publishers. - -So one tolerably chilly September morning Lucien went down the Rue de -la Harpe, with his two manuscripts under his arm. As he made his way -to the Quai des Augustins, and went along, looking into the -booksellers' windows on one side and into the Seine on the other, his -good genius might have counseled him to pitch himself into the water -sooner than plunge into literature. After heart-searching hesitations, -after a profound scrutiny of the various countenances, more or less -encouraging, soft-hearted, churlish, cheerful, or melancholy, to be -seen through the window panes, or in the doorways of the booksellers' -establishments, he espied a house where the shopmen were busy packing -books at a great rate. Goods were being despatched. The walls were -plastered with bills: - - - JUST OUT. -LE SOLITAIRE, by M. le Vicomte d'Arlincourt. - Third edition. -LEONIDE, by Victor Ducange; five volumes - 12mo, printed on fine paper. 12 francs. -INDUCTIONS MORALES, by Keratry. - - -"They are lucky, that they are!" exclaimed Lucien. - -The placard, a new and original idea of the celebrated Ladvocat, was -just beginning to blossom out upon the walls. In no long space Paris -was to wear motley, thanks to the exertions of his imitators, and the -Treasury was to discover a new source of revenue. - -Anxiety sent the blood surging to Lucien's heart, as he who had been -so great at Angouleme, so insignificant of late in Paris, slipped past -the other houses, summoned up all his courage, and at last entered the -shop thronged with assistants, customers, and booksellers--"And -authors too, perhaps!" thought Lucien. - -"I want to speak with M. Vidal or M. Porchon," he said, addressing a -shopman. He had read the names on the sign-board--VIDAL & PORCHON (it -ran), French and foreign booksellers' agents. - -"Both gentlemen are engaged," said the man. - -"I will wait." - -Left to himself, the poet scrutinized the packages, and amused himself -for a couple of hours by scanning the titles of books, looking into -them, and reading a page or two here and there. At last, as he stood -leaning against a window, he heard voices, and suspecting that the -green curtains hid either Vidal or Porchon, he listened to the -conversation. - -"Will you take five hundred copies of me? If you will, I will let you -have them at five francs, and give fourteen to the dozen." - -"What does that bring them in at?" - -"Sixteen sous less." - -"Four francs four sous?" said Vidal or Porchon, whichever it was. - -"Yes," said the vendor. - -"Credit your account?" inquired the purchaser. - -"Old humbug! you would settle with me in eighteen months' time, with -bills at a twelvemonth." - -"No. Settled at once," returned Vidal or Porchon. - -"Bills at nine months?" asked the publisher or author, who evidently -was selling his book. - -"No, my dear fellow, twelve months," returned one of the firm of -booksellers' agents. - -There was a pause. - -"You are simply cutting my throat!" said the visitor. - -"But in a year's time shall we have placed a hundred copies of -Leonide?" said the other voice. "If books went off as fast as the -publishers would like, we should be millionaires, my good sir; but -they don't, they go as the public pleases. There is some one now -bringing out an edition of Scott's novels at eighteen sous per volume, -three livres twelve sous per copy, and you want me to give you more -for your stale remainders? No. If you mean me to push this novel of -yours, you must make it worth my while.--Vidal!" - -A stout man, with a pen behind his ear, came down from his desk. - -"How many copies of Ducange did you place last journey?" asked Porchon -of his partner. - -"Two hundred of Le Petit Vieillard de Calais, but to sell them I was -obliged to cry down two books which pay in less commission, and -uncommonly fine 'nightingales' they are now. - -(A "nightingale," as Lucien afterwards learned, is a bookseller's name -for books that linger on hand, perched out of sight in the loneliest -nooks in the shop.) - -"And besides," added Vidal, "Picard is bringing out some novels, as -you know. We have been promised twenty per cent on the published price -to make the thing a success." - -"Very well, at twelve months," the publisher answered in a piteous -voice, thunderstruck by Vidal's confidential remark. - -"Is it an offer?" Porchon inquired curtly. - -"Yes." The stranger went out. After he had gone, Lucien heard Porchon -say to Vidal: - -"We have three hundred copies on order now. We will keep him waiting -for his settlement, sell the Leonides for five francs net, settlement -in six months, and----" - -"And that will be fifteen hundred francs into our pockets," said -Vidal. - -"Oh, I saw quite well that he was in a fix. He is giving Ducange four -thousand francs for two thousand copies." - -Lucien cut Vidal short by appearing in the entrance of the den. - -"I have the honor of wishing you a good day, gentlemen," he said, -addressing both partners. The booksellers nodded slightly. - -"I have a French historical romance after the style of Scott. It is -called The Archer of Charles IX.; I propose to offer it to you----" - -Porchon glanced at Lucien with lustreless eyes, and laid his pen down -on the desk. Vidal stared rudely at the author. - -"We are not publishing booksellers, sir; we are booksellers' agents," -he said. "When we bring out a book ourselves, we only deal in well- -known names; and we only take serious literature besides--history and -epitomes." - -"But my book is very serious. It is an attempt to set the struggle -between Catholics and Calvinists in its true light; the Catholics were -supporters of absolute monarchy, and the Protestants for a republic." - -"M. Vidal!" shouted an assistant. Vidal fled. - -"I don't say, sir, that your book is not a masterpiece," replied -Porchon, with scanty civility, "but we only deal in books that are -ready printed. Go and see somebody that buys manuscripts. There is old -Doguereau in the Rue du Coq, near the Louvre, he is in the romance -line. If you had only spoken sooner, you might have seen Pollet, a -competitor of Doguereau and of the publisher in the Wooden Galleries." - -"I have a volume of poetry----" - -"M. Porchon!" somebody shouted. - -"POETRY!" Porchon exclaimed angrily. "For what do you take me?" he -added, laughing in Lucien's face. And he dived into the regions of the -back shop. - -Lucien went back across the Pont Neuf absorbed in reflection. From all -that he understood of this mercantile dialect, it appeared that books, -like cotton nightcaps, were to be regarded as articles of merchandise -to be sold dear and bought cheap. - -"I have made a mistake," said Lucien to himself; but, all the same, -this rough-and-ready practical aspect of literature made an impression -upon him. - -In the Rue du Coq he stopped in front of a modest-looking shop, which -he had passed before. He saw the inscription DOGUEREAU, BOOKSELLER, -painted above it in yellow letters on a green ground, and remembered -that he had seen the name at the foot of the title-page of several -novels at Blosse's reading-room. In he went, not without the inward -trepidation which a man of any imagination feels at the prospect of a -battle. Inside the shop he discovered an odd-looking old man, one of -the queer characters of the trade in the days of the Empire. - -Doguereau wore a black coat with vast square skirts, when fashion -required swallow-tail coats. His waistcoat was of some cheap material, -a checked pattern of many colors; a steel chain, with a copper key -attached to it, hung from his fob and dangled down over a roomy pair -of black nether garments. The booksellers' watch must have been the -size of an onion. Iron-gray ribbed stockings, and shoes with silver -buckles completed is costume. The old man's head was bare, and -ornamented with a fringe of grizzled locks, quite poetically scanty. -"Old Doguereau," as Porchon styled him, was dressed half like a -professor of belles-lettres as to his trousers and shoes, half like a -tradesman with respect to the variegated waistcoat, the stockings, and -the watch; and the same odd mixture appeared in the man himself. He -united the magisterial, dogmatic air, and the hollow countenance of -the professor of rhetoric with the sharp eyes, suspicious mouth, and -vague uneasiness of the bookseller. - -"M. Doguereau?" asked Lucien. - -"That is my name, sir." - -"You are very young," remarked the bookseller. - -"My age, sir, has nothing to do with the matter." - -"True," and the old bookseller took up the manuscript. "Ah, begad! The -Archer of Charles IX., a good title. Let us see now, young man, just -tell me your subject in a word or two." - -"It is a historical work, sir, in the style of Scott. The character of -the struggle between the Protestants and Catholics is depicted as a -struggle between two opposed systems of government, in which the -throne is seriously endangered. I have taken the Catholic side." - -"Eh! but you have ideas, young man. Very well, I will read your book, -I promise you. I would rather have had something more in Mrs. -Radcliffe's style; but if you are industrious, if you have some notion -of style, conceptions, ideas, and the art of telling a story, I don't -ask better than to be of use to you. What do we want but good -manuscripts?" - -"When can I come back?" - -"I am going into the country this evening; I shall be back again the -day after to-morrow. I shall have read your manuscript by that time; -and if it suits me, we might come to terms that very day." - -Seeing his acquaintance so easy, Lucien was inspired with the unlucky -idea of bringing the Marguerites upon the scene. - -"I have a volume of poetry as well, sir----" he began. - -"Oh! you are a poet! Then I don't want your romance," and the old man -handed back the manuscript. "The rhyming fellows come to grief when -they try their hands at prose. In prose you can't use words that mean -nothing; you absolutely must say something." - -"But Sir Walter Scott, sir, wrote poetry as well as----" - -"That is true," said Doguereau, relenting. He guessed that the young -fellow before him was poor, and kept the manuscript. "Where do you -live? I will come and see you." - -Lucien, all unsuspicious of the idea at the back of the old man's -head, gave his address; he did not see that he had to do with a -bookseller of the old school, a survival of the eighteenth century, -when booksellers tried to keep Voltaires and Montesquieus starving in -garrets under lock and key. - -"The Latin Quarter. I am coming back that very way," said Doguereau, -when he had read the address. - -"Good man!" thought Lucien, as he took his leave. "So I have met with -a friend to young authors, a man of taste who knows something. That is -the kind of man for me! It is just as I said to David--talent soon -makes its way in Paris." - -Lucien went home again happy and light of heart; he dreamed of glory. -He gave not another thought to the ominous words which fell on his ear -as he stood by the counter in Vidal and Porchon's shop; he beheld -himself the richer by twelve hundred francs at least. Twelve hundred -francs! It meant a year in Paris, a whole year of preparation for the -work that he meant to do. What plans he built on that hope! What sweet -dreams, what visions of a life established on a basis of work! -Mentally he found new quarters, and settled himself in them; it would -not have taken much to set him making a purchase or two. He could only -stave off impatience by constant reading at Blosse's. - -Two days later old Doguereau come to the lodgings of his budding Sir -Walter Scott. He was struck with the pains which Lucien had taken with -the style of this his first work, delighted with the strong contrasts -of character sanctioned by the epoch, and surprised at the spirited -imagination which a young writer always displays in the scheming of a -first plot--he had not been spoiled, thought old Daddy Doguereau. He -had made up his mind to give a thousand francs for The Archer of -Charles IX.; he would buy the copyright out and out, and bind Lucien -by an engagement for several books, but when he came to look at the -house, the old fox thought better of it. - -"A young fellow that lives here has none but simple tastes," said he -to himself; "he is fond of study, fond of work; I need not give more -than eight hundred francs." - -"Fourth floor," answered the landlady, when he asked for M. Lucien de -Rubempre. The old bookseller, peering up, saw nothing but the sky -above the fourth floor. - -"This young fellow," thought he, "is a good-looking lad; one might go -so far as to say that he is very handsome. If he were to make too much -money, he would only fall into dissipated ways, and then he would not -work. In the interests of us both, I shall only offer six hundred -francs, in coin though, not paper." - -He climbed the stairs and gave three raps at the door. Lucien came to -open it. The room was forlorn in its bareness. A bowl of milk and a -penny roll stood on the table. The destitution of genius made an -impression on Daddy Doguereau. - -"Let him preserve these simple habits of life, this frugality, these -modest requirements," thought he.--Aloud he said: "It is a pleasure to -me to see you. Thus, sir, lived Jean-Jacques, whom you resemble in -more ways than one. Amid such surroundings the fire of genius shines -brightly; good work is done in such rooms as these. This is how men of -letters should work, instead of living riotously in cafes and -restaurants, wasting their time and talent and our money." - -He sat down. - -"Your romance is not bad, young man. I was a professor of rhetoric -once; I know French history, there are some capital things in it. You -have a future before you, in fact." - -"Oh! sir." - -"No; I tell you so. We may do business together. I will buy your -romance." - -Lucien's heart swelled and throbbed with gladness. He was about to -enter the world of literature; he should see himself in print at last. - -"I will give you four hundred francs," continued Doguereau in honeyed -accents, and he looked at Lucien with an air which seemed to betoken -an effort of generosity. - -"The volume?" queried Lucien. - -"For the romance," said Doguereau, heedless of Lucien's surprise. "In -ready money," he added; "and you shall undertake to write two books -for me every year for six years. If the first book is out of print in -six months, I will give you six hundred francs for the others. So, if -you write two books each year, you will be making a hundred francs a -month; you will have a sure income, you will be well off. There are -some authors whom I only pay three hundred francs for a romance; I -give two hundred for translations of English books. Such prices would -have been exorbitant in the old days." - -"Sir, we cannot possibly come to an understanding. Give me back my -manuscript, I beg," said Lucien, in a cold chill. - -"Here it is," said the old bookseller. "You know nothing of business, -sir. Before an author's first book can appear, a publisher is bound to -sink sixteen hundred francs on the paper and the printing of it. It is -easier to write a romance than to find all that money. I have a -hundred romances in manuscript, and I have not a hundred and sixty -thousand francs in my cash box, alas! I have not made so much in all -these twenty years that I have been a bookseller. So you don't make a -fortune by printing romances, you see. Vidal and Porchon only take -them of us on conditions that grow harder and harder day by day. You -have only your time to lose, while I am obliged to disburse two -thousand francs. If we fail, habent sua fata libelli, I lose two -thousand francs; while, as for you, you simply hurl an ode at the -thick-headed public. When you have thought over this that I have the -honor of telling you, you will come back to me.--YOU WILL COME BACK TO -ME!" he asserted authoritatively, by way of reply to a scornful -gesture made involuntarily by Lucien. "So far from finding a publisher -obliging enough to risk two thousand francs for an unknown writer, you -will not find a publisher's clerk that will trouble himself to look -through your screed. Now that I have read it I can point out a good -many slips in grammar. You have put observer for faire observer and -malgre que. Malgre is a preposition, and requires an object." - -Lucien appeared to be humiliated. - -"When I see you again, you will have lost a hundred francs," he added. -"I shall only give a hundred crowns." - -With that he rose and took his leave. On the threshold he said, "If -you had not something in you, and a future before you; if I did not -take an interest in studious youth, I should not have made you such a -handsome offer. A hundred francs per month! Think of it! After all, a -romance in a drawer is not eating its head off like a horse in a -stable, nor will it find you in victuals either, and that's a fact." - -Lucien snatched up his manuscript and dashed it on the floor. - -"I would rather burn it, sir!" he exclaimed. - -"You have a poet's head," returned his senior. - -Lucien devoured his bread and supped his bowl of milk, then he went -downstairs. His room was not large enough for him; he was turning -round and round in it like a lion in a cage at the Jardin des Plantes. - -At the Bibliotheque Saint-Genevieve, whither Lucien was going, he had -come to know a stranger by sight; a young man of five-and-twenty or -thereabouts, working with the sustained industry which nothing can -disturb nor distract, the sign by which your genuine literary worker -is known. Evidently the young man had been reading there for some -time, for the librarian and attendants all knew him and paid him -special attention; the librarian would even allow him to take away -books, with which Lucien saw him return in the morning. In the -stranger student he recognized a brother in penury and hope. - -Pale-faced and slight and thin, with a fine forehead hidden by masses -of black, tolerably unkempt hair, there was something about him that -attracted indifferent eyes: it was a vague resemblance which he bore -to portraits of the young Bonaparte, engraved from Robert Lefebvre's -picture. That engraving is a poem of melancholy intensity, of -suppressed ambition, of power working below the surface. Study the -face carefully, and you will discover genius in it and discretion, and -all the subtlety and greatness of the man. The portrait has speaking -eyes like a woman's; they look out, greedy of space, craving -difficulties to vanquish. Even if the name of Bonaparte were not -written beneath it, you would gaze long at that face. - -Lucien's young student, the incarnation of this picture, usually wore -footed trousers, shoes with thick soles to them, an overcoat of coarse -cloth, a black cravat, a waistcoat of some gray-and-white material -buttoned to the chin, and a cheap hat. Contempt for superfluity in -dress was visible in his whole person. Lucien also discovered that the -mysterious stranger with that unmistakable stamp which genius sets -upon the forehead of its slaves was one of Flicoteaux's most regular -customers; he ate to live, careless of the fare which appeared to be -familiar to him, and drank water. Wherever Lucien saw him, at the -library or at Flicoteaux's, there was a dignity in his manner, -springing doubtless from the consciousness of a purpose that filled -his life, a dignity which made him unapproachable. He had the -expression of a thinker, meditation dwelt on the fine nobly carved -brow. You could tell from the dark bright eyes, so clear-sighted and -quick to observe, that their owner was wont to probe to the bottom of -things. He gesticulated very little, his demeanor was grave. Lucien -felt an involuntary respect for him. - -Many times already the pair had looked at each other at the -Bibliotheque or at Flicoteaux's; many times they had been on the point -of speaking, but neither of them had ventured so far as yet. The -silent young man went off to the further end of the library, on the -side at right angles to the Place de la Sorbonne, and Lucien had no -opportunity of making his acquaintance, although he felt drawn to a -worker whom he knew by indescribable tokens for a character of no -common order. Both, as they came to know afterwards, were -unsophisticated and shy, given to fears which cause a pleasurable -emotion to solitary creatures. Perhaps they never would have been -brought into communication if they had not come across each other that -day of Lucien's disaster; for as Lucien turned into the Rue des Gres, -he saw the student coming away from the Bibliotheque Sainte-Genevieve. - -"The library is closed; I don't know why, monsieur," said he. - -Tears were standing in Lucien's eyes; he expressed his thanks by one -of those gestures that speak more eloquently than words, and unlock -hearts at once when two men meet in youth. They went together along -the Rue des Gres towards the Rue de la Harpe. - -"As that is so, I shall go to the Luxembourg for a walk," said Lucien. -"When you have come out, it is not easy to settle down to work again." - -"No; one's ideas will not flow in the proper current," remarked the -stranger. "Something seems to have annoyed you, monsieur?" - -"I have just had a queer adventure," said Lucien, and he told the -history of his visit to the Quai, and gave an account of his -subsequent dealings with the old bookseller. He gave his name and said -a word or two of his position. In one month or thereabouts he had -spent sixty francs on his board, thirty for lodging, twenty more -francs in going to the theatre, and ten at Blosse's reading room--one -hundred and twenty francs in all, and now he had just a hundred and -twenty francs in hand. - -"Your story is mine, monsieur, and the story of ten or twelve hundred -young fellows besides who come from the country to Paris every year. -There are others even worse off than we are. Do you see that theatre?" -he continued, indicating the turrets of the Odeon. "There came one day -to lodge in one of the houses in the square a man of talent who had -fallen into the lowest depths of poverty. He was married, in addition -to the misfortunes which we share with him, to a wife whom he loved; -and the poorer or the richer, as you will, by two children. He was -burdened with debt, but he put his faith in his pen. He took a comedy -in five acts to the Odeon; the comedy was accepted, the management -arranged to bring it out, the actors learned their parts, the stage -manager urged on the rehearsals. Five several bits of luck, five -dramas to be performed in real life, and far harder tasks than the -writing of a five-act play. The poor author lodged in a garret; you -can see the place from here. He drained his last resources to live -until the first representation; his wife pawned her clothes, they all -lived on dry bread. On the day of the final rehearsal, the household -owed fifty francs in the Quarter to the baker, the milkwoman, and the -porter. The author had only the strictly necessary clothes--a coat, a -shirt, trousers, a waistcoat, and a pair of boots. He felt sure of his -success; he kissed his wife. The end of their troubles was at hand. -'At last! There is nothing against us now,' cried he.--'Yes, there is -fire,' said his wife; 'look, the Odeon is on fire!'--The Odeon was on -fire, monsieur. So do not you complain. You have clothes, you have -neither wife nor child, you have a hundred and twenty francs for -emergencies in your pocket, and you owe no one a penny.--Well, the -piece went through a hundred and fifty representations at the Theatre -Louvois. The King allowed the author a pension. 'Genius is patience,' -as Buffon said. And patience after all is a man's nearest approach to -Nature's processes of creation. What is Art, monsieur, but Nature -concentrated?" - -By this time the young men were striding along the walks of the -Luxembourg, and in no long time Lucien learned the name of the -stranger who was doing his best to administer comfort. That name has -since grown famous. Daniel d'Arthez is one of the most illustrious of -living men of letters; one of the rare few who show us an example of -"a noble gift with a noble nature combined," to quote a poet's fine -thought. - -"There is no cheap route to greatness," Daniel went on in his kind -voice. "The works of Genius are watered with tears. The gift that is -in you, like an existence in the physical world, passes through -childhood and its maladies. Nature sweeps away sickly or deformed -creatures, and Society rejects an imperfectly developed talent. Any -man who means to rise above the rest must make ready for a struggle -and be undaunted by difficulties. A great writer is a martyr who does -not die; that is all.--There is the stamp of genius on your forehead," -d'Arthez continued, enveloping Lucien by a glance; "but unless you -have within you the will of genius, unless you are gifted with angelic -patience, unless, no matter how far the freaks of Fate have set you -from your destined goal, you can find the way to your Infinite as the -turtles in the Indies find their way to the ocean, you had better give -up at once." - -"Then do you yourself expect these ordeals?" asked Lucien. - -"Trials of every kind, slander and treachery, and effrontery and -cunning, the rivals who act unfairly, and the keen competition of the -literary market," his companion said resignedly. "What is a first -loss, if only your work was good?" - -"Will you look at mine and give me your opinion?" asked Lucien. - -"So be it," said d'Arthez. "I am living in the Rue des Quatre-Vents. -Desplein, one of the most illustrious men of genius in our time, the -greatest surgeon that the world has known, once endured the martyrdom -of early struggles with the first difficulties of a glorious career in -the same house. I think of that every night, and the thought gives me -the stock of courage that I need every morning. I am living in the -very room where, like Rousseau, he had no Theresa. Come in an hour's -time. I shall be in." - -The poets grasped each other's hands with a rush of melancholy and -tender feeling inexpressible in words, and went their separate ways; -Lucien to fetch his manuscript, Daniel d'Arthez to pawn his watch and -buy a couple of faggots. The weather was cold, and his new-found -friend should find a fire in his room. - -Lucien was punctual. He noticed at once that the house was of an even -poorer class than the Hotel de Cluny. A staircase gradually became -visible at the further end of a dark passage; he mounted to the fifth -floor, and found d'Arthez's room. - -A bookcase of dark-stained wood, with rows of labeled cardboard cases -on the shelves, stood between the two crazy windows. A gaunt, painted -wooden bedstead, of the kind seen in school dormitories, a night- -table, picked up cheaply somewhere, and a couple of horsehair -armchairs, filled the further end of the room. The wall-paper, a -Highland plaid pattern, was glazed over with the grime of years. -Between the window and the grate stood a long table littered with -papers, and opposite the fireplace there was a cheap mahogany chest of -drawers. A second-hand carpet covered the floor--a necessary luxury, -for it saved firing. A common office armchair, cushioned with leather, -crimson once, but now hoary with wear, was drawn up to the table. Add -half-a-dozen rickety chairs, and you have a complete list of the -furniture. Lucien noticed an old-fashioned candle-sconce for a card- -table, with an adjustable screen attached, and wondered to see four -wax candles in the sockets. D'Arthez explained that he could not -endure the smell of tallow, a little trait denoting great delicacy of -sense perception, and the exquisite sensibility which accompanies it. - -The reading lasted for seven hours. Daniel listened conscientiously, -forbearing to interrupt by word or comment--one of the rarest proofs -of good taste in a listener. - -"Well?" queried Lucien, laying the manuscript on the chimney-piece. - -"You have made a good start on the right way," d'Arthez answered -judicially, "but you must go over your work again. You must strike out -a different style for yourself if you do not mean to ape Sir Walter -Scott, for you have taken him for your model. You begin, for instance, -as he begins, with long conversations to introduce your characters, -and only when they have said their say does description and action -follow. - -"This opposition, necessary in all work of a dramatic kind, comes -last. Just put the terms of the problem the other way round. Give -descriptions, to which our language lends itself so admirably, instead -of diffuse dialogue, magnificent in Scott's work, but colorless in -your own. Lead naturally up to your dialogue. Plunge straight into the -action. Treat your subject from different points of view, sometimes in -a side-light, sometimes retrospectively; vary your methods, in fact, -to diversify your work. You may be original while adapting the Scots -novelist's form of dramatic dialogue to French history. There is no -passion in Scott's novels; he ignores passion, or perhaps it was -interdicted by the hypocritical manners of his country. Woman for him -is duty incarnate. His heroines, with possibly one or two exceptions, -are all alike; he has drawn them all from the same model, as painters -say. They are, every one of them, descended from Clarissa Harlowe. And -returning continually, as he did, to the same idea of woman, how could -he do otherwise than produce a single type, varied only by degrees of -vividness in the coloring? Woman brings confusion into Society through -passion. Passion gives infinite possibilities. Therefore depict -passion; you have one great resource open to you, foregone by the -great genius for the sake of providing family reading for prudish -England. In France you have the charming sinner, the brightly-colored -life of Catholicism, contrasted with sombre Calvinistic figures on a -background of the times when passions ran higher than at any other -period of our history. - -"Every epoch which has left authentic records since the time of -Charles the Great calls for at least one romance. Some require four or -five; the periods of Louis XIV., of Henry IV., of Francis I., for -instance. You would give us in this way a picturesque history of -France, with the costumes and furniture, the houses and their -interiors, and domestic life, giving us the spirit of the time instead -of a laborious narration of ascertained facts. Then there is further -scope for originality. You can remove some of the popular delusions -which disfigure the memories of most of our kings. Be bold enough in -this first work of yours to rehabilitate the great magnificent figure -of Catherine, whom you have sacrificed to the prejudices which still -cloud her name. And finally, paint Charles IX. for us as he really -was, and not as Protestant writers have made him. Ten years of -persistent work, and fame and fortune will be yours." - -By this time it was nine o'clock; Lucien followed the example set in -secret by his future friend by asking him to dine at Eldon's, and -spent twelve francs at that restaurant. During the dinner Daniel -admitted Lucien into the secret of his hopes and studies. Daniel -d'Arthez would not allow that any writer could attain to a pre-eminent -rank without a profound knowledge of metaphysics. He was engaged in -ransacking the spoils of ancient and modern philosophy, and in the -assimilation of it all; he would be like Moliere, a profound -philosopher first, and a writer of comedies afterwards. He was -studying the world of books and the living world about him--thought -and fact. His friends were learned naturalists, young doctors of -medicine, political writers and artists, a number of earnest students -full of promise. - -D'Arthez earned a living by conscientious and ill-paid work; he wrote -articles for encyclopaedias, dictionaries of biography and natural -science, doing just enough to enable him to live while he followed his -own bent, and neither more nor less. He had a piece of imaginative -work on hand, undertaken solely for the sake of studying the resources -of language, an important psychological study in the form of a novel, -unfinished as yet, for d'Arthez took it up or laid it down as the -humor took him, and kept it for days of great distress. D'Arthez's -revelations of himself were made very simply, but to Lucien he seemed -like an intellectual giant; and by eleven o'clock, when they left the -restaurant, he began to feel a sudden, warm friendship for this -nature, unconscious of its loftiness, this unostentatious worth. - -Lucien took d'Arthez's advice unquestioningly, and followed it out to -the letter. The most magnificent palaces of fancy had been suddenly -flung open to him by a nobly-gifted mind, matured already by thought -and critical examinations undertaken for their own sake, not for -publication, but for the solitary thinker's own satisfaction. The -burning coal had been laid on the lips of the poet of Angouleme, a -word uttered by a hard student in Paris had fallen upon ground -prepared to receive it in the provincial. Lucien set about recasting -his work. - -In his gladness at finding in the wilderness of Paris a nature -abounding in generous and sympathetic feeling, the distinguished -provincial did, as all young creatures hungering for affection are -wont to do; he fastened, like a chronic disease, upon this one friend -that he had found. He called for D'Arthez on his way to the -Bibliotheque, walked with him on fine days in the Luxembourg Gardens, -and went with his friend every evening as far as the door of his -lodging-house after sitting next to him at Flicoteaux's. He pressed -close to his friend's side as a soldier might keep by a comrade on the -frozen Russian plains. - -During those early days of his acquaintance, he noticed, not without -chagrin, that his presence imposed a certain restraint on the circle -of Daniel's intimates. The talk of those superior beings of whom -d'Arthez spoke to him with such concentrated enthusiasm kept within -the bounds of a reserve but little in keeping with the evident warmth -of their friendships. At these times Lucien discreetly took his leave, -a feeling of curiosity mingling with the sense of something like pain -at the ostracism to which he was subjected by these strangers, who all -addressed each other by their Christian names. Each one of them, like -d'Arthez, bore the stamp of genius upon his forehead. - -After some private opposition, overcome by d'Arthez without Lucien's -knowledge, the newcomer was at length judged worthy to make one of the -cenacle of lofty thinkers. Henceforward he was to be one of a little -group of young men who met almost every evening in d'Arthez's room, -united by the keenest sympathies and by the earnestness of their -intellectual life. They all foresaw a great writer in d'Arthez; they -looked upon him as their chief since the loss of one of their number, -a mystical genius, one of the most extraordinary intellects of the -age. This former leader had gone back to his province for reasons on -which it serves no purpose to enter, but Lucien often heard them speak -of this absent friend as "Louis." Several of the group were destined -to fall by the way; but others, like d'Arthez, have since won all the -fame that was their due. A few details as to the circle will readily -explain Lucien's strong feeling of interest and curiosity. - -One among those who still survive was Horace Bianchon, then a house- -student at the Hotel-Dieu; later, a shining light at the Ecole de -Paris, and now so well known that it is needless to give any -description of his appearance, genius, or character. - -Next came Leon Giraud, that profound philosopher and bold theorist, -turning all systems inside out, criticising, expressing, and -formulating, dragging them all to the feet of his idol--Humanity; -great even in his errors, for his honesty ennobled his mistakes. An -intrepid toiler, a conscientious scholar, he became the acknowledged -head of a school of moralists and politicians. Time alone can -pronounce upon the merits of his theories; but if his convictions have -drawn him into paths in which none of his old comrades tread, none the -less he is still their faithful friend. - -Art was represented by Joseph Bridau, one of the best painters among -the younger men. But for a too impressionable nature, which made havoc -of Joseph's heart, he might have continued the traditions of the great -Italian masters, though, for that matter, the last word has not yet -been said concerning him. He combines Roman outline with Venetian -color; but love is fatal to his work, love not merely transfixes his -heart, but sends his arrow through the brain, deranges the course of -his life, and sets the victim describing the strangest zigzags. If the -mistress of the moment is too kind or too cruel, Joseph will send into -the Exhibition sketches where the drawing is clogged with color, or -pictures finished under the stress of some imaginary woe, in which he -gave his whole attention to the drawing, and left the color to take -care of itself. He is a constant disappointment to his friends and the -public; yet Hoffmann would have worshiped him for his daring -experiments in the realms of art. When Bridau is wholly himself he is -admirable, and as praise is sweet to him, his disgust is great when -one praises the failures in which he alone discovers all that is -lacking in the eyes of the public. He is whimsical to the last degree. -His friends have seen him destroy a finished picture because, in his -eyes, it looked too smooth. "It is overdone," he would say; "it is -niggling work." - -With his eccentric, yet lofty nature, with a nervous organization and -all that it entails of torment and delight, the craving for perfection -becomes morbid. Intellectually he is akin to Sterne, though he is not -a literary worker. There is an indescribable piquancy about his -epigrams and sallies of thought. He is eloquent, he knows how to love, -but the uncertainty that appears in his execution is a part of the -very nature of the man. The brotherhood loved him for the very -qualities which the philistine would style defects. - -Last among the living comes Fulgence Ridal. No writer of our times -possesses more of the exuberant spirit of pure comedy than this poet, -careless of fame, who will fling his more commonplace productions to -theatrical managers, and keep the most charming scenes in the seraglio -of his brain for himself and his friends. Of the public he asks just -sufficient to secure his independence, and then declines to do -anything more. Indolent and prolific as Rossini, compelled, like great -poet-comedians, like Moliere and Rabelais, to see both sides of -everything, and all that is to be said both for and against, he is a -sceptic, ready to laugh at all things. Fulgence Ridal is a great -practical philosopher. His worldly wisdom, his genius for observation, -his contempt for fame ("fuss," as he calls it) have not seared a kind -heart. He is as energetic on behalf of another as he is careless where -his own interests are concerned; and if he bestirs himself, it is for -a friend. Living up to his Rabelaisian mask, he is no enemy to good -cheer, though he never goes out of his way to find it; he is -melancholy and gay. His friends dubbed him the "Dog of the Regiment." -You could have no better portrait of the man than his nickname. - -Three more of the band, at least as remarkable as the friends who have -just been sketched in outline, were destined to fall by the way. Of -these, Meyraux was the first. Meyraux died after stirring up the -famous controversy between Cuvier and Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, a great -question which divided the whole scientific world into two opposite -camps, with these two men of equal genius as leaders. This befell some -months before the death of the champion of rigorous analytical science -as opposed to the pantheism of one who is still living to bear an -honored name in Germany. Meyraux was the friend of that "Louis" of -whom death was so soon to rob the intellectual world. - -With these two, both marked by death, and unknown to-day in spite of -their wide knowledge and their genius, stands a third, Michel -Chrestien, the great Republican thinker, who dreamed of European -Federation, and had no small share in bringing about the Saint- -Simonian movement of 1830. A politician of the calibre of Saint-Just -and Danton, but simple, meek as a maid, and brimful of illusions and -loving-kindness; the owner of a singing voice which would have sent -Mozart, or Weber, or Rossini into ecstasies, for his singing of -certain songs of Beranger's could intoxicate the heart in you with -poetry, or hope, or love--Michel Chrestien, poor as Lucien, poor as -Daniel d'Arthez, as all the rest of his friends, gained a living with -the haphazard indifference of a Diogenes. He indexed lengthy works, he -drew up prospectuses for booksellers, and kept his doctrines to -himself, as the grave keeps the secrets of the dead. Yet the gay -bohemian of intellectual life, the great statesman who might have -changed the face of the world, fell as a private soldier in the -cloister of Saint-Merri; some shopkeeper's bullet struck down one of -the noblest creatures that ever trod French soil, and Michel Chrestien -died for other doctrines than his own. His Federation scheme was more -dangerous to the aristocracy of Europe than the Republican propaganda; -it was more feasible and less extravagant than the hideous doctrines -of indefinite liberty proclaimed by the young madcaps who assume the -character of heirs of the Convention. All who knew the noble plebeian -wept for him; there is not one of them but remembers, and often -remembers, a great obscure politician. - -Esteem and friendship kept the peace between the extremes of hostile -opinion and conviction represented in the brotherhood. Daniel d'Arthez -came of a good family in Picardy. His belief in the Monarchy was quite -as strong as Michel Chrestien's faith in European Federation. Fulgence -Ridal scoffed at Leon Giraud's philosophical doctrines, while Giraud -himself prophesied for d'Arthez's benefit the approaching end of -Christianity and the extinction of the institution of the family. -Michel Chrestien, a believer in the religion of Christ, the divine -lawgiver, who taught the equality of men, would defend the immortality -of the soul from Bianchon's scalpel, for Horace Bianchon was before -all things an analyst. - -There was plenty of discussion, but no bickering. Vanity was not -engaged, for the speakers were also the audience. They would talk over -their work among themselves and take counsel of each other with the -delightful openness of youth. If the matter in hand was serious, the -opponent would leave his own position to enter into his friend's point -of view; and being an impartial judge in a matter outside his own -sphere, would prove the better helper; envy, the hideous treasure of -disappointment, abortive talent, failure, and mortified vanity, was -quite unknown among them. All of them, moreover, were going their -separate ways. For these reasons, Lucien and others admitted to their -society felt at their ease in it. Wherever you find real talent, you -will find frank good fellowship and sincerity, and no sort of -pretension, the wit that caresses the intellect and never is aimed at -self-love. - -When the first nervousness, caused by respect, wore off, it was -unspeakably pleasant to make one of this elect company of youth. -Familiarity did not exclude in each a consciousness of his own value, -nor a profound esteem for his neighbor; and finally, as every member -of the circle felt that he could afford to receive or to give, no one -made a difficulty of accepting. Talk was unflagging, full of charm, -and ranging over the most varied topics; words light as arrows sped to -the mark. There was a strange contrast between the dire material -poverty in which the young men lived and the splendor of their -intellectual wealth. They looked upon the practical problems of -existence simply as matter for friendly jokes. The cold weather -happened to set in early that year. Five of d'Arthez's friends -appeared one day, each concealing firewood under his cloak; the same -idea had occurred to the five, as it sometimes happens that all the -guests at a picnic are inspired with the notion of bringing a pie as -their contribution. - -All of them were gifted with the moral beauty which reacts upon the -physical form, and, no less than work and vigils, overlays a youthful -face with a shade of divine gold; purity of life and the fire of -thought had brought refinement and regularity into features somewhat -pinched and rugged. The poet's amplitude of brow was a striking -characteristic common to them all; the bright, sparkling eyes told of -cleanliness of life. The hardships of penury, when they were felt at -all, were born so gaily and embraced with such enthusiasm, that they -had left no trace to mar the serenity peculiar to the faces of the -young who have no grave errors laid to their charge as yet, who have -not stooped to any of the base compromises wrung from impatience of -poverty by the strong desire to succeed. The temptation to use any -means to this end is the greater since that men of letters are lenient -with bad faith and extend an easy indulgence to treachery. - -There is an element in friendship which doubles its charm and renders -it indissoluble--a sense of certainty which is lacking in love. These -young men were sure of themselves and of each other; the enemy of one -was the enemy of all; the most urgent personal considerations would -have been shattered if they had clashed with the sacred solidarity of -their fellowship. All alike incapable of disloyalty, they could oppose -a formidable No to any accusation brought against the absent and -defend them with perfect confidence. With a like nobility of nature -and strength of feeling, it was possible to think and speak freely on -all matters of intellectual or scientific interest; hence the honesty -of their friendships, the gaiety of their talk, and with this -intellectual freedom of the community there was no fear of being -misunderstood; they stood upon no ceremony with each other; they -shared their troubles and joys, and gave thought and sympathy from -full hearts. The charming delicacy of feeling which makes the tale of -Deux Amis a treasury for great souls, was the rule of their daily -life. It may be imagined, therefore, that their standard of -requirements was not an easy one; they were too conscious of their -worth, too well aware of their happiness, to care to trouble their -life with the admixture of a new and unknown element. - -This federation of interests and affection lasted for twenty years -without a collision or disappointment. Death alone could thin the -numbers of the noble Pleiades, taking first Louis Lambert, later -Meyraux and Michel Chrestien. - -When Michel Chrestien fell in 1832 his friends went, in spite of the -perils of the step, to find his body at Saint-Merri; and Horace -Bianchon, Daniel d'Arthez, Leon Giraud, Joseph Bridau, and Fulgence -Ridal performed the last duties to the dead, between two political -fires. By night they buried their beloved in the cemetery of Pere- -Lachaise; Horace Bianchon, undaunted by the difficulties, cleared them -away one after another--it was he indeed who besought the authorities -for permission to bury the fallen insurgent and confessed to his old -friendship with the dead Federalist. The little group of friends -present at the funeral with those five great men will never forget -that touching scene. - -As you walk in the trim cemetery you will see a grave purchased in -perpetuity, a grass-covered mound with a dark wooden cross above it, -and the name in large red letters--MICHEL CHRESTIEN. There is no other -monument like it. The friends thought to pay a tribute to the sternly -simple nature of the man by the simplicity of the record of his death. - -So, in that chilly garret, the fairest dreams of friendship were -realized. These men were brothers leading lives of intellectual -effort, loyally helping each other, making no reservations, not even -of their worst thoughts; men of vast acquirements, natures tried in -the crucible of poverty. Once admitted as an equal among such elect -souls, Lucien represented beauty and poetry. They admired the sonnets -which he read to them; they would ask him for a sonnet as he would ask -Michel Chrestien for a song. And, in the desert of Paris, Lucien found -an oasis in the Rue des Quatre-Vents. - -At the beginning of October, Lucien had spent the last of his money on -a little firewood; he was half-way through the task of recasting his -work, the most strenuous of all toil, and he was penniless. As for -Daniel d'Arthez, burning blocks of spent tan, and facing poverty like -a hero, not a word of complaint came from him; he was as sober as any -elderly spinster, and methodical as a miser. This courage called out -Lucien's courage; he had only newly come into the circle, and shrank -with invincible repugnance from speaking of his straits. One morning -he went out, manuscript in hand, and reached the Rue du Coq; he would -sell The Archer of Charles IX. to Doguereau; but Doguereau was out. -Lucien little knew how indulgent great natures can be to the -weaknesses of others. Every one of the friends had thought of the -peculiar troubles besetting the poetic temperament, of the prostration -which follows upon the struggle, when the soul has been overwrought by -the contemplation of that nature which it is the task of art to -reproduce. And strong as they were to endure their own ills, they felt -keenly for Lucien's distress; they guessed that his stock of money was -failing; and after all the pleasant evenings spent in friendly talk -and deep meditations, after the poetry, the confidences, the bold -flights over the fields of thought or into the far future of the -nations, yet another trait was to prove how little Lucien had -understood these new friends of his. - -"Lucien, dear fellow," said Daniel, "you did not dine at Flicoteaux's -yesterday, and we know why." - -Lucien could not keep back the overflowing tears. - -"You showed a want of confidence in us," said Michel Chrestien; "we -shall chalk that up over the chimney, and when we have scored ten we -will----" - -"We have all of us found a bit of extra work," said Bianchon; "for my -own part, I have been looking after a rich patient for Desplein; -d'Arthez has written an article for the Revue Encyclopedique; -Chrestien thought of going out to sing in the Champs Elysees of an -evening with a pocket-handkerchief and four candles, but he found a -pamphlet to write instead for a man who has a mind to go into -politics, and gave his employer six hundred francs worth of -Machiavelli; Leon Giraud borrowed fifty francs of his publisher, -Joseph sold one or two sketches; and Fulgence's piece was given on -Sunday, and there was a full house." - -"Here are two hundred francs," said Daniel, "and let us say no more -about it." - -"Why, if he is not going to hug us all as if we had done something -extraordinary!" cried Chrestien. - -Lucien, meanwhile, had written to the home circle. His letter was a -masterpiece of sensibility and goodwill, as well as a sharp cry wrung -from him by distress. The answers which he received the next day will -give some idea of the delight that Lucien took in this living -encyclopedia of angelic spirits, each of whom bore the stamp of the -art or science which he followed:-- - - David Sechard to Lucien. - - "My DEAR LUCIEN,--Enclosed herewith is a bill at ninety days, - payable to your order, for two hundred francs. You can draw on M. - Metivier, paper merchant, our Paris correspondent in the Rue - Serpente. My good Lucien, we have absolutely nothing. Eve has - undertaken the charge of the printing-house, and works at her task - with such devotion, patience, and industry, that I bless heaven - for giving me such an angel for a wife. She herself says that it - is impossible to send you the least help. But I think, my friend - now that you are started in so promising a way, with such great - and noble hearts for your companions, that you can hardly fail to - reach the greatness to which you were born, aided as you are by - intelligence almost divine in Daniel d'Arthez and Michel Chrestien - and Leon Giraud, and counseled by Meyraux and Bianchon and Ridal, - whom we have come to know through your dear letter. So I have - drawn this bill without Eve's knowledge, and I will contrive - somehow to meet it when the time comes. Keep on your way, Lucien; - it is rough, but it will be glorious. I can bear anything but the - thought of you sinking into the sloughs of Paris, of which I saw - so much. Have sufficient strength of mind to do as you are doing, - and keep out of scrapes and bad company, wild young fellows and - men of letters of a certain stamp, whom I learned to take at their - just valuation when I lived in Paris. Be a worthy compeer of the - divine spirits whom we have learned to love through you. Your life - will soon meet with its reward. Farewell, dearest brother; you - have sent transports of joy to my heart. I did not expect such - courage of you. - -"DAVID." - - - Eve Sechard to Lucien. - - "DEAR,--your letter made all of us cry. As for the noble hearts to - whom your good angel surely led you, tell them that a mother and a - poor young wife will pray for them night and morning; and if the - most fervent prayers can reach the Throne of God, surely they will - bring blessings upon you all. Their names are engraved upon my - heart. Ah! some day I shall see your friends; I will go to Paris, - if I have to walk the whole way, to thank them for their - friendship for you, for to me the thought has been like balm to - smarting wounds. We are working like day laborers here, dear. This - husband of mine, the unknown great man whom I love more and more - every day, as I discover moment by moment the wealth of his - nature, leaves the printing-house more and more to me. Why, I - guess. Our poverty, yours, and ours, and our mother's, is - heartbreaking to him. Our adored David is a Prometheus gnawed by a - vulture, a haggard, sharp-beaked regret. As for himself, noble - fellow, he scarcely thinks of himself; he is hoping to make a - fortune for US. He spends his whole time in experiments in paper- - making; he begged me to take his place and look after the - business, and gives me as much help as his preoccupation allows. - Alas! I shall be a mother soon. That should have been a crowning - joy; but as things are, it saddens me. Poor mother! she has grown - young again; she has found strength to go back to her tiring - nursing. We should be happy if it were not for these money cares. - Old Father Sechard will not give his son a farthing. David went - over to see if he could borrow a little for you, for we were in - despair over your letter. 'I know Lucien,' David said; 'he will - lose his head and do something rash.'--I gave him a good scolding. - 'My brother disappoint us in any way!' I told him, 'Lucien knows - that I should die of sorrow.'--Mother and I have pawned a few - things; David does not know about it, mother will redeem them as - soon as she has made a little money. In this way we have managed - to put together a hundred francs, which I am sending you by the - coach. If I did not answer your last letter, do not remember it - against me, dear; we were working all night just then. I have been - working like a man. Oh, I had no idea that I was so strong! - - "Mme. de Bargeton is a heartless woman; she has no soul; even if - she cared for you no longer, she owed it to herself to use her - influence for you and to help you when she had torn you from us to - plunge you into that dreadful sea of Paris. Only by the special - blessing of Heaven could you have met with true friends there - among those crowds of men and innumerable interests. She is not - worth a regret. I used to wish that there might be some devoted - woman always with you, a second myself; but now I know that your - friends will take my place, and I am happy. Spread your wings, my - dear great genius, you will be our pride as well as our beloved. - -"EVE." - - - "My darling," the mother wrote, "I can only add my blessing to all - that your sister says, and assure you that you are more in my - thoughts and in my prayers (alas!) than those whom I see daily; - for some hearts, the absent are always in the right, and so it is - with the heart of your mother." - - -So two days after the loan was offered so graciously, Lucien repaid -it. Perhaps life had never seemed so bright to him as at that moment; -but the touch of self-love in his joy did not escape the delicate -sensibility and searching eyes of his friends. - -"Any one might think that you were afraid to owe us anything," -exclaimed Fulgence. - -"Oh! the pleasure that he takes in returning the money is a very -serious symptom to my mind," said Michel Chrestien. "It confirms some -observations of my own. There is a spice of vanity in Lucien." - -"He is a poet," said d'Arthez. - -"But do you grudge me such a very natural feeling?" asked Lucien. - -"We should bear in mind that he did not hide it," said Leon Giraud; -"he is still open with us; but I am afraid that he may come to feel -shy of us." - -"And why?" Lucien asked. - -"We can read your thoughts," answered Joseph Bridau. - -"There is a diabolical spirit in you that will seek to justify courses -which are utterly contrary to our principles. Instead of being a -sophist in theory, you will be a sophist in practice." - -"Ah! I am afraid of that," said d'Arthez. "You will carry on admirable -debates in your own mind, Lucien, and take up a lofty position in -theory, and end by blameworthy actions. You will never be at one with -yourself." - -"What ground have you for these charges?" - -"Thy vanity, dear poet, is so great that it intrudes itself even into -thy friendships!" cried Fulgence. "All vanity of that sort is a -symptom of shocking egoism, and egoism poisons friendship." - -"Oh! dear," said Lucien, "you cannot know how much I love you all." - -"If you loved us as we love you, would you have been in such a hurry -to return the money which we had such pleasure in lending? or have -made so much of it?" - -"We don't lend here; we give," said Joseph Bridau roughly. - -"Don't think us unkind, dear boy," said Michel Chrestien; "we are -looking forward. We are afraid lest some day you may prefer a petty -revenge to the joys of pure friendship. Read Goethe's Tasso, the great -master's greatest work, and you will see how the poet-hero loved -gorgeous stuffs and banquets and triumph and applause. Very well, be -Tasso without his folly. Perhaps the world and its pleasures tempt -you? Stay with us. Carry all the cravings of vanity into the world of -imagination. Transpose folly. Keep virtue for daily wear, and let -imagination run riot, instead of doing, as d'Arthez says, thinking -high thoughts and living beneath them." - -Lucien hung his head. His friends were right. - -"I confess that you are stronger than I," he said, with a charming -glance at them. "My back and shoulders are not made to bear the burden -of Paris life; I cannot struggle bravely. We are born with different -temperaments and faculties, and you know better than I that faults and -virtues have their reverse side. I am tired already, I confess." - -"We will stand by you," said d'Arthez; "it is just in these ways that -a faithful friendship is of use." - -"The help that I have just received is precarious, and every one of us -is just as poor as another; want will soon overtake me again. -Chrestien, at the service of the first that hires him, can do nothing -with the publishers; Bianchon is quite out of it; d'Arthez's -booksellers only deal in scientific and technical books--they have no -connection with publishers of new literature; and as for Horace and -Fulgence Ridal and Bridau, their work lies miles away from the -booksellers. There is no help for it; I must make up my mind one way -or another." - -"Stick by us, and make up your mind to it," said Bianchon. "Bear up -bravely, and trust in hard work." - -"But what is hardship for you is death for me," Lucien put in quickly. - -"Before the cock crows thrice," smiled Leon Giraud, "this man will -betray the cause of work for an idle life and the vices of Paris." - -"Where has work brought you?" asked Lucien, laughing. - -"When you start out from Paris for Italy, you don't find Rome half- -way," said Joseph Bridau. "You want your pease to grow ready buttered -for you." - -The conversation ended in a joke, and they changed the subject. -Lucien's friends, with their perspicacity and delicacy of heart, tried -to efface the memory of the little quarrel; but Lucien knew -thenceforward that it was no easy matter to deceive them. He soon fell -into despair, which he was careful to hide from such stern mentors as -he imagined them to be; and the Southern temper that runs so easily -through the whole gamut of mental dispositions, set him making the -most contradictory resolutions. - -Again and again he talked of making the plunge into journalism; and -time after time did his friends reply with a "Mind you do nothing of -the sort!" - -"It would be the tomb of the beautiful, gracious Lucien whom we love -and know," said d'Arthez. - -"You would not hold out for long between the two extremes of toil and -pleasure which make up a journalist's life, and resistance is the very -foundation of virtue. You would be so delighted to exercise your power -of life and death over the offspring of the brain, that you would be -an out-and-out journalist in two months' time. To be a journalist-- -that is to turn Herod in the republic of letters. The man who will say -anything will end by sticking at nothing. That was Napoleon's maxim, -and it explains itself." - -"But you would be with me, would you not?" asked Lucien. - -"Not by that time," said Fulgence. "If you were a journalist, you -would no more think of us than the Opera girl in all her glory, with -her adorers and her silk-lined carriage, thinks of the village at home -and her cows and her sabots. You could never resist the temptation to -pen a witticism, though it should bring tears to a friend's eyes. I -come across journalists in theatre lobbies; it makes me shudder to see -them. Journalism is an inferno, a bottomless pit of iniquity and -treachery and lies; no one can traverse it undefiled, unless, like -Dante, he is protected by Virgil's sacred laurel." - -But the more the set of friends opposed the idea of journalism, the -more Lucien's desire to know its perils grew and tempted him. He began -to debate within his own mind; was it not ridiculous to allow want to -find him a second time defenceless? He bethought him of the failure of -his attempts to dispose of his first novel, and felt but little -tempted to begin a second. How, besides, was he to live while he was -writing another romance? One month of privation had exhausted his -stock of patience. Why should he not do nobly that which journalists -did ignobly and without principle? His friends insulted him with their -doubts; he would convince them of his strength of mind. Some day, -perhaps, he would be of use to them; he would be the herald of their -fame! - -"And what sort of a friendship is it which recoils from complicity?" -demanded he one evening of Michel Chrestien; Lucien and Leon Giraud -were walking home with their friend. - -"We shrink from nothing," Michel Chrestien made reply. "If you were so -unlucky as to kill your mistress, I would help you to hide your crime, -and could still respect you; but if you were to turn spy, I should -shun you with abhorrence, for a spy is systematically shameless and -base. There you have journalism summed up in a sentence. Friendship -can pardon error and the hasty impulse of passion; it is bound to be -inexorable when a man deliberately traffics in his own soul, and -intellect, and opinions." - -"Why cannot I turn journalist to sell my volume of poetry and the -novel, and then give up at once?" - -"Machiavelli might do so, but not Lucien de Rubempre," said Leon -Giraud. - -"Very well," exclaimed Lucien; "I will show you that I can do as much -as Machiavelli." - -"Oh!" cried Michel, grasping Leon's hand, "you have done it, Leon.-- -Lucien," he continued, "you have three hundred francs in hand; you can -live comfortably for three months; very well, then, work hard and -write another romance. D'Arthez and Fulgence will help you with the -plot; you will improve, you will be a novelist. And I, meanwhile, will -enter one of those lupanars of thought; for three months I will be a -journalist. I will sell your books to some bookseller or other by -attacking his publications; I will write the articles myself; I will -get others for you. We will organize a success; you shall be a great -man, and still remain our Lucien." - -"You must despise me very much, if you think that I should perish -while you escape," said the poet. - -"O Lord, forgive him; it is a child!" cried Michel Chrestien. - - - -When Lucien's intellect had been stimulated by the evenings spent in -d'Arthez's garret, he had made some study of the jokes and articles in -the smaller newspapers. He was at least the equal, he felt, of the -wittiest contributors; in private he tried some mental gymnastics of -the kind, and went out one morning with the triumphant idea of finding -some colonel of such light skirmishers of the press and enlisting in -their ranks. He dressed in his best and crossed the bridges, thinking -as he went that authors, journalists, and men of letters, his future -comrades, in short, would show him rather more kindness and -disinterestedness than the two species of booksellers who had so -dashed his hopes. He should meet with fellow-feeling, and something of -the kindly and grateful affection which he found in the cenacle of the -Rue des Quatre-Vents. Tormented by emotion, consequent upon the -presentiments to which men of imagination cling so fondly, half -believing, half battling with their belief in them, he arrived in the -Rue Saint-Fiacre off the Boulevard Montmartre. Before a house, -occupied by the offices of a small newspaper, he stopped, and at the -sight of it his heart began to throb as heavily as the pulses of a -youth upon the threshold of some evil haunt. - -Nevertheless, upstairs he went, and found the offices in the low -entresol between the ground floor and the first story. The first room -was divided down the middle by a partition, the lower half of solid -wood, the upper lattice work to the ceiling. In this apartment Lucien -discovered a one-armed pensioner supporting several reams of paper on -his head with his remaining hand, while between his teeth he held the -passbook which the Inland Revenue Department requires every newspaper -to produce with each issue. This ill-favored individual, owner of a -yellow countenance covered with red excrescences, to which he owed his -nickname of "Coloquinte," indicated a personage behind the lattice as -the Cerberus of the paper. This was an elderly officer with a medal on -his chest and a silk skull-cap on his head; his nose was almost hidden -by a pair of grizzled moustaches, and his person was hidden as -completely in an ample blue overcoat as the body of the turtle in its -carapace. - -"From what date do you wish your subscription to commence, sir?" -inquired the Emperor's officer. - -"I did not come about a subscription," returned Lucien. Looking about -him, he saw a placard fastened on a door, corresponding to the one by -which he had entered, and read the words--EDITOR'S OFFICE, and below, -in smaller letters, No admittance except on business. - -"A complaint, I expect?" replied the veteran. "Ah! yes; we have been -hard on Mariette. What would you have? I don't know the why and -wherefore of it yet.--But if you want satisfaction, I am ready for -you," he added, glancing at a collection of small arms and foils -stacked in a corner, the armory of the modern warrior. - -"That was still further from my intention, sir. I have come to speak -to the editor." - -"Nobody is ever here before four o'clock." - -"Look you here, Giroudeau, old chap," remarked a voice, "I make it -eleven columns; eleven columns at five francs apiece is fifty-five -francs, and I have only been paid forty; so you owe me another fifteen -francs, as I have been telling you." - -These words proceeded from a little weasel-face, pallid and semi- -transparent as the half-boiled white of an egg; two slits of eyes -looked out of it, mild blue in tint, but appallingly malignant in -expression; and the owner, an insignificant young man, was completely -hidden by the veteran's opaque person. It was a blood-curdling voice, -a sound between the mewing of a cat and the wheezy chokings of a -hyena. - -"Yes, yes, my little militiaman," retorted he of the medal, "but you -are counting the headings and white lines. I have Finot's instructions -to add up the totals of the lines, and to divide them by the proper -number for each column; and after I performed that concentrating -operation on your copy, there were three columns less." - -"He doesn't pay for the blanks, the Jew! He reckons them in though -when he sends up the total of his work to his partner, and he gets -paid for them too. I will go and see Etienne Lousteau, Vernou----" - -"I cannot go beyond my orders, my boy," said the veteran. "What! do -you cry out against your foster-mother for a matter of fifteen francs? -you that turn out an article as easily as I smoke a cigar. Fifteen -francs! why, you will give a bowl of punch to your friends, or win an -extra game of billiards, and there's an end of it!" - -"Finot's savings will cost him very dear," said the contributor as he -took his departure. - -"Now, would not anybody think that he was Rousseau and Voltaire rolled -in one?" the cashier remarked to himself as he glanced at Lucien. - -"I will come in again at four, sir," said Lucien. - -While the argument proceeded, Lucien had been looking about him. He -saw upon the walls the portraits of Benjamin Constant, General Foy, -and the seventeen illustrious orators of the Left, interspersed with -caricatures at the expense of the Government; but he looked more -particularly at the door of the sanctuary where, no doubt, the paper -was elaborated, the witty paper that amused him daily, and enjoyed the -privilege of ridiculing kings and the most portentous events, of -calling anything and everything in question with a jest. Then he -sauntered along the boulevards. It was an entirely novel amusement; -and so agreeable did he find it, that, looking at the turret clocks, -he saw the hour hands were pointing to four, and only then remembered -that he had not breakfasted. - -He went at once in the direction of the Rue Saint-Fiacre, climbed the -stair, and opened the door. - -The veteran officer was absent; but the old pensioner, sitting on a -pile of stamped papers, was munching a crust and acting as sentinel -resignedly. Coloquinte was as much accustomed to his work in the -office as to the fatigue duty of former days, understanding as much or -as little about it as the why and wherefore of forced marches made by -the Emperor's orders. Lucien was inspired with the bold idea of -deceiving that formidable functionary. He settled his hat on his head, -and walked into the editor's office as if he were quite at home. - -Looking eagerly about him, he beheld a round table covered with a -green cloth, and half-a-dozen cherry-wood chairs, newly reseated with -straw. The colored brick floor had not been waxed, but it was clean; -so clean that the public, evidently, seldom entered the room. There -was a mirror above the chimney-piece, and on the ledge below, amid a -sprinkling of visiting-cards, stood a shopkeeper's clock, smothered -with dust, and a couple of candlesticks with tallow dips thrust into -their sockets. A few antique newspapers lay on the table beside an -inkstand containing some black lacquer-like substance, and a -collection of quill pens twisted into stars. Sundry dirty scraps of -paper, covered with almost undecipherable hieroglyphs, proved to be -manuscript articles torn across the top by the compositor to check off -the sheets as they were set up. He admired a few rather clever -caricatures, sketched on bits of brown paper by somebody who evidently -had tried to kill time by killing something else to keep his hand in. - -Other works of art were pinned in the cheap sea-green wall-paper. -These consisted of nine pen-and-ink illustrations for Le Solitaire. -The work had attained to such an unheard-of European popularity, that -journalists evidently were tired of it.--"The Solitary makes his first -appearance in the provinces; sensation among the women.--The Solitary -perused at a chateau.--Effect of the Solitary on domestic animals.-- -The Solitary explained to savage tribes, with the most brilliant -results.--The Solitary translated into Chinese and presented by the -author to the Emperor at Pekin.--The Mont Sauvage, Rape of Elodie."-- -(Lucien though this caricature very shocking, but he could not help -laughing at it.)--"The Solitary under a canopy conducted in triumphal -procession by the newspapers.--The Solitary breaks the press to -splinters, and wounds the printers.--Read backwards, the superior -beauties of the Solitary produce a sensation at the Academie."--On a -newspaper-wrapper Lucien noticed a sketch of a contributor holding out -his hat, and beneath it the words, "Finot! my hundred francs," and a -name, since grown more notorious than famous. - -Between the window and the chimney-piece stood a writing-table, a -mahogany armchair, and a waste-paper basket on a strip of hearth-rug; -the dust lay thick on all these objects. There were short curtains in -the windows. About a score of new books lay on the writing-table, -deposited there apparently during the day, together with prints, -music, snuff-boxes of the "Charter" pattern, a copy of the ninth -edition of Le Solitaire (the great joke of the moment), and some ten -unopened letters. - -Lucien had taken stock of this strange furniture, and made reflections -of the most exhaustive kind upon it, when, the clock striking five, he -returned to question the pensioner. Coloquinte had finished his crust, -and was waiting with the patience of a commissionaire, for the man of -medals, who perhaps was taking an airing on the boulevard. - -At this conjuncture the rustle of a dress sounded on the stair, and -the light unmistakable footstep of a woman on the threshold. The -newcomer was passably pretty. She addressed herself to Lucien. - -"Sir," she said, "I know why you cry up Mlle. Virginie's hats so much; -and I have come to put down my name for a year's subscription in the -first place; but tell me your conditions----" - -"I am not connected with the paper, madame." - -"Oh!" - -"A subscription dating from October?" inquired the pensioner. - -"What does the lady want to know?" asked the veteran, reappearing on -the scene. - -The fair milliner and the retired military man were soon deep in -converse; and when Lucien, beginning to lose patience, came back to -the first room, he heard the conclusion of the matter. - -"Why, I shall be delighted, quite delighted, sir. Mlle. Florentine can -come to my shop and choose anything she likes. Ribbons are in my -department. So it is all quite settled. You will say no more about -Virginie, a botcher that cannot design a new shape, while I have ideas -of my own, I have." - -Lucien heard a sound as of coins dropping into a cashbox, and the -veteran began to make up his books for the day. - -"I have been waiting here for an hour, sir," Lucien began, looking not -a little annoyed. - -"And 'they' have not come yet!" exclaimed Napoleon's veteran, civilly -feigning concern. "I am not surprised at that. It is some time since I -have seen 'them' here. It is the middle of the month, you see. Those -fine fellows only turn up on pay days--the 29th or the 30th." - -"And M. Finot?" asked Lucien, having caught the editor's name. - -"He is in the Rue Feydeau, that's where he lives. Coloquinte, old -chap, just take him everything that has come in to-day when you go -with the paper to the printers." - -"Where is the newspaper put together?" Lucien said to himself. - -"The newspaper?" repeated the officer, as he received the rest of the -stamp money from Coloquinte, "the newspaper?--broum! broum!--(Mind you -are round at the printers' by six o'clock to-morrow, old chap, to send -off the porters.)--The newspaper, sir, is written in the street, at -the writers' houses, in the printing-office between eleven and twelve -o'clock at night. In the Emperor's time, sir, these shops for spoiled -paper were not known. Oh! he would have cleared them out with four men -and a corporal; they would not have come over HIM with their talk. But -that is enough of prattling. If my nephew finds it worth his while, -and so long as they write for the son of the Other (broum! broum!)---- -after all, there is no harm in that. Ah! by the way, subscribers don't -seem to me to be advancing in serried columns; I shall leave my post." - -"You seem to know all about the newspaper, sir," Lucien began. - -"From a business point of view, broum! broum!" coughed the soldier, -clearing his throat. "From three to five francs per column, according -to ability.--Fifty lines to a column, forty letters to a line; no -blanks; there you are! As for the staff, they are queer fish, little -youngsters whom I wouldn't take on for the commissariat; and because -they make fly tracks on sheets of white paper, they look down, -forsooth, on an old Captain of Dragoons of the Guard, that retired -with a major's rank after entering every European capital with -Napoleon." - -The soldier of Napoleon brushed his coat, and made as if he would go -out, but Lucien, swept to the door, had courage enough to make a -stand. - -"I came to be a contributor of the paper," he said. "I am full of -respect, I vow and declare, for a captain of the Imperial Guard, those -men of bronze----" - -"Well said, my little civilian, there are several kinds of -contributors; which kind do you wish to be?" replied the trooper, -bearing down on Lucien, and descending the stairs. At the foot of the -flight he stopped, but it was only to light a cigar at the porter's -box. - -"If any subscribers come, you see them and take note of them, Mother -Chollet.--Simply subscribers, never know anything but subscribers," he -added, seeing that Lucien followed him. "Finot is my nephew; he is the -only one of my family that has done anything to relieve me in my -position. So when anybody comes to pick a quarrel with Finot, he finds -old Giroudeau, Captain of the Dragoons of the Guard, that set out as a -private in a cavalry regiment in the army of the Sambre-et-Meuse, and -was fencing-master for five years to the First Hussars, army of Italy! -One, two, and the man that had any complaints to make would be turned -off into the dark," he added, making a lunge. "Now writers, my boy, -are in different corps; there is the writer who writes and draws his -pay; there is the writer who writes and gets nothing (a volunteer we -call him); and, lastly, there is the writer who writes nothing, and he -is by no means the stupidest, for he makes no mistakes; he gives -himself out for a literary man, he is on the paper, he treats us to -dinners, he loafs about the theatres, he keeps an actress, he is very -well off. What do you mean to be?" - -"The man that does good work and gets good pay." - -"You are like the recruits. They all want to be marshals of France. -Take old Giroudeau's word for it, and turn right about, in double- -quick time, and go and pick up nails in the gutter like that good -fellow yonder; you can tell by the look of him that he has been in the -army.--Isn't it a shame that an old soldier who has walked into the -jaws of death hundreds of times should be picking up old iron in the -streets of Paris? Ah! God A'mighty! 'twas a shabby trick to desert the -Emperor.--Well, my boy, the individual you saw this morning has made -his forty francs a month. Are you going to do better? And, according -to Finot, he is the cleverest man on the staff." - -"When you enlisted in the Sambre-et-Meuse, did they talk about -danger?" - -"Rather." - -"Very well?" - -"Very well. Go and see my nephew Finot, a good fellow, as good a -fellow as you will find, if you can find him, that is, for he is like -a fish, always on the move. In his way of business, there is no -writing, you see, it is setting others to write. That sort like -gallivanting about with actresses better than scribbling on sheets of -paper, it seems. Oh! they are queer customers, they are. Hope I may -have the honor of seeing you again." - -With that the cashier raised his formidable loaded cane, one of the -defenders of Germainicus, and walked off, leaving Lucien in the -street, as much bewildered by this picture of the newspaper world as -he had formerly been by the practical aspects of literature at Messrs. -Vidal and Porchon's establishment. - -Ten several times did Lucien repair to the Rue Feydeau in search of -Andoche Finot, and ten times he failed to find that gentleman. He went -first thing in the morning; Finot had not come in. At noon, Finot had -gone out; he was breakfasting at such and such a cafe. At the cafe, in -answer to inquiries of the waitress, made after surmounting -unspeakable repugnance, Lucien heard that Finot had just left the -place. Lucien, at length tired out, began to regard Finot as a -mythical and fabulous character; it appeared simpler to waylay Etienne -Lousteau at Flicoteaux's. That youthful journalist would, doubtless, -explain the mysteries that enveloped the paper for which he wrote. - -Since the day, a hundred times blessed, when Lucien made the -acquaintance of Daniel d'Arthez, he had taken another seat at -Flicoteaux's. The two friends dined side by side, talking in lowered -voices of the higher literature, of suggested subjects, and ways of -presenting, opening up, and developing them. At the present time -Daniel d'Arthez was correcting the manuscript of The Archer of Charles -IX. He reconstructed whole chapters, and wrote the fine passages found -therein, as well as the magnificent preface, which is, perhaps, the -best thing in the book, and throws so much light on the work of the -young school of literature. One day it so happened that Daniel had -been waiting for Lucien, who now sat with his friend's hand in his -own, when he saw Etienne Lousteau turn the door-handle. Lucien -instantly dropped Daniel's hand, and told the waiter that he would -dine at his old place by the counter. D'Arthez gave Lucien a glance of -divine kindness, in which reproach was wrapped in forgiveness. The -glance cut the poet to the quick; he took Daniel's hand and grasped it -anew. - -"It is an important question of business for me; I will tell you about -it afterwards," said he. - -Lucien was in his old place by the time that Lousteau reached the -table; as the first comer, he greeted his acquaintance; they soon -struck up a conversation, which grew so lively that Lucien went off in -search of the manuscript of the Marguerites, while Lousteau finished -his dinner. He had obtained leave to lay his sonnets before the -journalist, and mistook the civility of the latter for willingness to -find him a publisher, or a place on the paper. When Lucien came -hurrying back again, he saw d'Arthez resting an elbow on the table in -a corner of the restaurant, and knew that his friend was watching him -with melancholy eyes, but he would not see d'Arthez just then; he felt -the sharp pangs of poverty, the goadings of ambition, and followed -Lousteau. - -In the late afternoon the journalist and the neophyte went to the -Luxembourg, and sat down under the trees in that part of the gardens -which lies between the broad Avenue de l'Observatoire and the Rue de -l'Ouest. The Rue de l'Ouest at that time was a long morass, bounded by -planks and market-gardens; the houses were all at the end nearest the -Rue de Vaugirard; and the walk through the gardens was so little -frequented, that at the hour when Paris dines, two lovers might fall -out and exchange the earnest of reconciliation without fear of -intruders. The only possible spoil-sport was the pensioner on duty at -the little iron gate on the Rue de l'Ouest, if that gray-headed -veteran should take it into his head to lengthen his monotonous beat. -There, on a bench beneath the lime-trees, Etienne Lousteau sat and -listened to sample-sonnets from the Marguerites. - -Etienne Lousteau, after a two-years' apprenticeship, was on the staff -of a newspaper; he had his foot in the stirrup; he reckoned some of -the celebrities of the day among his friends; altogether, he was an -imposing personage in Lucien's eyes. Wherefore, while Lucien untied -the string about the Marguerites, he judged it necessary to make some -sort of preface. - -"The sonnet, monsieur," said he, "is one of the most difficult forms -of poetry. It has fallen almost entirely into disuse. No Frenchman can -hope to rival Petrarch; for the language in which the Italian wrote, -being so infinitely more pliant than French, lends itself to play of -thought which our positivism (pardon the use of the expression) -rejects. So it seemed to me that a volume of sonnets would be -something quite new. Victor Hugo has appropriated the old, Canalis -writes lighter verse, Beranger has monopolized songs, Casimir -Delavigne has taken tragedy, and Lamartine the poetry of meditation." - -"Are you a 'Classic' or a 'Romantic'?" inquired Lousteau. - -Lucien's astonishment betrayed such complete ignorance of the state of -affairs in the republic of letters, that Lousteau thought it necessary -to enlighten him. - -"You have come up in the middle of a pitched battle, my dear fellow; -you must make your decision at once. Literature is divided, in the -first place, into several zones, but our great men are ranged in two -hostile camps. The Royalists are 'Romantics,' the Liberals are -'Classics.' The divergence of taste in matters literary and divergence -of political opinion coincide; and the result is a war with weapons of -every sort, double-edged witticisms, subtle calumnies and nicknames a -outrance, between the rising and the waning glory, and ink is shed in -torrents. The odd part of it is that the Royalist-Romantics are all -for liberty in literature, and for repealing laws and conventions; -while the Liberal-Classics are for maintaining the unities, the -Alexandrine, and the classical theme. So opinions in politics on -either side are directly at variance with literary taste. If you are -eclectic, you will have no one for you. Which side do you take?" - -"Which is the winning side?" - -"The Liberal newspapers have far more subscribers than the Royalist -and Ministerial journals; still, though Canalis is for Church and -King, and patronized by the Court and the clergy, he reaches other -readers.--Pshaw! sonnets date back to an epoch before Boileau's time," -said Etienne, seeing Lucien's dismay at the prospect of choosing -between two banners. "Be a Romantic. The Romantics are young men, and -the Classics are pedants; the Romantics will gain the day." - -The word "pedant" was the latest epithet taken up by Romantic -journalism to heap confusion on the Classical faction. - -Lucien began to read, choosing first of all the title-sonnets. - - - EASTER DAISIES. - - The daisies in the meadows, not in vain, - In red and white and gold before our eyes, - Have written an idyll for man's sympathies, - And set his heart's desire in language plain. - - Gold stamens set in silver filigrane - Reveal the treasures which we idolize; - And all the cost of struggle for the prize - Is symboled by a secret blood-red stain. - - Was it because your petals once uncurled - When Jesus rose upon a fairer world, - And from wings shaken for a heav'nward flight - Shed grace, that still as autumn reappears - You bloom again to tell of dead delight, - To bring us back the flower of twenty years? - -Lucien felt piqued by Lousteau's complete indifference during the -reading of the sonnet; he was unfamiliar as yet with the disconcerting -impassibility of the professional critic, wearied by much reading of -poetry, prose, and plays. Lucien was accustomed to applause. He choked -down his disappointment and read another, a favorite with Mme. de -Bargeton and with some of his friends in the Rue des Quatre-Vents. - -"This one, perhaps, will draw a word from him," he thought. - - - THE MARGUERITE. - - I am the Marguerite, fair and tall I grew - In velvet meadows, 'mid the flowers a star. - They sought me for my beauty near and far; - My dawn, I thought, should be for ever new. - But now an all unwished-for gift I rue, - A fatal ray of knowledge shed to mar - My radiant star-crown grown oracular, - For I must speak and give an answer true. - An end of silence and of quiet days, - The Lover with two words my counsel prays; - And when my secret from my heart is reft, - When all my silver petals scattered lie, - I am the only flower neglected left, - Cast down and trodden under foot to die. - -At the end, the poet looked up at his Aristarchus. Etienne Lousteau -was gazing at the trees in the Pepiniere. - -"Well?" asked Lucien. - -"Well, my dear fellow, go on! I am listening to you, am I not? That -fact in itself is as good as praise in Paris." - -"Have you had enough?" Lucien asked. - -"Go on," the other answered abruptly enough. - -Lucien proceeded to read the following sonnet, but his heart was dead -within him; Lousteau's inscrutable composure froze his utterance. If -he had come a little further upon the road, he would have known that -between writer and writer silence or abrupt speech, under such -circumstances, is a betrayal of jealousy, and outspoken admiration -means a sense of relief over the discovery that the work is not above -the average after all. - - - THE CAMELLIA. - - In Nature's book, if rightly understood, - The rose means love, and red for beauty glows; - A pure, sweet spirit in the violet blows, - And bright the lily gleams in lowlihood. - - But this strange bloom, by sun and wind unwooed, - Seems to expand and blossom 'mid the snows, - A lily sceptreless, a scentless rose, - For dainty listlessness of maidenhood. - - Yet at the opera house the petals trace - For modesty a fitting aureole; - An alabaster wreath to lay, methought, - In dusky hair o'er some fair woman's face - Which kindles ev'n such love within the soul - As sculptured marble forms by Phidias wrought. - -"What do you think of my poor sonnets?" Lucien asked, coming straight -to the point. - -"Do you want the truth?" - -"I am young enough to like the truth, and so anxious to succeed that I -can hear it without taking offence, but not without despair," replied -Lucien. - -"Well, my dear fellow, the first sonnet, from its involved style, was -evidently written at Angouleme; it gave you so much trouble, no doubt, -that you cannot give it up. The second and third smack of Paris -already; but read us one more sonnet," he added, with a gesture that -seemed charming to the provincial. - -Encouraged by the request, Lucien read with more confidence, choosing -a sonnet which d'Arthez and Bridau liked best, perhaps on account of -its color. - - - THE TULIP. - - I am the Tulip from Batavia's shore; - The thrifty Fleming for my beauty rare - Pays a king's ransom, when that I am fair, - And tall, and straight, and pure my petal's core. - - And, like some Yolande of the days of yore, - My long and amply folded skirts I wear, - O'er-painted with the blazon that I bear - --Gules, a fess azure; purpure, fretty, or. - - The fingers of the Gardener divine - Have woven for me my vesture fair and fine, - Of threads of sunlight and of purple stain; - No flower so glorious in the garden bed, - But Nature, woe is me, no fragrance shed - Within my cup of Orient porcelain. - -"Well?" asked Lucien after a pause, immeasurably long, as it seemed to -him. - -"My dear fellow," Etienne said, gravely surveying the tips of Lucien's -boots (he had brought the pair from Angouleme, and was wearing them -out). "My dear fellow, I strongly recommend you to put your ink on -your boots to save blacking, and to take your pens for toothpicks, so -that when you come away from Flicoteaux's you can swagger along this -picturesque alley looking as if you had dined. Get a situation of any -sort or description. Run errands for a bailiff if you have the heart, -be a shopman if your back is strong enough, enlist if you happen to -have a taste for military music. You have the stuff of three poets in -you; but before you can reach your public, you will have time to die -of starvation six times over, if you intend to live on the proceeds of -your poetry, that is. And from your too unsophisticated discourse, it -would seem to be your intention to coin money out of your inkstand. - -"I say nothing as to your verses; they are a good deal better than all -the poetical wares that are cumbering the ground in booksellers' -backshops just now. Elegant 'nightingales' of that sort cost a little -more than the others, because they are printed on hand-made paper, but -they nearly all of them come down at last to the banks of the Seine. -You may study their range of notes there any day if you care to make -an instructive pilgrimage along the Quais from old Jerome's stall by -the Pont Notre Dame to the Pont Royal. You will find them all there-- -all the Essays in Verse, the Inspirations, the lofty flights, the -hymns, and songs, and ballads, and odes; all the nestfuls hatched -during the last seven years, in fact. There lie their muses, thick -with dust, bespattered by every passing cab, at the mercy of every -profane hand that turns them over to look at the vignette on the -title-page. - -"You know nobody; you have access to no newspaper, so your Marguerites -will remain demurely folded as you hold them now. They will never open -out to the sun of publicity in fair fields with broad margins enameled -with the florets which Dauriat the illustrious, the king of the Wooden -Galleries, scatters with a lavish hand for poets known to fame. I came -to Paris as you came, poor boy, with a plentiful stock of illusions, -impelled by irrepressible longings for glory--and I found the -realities of the craft, the practical difficulties of the trade, the -hard facts of poverty. In my enthusiasm (it is kept well under control -now), my first ebullition of youthful spirits, I did not see the -social machinery at work; so I had to learn to see it by bumping -against the wheels and bruising myself against the shafts, and chains. -Now you are about to learn, as I learned, that between you and all -these fair dreamed-of things lies the strife of men, and passions, and -necessities. - -"Willy-nilly, you must take part in a terrible battle; book against -book, man against man, party against party; make war you must, and -that systematically, or you will be abandoned by your own party. And -they are mean contests; struggles which leave you disenchanted, and -wearied, and depraved, and all in pure waste; for it often happens -that you put forth all your strength to win laurels for a man whom you -despise, and maintain, in spite of yourself, that some second-rate -writer is a genius. - -"There is a world behind the scenes in the theatre of literature. The -public in front sees unexpected or well-deserved success, and -applauds; the public does NOT see the preparations, ugly as they -always are, the painted supers, the claqueurs hired to applaud, the -stage carpenters, and all that lies behind the scenes. You are still -among the audience. Abdicate, there is still time, before you set your -foot on the lowest step of the throne for which so many ambitious -spirits are contending, and do not sell your honor, as I do, for a -livelihood." Etienne's eyes filled with tears as he spoke. - -"Do you know how I make a living?" he continued passionately. "The -little stock of money they gave me at home was soon eaten up. A piece -of mine was accepted at the Theatre-Francais just as I came to an end -of it. At the Theatre-Francais the influence of a first gentleman of -the bedchamber, or of a prince of the blood, would not be enough to -secure a turn of favor; the actors only make concessions to those who -threaten their self-love. If it is in your power to spread a report -that the jeune premier has the asthma, the leading lady a fistula -where you please, and the soubrette has foul breath, then your piece -would be played to-morrow. I do not know whether in two years' time, I -who speak to you now, shall be in a position to exercise such power. -You need so many to back you. And where and how am I to gain my bread -meanwhile? - -"I tried lots of things; I wrote a novel, anonymously; old Doguereau -gave me two hundred francs for it, and he did not make very much out -of it himself. Then it grew plain to me that journalism alone could -give me a living. The next thing was to find my way into those shops. -I will not tell you all the advances I made, nor how often I begged in -vain. I will say nothing of the six months I spent as extra hand on a -paper, and was told that I scared subscribers away, when as a fact I -attracted them. Pass over the insults I put up with. At this moment I -am doing the plays at the Boulevard theatres, almost gratis, for a -paper belonging to Finot, that stout young fellow who breakfasts two -or three times a month, even now, at the Cafe Voltaire (but you don't -go there). I live by selling tickets that managers give me to bribe a -good word in the paper, and reviewers' copies of books. In short, -Finot once satisfied, I am allowed to write for and against various -commercial articles, and I traffic in tribute paid in kind by various -tradesmen. A facetious notice of a Carminative Toilet Lotion, Pate des -Sultanes, Cephalic Oil, or Brazilian Mixture brings me in twenty or -thirty francs. - -"I am obliged to dun the publishers when they don't send in a -sufficient number of reviewers' copies; Finot, as editor, appropriates -two and sells them, and I must have two to sell. If a book of capital -importance comes out, and the publisher is stingy with copies, his -life is made a burden to him. The craft is vile, but I live by it, and -so do scores of others. Do not imagine that things are any better in -public life. There is corruption everywhere in both regions; every man -is corrupt or corrupts others. If there is any publishing enterprise -somewhat larger than usual afoot, the trade will pay me something to -buy neutrality. The amount of my income varies, therefore, directly -with the prospectuses. When prospectuses break out like a rash, money -pours into my pockets; I stand treat all round. When trade is dull, I -dine at Flicoteaux's. - -"Actresses will pay you likewise for praise, but the wiser among them -pay for criticism. To be passed over in silence is what they dread the -most; and the very best thing of all, from their point of view, is -criticism which draws down a reply; it is far more effectual than bald -praise, forgotten as soon as read, and it costs more in consequence. -Celebrity, my dear fellow, is based upon controversy. I am a hired -bravo; I ply my trade among ideas and reputations, commercial, -literary, and dramatic; I make some fifty crowns a month; I can sell a -novel for five hundred francs; and I am beginning to be looked upon as -a man to be feared. Some day, instead of living with Florine at the -expense of a druggist who gives himself the airs of a lord, I shall be -in a house of my own; I shall be on the staff of a leading newspaper, -I shall have a feuilleton; and on that day, my dear fellow, Florine -will become a great actress. As for me, I am not sure what I shall be -when that time comes, a minister or an honest man--all things are -still possible." - -He raised his humiliated head, and looked out at the green leaves, -with an expression of despairing self-condemnation dreadful to see. - -"And I had a great tragedy accepted!" he went on. "And among my papers -there is a poem, which will die. And I was a good fellow, and my heart -was clean! I used to dream lofty dreams of love for great ladies, -queens in the great world; and--my mistress is an actress at the -Panorama-Dramatique. And lastly, if a bookseller declines to send a -copy of a book to my paper, I will run down work which is good, as I -know." - -Lucien was moved to tears, and he grasped Etienne's hand in his. The -journalist rose to his feet, and the pair went up and down the broad -Avenue de l'Observatoire, as if their lungs craved ampler breathing -space. - -"Outside the world of letters," Etienne Lousteau continued, "not a -single creature suspects that every one who succeeds in that world-- -who has a certain vogue, that is to say, or comes into fashion, or -gains reputation, or renown, or fame, or favor with the public (for by -these names we know the rungs of the ladder by which we climb to the -higher heights above and beyond them),--every one who comes even thus -far is the hero of a dreadful Odyssey. Brilliant portents rise above -the mental horizon through a combination of a thousand accidents; -conditions change so swiftly that no two men have been known to reach -success by the same road. Canalis and Nathan are two dissimilar cases; -things never fall out in the same way twice. There is d'Arthez, who -knocks himself to pieces with work--he will make a famous name by some -other chance. - -"This so much desired reputation is nearly always crowned -prostitution. Yes; the poorest kind of literature is the hapless -creature freezing at the street corner; second-rate literature is the -kept-mistress picked out of the brothels of journalism, and I am her -bully; lastly, there is lucky literature, the flaunting, insolent -courtesan who has a house of her own and pays taxes, who receives -great lords, treating or ill-treating them as she pleases, who has -liveried servants and a carriage, and can afford to keep greedy -creditors waiting. Ah! and for yet others, for me not so very long -ago, for you to-day--she is a white-robed angel with many-colored -wings, bearing a green palm branch in the one hand, and in the other a -flaming sword. An angel, something akin to the mythological -abstraction which lives at the bottom of a well, and to the poor and -honest girl who lives a life of exile in the outskirts of the great -city, earning every penny with a noble fortitude and in the full light -of virtue, returning to heaven inviolate of body and soul; unless, -indeed, she comes to lie at the last, soiled, despoiled, polluted, and -forgotten, on a pauper's bier. As for the men whose brains are -encompassed with bronze, whose hearts are still warm under the snows -of experience, they are found but seldom in the country that lies at -our feet," he added, pointing to the great city seething in the late -afternoon light. - -A vision of d'Arthez and his friends flashed upon Lucien's sight, and -made appeal to him for a moment; but Lousteau's appalling lamentation -carried him away. - -"They are very few and far between in that great fermenting vat; rare -as love in love-making, rare as fortunes honestly made in business, -rare as the journalist whose hands are clean. The experience of the -first man who told me all that I am telling you was thrown away upon -me, and mine no doubt will be wasted upon you. It is always the same -old story year after year; the same eager rush to Paris from the -provinces; the same, not to say a growing, number of beardless, -ambitious boys, who advance, head erect, and the heart that Princess -Tourandocte of the Mille et un Jours--each one of them fain to be her -Prince Calaf. But never a one of them reads the riddle. One by one -they drop, some into the trench where failures lie, some into the mire -of journalism, some again into the quagmires of the book-trade. - -"They pick up a living, these beggars, what with biographical notices, -penny-a-lining, and scraps of news for the papers. They become -booksellers' hacks for the clear-headed dealers in printed paper, who -would sooner take the rubbish that goes off in a fortnight than a -masterpiece which requires time to sell. The life is crushed out of -the grubs before they reach the butterfly stage. They live by shame -and dishonor. They are ready to write down a rising genius or to -praise him to the skies at a word from the pasha of the -Constitutionnel, the Quotidienne, or the Debats, at a sign from a -publisher, at the request of a jealous comrade, or (as not seldom -happens) simply for a dinner. Some surmount the obstacles, and these -forget the misery of their early days. I, who am telling you this, -have been putting the best that is in me into newspaper articles for -six months past for a blackguard who gives them out as his own and has -secured a feuilleton in another paper on the strength of them. He has -not taken me on as his collaborator, he has not give me so much as a -five-franc piece, but I hold out a hand to grasp his when we meet; I -cannot help myself." - -"And why?" Lucien, asked, indignantly. - -"I may want to put a dozen lines into his feuilleton some day," -Lousteau answered coolly. "In short, my dear fellow, in literature you -will not make money by hard work, that is not the secret of success; -the point is to exploit the work of somebody else. A newspaper -proprietor is a contractor, we are the bricklayers. The more mediocre -the man, the better his chance of getting on among mediocrities; he -can play the toad-eater, put up with any treatment, and flatter all -the little base passions of the sultans of literature. There is Hector -Merlin, who came from Limoges a short time ago; he is writing -political articles already for a Right Centre daily, and he is at work -on our little paper as well. I have seen an editor drop his hat and -Merlin pick it up. The fellow was careful never to give offence, and -slipped into the thick of the fight between rival ambitions. I am -sorry for you. It is as if I saw in you the self that I used to be, -and sure am I that in one or two years' time you will be what I am -now.--You will think that there is some lurking jealousy or personal -motive in this bitter counsel, but it is prompted by the despair of a -damned soul that can never leave hell.--No one ventures to utter such -things as these. You hear the groans of anguish from a man wounded to -the heart, crying like a second Job from the ashes, 'Behold my -sores!' " - -"But whether I fight upon this field or elsewhere, fight I must," said -Lucien. - -"Then, be sure of this," returned Lousteau, "if you have anything in -you, the war will know no truce, the best chance of success lies in an -empty head. The austerity of your conscience, clear as yet, will relax -when you see that a man holds your future in his two hands, when a -word from such a man means life to you, and he will not say that word. -For, believe me, the most brutal bookseller in the trade is not so -insolent, so hard-hearted to a newcomer as the celebrity of the day. -The bookseller sees a possible loss of money, while the writer of -books dreads a possible rival; the first shows you the door, the -second crushes the life out of you. To do really good work, my boy, -means that you will draw out the energy, sap, and tenderness of your -nature at every dip of the pen in the ink, to set it forth for the -world in passion and sentiment and phrases. Yes; instead of acting, -you will write; you will sing songs instead of fighting; you will love -and hate and live in your books; and then, after all, when you shall -have reserved your riches for your style, your gold and purple for -your characters, and you yourself are walking the streets of Paris in -rags, rejoicing in that, rivaling the State Register, you have -authorized the existence of beings styled Adolphe, Corinne or -Clarissa, Rene or Manon; when you shall have spoiled your life and -your digestion to give life to that creation, then you shall see it -slandered, betrayed, sold, swept away into the back waters of oblivion -by journalists, and buried out of sight by your best friends. How can -you afford to wait until the day when your creation shall rise again, -raised from the dead--how? when? and by whom? Take a magnificent book, -the pianto of unbelief; Obermann is a solitary wanderer in the desert -places of booksellers' warehouses, he has been a 'nightingale,' -ironically so called, from the very beginning: when will his Easter -come? Who knows? Try, to begin with, to find somebody bold enough to -print the Marguerites; not to pay for them, but simply to print them; -and you will see some queer things." - -The fierce tirade, delivered in every tone of the passionate feeling -which it expressed, fell upon Lucien's spirit like an avalanche, and -left a sense of glacial cold. For one moment he stood silent; then, as -he felt the terrible stimulating charm of difficulty beginning to work -upon him, his courage blazed up. He grasped Lousteau's hand. - -"I will triumph!" he cried aloud. - -"Good!" said the other, "one more Christian given over to the wild -beasts in the arena.--There is a first-night performance at the -Panorama-Dramatique, my dear fellow; it doesn't begin till eight, so -you can change your coat, come properly dressed in fact, and call for -me. I am living on the fourth floor above the Cafe Servel, Rue de la -Harpe. We will go to Dauriat's first of all. You still mean to go on, -do you not? Very well, I will introduce you to one of the kings of the -trade to-night, and to one or two journalists. We will sup with my -mistress and several friends after the play, for you cannot count that -dinner as a meal. Finot will be there, editor and proprietor of my -paper. As Minette says in the Vaudeville (do you remember?), 'Time is -a great lean creature.' Well, for the like of us, Chance is a great -lean creature, and must be tempted." - -"I shall remember this day as long as I live," said Lucien. - -"Bring your manuscript with you, and be careful of your dress, not on -Florine's account, but for the booksellers' benefit." - -The comrade's good-nature, following upon the poet's passionate -outcry, as he described the war of letters, moved Lucien quite as -deeply as d'Arthez's grave and earnest words on a former occasion. The -prospect of entering at once upon the strife with men warmed him. In -his youth and inexperience he had no suspicion how real were the moral -evils denounced by the journalist. Nor did he know that he was -standing at the parting of two distinct ways, between two systems, -represented by the brotherhood upon one hand, and journalism upon the -other. The first way was long, honorable, and sure; the second beset -with hidden dangers, a perilous path, among muddy channels where -conscience is inevitably bespattered. The bent of Lucien's character -determined for the shorter way, and the apparently pleasanter way, and -to snatch at the quickest and promptest means. At this moment he saw -no difference between d'Arthez's noble friendship and Lousteau's easy -comaraderie; his inconstant mind discerned a new weapon in journalism; -he felt that he could wield it, so he wished to take it. - -He was dazzled by the offers of this new friend, who had struck a hand -in his in an easy way, which charmed Lucien. How should he know that -while every man in the army of the press needs friends, every leader -needs men. Lousteau, seeing that Lucien was resolute, enlisted him as -a recruit, and hoped to attach him to himself. The relative positions -of the two were similar--one hoped to become a corporal, the other to -enter the ranks. - -Lucien went back gaily to his lodgings. He was as careful over his -toilet as on that former unlucky occasion when he occupied the -Marquise d'Espard's box; but he had learned by this time how to wear -his clothes with a better grace. They looked as though they belonged -to him. He wore his best tightly-fitting, light-colored trousers, and -a dress-coat. His boots, a very elegant pair adorned with tassels, had -cost him forty francs. His thick, fine, golden hair was scented and -crimped into bright, rippling curls. Self-confidence and belief in his -future lighted up his forehead. He paid careful attention to his -almost feminine hands, the filbert nails were a spotless pink, and the -white contours of his chin were dazzling by contrast with a black -satin stock. Never did a more beautiful youth come down from the hills -of the Latin Quarter. - -Glorious as a Greek god, Lucien took a cab, and reached the Cafe -Servel at a quarter to seven. There the portress gave him some -tolerably complicated directions for the ascent of four pairs of -stairs. Provided with these instructions, he discovered, not without -difficulty, an open door at the end of a long, dark passage, and in -another moment made the acquaintance of the traditional room of the -Latin Quarter. - -A young man's poverty follows him wherever he goes--into the Rue de la -Harpe as into the Rue de Cluny, into d'Arthez's room, into Chrestien's -lodging; yet everywhere no less the poverty has its own peculiar -characteristics, due to the idiosyncrasies of the sufferer. Poverty in -this case wore a sinister look. - -A shabby, cheap carpet lay in wrinkles at the foot of a curtainless -walnut-wood bedstead; dingy curtains, begrimed with cigar smoke and -fumes from a smoky chimney, hung in the windows; a Carcel lamp, -Florine's gift, on the chimney-piece, had so far escaped the -pawnbroker. Add a forlorn-looking chest of drawers, and a table -littered with papers and disheveled quill pens, and the list of -furniture was almost complete. All the books had evidently arrived in -the course of the last twenty-four hours; and there was not a single -object of any value in the room. In one corner you beheld a collection -of crushed and flattened cigars, coiled pocket-handkerchiefs, shirts -which had been turned to do double duty, and cravats that had reached -a third edition; while a sordid array of old boots stood gaping in -another angle of the room among aged socks worn into lace. - -The room, in short, was a journalist's bivouac, filled with odds and -ends of no value, and the most curiously bare apartment imaginable. A -scarlet tinder-box glowed among a pile of books on the nightstand. A -brace of pistols, a box of cigars, and a stray razor lay upon the -mantel-shelf; a pair of foils, crossed under a wire mask, hung against -a panel. Three chairs and a couple of armchairs, scarcely fit for the -shabbiest lodging-house in the street, completed the inventory. - -The dirty, cheerless room told a tale of a restless life and a want of -self-respect; some one came hither to sleep and work at high pressure, -staying no longer than he could help, longing, while he remained, to -be out and away. What a difference between this cynical disorder and -d'Arthez's neat and self-respecting poverty! A warning came with the -thought of d'Arthez; but Lucien would not heed it, for Etienne made a -joking remark to cover the nakedness of a reckless life. - -"This is my kennel; I appear in state in the Rue de Bondy, in the new -apartments which our druggist has taken for Florine; we hold the -house-warming this evening." - -Etienne Lousteau wore black trousers and beautifully-varnished boots; -his coat was buttoned up to his chin; he probably meant to change his -linen at Florine's house, for his shirt collar was hidden by a velvet -stock. He was trying to renovate his hat by an application of the -brush. - -"Let us go," said Lucien. - -"Not yet. I am waiting for a bookseller to bring me some money; I have -not a farthing; there will be play, perhaps, and in any case I must -have gloves." - -As he spoke, the two new friends heard a man's step in the passage -outside. - -"There he is," said Lousteau. "Now you will see, my dear fellow, the -shape that Providence takes when he manifests himself to poets. You -are going to behold Dauriat, the fashionable bookseller of the Quai -des Augustins, the pawnbroker, the marine store dealer of the trade, -the Norman ex-greengrocer.--Come along, old Tartar!" shouted Lousteau. - -"Here am I," said a voice like a cracked bell. - -"Brought the money with you?" - -"Money? There is no money now in the trade," retorted the other, a -young man who eyed Lucien curiously. - -"Imprimis, you owe me fifty francs," Lousteau continued. - -"There are two copies of Travels in Egypt here, a marvel, so they say, -swarming with woodcuts, sure to sell. Finot has been paid for two -reviews that I am to write for him. ITEM two works, just out, by -Victor Ducange, a novelist highly thought of in the Marais. ITEM a -couple of copies of a second work by Paul de Kock, a beginner in the -same style. ITEM two copies of Yseult of Dole, a charming provincial -work. Total, one hundred francs, my little Barbet." - -Barbet made a close survey of edges and binding. - -"Oh! they are in perfect condition," cried Lousteau. "The Travels are -uncut, so is the Paul de Kock, so is the Ducange, so is that other -thing on the chimney-piece, Considerations on Symbolism. I will throw -that in; myths weary me to that degree that I will let you have the -thing to spare myself the sight of the swarms of mites coming out of -it." - -"But," asked Lucien, "how are you going to write your reviews?" - -Barbet, in profound astonishment, stared at Lucien; then he looked at -Etienne and chuckled. - -"One can see that the gentleman has not the misfortune to be a -literary man," said he. - -"No, Barbet--no. He is a poet, a great poet; he is going to cut out -Canalis, and Beranger, and Delavigne. He will go a long way if he does -not throw himself into the river, and even so he will get as far as -the drag-nets at Saint-Cloud." - -"If I had any advice to give the gentleman," remarked Barbet, "it -would be to give up poetry and take to prose. Poetry is not wanted on -the Quais just now." - -Barbet's shabby overcoat was fastened by a single button; his collar -was greasy; he kept his hat on his head as he spoke; he wore low -shoes, an open waistcoat gave glimpses of a homely shirt of coarse -linen. Good-nature was not wanting in the round countenance, with its -two slits of covetous eyes; but there was likewise the vague -uneasiness habitual to those who have money to spend and hear constant -applications for it. Yet, to all appearance, he was plain-dealing and -easy-natured, his business shrewdness was so well wadded round with -fat. He had been an assistant until he took a wretched little shop on -the Quai des Augustins two years since, and issued thence on his -rounds among journalists, authors, and printers, buying up free copies -cheaply, making in such ways some ten or twenty francs daily. Now, he -had money saved; he knew instinctively where every man was pressed; he -had a keen eye for business. If an author was in difficulties, he -would discount a bill given by a publisher at fifteen or twenty per -cent; then the next day he would go to the publisher, haggle over the -price of some work in demand, and pay him with his own bills instead -of cash. Barbet was something of a scholar; he had had just enough -education to make him careful to steer clear of modern poetry and -modern romances. He had a liking for small speculations, for books of -a popular kind which might be bought outright for a thousand francs -and exploited at pleasure, such as the Child's History of France, -Book-keeping in Twenty Lessons, and Botany for Young Ladies. Two or -three times already he had allowed a good book to slip through his -fingers; the authors had come and gone a score of times while he -hesitated, and could not make up his mind to buy the manuscript. When -reproached for his pusillanimity, he was wont to produce the account -of a notorious trial taken from the newspapers; it cost him nothing, -and had brought him in two or three thousand francs. - -Barbet was the type of bookseller that goes in fear and trembling; -lives on bread and walnuts; rarely puts his name to a bill; filches -little profits on invoices; makes deductions, and hawks his books -about himself; heaven only knows where they go, but he sells them -somehow, and gets paid for them. Barbet was the terror of printers, -who could not tell what to make of him; he paid cash and took off the -discount; he nibbled at their invoices whenever he thought they were -pressed for money; and when he had fleeced a man once, he never went -back to him--he feared to be caught in his turn. - -"Well," said Lousteau, "shall we go on with our business?" - -"Eh! my boy," returned Barbet in a familiar tone; "I have six thousand -volumes of stock on hand at my place, and paper is not gold, as the -old bookseller said. Trade is dull." - -"If you went into his shop, my dear Lucien," said Etienne, turning to -his friend, "you would see an oak counter from some bankrupt wine -merchant's sale, and a tallow dip, never snuffed for fear it should -burn too quickly, making darkness visible. By that anomalous light you -descry rows of empty shelves with some difficulty. An urchin in a blue -blouse mounts guard over the emptiness, and blows his fingers, and -shuffles his feet, and slaps his chest, like a cabman on the box. Just -look about you! there are no more books there than I have here. Nobody -could guess what kind of shop he keeps." - -"Here is a bill at three months for a hundred francs," said Barbet, -and he could not help smiling as he drew it out of his pocket; "I will -take your old books off your hands. I can't pay cash any longer, you -see; sales are too slow. I thought that you would be wanting me; I had -not a penny, and I made a bill simply to oblige you, for I am not fond -of giving my signature." - -"So you want my thanks and esteem into the bargain, do you?" - -"Bills are not met with sentiment," responded Barbet; "but I will -accept your esteem, all the same." - -"But I want gloves, and the perfumers will be base enough to decline -your paper," said Lousteau. "Stop, there is a superb engraving in the -top drawer of the chest there, worth eighty francs, proof before -letters and after letterpress, for I have written a pretty droll -article upon it. There was something to lay hold of in Hippocrates -refusing the Presents of Artaxerxes. A fine engraving, eh? Just the -thing to suit all the doctors, who are refusing the extravagant gifts -of Parisian satraps. You will find two or three dozen novels -underneath it. Come, now, take the lot and give me forty francs." - -"FORTY FRANCS!" exclaimed the bookseller, emitting a cry like the -squall of a frightened fowl. "Twenty at the very most! And then I may -never see the money again," he added. - -"Where are your twenty francs?" asked Lousteau. - -"My word, I don't know that I have them," said Barbet, fumbling in his -pockets. "Here they are. You are plundering me; you have an ascendency -over me----" - -"Come, let us be off," said Lousteau, and taking up Lucien's -manuscript, he drew a line upon it in ink under the string. - -"Have you anything else?" asked Barbet. - -"Nothing, you young Shylock. I am going to put you in the way of a bit -of very good business," Etienne continued ("in which you shall lose a -thousand crowns, to teach you to rob me in this fashion"), he added -for Lucien's ear. - -"But how about your reviews?" said Lucien, as they rolled away to the -Palais Royal. - -"Pooh! you do not know how reviews are knocked off. As for the Travels -in Egypt, I looked into the book here and there (without cutting the -pages), and I found eleven slips in grammar. I shall say that the -writer may have mastered the dicky-bird language on the flints that -they call 'obelisks' out there in Egypt, but he cannot write in his -own, as I will prove to him in a column and a half. I shall say that -instead of giving us the natural history and archaeology, he ought to -have interested himself in the future of Egypt, in the progress of -civilization, and the best method of strengthening the bond between -Egypt and France. France has won and lost Egypt, but she may yet -attach the country to her interests by gaining a moral ascendency over -it. Then some patriotic penny-a-lining, interlarded with diatribes on -Marseilles, the Levant and our trade." - -"But suppose that he had taken that view, what would you do?" - -"Oh well, I should say that instead of boring us with politics, he -should have written about art, and described the picturesque aspects -of the country and the local color. Then the critic bewails himself. -Politics are intruded everywhere; we are weary of politics--politics -on all sides. I should regret those charming books of travel that -dwelt upon the difficulties of navigation, the fascination of steering -between two rocks, the delights of crossing the line, and all the -things that those who never will travel ought to know. Mingle this -approval with scoffing at the travelers who hail the appearance of a -bird or a flying-fish as a great event, who dilate upon fishing, and -make transcripts from the log. Where, you ask, is that perfectly -unintelligible scientific information, fascinating, like all that is -profound, mysterious, and incomprehensible. The reader laughs, that is -all that he wants. As for novels, Florine is the greatest novel reader -alive; she gives me a synopsis, and I take her opinion and put a -review together. When a novelist bores her with 'author's stuff,' as -she calls it, I treat the work respectfully, and ask the publisher for -another copy, which he sends forthwith, delighted to have a favorable -review." - -"Goodness! and what of criticism, the critic's sacred office?" cried -Lucien, remembering the ideas instilled into him by the brotherhood. - -"My dear fellow," said Lousteau, "criticism is a kind of brush which -must not be used upon flimsy stuff, or it carries it all away with it. -That is enough of the craft, now listen! Do you see that mark?" he -continued, pointing to the manuscript of the Marguerites. "I have put -ink on the string and paper. If Dauriat reads your manuscript, he -certainly could not tie the string and leave it just as it was before. -So your book is sealed, so to speak. This is not useless to you for -the experiment that you propose to make. And another thing: please to -observe that you are not arriving quite alone and without a sponsor in -the place, like the youngsters who make the round of half-a-score of -publishers before they find one that will offer them a chair." - -Lucien's experience confirmed the truth of this particular. Lousteau -paid the cabman, giving him three francs--a piece of prodigality -following upon such impecuniosity astonishing Lucien more than a -little. Then the two friends entered the Wooden Galleries, where -fashionable literature, as it is called, used to reign in state. - - - -PART II - -The Wooden Galleries of the Palais Royal used to be one of the most -famous sights of Paris. Some description of the squalid bazar will not -be out of place; for there are few men of forty who will not take an -interest in recollections of a state of things which will seem -incredible to a younger generation. - -The great dreary, spacious Galerie d'Orleans, that flowerless -hothouse, as yet was not; the space upon which it now stands was -covered with booths; or, to be more precise, with small, wooden dens, -pervious to the weather, and dimly illuminated on the side of the -court and the garden by borrowed lights styled windows by courtesy, -but more like the filthiest arrangements for obscuring daylight to be -found in little wineshops in the suburbs. - -The Galleries, parallel passages about twelve feet in height, were -formed by a triple row of shops. The centre row, giving back and front -upon the Galleries, was filled with the fetid atmosphere of the place, -and derived a dubious daylight through the invariably dirty windows of -the roof; but so thronged were these hives, that rents were -excessively high, and as much as a thousand crowns was paid for a -space scarce six feet by eight. The outer rows gave respectively upon -the garden and the court, and were covered on that side by a slight -trellis-work painted green, to protect the crazy plastered walls from -continual friction with the passers-by. In a few square feet of earth -at the back of the shops, strange freaks of vegetable life unknown to -science grew amid the products of various no less flourishing -industries. You beheld a rosebush capped with printed paper in such a -sort that the flowers of rhetoric were perfumed by the cankered -blossoms of that ill-kept, ill-smelling garden. Handbills and ribbon -streamers of every hue flaunted gaily among the leaves; natural -flowers competed unsuccessfully for an existence with odds and ends of -millinery. You discovered a knot of ribbon adorning a green tuft; the -dahlia admired afar proved on a nearer view to be a satin rosette. - -The Palais seen from the court or from the garden was a fantastic -sight, a grotesque combination of walls of plaster patchwork which had -once been whitewashed, of blistered paint, heterogeneous placards, and -all the most unaccountable freaks of Parisian squalor; the green -trellises were prodigiously the dingier for constant contact with a -Parisian public. So, upon either side, the fetid, disreputable -approaches might have been there for the express purpose of warning -away fastidious people; but fastidious folk no more recoiled before -these horrors than the prince in the fairy stories turns tail at sight -of the dragon or of the other obstacles put between him and the -princess by the wicked fairy. - -There was a passage through the centre of the Galleries then as now; -and, as at the present day, you entered them through the two -peristyles begun before the Revolution, and left unfinished for lack -of funds; but in place of the handsome modern arcade leading to the -Theatre-Francais, you passed along a narrow, disproportionately lofty -passage, so ill-roofed that the rain came through on wet days. All the -roofs of the hovels indeed were in very bad repair, and covered here -and again with a double thickness of tarpaulin. A famous silk mercer -once brought an action against the Orleans family for damages done in -the course of a night to his stock of shawls and stuffs, and gained -the day and a considerable sum. It was in this last-named passage, -called "The Glass Gallery" to distinguish it from the Wooden -Galleries, that Chevet laid the foundations of his fortunes. - -Here, in the Palais, you trod the natural soil of Paris, augmented by -importations brought in upon the boots of foot passengers; here, at -all seasons, you stumbled among hills and hollows of dried mud swept -daily by the shopman's besom, and only after some practice could you -walk at your ease. The treacherous mud-heaps, the window-panes -incrusted with deposits of dust and rain, the mean-looking hovels -covered with ragged placards, the grimy unfinished walls, the general -air of a compromise between a gypsy camp, the booths of a country -fair, and the temporary structures that we in Paris build round about -public monuments that remain unbuilt; the grotesque aspect of the mart -as a whole was in keeping with the seething traffic of various kinds -carried on within it; for here in this shameless, unblushing haunt, -amid wild mirth and a babel of talk, an immense amount of business was -transacted between the Revolution of 1789 and the Revolution of 1830. - -For twenty years the Bourse stood just opposite, on the ground floor -of the Palais. Public opinion was manufactured, and reputations made -and ruined here, just as political and financial jobs were arranged. -People made appointments to meet in the Galleries before or after -'Change; on showery days the Palais Royal was often crowded with -weather-bound capitalists and men of business. The structure which had -grown up, no one knew how, about this point was strangely resonant, -laughter was multiplied; if two men quarreled, the whole place rang -from one end to the other with the dispute. In the daytime milliners -and booksellers enjoyed a monopoly of the place; towards nightfall it -was filled with women of the town. Here dwelt poetry, politics, and -prose, new books and classics, the glories of ancient and modern -literature side by side with political intrigue and the tricks of the -bookseller's trade. Here all the very latest and newest literature -were sold to a public which resolutely decline to buy elsewhere. -Sometimes several thousand copies of such and such a pamphlet by Paul- -Louis Courier would be sold in a single evening; and people crowded -thither to buy Les aventures de la fille d'un Roi--that first shot -fired by the Orleanists at The Charter promulgated by Louis XVIII. - -When Lucien made his first appearance in the Wooden Galleries, some -few of the shops boasted proper fronts and handsome windows, but these -in every case looked upon the court or the garden. As for the centre -row, until the day when the whole strange colony perished under the -hammer of Fontaine the architect, every shop was open back and front -like a booth in a country fair, so that from within you could look out -upon either side through gaps among the goods displayed or through the -glass doors. As it was obviously impossible to kindle a fire, the -tradesmen were fain to use charcoal chafing-dishes, and formed a sort -of brigade for the prevention of fires among themselves; and, indeed, -a little carelessness might have set the whole quarter blazing in -fifteen minutes, for the plank-built republic, dried by the heat of -the sun, and haunted by too inflammable human material, was bedizened -with muslin and paper and gauze, and ventilated at times by a thorough -draught. - -The milliners' windows were full of impossible hats and bonnets, -displayed apparently for advertisement rather than for sale, each on a -separate iron spit with a knob at the top. The galleries were decked -out in all the colors of the rainbow. On what heads would those dusty -bonnets end their careers?--for a score of years the problem had -puzzled frequenters of the Palais. Saleswomen, usually plain-featured, -but vivacious, waylaid the feminine foot passenger with cunning -importunities, after the fashion of market-women, and using much the -same language; a shop-girl, who made free use of her eyes and tongue, -sat outside on a stool and harangued the public with "Buy a pretty -bonnet, madame?--Do let me sell you something!"--varying a rich and -picturesque vocabulary with inflections of the voice, with glances, -and remarks upon the passers-by. Booksellers and milliners lived on -terms of mutual understanding. - -But it was in the passage known by the pompous title of the "Glass -Gallery" that the oddest trades were carried on. Here were -ventriloquists and charlatans of every sort, and sights of every -description, from the kind where there is nothing to see to panoramas -of the globe. One man who has since made seven or eight hundred -thousand francs by traveling from fair to fair began here by hanging -out a signboard, a revolving sun in a blackboard, and the inscription -in red letters: "Here Man may see what God can never see. Admittance, -two sous." The showman at the door never admitted one person alone, -nor more than two at a time. Once inside, you confronted a great -looking-glass; and a voice, which might have terrified Hoffmann of -Berlin, suddenly spoke as if some spring had been touched, "You see -here, gentlemen, something that God can never see through all -eternity, that is to say, your like. God has not His like." And out -you went, too shamefaced to confess to your stupidity. - -Voices issued from every narrow doorway, crying up the merits of -Cosmoramas, views of Constantinople, marionettes, automatic chess- -players, and performing dogs who would pick you out the prettiest -woman in the company. The ventriloquist Fritz-James flourished here in -the Cafe Borel before he went to fight and fall at Montmartre with the -young lads from the Ecole polytechnique. Here, too, there were fruit -and flower shops, and a famous tailor whose gold-laced uniforms shone -like the sun when the shops were lighted at night. - -Of a morning the galleries were empty, dark, and deserted; the -shopkeepers chatted among themselves. Towards two o'clock in the -afternoon the Palais began to fill; at three, men came in from the -Bourse, and Paris, generally speaking, crowded the place. Impecunious -youth, hungering after literature, took the opportunity of turning -over the pages of the books exposed for sale on the stalls outside the -booksellers' shops; the men in charge charitably allowed a poor -student to pursue his course of free studies; and in this way a -duodecimo volume of some two hundred pages, such as Smarra or Pierre -Schlemihl, or Jean Sbogar or Jocko, might be devoured in a couple of -afternoons. There was something very French in this alms given to the -young, hungry, starved intellect. Circulating libraries were not as -yet; if you wished to read a book, you were obliged to buy it, for -which reason novels of the early part of the century were sold in -numbers which now seem well-nigh fabulous to us. - -But the poetry of this terrible mart appeared in all its splendor at -the close of the day. Women of the town, flocking in and out from the -neighboring streets, were allowed to make a promenade of the Wooden -Galleries. Thither came prostitutes from every quarter of Paris to "do -the Palais." The Stone Galleries belonged to privileged houses, which -paid for the right of exposing women dressed like princesses under -such and such an arch, or in the corresponding space of garden; but -the Wooden Galleries were the common ground of women of the streets. -This was THE Palais, a word which used to signify the temple of -prostitution. A woman might come and go, taking away her prey -whithersoever seemed good to her. So great was the crowd attracted -thither at night by the women, that it was impossible to move except -at a slow pace, as in a procession or at a masked ball. Nobody -objected to the slowness; it facilitated examination. The women -dressed in a way that is never seen nowadays. The bodices cut -extremely low both back and front; the fantastical head-dresses, -designed to attract notice; here a cap from the Pays de Caux, and -there a Spanish mantilla; the hair crimped and curled like a poodle's, -or smoothed down in bandeaux over the forehead; the close-fitting -white stockings and limbs, revealed it would not be easy to say how, -but always at the right moment--all this poetry of vice has fled. The -license of question and reply, the public cynicism in keeping with the -haunt, is now unknown even at masquerades or the famous public balls. -It was an appalling, gay scene. The dazzling white flesh of the -women's necks and shoulders stood out in magnificent contrast against -the men's almost invariably sombre costumes. The murmur of voices, the -hum of the crowd, could be heard even in the middle of the garden as a -sort of droning bass, interspersed with fioriture of shrill laughter -or clamor of some rare dispute. You saw gentlemen and celebrities -cheek by jowl with gallows-birds. There was something indescribably -piquant about the anomalous assemblage; the most insensible of men -felt its charm, so much so, that, until the very last moment, Paris -came hither to walk up and down on the wooden planks laid over the -cellars where men were at work on the new buildings; and when the -squalid wooden erections were finally taken down, great and unanimous -regret was felt. - -Ladvocat the bookseller had opened a shop but a few days since in the -angle formed by the central passage which crossed the galleries; and -immediately opposite another bookseller, now forgotten, Dauriat, a -bold and youthful pioneer, who opened up the paths in which his rival -was to shine. Dauriat's shop stood in the row which gave upon the -garden; Ladvocat's, on the opposite side, looked out upon the court. -Dauriat's establishment was divided into two parts; his shop was -simply a great trade warehouse, and the second room was his private -office. - -Lucien, on this first visit to the Wooden Galleries, was bewildered by -a sight which no novice can resist. He soon lost the guide who -befriended him. - -"If you were as good-looking as yonder young fellow, I would give you -your money's worth," a woman said, pointing out Lucien to an old man. - -Lucien slunk through the crowd like a blind man's dog, following the -stream in a state of stupefaction and excitement difficult to -describe. Importuned by glances and white-rounded contours, dazzled by -the audacious display of bared throat and bosom, he gripped his roll -of manuscript tightly lest somebody should steal it--innocent that he -was! - -"Well, what is it, sir!" he exclaimed, thinking, when some one caught -him by the arm, that his poetry had proved too great a temptation to -some author's honesty, and turning, he recognized Lousteau. - -"I felt sure that you would find your way here at last," said his -friend. - -The poet was standing in the doorway of a shop crowded with persons -waiting for an audience with the sultan of the publishing trade. -Printers, paper-dealers, and designers were catechizing Dauriat's -assistants as to present or future business. - -Lousteau drew Lucien into the shop. "There! that is Finot who edits my -paper," he said; "he is talking with Felicien Vernou, who has -abilities, but the little wretch is as dangerous as a hidden disease." - -"Well, old boy, there is a first night for you," said Finot, coming up -with Vernou. "I have disposed of the box." - -"Sold it to Braulard?" - -"Well, and if I did, what then? You will get a seat. What do you want -with Dauriat? Oh, it is agreed that we are to push Paul de Kock, -Dauriat has taken two hundred copies, and Victor Ducange is refusing -to give him his next. Dauriat wants to set up another man in the same -line, he says. You must rate Paul de Kock above Ducange." - -"But I have a piece on with Ducange at the Gaite," said Lousteau. - -"Very well, tell him that I wrote the article. It can be supposed that -I wrote a slashing review, and you toned it down; and he will owe you -thanks." - -"Couldn't you get Dauriat's cashier to discount this bit of a bill for -a hundred francs?" asked Etienne Lousteau. "We are celebrating -Florine's house-warming with a supper to-night, you know." - -"Ah! yes, you are treating us all," said Finot, with an apparent -effort of memory. "Here, Gabusson," he added, handing Barbet's bill to -the cashier, "let me have ninety francs for this individual.--Fill in -your name, old man." - -Lousteau signed his name while the cashier counted out the money; and -Lucien, all eyes and ears, lost not a syllable of the conversation. - -"That is not all, my friend," Etienne continued; "I don't thank you, -we have sworn an eternal friendship. I have taken it upon myself to -introduce this gentleman to Dauriat, and you must incline his ear to -listen to us." - -"What is on foot?" asked Finot. - -"A volume of poetry," said Lucien. - -"Oh!" said Finot, with a shrug of the shoulders. - -"Your acquaintance cannot have had much to do with publishers, or he -would have hidden his manuscript in the loneliest spot in his -dwelling," remarked Vernou, looking at Lucien as he spoke. - -Just at that moment a good-looking young man came into the shop, gave -a hand to Finot and Lousteau, and nodded slightly to Vernou. The -newcomer was Emile Blondet, who had made his first appearance in the -Journal des Debats, with articles revealing capacities of the very -highest order. - -"Come and have supper with us at midnight, at Florine's," said -Lousteau. - -"Very good," said the newcomer. "But who is going to be there?" - -"Oh, Florine and Matifat the druggist," said Lousteau, "and du Bruel, -the author who gave Florine the part in which she is to make her first -appearance, a little old fogy named Cardot, and his son-in-law -Camusot, and Finot, and----" - -"Does your druggist do things properly?" - -"He will not give us doctored wine," said Lucien. - -"You are very witty, monsieur," Blondet returned gravely. "Is he -coming, Lousteau?" - -"Yes." - -"Then we shall have some fun." - -Lucien had flushed red to the tips of his ears. Blondet tapped on the -window above Dauriat's desk. - -"Is your business likely to keep you long, Dauriat?" - -"I am at your service, my friend." - -"That's right," said Lousteau, addressing his protege. "That young -fellow is hardly any older than you are, and he is on the Debats! He -is one of the princes of criticism. They are afraid of him, Dauriat -will fawn upon him, and then we can put in a word about our business -with the pasha of vignettes and type. Otherwise we might have waited -till eleven o'clock, and our turn would not have come. The crowd of -people waiting to speak with Dauriat is growing bigger every moment." - -Lucien and Lousteau followed Blondet, Finot, and Vernou, and stood in -a knot at the back of the shop. - -"What is he doing?" asked Blondet of the head-clerk, who rose to bid -him good-evening. - -"He is buying a weekly newspaper. He wants to put new life into it, -and set up a rival to the Minerve and the Conservateur; Eymery has -rather too much of his own way in the Minerve, and the Conservateur is -too blindly Romantic." - -"Is he going to pay well?" - -"Only too much--as usual," said the cashier. - -Just as he spoke another young man entered; this was the writer of a -magnificent novel which had sold very rapidly and met with the -greatest possible success. Dauriat was bringing out a second edition. -The appearance of this odd and extraordinary looking being, so -unmistakably an artist, made a deep impression on Lucien's mind. - -"That is Nathan," Lousteau said in his ear. - -Nathan, then in the prime of his youth, came up to the group of -journalists, hat in hand; and in spite of his look of fierce pride he -was almost humble to Blondet, whom as yet he only knew by sight. -Blondet did not remove his hat, neither did Finot. - -"Monsieur, I am delighted to avail myself of an opportunity yielded by -chance----" - -("He is so nervous that he is committing a pleonasm," said Felicien in -an aside to Lousteau.) - -"----to give expression to my gratitude for the splendid review which -you were so good as to give me in the Journal des Debats. Half the -success of my book is owing to you." - -"No, my dear fellow, no," said Blondet, with an air of patronage -scarcely masked by good-nature. "You have talent, the deuce you have, -and I'm delighted to make your acquaintance." - -"Now that your review has appeared, I shall not seem to be courting -power; we can feel at ease. Will you do me the honor and the pleasure -of dining with me to-morrow? Finot is coming.--Lousteau, old man, you -will not refuse me, will you?" added Nathan, shaking Etienne by the -hand.--"Ah, you are on the way to a great future, monsieur," he added, -turning again to Blondet; "you will carry on the line of Dussaults, -Fievees, and Geoffrois! Hoffmann was talking about you to a friend of -mine, Claude Vignon, his pupil; he said that he could die in peace, -the Journal des Debats would live forever. They ought to pay you -tremendously well." - -"A hundred francs a column," said Blondet. "Poor pay when one is -obliged to read the books, and read a hundred before you find one -worth interesting yourself in, like yours. Your work gave me pleasure, -upon my word." - -"And brought him in fifteen hundred francs," said Lousteau for -Lucien's benefit. - -"But you write political articles, don't you?" asked Nathan. - -"Yes; now and again." - -Lucien felt like an embryo among these men; he had admired Nathan's -book, he had reverenced the author as an immortal; Nathan's abject -attitude before this critic, whose name and importance were both -unknown to him, stupefied Lucien. - -"How if I should come to behave as he does?" he thought. "Is a man -obliged to part with his self-respect?--Pray put on your hat again, -Nathan; you have written a great book, and the critic has only written -a review of it." - -These thoughts set the blood tingling in his veins. Scarce a minute -passed but some young author, poverty-stricken and shy, came in, asked -to speak with Dauriat, looked round the crowded shop despairingly, and -went out saying, "I will come back again." Two or three politicians -were chatting over the convocation of the Chambers and public business -with a group of well-known public men. The weekly newspaper for which -Dauriat was in treaty was licensed to treat of matters political, and -the number of newspapers suffered to exist was growing smaller and -smaller, till a paper was a piece of property as much in demand as a -theatre. One of the largest shareholders in the Constitutionnel was -standing in the midst of the knot of political celebrities. Lousteau -performed the part of cicerone to admiration; with every sentence he -uttered Dauriat rose higher in Lucien's opinion. Politics and -literature seemed to converge in Dauriat's shop. He had seen a great -poet prostituting his muse to journalism, humiliating Art, as woman -was humiliated and prostituted in those shameless galleries without, -and the provincial took a terrible lesson to heart. Money! That was -the key to every enigma. Lucien realized the fact that he was unknown -and alone, and that the fragile clue of an uncertain friendship was -his sole guide to success and fortune. He blamed the kind and loyal -little circle for painting the world for him in false colors, for -preventing him from plunging into the arena, pen in hand. "I should be -a Blondet at this moment!" he exclaimed within himself. - -Only a little while ago they had sat looking out over Paris from the -Gardens of the Luxembourg, and Lousteau had uttered the cry of a -wounded eagle; then Lousteau had been a great man in Lucien's eyes, -and now he had shrunk to scarce visible proportions. The really -important man for him at this moment was the fashionable bookseller, -by whom all these men lived; and the poet, manuscript in hand, felt a -nervous tremor that was almost like fear. He noticed a group of busts -mounted on wooden pedestals, painted to resemble marble; Byron stood -there, and Goethe and M. de Canalis. Dauriat was hoping to publish a -volume by the last-named poet, who might see, on his entrance into the -shop, the estimation in which he was held by the trade. Unconsciously -Lucien's own self-esteem began to shrink, and his courage ebbed. He -began to see how large a part this Dauriat would play in his -destinies, and waited impatiently for him to appear. - -"Well, children," said a voice, and a short, stout man appeared, with -a puffy face that suggested a Roman pro-consul's visage, mellowed by -an air of good-nature which deceived superficial observers. "Well, -children, here am I, the proprietor of the only weekly paper in the -market, a paper with two thousand subscribers!" - -"Old joker! The registered number is seven hundred, and that is over -the mark," said Blondet. - -"Twelve thousand, on my sacred word of honor--I said two thousand for -the benefit of the printers and paper-dealers yonder," he added, -lowering his voice, then raising it again. "I thought you had more -tact, my boy," he added. - -"Are you going to take any partners?" inquired Finot. - -"That depends," said Dauriat. "Will you take a third at forty thousand -francs?" - -"It's a bargain, if you will take Emile Blondet here on the staff, and -Claude Vignon, Scribe, Theodore Leclercq, Felicien Vernou, Jay, Jouy, -Lousteau, and----" - -"And why not Lucien de Rubempre?" the provincial poet put in boldly. - -"----and Nathan," concluded Finot. - -"Why not the people out there in the street?" asked Dauriat, scowling -at the author of the Marguerites.--"To whom have I the honor of -speaking?" he added, with an insolent glance. - -"One moment, Dauriat," said Lousteau. "I have brought this gentleman -to you. Listen to me, while Finot is thinking over your proposals." - -Lucien watched this Dauriat, who addressed Finot with the familiar tu, -which even Finot did not permit himself to use in reply; who called -the redoubtable Blondet "my boy," and extended a hand royally to -Nathan with a friendly nod. The provincial poet felt his shirt wet -with perspiration when the formidable sultan looked indifferent and -ill pleased. - -"Another piece of business, my boy!" exclaimed Dauriat. "Why, I have -eleven hundred manuscripts on hand, as you know! Yes, gentlemen, I -have eleven hundred manuscripts submitted to me at this moment; ask -Gabusson. I shall soon be obliged to start a department to keep -account of the stock of manuscripts, and a special office for reading -them, and a committee to vote on their merits, with numbered counters -for those who attend, and a permanent secretary to draw up the minutes -for me. It will be a kind of local branch of the Academie, and the -Academicians will be better paid in the Wooden Galleries than at the -Institut." - -" 'Tis an idea," said Blondet. - -"A bad idea," returned Dauriat. "It is not my business to take stock -of the lucubrations of those among you who take to literature because -they cannot be capitalists, and there is no opening for them as -bootmakers, nor corporals, nor domestic servants, nor officials, nor -bailiffs. Nobody comes here until he has made a name for himself! Make -a name for yourself, and you will find gold in torrents. I have made -three great men in the last two years; and lo and behold three -examples of ingratitude! Here is Nathan talking of six thousand francs -for the second edition of his book, which cost me three thousand -francs in reviews, and has not brought in a thousand yet. I paid a -thousand francs for Blondet's two articles, besides a dinner, which -cost me five hundred----" - -"But if all booksellers talked as you do, sir, how could a man publish -his first book at all?" asked Lucien. Blondet had gone down -tremendously in his opinion since he had heard the amount given by -Dauriat for the articles in the Debats. - -"That is not my affair," said Dauriat, looking daggers at this -handsome young fellow, who was smiling pleasantly at him. "I do not -publish books for amusement, nor risk two thousand francs for the sake -of seeing my money back again. I speculate in literature, and publish -forty volumes of ten thousand copies each, just as Panckouke does and -the Baudoins. With my influence and the articles which I secure, I can -push a business of a hundred thousand crowns, instead of a single -volume involving a couple of thousand francs. It is just as much -trouble to bring out a new name and to induce the public to take up an -author and his book, as to make a success with the Theatres etrangers, -Victoires et Conquetes, or Memoires sur la Revolution, books that -bring in a fortune. I am not here as a stepping-stone to future fame, -but to make money, and to find it for men with distinguished names. -The manuscripts for which I give a hundred thousand francs pay me -better than work by an unknown author who asks six hundred. If I am -not exactly a Maecenas, I deserve the gratitude of literature; I have -doubled the prices of manuscripts. I am giving you this explanation -because you are a friend of Lousteau's my boy," added Dauriat, -clapping Lucien on the shoulder with odious familiarity. "If I were to -talk to all the authors who have a mind that I should be their -publisher, I should have to shut up shop; I should pass my time very -agreeably no doubt, but the conversations would cost too much. I am -not rich enough yet to listen to all the monologues of self-conceit. -Nobody does, except in classical tragedies on the stage." - -The terrible Dauriat's gorgeous raiment seemed in the provincial -poet's eyes to add force to the man's remorseless logic. - -"What is it about?" he continued, addressing Lucien's protector. - -"It is a volume of magnificent poetry." - -At that word, Dauriat turned to Gabusson with a gesture worthy of -Talma. - -"Gabusson, my friend," he said, "from this day forward, when anybody -begins to talk of works in manuscript here--Do you hear that, all of -you?" he broke in upon himself; and three assistants at once emerged -from among the piles of books at the sound of their employer's -wrathful voice. "If anybody comes here with manuscripts," he -continued, looking at the finger-nails of a well-kept hand, "ask him -whether it is poetry or prose; and if he says poetry, show him the -door at once. Verses mean reverses in the booktrade." - -"Bravo! well put, Dauriat," cried the chorus of journalists. - -"It is true!" cried the bookseller, striding about his shop with -Lucien's manuscript in his hand. "You have no idea, gentlemen, of the -amount of harm that Byron, Lamartine, Victor Hugo, Casimir Delavigne, -Canalis, and Beranger have done by their success. The fame of them has -brought down an invasion of barbarians upon us. I know THIS: there are -a thousand volumes of manuscript poetry going the round of the -publishers at this moment, things that nobody can make head nor tail -of, stories in verse that begin in the middle, like The Corsair and -Lara. They set up to be original, forsooth, and indulge in stanzas -that nobody can understand, and descriptive poetry after the pattern -of the younger men who discovered Delille, and imagine that they are -doing something new. Poets have been swarming like cockchafers for two -years past. I have lost twenty thousand francs through poetry in the -last twelvemonth. You ask Gabusson! There may be immortal poets -somewhere in the world; I know of some that are blooming and rosy, and -have no beards on their chins as yet," he continued, looking at -Lucien; "but in the trade, young man, there are only four poets-- -Beranger, Casimir Delavigne, Lamartine, and Victor Hugo; as for -Canalis--he is a poet made by sheer force of writing him up." - -Lucien felt that he lacked the courage to hold up his head and show -his spirit before all these influential persons, who were laughing -with all their might. He knew very well that he should look hopelessly -ridiculous, and yet he felt consumed by a fierce desire to catch the -bookseller by the throat, to ruffle the insolent composure of his -cravat, to break the gold chain that glittered on the man's chest, -trample his watch under his feet, and tear him in pieces. Mortified -vanity opened the door to thoughts of vengeance, and inwardly he swore -eternal enmity to that bookseller. But he smiled amiably. - -"Poetry is like the sun," said Blondet, "giving life alike to primeval -forests and to ants and gnats and mosquitoes. There is no virtue but -has a vice to match, and literature breeds the publisher." - -"And the journalist," said Lousteau. - -Dauriat burst out laughing. - -"What is this after all?" he asked, holding up the manuscript. - -"A volume of sonnets that will put Petrarch to the blush," said -Lousteau. - -"What do you mean?" - -"Just what I say," answered Lousteau, seeing the knowing smile that -went round the group. Lucien could not take offence but he chafed -inwardly. - -"Very well, I will read them," said Dauriat, with a regal gesture that -marked the full extent of the concession. "If these sonnets of yours -are up to the level of the nineteenth century, I will make a great -poet of you, my boy." - -"If he has brains to equal his good looks, you will run no great -risks," remarked one of the greatest public speakers of the day, a -deputy who was chatting with the editor of the Minerve, and a writer -for the Constitutionnel. - -"Fame means twelve thousand francs in reviews, and a thousand more for -dinners, General," said Dauriat. "If M. Benjamin de Constant means to -write a paper on this young poet, it will not be long before I make a -bargain with him." - -At the title of General, and the distinguished name of Benjamin -Constant, the bookseller's shop took the proportions of Olympus for -the provincial great man. - -"Lousteau, I want a word with you," said Finot; "but I shall see you -again later, at the theatre.--Dauriat, I will take your offer, but on -conditions. Let us step into your office." - -"Come in, my boy," answered Dauriat, allowing Finot to pass before -him. Then, intimating to some ten persons still waiting for him that -he was engaged, he likewise was about to disappear when Lucien -impatiently stopped him. - -"You are keeping my manuscript. When shall I have an answer?" - -"Oh, come back in three or four days, my little poet, and we will -see." - -Lousteau hurried Lucien away; he had not time to take leave of Vernou -and Blondet and Raoul Nathan, nor to salute General Foy nor Benjamin -Constant, whose book on the Hundred Days was just about to appear. -Lucien scarcely caught a glimpse of fair hair, a refined oval-shaped -face, keen eyes, and the pleasant-looking mouth belonging to the man -who had played the part of a Potemkin to Mme. de Stael for twenty -years, and now was at war with the Bourbons, as he had been at war -with Napoleon. He was destined to win his cause and to die stricken to -earth by his victory. - -"What a shop!" exclaimed Lucien, as he took his place in the cab -beside Lousteau. - -"To the Panorama-Dramatique; look sharp, and you shall have thirty -sous," Etienne Lousteau called to the cabman.--"Dauriat is a rascal -who sells books to the amount of fifteen or sixteen hundred thousand -francs every year. He is a kind of Minister of Literature," Lousteau -continued. His self-conceit had been pleasantly tickled, and he was -showing off before Lucien. "Dauriat is just as grasping as Barbet, but -it is on a wholesale scale. Dauriat can be civil, and he is generous, -but he has a great opinion of himself; as for his wit, it consists in -a faculty for picking up all that he hears, and his shop is a capital -place to frequent. You meet all the best men at Dauriat's. A young -fellow learns more there in an hour than by poring over books for -half-a-score of years. People talk about articles and concoct -subjects; you make the acquaintance of great or influential people who -may be useful to you. You must know people if you mean to get on -nowadays.--It is all luck, you see. And as for sitting by yourself in -a corner alone with your intellect, it is the most dangerous thing of -all." - -"But what insolence!" said Lucien. - -"Pshaw! we all of us laugh at Dauriat," said Etienne. "If you are in -need of him, he tramples upon you; if he has need of the Journal des -Debats, Emile Blondet sets him spinning like a top. Oh, if you take to -literature, you will see a good many queer things. Well, what was I -telling you, eh?" - -"Yes, you were right," said Lucien. "My experience in that shop was -even more painful than I expected, after your programme." - -"Why do you choose to suffer? You find your subject, you wear out your -wits over it with toiling at night, you throw your very life into it: -and after all your journeyings in the fields of thought, the monument -reared with your life-blood is simply a good or a bad speculation for -a publisher. Your work will sell or it will not sell; and therein, for -them, lies the whole question. A book means so much capital to risk, -and the better the book, the less likely it is to sell. A man of -talent rises above the level of ordinary heads; his success varies in -direct ratio with the time required for his work to be appreciated. -And no publisher wants to wait. To-day's book must be sold by -to-morrow. Acting on this system, publishers and booksellers do not -care to take real literature, books that call for the high praise that -comes slowly." - -"D'Arthez was right," exclaimed Lucien. - -"Do you know d'Arthez?" asked Lousteau. "I know of no more dangerous -company than solitary spirits like that fellow yonder, who fancy that -they can draw the world after them. All of us begin by thinking that -we are capable of great things; and when once a youthful imagination -is heated by this superstition, the candidate for posthumous honors -makes no attempt to move the world while such moving of the world is -both possible and profitable; he lets the time go by. I am for -Mahomet's system--if the mountain does not come to me, I am for going -to the mountain." - -The common-sense so trenchantly put in this sally left Lucien halting -between the resignation preached by the brotherhood and Lousteau's -militant doctrine. He said not a word till they reached the Boulevard -du Temple. - -The Panorama-Dramatique no longer exists. A dwelling-house stands on -the site of the once charming theatre in the Boulevard du Temple, -where two successive managements collapsed without making a single -hit; and yet Vignol, who has since fallen heir to some of Potier's -popularity, made his debut there; and Florine, five years later a -celebrated actress, made her first appearance in the theatre opposite -the Rue Charlot. Play-houses, like men, have their vicissitudes. The -Panorama-Dramatique suffered from competition. The machinations of its -rivals, the Ambigu, the Gaite, the Porte Saint-Martin, and the -Vaudeville, together with a plethora of restrictions and a scarcity of -good plays, combined to bring about the downfall of the house. No -dramatic author cared to quarrel with a prosperous theatre for the -sake of the Panorama-Dramatique, whose existence was, to say the -least, problematical. The management at this moment, however, was -counting on the success of a new melodramatic comedy by M. du Bruel, a -young author who, after working in collaboration with divers -celebrities, had now produced a piece professedly entirely his own. It -had been specially composed for the leading lady, a young actress who -began her stage career as a supernumerary at the Gaite, and had been -promoted to small parts for the last twelvemonth. But though Mlle. -Florine's acting had attracted some attention, she obtained no -engagement, and the Panorama accordingly had carried her off. Coralie, -another actress, was to make her debut at the same time. - -Lucien was amazed at the power wielded by the press. "This gentleman -is with me," said Etienne Lousteau, and the box-office clerks bowed -before him as one man. - -"You will find it no easy matter to get seats," said the head-clerk. -"There is nothing left now but the stage box." - -A certain amount of time was wasted in controversies with the box- -keepers in the lobbies, when Etienne said, "Let us go behind the -scenes; we will speak to the manager, he will take us into the stage- -box; and besides, I will introduce you to Florine, the heroine of the -evening." - -At a sign from Etienne Lousteau, the doorkeeper of the orchestra took -out a little key and unlocked a door in the thickness of the wall. -Lucien, following his friend, went suddenly out of the lighted -corridor into the black darkness of the passage between the house and -the wings. A short flight of damp steps surmounted, one of the -strangest of all spectacles opened out before the provincial poet's -eyes. The height of the roof, the slenderness of the props, the -ladders hung with Argand lamps, the atrocious ugliness of scenery -beheld at close quarters, the thick paint on the actors' faces, and -their outlandish costumes, made of such coarse materials, the stage -carpenters in greasy jackets, the firemen, the stage manager strutting -about with his hat on his head, the supernumeraries sitting among the -hanging back-scenes, the ropes and pulleys, the heterogeneous -collection of absurdities, shabby, dirty, hideous, and gaudy, was -something so altogether different from the stage seen over the -footlights, that Lucien's astonishment knew no bounds. The curtain was -just about to fall on a good old-fashioned melodrama entitled Bertram, -a play adapted from a tragedy by Maturin which Charles Nodier, -together with Byron and Sir Walter Scott, held in the highest esteem, -though the play was a failure on the stage in Paris. - -"Keep a tight hold of my arm, unless you have a mind to fall through a -trap-door, or bring down a forest on your head; you will pull down a -palace, or carry off a cottage, if you are not careful," said Etienne. ---"Is Florine in her dressing-room, my pet?" he added, addressing an -actress who stood waiting for her cue. - -"Yes, love. Thank you for the things you said about me. You are so -much nicer since Florine has come here." - -"Come, don't spoil your entry, little one. Quick with you, look sharp, -and say, 'Stop, wretched man!' nicely, for there are two thousand -francs of takings." - -Lucien was struck with amazement when the girl's whole face suddenly -changed, and she shrieked, "Stop, wretched man!" a cry that froze the -blood in your veins. She was no longer the same creature. - -"So this is the stage," he said to Lousteau. - -"It is like the bookseller's shop in the Wooden Galleries, or a -literary paper," said Etienne Lousteau; "it is a kitchen, neither more -nor less." - -Nathan appeared at this moment. - -"What brings you here?" inquired Lousteau. - -"Why, I am doing the minor theatres for the Gazette until something -better turns up." - -"Oh! come to supper with us this evening; speak well of Florine, and I -will do as much for you." - -"Very much at your service," returned Nathan. - -"You know; she is living in the Rue du Bondy now." - -"Lousteau, dear boy, who is the handsome young man that you have -brought with you?" asked the actress, now returned to the wings. - -"A great poet, dear, that will have a famous name one of these days.-- -M. Nathan, I must introduce M. Lucien de Rubempre to you, as you are -to meet again at supper." - -"You have a good name, monsieur," said Nathan. - -"Lucien, M. Raoul Nathan," continued Etienne. - -"I read your book two days ago; and, upon my word, I cannot understand -how you, who have written such a book, and such poetry, can be so -humble to a journalist." - -"Wait till your first book comes out," said Nathan, and a shrewd smile -flitted over his face. - -"I say! I say! here are Ultras and Liberals actually shaking hands!" -cried Vernou, spying the trio. - -"In the morning I hold the views of my paper," said Nathan, "in the -evening I think as I please; all journalists see double at night." - -Felicien Vernou turned to Lousteau. - -"Finot is looking for you, Etienne; he came with me, and--here he is!" - -"Ah, by the by, there is not a place in the house, is there?" asked -Finot. - -"You will always find a place in our hearts," said the actress, with -the sweetest smile imaginable. - -"I say, my little Florville, are you cured already of your fancy? They -told me that a Russian prince had carried you off." - -"Who carries off women in these days" said Florville (she who had -cried, "Stop, wretched man!"). "We stayed at Saint-Mande for ten days, -and my prince got off with paying the forfeit money to the management. -The manager will go down on his knees to pray for some more Russian -princes," Florville continued, laughing; "the forfeit money was so -much clear gain." - -"And as for you, child," said Finot, turning to a pretty girl in a -peasant's costume, "where did you steal these diamond ear-drops? Have -you hooked an Indian prince?" - -"No, a blacking manufacturer, an Englishman, who has gone off already. -It is not everybody who can find millionaire shopkeepers, tired of -domestic life, whenever they like, as Florine does and Coralie. Aren't -they just lucky?" - -"Florville, you will make a bad entry," said Lousteau; "the blacking -has gone to your head!" - -"If you want a success," said Nathan, "instead of screaming, 'He is -saved!' like a Fury, walk on quite quietly, go to the staircase, and -say, 'He is saved,' in a chest voice, like Pasta's 'O patria,' in -Tancreda.--There, go along!" and he pushed her towards the stage. - -"It is too late," said Vernou, "the effect has hung fire." - -"What did she do? the house is applauding like mad," asked Lousteau. - -"Went down on her knees and showed her bosom; that is her great -resource," said the blacking-maker's widow. - -"The manager is giving up the stage box to us; you will find me there -when you come," said Finot, as Lousteau walked off with Lucien. - -At the back of the stage, through a labyrinth of scenery and -corridors, the pair climbed several flights of stairs and reached a -little room on a third floor, Nathan and Felicien Vernou following -them. - -"Good-day or good-night, gentlemen," said Florine. Then, turning to a -short, stout man standing in a corner, "These gentlemen are the rulers -of my destiny," she said, my future is in their hands; but they will -be under our table to-morrow morning, I hope, if M. Lousteau has -forgotten nothing----" - -"Forgotten! You are going to have Blondet of the Debats," said -Etienne, "the genuine Blondet, the very Blondet--Blondet himself, in -short." - -"Oh! Lousteau, you dear boy! stop, I must give you a kiss," and she -flung her arms about the journalist's neck. Matifat, the stout person -in the corner, looked serious at this. - -Florine was thin; her beauty, like a bud, gave promise of the flower -to come; the girl of sixteen could only delight the eyes of artists -who prefer the sketch to the picture. All the quick subtlety of her -character was visible in the features of the charming actress, who at -that time might have sat for Goethe's Mignon. Matifat, a wealthy -druggist of the Rue des Lombards, had imagined that a little Boulevard -actress would have no very expensive tastes, but in eleven months -Florine had cost him sixty thousand francs. Nothing seemed more -extraordinary to Lucien than the sight of an honest and worthy -merchant standing like a statue of the god Terminus in the actress' -narrow dressing-room, a tiny place some ten feet square, hung with a -pretty wall-paper, and adorned with a full-length mirror, a sofa, and -two chairs. There was a fireplace in the dressing-closet, a carpet on -the floor, and cupboards all round the room. A dresser was putting the -finishing touches to a Spanish costume; for Florine was to take the -part of a countess in an imbroglio. - -"That girl will be the handsomest actress in Paris in five years' -time," said Nathan, turning to Felicien Vernou. - -"By the by, darlings, you will take care of me to-morrow, won't you?" -said Florine, turning to the three journalists. "I have engaged cabs -for to-night, for I am going to send you home as tipsy as Shrove -Tuesday. Matifat has sent in wines--oh! wines worthy of Louis XVIII., -and engaged the Prussian ambassador's cook." - -"We expect something enormous from the look of the gentleman," -remarked Nathan. - -"And he is quite aware that he is treating the most dangerous men in -Paris," added Florine. - -Matifat was looking uneasily at Lucien; he felt jealous of the young -man's good looks. - -"But here is some one that I do not know," Florine continued, -confronting Lucien. "Which of you has imported the Apollo Belvedere -from Florence? He is as charming as one of Girodet's figures." - -"He is a poet, mademoiselle, from the provinces. I forgot to present -him to you; you are so beautiful to-night that you put the Complete -Guide to Etiquette out of a man's head----" - -"Is he so rich that he can afford to write poetry?" asked Florine. - -"Poor as Job," said Lucien. - -"It is a great temptation for some of us," said the actress. - -Just then the author of the play suddenly entered, and Lucien beheld -M. du Bruel, a short, attenuated young man in an overcoat, a composite -human blend of the jack-in-office, the owner of house-property, and -the stockbroker. - -"Florine, child," said this personage, "are you sure of your part, eh? -No slips of memory, you know. And mind that scene in the second act, -make the irony tell, bring out that subtle touch; say, 'I do not love -you,' just as we agreed." - -"Why do you take parts in which you have to say such things?" asked -Matifat. - -The druggist's remark was received with a general shout of laughter. - -"What does it matter to you," said Florine, "so long as I don't say -such things to you, great stupid?--Oh! his stupidity is the pleasure -of my life," she continued, glancing at the journalist. "Upon my word, -I would pay him so much for every blunder, if it would not be the ruin -of me." - -"Yes, but you will look at me when you say it, as you do when you are -rehearsing, and it gives me a turn," remonstrated the druggist. - -"Very well, then, I will look at my friend Lousteau here." - -A bell rang outside in the passage. - -"Go out, all of you!" cried Florine; "let me read my part over again -and try to understand it." - -Lucien and Lousteau were the last to go. Lousteau set a kiss on -Florine's shoulder, and Lucien heard her say, "Not to-night. -Impossible. That stupid old animal told his wife that he was going out -into the country." - -"Isn't she charming?" said Etienne, as they came away. - -"But--but that Matifat, my dear fellow----" - -"Oh! you know nothing of Parisian life, my boy. Some things cannot be -helped. Suppose that you fell in love with a married woman, it comes -to the same thing. It all depends on the way that you look at it." - -Etienne and Lucien entered the stage-box, and found the manager there -with Finot. Matifat was in the ground-floor box exactly opposite with -a friend of his, a silk-mercer named Camusot (Coralie's protector), -and a worthy little old soul, his father-in-law. All three of these -city men were polishing their opera-glasses, and anxiously scanning -the house; certain symptoms in the pit appeared to disturb them. The -usual heterogeneous first-night elements filled the boxes--journalists -and their mistresses, lorettes and their lovers, a sprinkling of the -determined playgoers who never miss a first night if they can help it, -and a very few people of fashion who care for this sort of sensation. -The first box was occupied by the head of a department, to whom du -Bruel, maker of vaudevilles, owed a snug little sinecure in the -Treasury. - -Lucien had gone from surprise to surprise since the dinner at -Flicoteaux's. For two months Literature had meant a life of poverty -and want; in Lousteau's room he had seen it at its cynical worst; in -the Wooden Galleries he had met Literature abject and Literature -insolent. The sharp contrasts of heights and depths; of compromise -with conscience; of supreme power and want of principle; of treachery -and pleasure; of mental elevation and bondage--all this made his head -swim, he seemed to be watching some strange unheard-of drama. - -Finot was talking with the manager. "Do you think du Bruel's piece -will pay?" he asked. - -"Du Bruel has tried to do something in Beaumarchais' style. Boulevard -audiences don't care for that kind of thing; they like harrowing -sensations; wit is not much appreciated here. Everything depends on -Florine and Coralie to-night; they are bewitchingly pretty and -graceful, wear very short skirts, and dance a Spanish dance, and -possibly they may carry off the piece with the public. The whole -affair is a gambling speculation. A few clever notices in the papers, -and I may make a hundred thousand crowns, if the play takes." - -"Oh! come, it will only be a moderate success, I can see," said Finot. - -"Three of the theatres have got up a plot," continued the manager; -"they will even hiss the piece, but I have made arrangements to defeat -their kind intentions. I have squared the men in their pay; they will -make a muddle of it. A couple of city men yonder have taken a hundred -tickets apiece to secure a triumph for Florine and Coralie, and given -them to acquaintances able and ready to act as chuckers out. The -fellows, having been paid twice, will go quietly, and a scene of that -sort always makes a good impression on the house." - -"Two hundred tickets! What invaluable men!" exclaimed Finot. - -"Yes. With two more actresses as handsomely kept as Florine and -Coralie, I should make something out of the business." - -For the past two hours the word money had been sounding in Lucien's -ears as the solution of every difficulty. In the theatre as in the -publishing trade, and in the publishing trade as in the newspaper- -office--it was everywhere the same; there was not a word of art or of -glory. The steady beat of the great pendulum, Money, seemed to fall -like hammer-strokes on his heart and brain. And yet while the -orchestra played the overture, while the pit was full of noisy tumult -of applause and hisses, unconsciously he drew a comparison between -this scene and others that came up in his mind. Visions arose before -him of David and the printing-office, of the poetry that he came to -know in that atmosphere of pure peace, when together they beheld the -wonders of Art, the high successes of genius, and visions of glory -borne on stainless wings. He thought of the evenings spent with -d'Arthez and his friends, and tears glittered in his eyes. - -"What is the matter with you?" asked Etienne Lousteau. - -"I see poetry fallen into the mire." - -"Ah! you have still some illusions left, my dear fellow." - -"Is there nothing for it but to cringe and submit to thickheads like -Matifat and Camusot, as actresses bow down to journalists, and we -ourselves to the booksellers?" - -"My boy, do you see that dull-brained fellow?" said Etienne, lowering -his voice, and glancing at Finot. "He has neither genius nor -cleverness, but he is covetous; he means to make a fortune at all -costs, and he is a keen man of business. Didn't you see how he made -forty per cent out of me at Dauriat's, and talked as if he were doing -me a favor?--Well, he gets letters from not a few unknown men of -genius who go down on their knees to him for a hundred francs." - -The words recalled the pen-and-ink sketch that lay on the table in the -editor's office and the words, "Finot, my hundred francs!" Lucien's -inmost soul shrank from the man in disgust. - -"I would sooner die," he said. - -"Sooner live," retorted Etienne. - -The curtain rose, and the stage-manager went off to the wings to give -orders. Finot turned to Etienne. - -"My dear fellow, Dauriat has passed his word; I am proprietor of one- -third of his weekly paper. I have agreed to give thirty thousand -francs in cash, on condition that I am to be editor and director. 'Tis -a splendid thing. Blondet told me that the Government intends to take -restrictive measures against the press; there will be no new papers -allowed; in six months' time it will cost a million francs to start a -new journal, so I struck a bargain though I have only ten thousand -francs in hand. Listen to me. If you can sell one-half of my share, -that is one-sixth of the paper, to Matifat for thirty thousand francs, -you shall be editor of my little paper with a salary of two hundred -and fifty francs per month. I want in any case to have the control of -my old paper, and to keep my hold upon it; but nobody need know that, -and your name will appear as editor. You will be paid at the rate of -five francs per column; you need not pay contributors more than three -francs, and you keep the difference. That means another four hundred -and fifty francs per month. But, at the same time, I reserve the right -to use the paper to attack or defend men or causes, as I please; and -you may indulge your own likes and dislikes so long as you do not -interfere with my schemes. Perhaps I may be a Ministerialist, perhaps -Ultra, I do not know yet; but I mean to keep up my connections with -the Liberal party (below the surface). I can speak out with you; you -are a good fellow. I might, perhaps, give you the Chambers to do for -another paper on which I work; I am afraid I can scarcely keep on with -it now. So let Florine do this bit of jockeying; tell her to put the -screw on her druggist. If I can't find the money within forty-eight -hours, I must cry off my bargain. Dauriat sold another third to his -printer and paper-dealer for thirty thousand francs; so he has his own -third gratis, and ten thousand francs to the good, for he only gave -fifty thousand for the whole affair. And in another year's time the -magazine will be worth two hundred thousand francs, if the Court buys -it up; if the Court has the good sense to suppress newspapers, as they -say." - -"You are lucky," said Lousteau. - -"If you had gone through all that I have endured, you would not say -that of me. I had my fill of misery in those days, you see, and there -was no help for it. My father is a hatter; he still keeps a shop in -the Rue du Coq. Nothing but millions of money or a social cataclysm -can open out the way to my goal; and of the two alternatives, I don't -know now that the revolution is not the easier. If I bore your -friend's name, I should have a chance to get on. Hush, here comes the -manager. Good-bye," and Finot rose to his feet, "I am going to the -Opera. I shall very likely have a duel on my hands to-morrow, for I -have put my initials to a terrific attack on a couple of dancers under -the protection of two Generals. I am giving it them hot and strong at -the Opera." - -"Aha?" said the manager. - -"Yes. They are stingy with me," returned Finot, "now cutting off a -box, and now declining to take fifty subscriptions. I have sent in my -ultimatum; I mean to have a hundred subscriptions out of them and a -box four times a month. If they take my terms, I shall have eight -hundred readers and a thousand paying subscribers, so we shall have -twelve hundred with the New Year." - -"You will end by ruining us," said the manager. - -"YOU are not much hurt with your ten subscriptions. I had two good -notices put into the Constitutionnel." - -"Oh! I am not complaining of you," cried the manager. - -"Good-bye till to-morrow evening, Lousteau," said Finot. "You can give -me your answer at the Francais; there is a new piece on there; and as -I shall not be able to write the notice, you can take my box. I will -give you preference; you have worked yourself to death for me, and I -am grateful. Felicien Vernou offered twenty thousand francs for a -third share of my little paper, and to work without a salary for a -twelvemonth; but I want to be absolute master. Good-bye." - -"He is not named Finot" (finaud, slyboots) "for nothing," said Lucien. - -"He is a gallows-bird that will get on in the world," said Etienne, -careless whether the wily schemer overheard the remark or not, as he -shut the door of the box. - -"HE!" said the manager. "He will be a millionaire; he will enjoy the -respect of all who know him; he may perhaps have friends some day----" - -"Good heavens! what a den!" said Lucien. "And are you going to drag -that excellent creature into such a business?" he continued, looking -at Florine, who gave them side glances from the stage. - -"She will carry it through too. You do not know the devotion and the -wiles of these beloved beings," said Lousteau. - -"They redeem their failings and expiate all their sins by boundless -love, when they love," said the manager. "A great love is all the -grander in an actress by reason of its violent contrast with her -surroundings." - -"And he who finds it, finds a diamond worthy of the proudest crown -lying in the mud," returned Lousteau. - -"But Coralie is not attending to her part," remarked the manager. -"Coralie is smitten with our friend here, all unsuspicious of his -conquest, and Coralie will make a fiasco; she is missing her cues, -this is the second time she had not heard the prompter. Pray, go into -the corner, monsieur," he continued. "If Coralie is smitten with you, -I will go and tell her that you have left the house." - -"No! no!" cried Lousteau; "tell Coralie that this gentleman is coming -to supper, and that she can do as she likes with him, and she will -play like Mlle. Mars." - -The manager went, and Lucien turned to Etienne. "What! do you mean to -say that you will ask that druggist, through Mlle. Florine, to pay -thirty thousand francs for one-half a share, when Finot gave no more -for the whole of it? And ask without the slightest scruple?----" - -Lousteau interrupted Lucien before he had time to finish his -expostulation. "My dear boy, what country can you come from? The -druggist is not a man; he is a strong box delivered into our hands by -his fancy for an actress." - -"How about your conscience?" - -"Conscience, my dear fellow, is a stick which every one takes up to -beat his neighbor and not for application to his own back. Come, now! -who the devil are you angry with? In one day chance has worked a -miracle for you, a miracle for which I have been waiting these two -years, and you must needs amuse yourself by finding fault with the -means? What! you appear to me to possess intelligence; you seem to be -in a fair way to reach that freedom from prejudice which is a first -necessity to intellectual adventurers in the world we live in; and are -you wallowing in scruples worthy of a nun who accuses herself of -eating an egg with concupiscence? . . . If Florine succeeds, I shall -be editor of a newspaper with a fixed salary of two hundred and fifty -francs per month; I shall take the important plays and leave the -vaudevilles to Vernou, and you can take my place and do the Boulevard -theatres, and so get a foot in the stirrup. You will make three francs -per column and write a column a day--thirty columns a month means -ninety francs; you will have some sixty francs worth of books to sell -to Barbet; and lastly, you can demand ten tickets a month of each of -your theatres--that is, forty tickets in all--and sell them for forty -francs to a Barbet who deals in them (I will introduce you to the -man), so you will have two hundred francs coming in every month. Then -if you make yourself useful to Finot, you might get a hundred francs -for an article in this new weekly review of his, in which case you -would show uncommon talent, for all the articles are signed, and you -cannot put in slip-shod work as you can on a small paper. In that case -you would be making a hundred crowns a month. Now, my dear boy, there -are men of ability, like that poor d'Arthez, who dines at Flicoteaux's -every day, who may wait for ten years before they will make a hundred -crowns; and you will be making four thousand francs a year by your -pen, to say nothing of the books you will write for the trade, if you -do work of that kind. - -"Now, a sub-prefect's salary only amounts to a thousand crowns, and -there he stops in his arrondissement, wearing away time like the rung -of a chair. I say nothing of the pleasure of going to the theatre -without paying for your seat, for that is a delight which quickly -palls; but you can go behind the scenes in four theatres. Be hard and -sarcastic for a month or two, and you will be simply overwhelmed with -invitations from actresses, and their adorers will pay court to you; -you will only dine at Flicoteaux's when you happen to have less than -thirty sous in your pocket and no dinner engagement. At the -Luxembourg, at five o'clock, you did not know which way to turn; now, -you are on the eve of entering a privileged class, you will be one of -the hundred persons who tell France what to think. In three days' -time, if all goes well, you can, if you choose, make a man's life a -curse to him by putting thirty jokes at his expense in print at the -rate of three a day; you can, if you choose, draw a revenue of -pleasure from the actresses at your theatres; you can wreck a good -play and send all Paris running after a bad one. If Dauriat declines -to pay you for your Marguerites, you can make him come to you, and -meekly and humbly implore you to take two thousand francs for them. If -you have the ability, and knock off two or three articles that -threaten to spoil some of Dauriat's speculations, or to ruin a book on -which he counts, you will see him come climbing up your stairs like a -clematis, and always at the door of your dwelling. As for your novel, -the booksellers who would show you more or less politely to the door -at this moment will be standing outside your attic in a string, and -the value of the manuscript, which old Doguereau valued at four -hundred francs will rise to four thousand. These are the advantages of -the journalist's profession. So let us do our best to keep all -newcomers out of it. It needs an immense amount of brains to make your -way, and a still greater amount of luck. And here are you quibbling -over your good fortune! If we had not met to-day, you see, at -Flicoteaux's, you might have danced attendance on the booksellers for -another three years, or starved like d'Arthez in a garret. By the time -that d'Arthez is as learned as Bayle and as great a writer of prose as -Rousseau, we shall have made our fortunes, you and I, and we shall -hold his in our hands--wealth and fame to give or to hold. Finot will -be a deputy and proprietor of a great newspaper, and we shall be -whatever we meant to be--peers of France, or prisoner for debt in -Sainte-Pelagie." - -"So Finot will sell his paper to the highest bidder among the -Ministers, just as he sells favorable notices to Mme. Bastienne and -runs down Mlle. Virginie, saying that Mme. Bastienne's bonnets are -superior to the millinery which they praised at first!" said Lucien, -recollecting that scene in the office. - -"My dear fellow, you are a simpleton," Lousteau remarked drily. "Three -years ago Finot was walking on the uppers of his boots, dining for -eighteen sous at Tabar's, and knocking off a tradesman's prospectus -(when he could get it) for ten francs. His clothes hung together by -some miracle as mysterious as the Immaculate Conception. NOW, Finot -has a paper of his own, worth about a hundred thousand francs. What -with subscribers who pay and take no copies, genuine subscriptions, -and indirect taxes levied by his uncle, he is making twenty thousand -francs a year. He dines most sumptuously every day; he has set up a -cabriolet within the last month; and now, at last, behold him the -editor of a weekly review with a sixth share, for which he will not -pay a penny, a salary of five hundred francs per month, and another -thousand francs for supplying matter which costs him nothing, and for -which the firm pays. You yourself, to begin with, if Finot consents to -pay you fifty francs per sheet, will be only too glad to let him have -two or three articles for nothing. When you are in his position, you -can judge Finot; a man can only be tried by his peers. And for you, is -there not an immense future opening out before you, if you will -blindly minister to his enmity, attack at Finot's bidding, and praise -when he gives the word? Suppose that you yourself wish to be revenged -upon somebody, you can break a foe or friend on the wheel. You have -only to say to me, 'Lousteau, let us put an end to So-and-so,' and we -will kill him by a phrase put in the paper morning by morning; and -afterwards you can slay the slain with a solemn article in Finot's -weekly. Indeed, if it is a matter of capital importance to you, Finot -would allow you to bludgeon your man in a big paper with ten or twelve -thousand subscribers, IF you make yourself indispensable to Finot." - -"Then are you sure that Florine can bring her druggist to make the -bargain?" asked Lucien, dazzled by these prospects. - -"Quite sure. Now comes the interval, I will go and tell her everything -at once in a word or two; it will be settled to-night. If Florine once -has her lesson by heart, she will have all my wit and her own -besides." - -"And there sits that honest tradesman, gaping with open-mouthed -admiration at Florine, little suspecting that you are about to get -thirty thousand francs out of him!----" - -"More twaddle! Anybody might think that the man was going to be -robbed!" cried Lousteau. "Why, my dear boy, if the minister buys the -newspaper, the druggist may make twenty thousand francs in six months -on an investment of thirty thousand. Matifat is not looking at the -newspaper, but at Florine's prospects. As soon as it is known that -Matifat and Camusot--(for they will go shares)--that Matifat and -Camusot are proprietors of a review, the newspapers will be full of -friendly notices of Florine and Coralie. Florine's name will be made; -she will perhaps obtain an engagement in another theatre with a salary -of twelve thousand francs. In fact, Matifat will save a thousand -francs every month in dinners and presents to journalists. You know -nothing of men, nor of the way things are managed." - -"Poor man!" said Lucien, "he is looking forward to an evening's -pleasure." - -"And he will be sawn in two with arguments until Florine sees Finot's -receipt for a sixth share of the paper. And to-morrow I shall be -editor of Finot's paper, and making a thousand francs a month. The end -of my troubles is in sight!" cried Florine's lover. - - - -Lousteau went out, and Lucien sat like one bewildered, lost in the -infinite of thought, soaring above this everyday world. In the Wooden -Galleries he had seen the wires by which the trade in books is moved; -he has seen something of the kitchen where great reputations are made; -he had been behind the scenes; he had seen the seamy side of life, the -consciences of men involved in the machinery of Paris, the mechanism -of it all. As he watched Florine on the stage he almost envied -Lousteau his good fortune; already, for a few moments he had forgotten -Matifat in the background. He was not left alone for long, perhaps for -not more than five minutes, but those minutes seemed an eternity. - -Thoughts rose within him that set his soul on fire, as the spectacle -on the stage had heated his senses. He looked at the women with their -wanton eyes, all the brighter for the red paint on their cheeks, at -the gleaming bare necks, the luxuriant forms outlined by the -lascivious folds of the basquina, the very short skirts, that -displayed as much as possible of limbs encased in scarlet stockings -with green clocks to them--a disquieting vision for the pit. - -A double process of corruption was working within him in parallel -lines, like two channels that will spread sooner or later in flood -time and make one. That corruption was eating into Lucien's soul, as -he leaned back in his corner, staring vacantly at the curtain, one arm -resting on the crimson velvet cushion, and his hand drooping over the -edge. He felt the fascination of the life that was offered to him, of -the gleams of light among its clouds; and this so much the more keenly -because it shone out like a blaze of fireworks against the blank -darkness of his own obscure, monotonous days of toil. - -Suddenly his listless eyes became aware of a burning glance that -reached him through a rent in the curtain, and roused him from his -lethargy. Those were Coralie's eyes that glowed upon him. He lowered -his head and looked across at Camusot, who just then entered the -opposite box. - -That amateur was a worthy silk-mercer of the Rue des Bourdonnais, -stout and substantial, a judge in the commercial court, a father of -four children, and the husband of a second wife. At the age of fifty- -six, with a cap of gray hair on his head, he had the smug appearance -of a man who has his eighty thousand francs of income; and having been -forced to put up with a good deal that he did not like in the way of -business, has fully made up his mind to enjoy the rest of his life, -and not to quit this earth until he has had his share of cakes and -ale. A brow the color of fresh butter and florid cheeks like a monk's -jowl seemed scarcely big enough to contain his exuberant jubilation. -Camusot had left his wife at home, and they were applauding Coralie to -the skies. All the rich man's citizen vanity was summed up and -gratified in Coralie; in Coralie's lodging he gave himself the airs of -a great lord of a bygone day; now, at this moment, he felt that half -of her success was his; the knowledge that he had paid for it -confirmed him in this idea. Camusot's conduct was sanctioned by the -presence of his father-in-law, a little old fogy with powdered hair -and leering eyes, highly respected nevertheless. - -Again Lucien felt disgust rising within him. He thought of the year -when he loved Mme. de Bargeton with an exalted and disinterested love; -and at that thought love, as a poet understands it, spread its white -wings about him; countless memories drew a circle of distant blue -horizon about the great man of Angouleme, and again he fell to -dreaming. - -Up went the curtain, and there stood Coralie and Florine upon the -stage. - -"He is thinking about as much of you as of the Grand Turk, my dear -girl," Florine said in an aside while Coralie was finishing her -speech. - -Lucien could not help laughing. He looked at Coralie. She was one of -the most charming and captivating actresses in Paris, rivaling Mme. -Perrin and Mlle. Fleuriet, and destined likewise to share their fate. -Coralie was a woman of a type that exerts at will a power of -fascination over men. With an oval face of deep ivory tint, a mouth -red as a pomegranate, and a chin subtly delicate in its contour as the -edge of a porcelain cup, Coralie was a Jewess of the sublime type. The -jet black eyes behind their curving lashes seemed to scorch her -eyelids; you could guess how soft they might grow, or how sparks of -the heat of the desert might flash from them in response to a summons -from within. The circles of olive shadow about them were bounded by -thick arching lines of eyebrow. Magnificent mental power, well-nigh -amounting to genius, seemed to dwell in the swarthy forehead beneath -the double curve of ebony hair that lay upon it like a crown, and -gleamed in the light like a varnished surface; but like many another -actress, Coralie had little wit in spite of her aptness at greenroom -repartee, and scarcely any education in spite of her boudoir -experience. Her brain was prompted by her senses, her kindness was the -impulsive warm-heartedness of girls of her class. But who could -trouble over Coralie's psychology when his eyes were dazzled by those -smooth, round arms of hers, the spindle-shaped fingers, the fair white -shoulders, and breast celebrated in the Song of Songs, the flexible -curving lines of throat, the graciously moulded outlines beneath the -scarlet silk stockings? And this beauty, worthy of an Eastern poet, -was brought into relief by the conventional Spanish costume of the -stage. Coralie was the delight of the pit; all eyes dwelt on the -outlines moulded by the clinging folds of her bodice, and lingered -over the Andalusian contour of the hips from which her skirt hung, -fluttering wantonly with every movement. To Lucien, watching this -creature, who played for him alone, caring no more for Camusot than a -street-boy in the gallery cares for an apple-paring, there came a -moment when he set desire above love, and enjoyment above desire, and -the demon of Lust stirred strange thoughts in him. - -"I know nothing of the love that wallows in luxury and wine and -sensual pleasure," he said within himself. "I have lived more with -ideas than with realities. You must pass through all experience if you -mean to render all experience. This will be my first great supper, my -first orgy in a new and strange world; why should I not know, for -once, the delights which the great lords of the eighteenth century -sought so eagerly of wantons of the Opera? Must one not first learn of -courtesans and actresses the delights, the perfections, the -transports, the resources, the subtleties of love, if only to -translate them afterwards into the regions of a higher love than this? -And what is all this, after all, but the poetry of the senses? Two -months ago these women seemed to me to be goddesses guarded by dragons -that no one dared approach; I was envying Lousteau just now, but here -is another handsomer than Florine; why should I not profit by her -fancy, when the greatest nobles buy a night with such women with their -richest treasures? When ambassadors set foot in these depths, they -fling aside all thought of yesterday or to-morrow. I should be a fool -to be more squeamish than princes, especially as I love no one as -yet." - -Lucien had quite forgotten Camusot. To Lousteau he had expressed the -utmost disgust for this most hateful of all partitions, and now he -himself had sunk to the same level, and, carried away by the casuistry -of his vehement desire, had given the reins to his fancy. - -"Coralie is raving about you," said Lousteau as he came in. "Your -countenance, worthy of the greatest Greek sculptors, has worked -unutterable havoc behind the scenes. You are in luck my dear boy. -Coralie is eighteen years old, and in a few days' time she may be -making sixty thousand francs a year by her beauty. She is an honest -girl still. Since her mother sold her three years ago for sixty -thousand francs, she has tried to find happiness, and found nothing -but annoyance. She took to the stage in a desperate mood; she has a -horror of her first purchaser, de Marsay; and when she came out of the -galleys, for the king of dandies soon dropped her, she picked up old -Camusot. She does not care much about him, but he is like a father to -her, and she endures him and his love. Several times already she has -refused the handsomest proposals; she is faithful to Camusot, who lets -her live in peace. So you are her first love. The first sight of you -went to her heart like a pistol-shot, Florine has gone to her -dressing-room to bring the girl to reason. She is crying over your -cruelty; she has forgotten her part, the play will go to pieces, and -good-day to the engagement at the Gymnase which Camusot had planned -for her." - -"Pooh! . . . Poor thing!" said Lucien. Every instinct of vanity was -tickled by the words; he felt his heart swell high with self-conceit. -"More adventures have befallen me in this one evening, my dear fellow, -than in all the first eighteen years of my life." And Lucien related -the history of his love affairs with Mme. de Bargeton, and of the -cordial hatred he bore the Baron du Chatelet. - -"Stay though! the newspaper wants a bete noire; we will take him up. -The Baron is a buck of the Empire and a Ministerialist; he is the man -for us; I have seen him many a time at the Opera. I can see your great -lady as I sit here; she is often in the Marquise d'Espard's box. The -Baron is paying court to your lady love, a cuttlefish bone that she -is. Wait! Finot has just sent a special messenger round to say that -they are short of copy at the office. Young Hector Merlin has left -them in the lurch because they did not pay for white lines. Finot, in -despair, is knocking off an article against the Opera. Well now, my -dear fellow, you can do this play; listen to it and think it over, and -I will go to the manager's office and think out three columns about -your man and your disdainful fair one. They will be in no pleasant -predicament to-morrow." - -"So this is how a newspaper is written?" said Lucien. - -"It is always like this," answered Lousteau. "These ten months that I -have been a journalist, they have always run short of copy at eight -o'clock in the evening." - -Manuscript sent to the printer is spoken of as "copy," doubtless -because the writers are supposed to send in a fair copy of their work; -or possibly the word is ironically derived from the Latin word copia, -for copy is invariably scarce. - -"We always mean to have a few numbers ready in advance, a grand idea -that will never be realized," continued Lousteau. "It is ten o'clock, -you see, and not a line has been written. I shall ask Vernou and -Nathan for a score of epigrams on deputies, or on 'Chancellor Cruzoe,' -or on the Ministry, or on friends of ours if it needs must be. A man -in this pass would slaughter his parent, just as a privateer will load -his guns with silver pieces taken out of the booty sooner than perish. -Write a brilliant article, and you will make brilliant progress in -Finot's estimation; for Finot has a lively sense of benefits to come, -and that sort of gratitude is better than any kind of pledge, -pawntickets always excepted, for they invariably represent something -solid." - -"What kind of men can journalists be? Are you to sit down at a table -and be witty to order?" - -"Just exactly as a lamp begins to burn when you apply a match--so long -as there is any oil in it." - -Lousteau's hand was on the lock when du Bruel came in with the -manager. - -"Permit me, monsieur, to take a message to Coralie; allow me to tell -her that you will go home with her after supper, or my play will be -ruined. The wretched girl does not know what she is doing or saying; -she will cry when she ought to laugh and laugh when she ought to cry. -She has been hissed once already. You can still save the piece, and, -after all, pleasure is not a misfortune." - -"I am not accustomed to rivals, sir," Lucien answered. - -"Pray don't tell her that!" cried the manager. "Coralie is just the -girl to fling Camusot overboard and ruin herself in good earnest. The -proprietor of the Golden Cocoon, worthy man, allows her two thousand -francs a month, and pays for all her dresses and claqueurs." - -"As your promise pledges me to nothing, save your play," said Lucien, -with a sultan's airs. - -"But don't look as if you meant to snub that charming creature," -pleaded du Bruel. - -"Dear me! am I to write the notice of your play and smile on your -heroine as well?" exclaimed the poet. - -The author vanished with a signal to Coralie, who began to act -forthwith in a marvelous way. Vignol, who played the part of the -alcalde, and revealed for the first time his genius as an actor of old -men, came forward amid a storm of applause to make an announcement to -the house. - -"The piece which we have the honor of playing for you this evening, -gentlemen, is the work of MM. Raoul and de Cursy." - -"Why, Nathan is partly responsible," said Lousteau. "I don't wonder -that he looked in." - -"CORALIE! CORALIE!" shouted the enraptured house. "Florine, too!" -roared a voice of thunder from the opposite box, and other voices took -up the cry, "Florine and Coralie!" - -The curtain rose, Vignol reappeared between the two actresses; Matifat -and Camusot flung wreaths on the stage, and Coralie stooped for her -flowers and held them out to Lucien. - -For him those two hours spent in the theatre seemed to be a dream. The -spell that held him had begun to work when he went behind the scenes; -and, in spite of its horrors, the atmosphere of the place, its -sensuality and dissolute morals had affected the poet's still -untainted nature. A sort of malaria that infects the soul seems to -lurk among those dark, filthy passages filled with machinery, and lit -with smoky, greasy lamps. The solemnity and reality of life disappear, -the most sacred things are matter for a jest, the most impossible -things seem to be true. Lucien felt as if he had taken some narcotic, -and Coralie had completed the work. He plunged into this joyous -intoxication. - -The lights in the great chandelier were extinguished; there was no one -left in the house except the boxkeepers, busy taking away footstools -and shutting doors, the noises echoing strangely through the empty -theatre. The footlights, blown out as one candle, sent up a fetid reek -of smoke. The curtain rose again, a lantern was lowered from the -ceiling, and firemen and stage carpenters departed on their rounds. -The fairy scenes of the stage, the rows of fair faces in the boxes, -the dazzling lights, the magical illusion of new scenery and costume -had all disappeared, and dismal darkness, emptiness, and cold reigned -in their stead. It was hideous. Lucien sat on in bewilderment. - -"Well! are you coming, my boy?" Lousteau's voice called from the -stage. "Jump down." - -Lucien sprang over. He scarcely recognized Florine and Coralie in -their ordinary quilted paletots and cloaks, with their faces hidden by -hats and thick black veils. Two butterflies returned to the chrysalis -stage could not be more completely transformed. - -"Will you honor me by giving me your arm?" Coralie asked tremulously. - -"With pleasure," said Lucien. He could feel the beating of her heart -throbbing against his like some snared bird as she nestled closely to -his side, with something of the delight of a cat that rubs herself -against her master with eager silken caresses. - -"So we are supping together!" she said. - -The party of four found two cabs waiting for them at the door in the -Rue des Fosses-du-Temple. Coralie drew Lucien to one of the two, in -which Camusot and his father-in-law old Cardot were seated already. -She offered du Bruel a fifth place, and the manager drove off with -Florine, Matifat, and Lousteau. - -"These hackney cabs are abominable things," said Coralie. - -"Why don't you have a carriage?" returned du Bruel. - -"WHY?" she asked pettishly. "I do not like to tell you before M. -Cardot's face; for he trained his son-in-law, no doubt. Would you -believe it, little and old as he is, M. Cardot only gives Florine five -hundred francs a month, just about enough to pay for her rent and her -grub and her clothes. The old Marquis de Rochegude offered me a -brougham two months ago, and he has six hundred thousand francs a -year, but I am an artist and not a common hussy." - -"You shall have a carriage the day after to-morrow, miss," said -Camusot benignly; "you never asked me for one." - -"As if one ASKED for such a thing as that? What! you love a woman and -let her paddle about in the mud at the risk of breaking her legs? -Nobody but a knight of the yardstick likes to see a draggled skirt -hem." - -As she uttered the sharp words that cut Camusot to the quick, she -groped for Lucien's knee, and pressed it against her own, and clasped -her fingers upon his hand. She was silent. All her power to feel -seemed to be concentrated upon the ineffable joy of a moment which -brings compensation for the whole wretched past of a life such as -these poor creatures lead, and develops within their souls a poetry of -which other women, happily ignorant of these violent revulsions, know -nothing. - -"You played like Mlle. Mars herself towards the end," said du Bruel. - -"Yes," said Camusot, "something put her out at the beginning; but from -the middle of the second act to the very end, she was enough to drive -you wild with admiration. Half of the success of your play was due to -her." - -"And half of her success is due to me," said du Bruel. - -"This is all much ado about nothing," said Coralie in an unfamiliar -voice. And, seizing an opportunity in the darkness, she carried -Lucien's hand to her lips and kissed it and drenched it with tears. -Lucien felt thrilled through and through by that touch, for in the -humility of the courtesan's love there is a magnificence which might -set an example to angels. - -"Are you writing the dramatic criticism, monsieur?" said du Bruel, -addressing Lucien; "you can write a charming paragraph about our dear -Coralie." - -"Oh! do us that little service!" pleaded Camusot, down on his knees, -metaphorically speaking, before the critic. "You will always find me -ready to do you a good turn at any time." - -"Do leave him his independence," Coralie exclaimed angrily; "he will -write what he pleases. Papa Camusot, buy carriages for me instead of -praises." - -"You shall have them on very easy terms," Lucien answered politely. "I -have never written for newspapers before, so I am not accustomed to -their ways, my maiden pen is at your disposal----" - -"That is funny," said du Bruel. - -"Here we are in the Rue de Bondy," said Cardot. Coralie's sally had -quite crushed the little old man. - -"If you are giving me the first fruits of your pen, the first love -that has sprung up in my heart shall be yours," whispered Coralie in -the brief instant that they remained alone together in the cab; then -she went up to Florine's bedroom to change her dress for a toilette -previously sent. - -Lucien had no idea how lavishly a prosperous merchant will spend money -upon an actress or a mistress when he means to enjoy a life of -pleasure. Matifat was not nearly so rich a man as his friend Camusot, -and he had done his part rather shabbily, yet the sight of the dining- -room took Lucien by surprise. The walls were hung with green cloth -with a border of gilded nails, the whole room was artistically -decorated, lighted by handsome lamps, stands full of flowers stood in -every direction. The drawing-room was resplendent with the furniture -in fashion in those days--a Thomire chandelier, a carpet of Eastern -design, and yellow silken hangings relieved by a brown border. The -candlesticks, fire-irons, and clock were all in good taste; for -Matifat had left everything to Grindot, a rising architect, who was -building a house for him, and the young man had taken great pains with -the rooms when he knew that Florine was to occupy them. - -Matifat, a tradesman to the backbone, went about carefully, afraid to -touch the new furniture; he seemed to have the totals of the bills -always before his eyes, and to look upon the splendors about him as so -much jewelry imprudently withdrawn from the case. - -"And I shall be obliged to do as much for Florentine!" old Cardot's -eyes seemed to say. - -Lucien at once began to understand Lousteau's indifference to the -state of his garret. Etienne was the real king of these festivals; -Etienne enjoyed the use of all these fine things. He was standing just -now on the hearthrug with his back to the fire, as if he were the -master of the house, chatting with the manager, who was congratulating -du Bruel. - -"Copy, copy!" called Finot, coming into the room. "There is nothing in -the box; the printers are setting up my article, and they will soon -have finished." - -"We will manage," said Etienne. "There is a fire burning in Florine's -boudoir; there is a table there; and if M. Matifat will find us paper -and ink, we will knock off the newspaper while Florine and Coralie are -dressing." - -Cardot, Camusot, and Matifat disappeared in search of quills, -penknives, and everything necessary. Suddenly the door was flung open, -and Tullia, one of the prettiest opera-dancers of the day, dashed into -the room. - -"They agree to take the hundred copies, dear boy!" she cried, -addressing Finot; "they won't cost the management anything, for the -chorus and the orchestra and the corps de ballet are to take them -whether they like it or not; but your paper is so clever that nobody -will grumble. And you are going to have your boxes. Here is the -subscription for the first quarter," she continued, holding out a -couple of banknotes; "so don't cut me up!" - -"It is all over with me!" groaned Finot; "I must suppress my -abominable diatribe, and I haven't another notion in my head." - -"What a happy inspiration, divine Lais!" exclaimed Blondet, who had -followed the lady upstairs and brought Nathan, Vernou and Claude -Vignon with him. "Stop to supper, there is a dear, or I will crush -thee, butterfly as thou art. There will be no professional jealousies, -as you are a dancer; and as to beauty, you have all of you too much -sense to show jealousy in public." - -"Oh dear!" cried Finot, "Nathan, Blondet, du Bruel, help friends! I -want five columns." - -"I can make two of the play," said Lucien. - -"I have enough for one," added Lousteau. - -"Very well; Nathan, Vernou, and du Bruel will make the jokes at the -end; and Blondet, good fellow, surely will vouchsafe a couple of short -columns for the first sheet. I will run round to the printer. It is -lucky that you brought your carriage, Tullia." - -"Yes, but the Duke is waiting below in it, and he has a German -Minister with him." - -"Ask the Duke and the Minister to come up," said Nathan. - -"A German? They are the ones to drink, and they listen too; he shall -hear some astonishing things to send home to his Government," cried -Blondet. - -"Is there any sufficiently serious personage to go down to speak to -him?" asked Finot. "Here, du Bruel, you are an official; bring up the -Duc de Rhetore and the Minister, and give your arm to Tullia. Dear me! -Tullia, how handsome you are to-night!" - -"We shall be thirteen at table!" exclaimed Matifat, paling visibly. - -"No, fourteen," said a voice in the doorway, and Florentine appeared. -"I have come to look after 'milord Cardot,' " she added, speaking with -a burlesque English accent. - -"And besides," said Lousteau, "Claude Vignon came with Blondet." - -"I brought him here to drink," returned Blondet, taking up an -inkstand. "Look here, all of you, you must use all your wit before -those fifty-six bottles of wine drive it out. And, of all things, stir -up du Bruel; he is a vaudevillist, he is capable of making bad jokes -if you get him to concert pitch." - -And Lucien wrote his first newspaper article at the round table in -Florine's boudoir, by the light of the pink candles lighted by -Matifat; before such a remarkable audience he was eager to show what -he could do. - - THE PANORAMA-DRAMATIQUE. - - First performance of the Alcalde in a Fix, an imbroglio in three - acts.--First appearance of Mademoiselle Florine.--Mademoiselle - Coralie.--Vignol. - - People are coming and going, walking and talking, everybody is - looking for something, nobody finds anything. General hubbub. The - Alcalde has lost his daughter and found his cap, but the cap does - not fit; it must belong to some thief. Where is the thief? People - walk and talk, and come and go more than ever. Finally the Alcalde - finds a man without his daughter, and his daughter without the - man, which is satisfactory for the magistrate, but not for the - audience. Quiet being resorted, the Alcalde tries to examine the - man. Behold a venerable Alcalde, sitting in an Alcalde's great - armchair, arranging the sleeves of his Alcalde's gown. Only in - Spain do Alcaldes cling to their enormous sleeves and wear plaited - lawn ruffles about the magisterial throat, a good half of an - Alcalde's business on the stage in Paris. This particular Alcalde, - wheezing and waddling about like an asthmatic old man, is Vignol, - on whom Potier's mantle has fallen; a young actor who personates - old age so admirably that the oldest men in the audience cannot - help laughing. With that quavering voice of his, that bald - forehead, and those spindle shanks trembling under the weight of a - senile frame, he may look forward to a long career of decrepitude. - There is something alarming about the young actor's old age; he is - so very old; you feel nervous lest senility should be infectious. - And what an admirable Alcalde he makes! What a delightful, uneasy - smile! what pompous stupidity! what wooden dignity! what judicial - hesitation! How well the man knows that black may be white, or - white black! How eminently well he is fitted to be Minister to a - constitutional monarch! The stranger answers every one of his - inquiries by a question; Vignol retorts in such a fashion, that - the person under examination elicits all the truth from the - Alcalde. This piece of pure comedy, with a breath of Moliere - throughout, puts the house in good humor. The people on the stage - all seemed to understand what they were about, but I am quite - unable to clear up the mystery, or to say wherein it lay; for the - Alcalde's daughter was there, personified by a living, breathing - Andalusian, a Spaniard with a Spaniard's eyes, a Spaniard's - complexion, a Spaniard's gait and figure, a Spaniard from top to - toe, with her poniard in her garter, love in her heart, and a - cross on the ribbon about her neck. When the act was over, and - somebody asked me how the piece was going, I answered, "She wears - scarlet stockings with green clocks to them; she has a little - foot, no larger than THAT, in her patent leather shoes, and the - prettiest pair of ankles in Andalusia!" Oh! that Alcalde's - daughter brings your heart into your mouth; she tantalizes you so - horribly, that you long to spring upon the stage and offer her - your thatched hovel and your heart, or thirty thousand livres per - annum and your pen. The Andalusian is the loveliest actress in - Paris. Coralie, for she must be called by her real name, can be a - countess or a grisette, and in which part she would be more - charming one cannot tell. She can be anything that she chooses; - she is born to achieve all possibilities; can more be said of a - boulevard actress? - - With the second act, a Parisian Spaniard appeared upon the scene, - with her features cut like a cameo and her dangerous eyes. "Where - does she come from?" I asked in my turn, and was told that she - came from the greenroom, and that she was Mademoiselle Florine; - but, upon my word, I could not believe a syllable of it, such - spirit was there in her gestures, such frenzy in her love. She is - the rival of the Alcalde's daughter, and married to a grandee cut - out to wear an Almaviva's cloak, with stuff sufficient in it for a - hundred boulevard noblemen. Mlle. Florine wore neither scarlet - stockings with green clocks, nor patent leather shoes, but she - appeared in a mantilla, a veil which she put to admirable uses, - like the great lady that she is! She showed to admiration that the - tigress can be a cat. I began to understand, from the sparkling - talk between the two, that some drama of jealousy was going on; - and just as everything was put right, the Alcalde's stupidity - embroiled everybody again. Torchbearers, rich men, footmen, - Figaros, grandees, alcaldes, dames, and damsels--the whole company - on the stage began to eddy about, and come and go, and look for - one another. The plot thickened, again I left it to thicken; for - Florine the jealous and the happy Coralie had entangled me once - more in the folds of mantilla and basquina, and their little feet - were twinkling in my eyes. - - I managed, however, to reach the third act without any mishap. The - commissary of police was not compelled to interfere, and I did - nothing to scandalize the house, wherefore I begin to believe in - the influence of that "public and religious morality," about which - the Chamber of Deputies is so anxious, that any one might think - there was no morality left in France. I even contrived to gather - that a man was in love with two women who failed to return his - affection, or else that two women were in love with a man who - loved neither of them; the man did not love the Alcalde, or the - Alcalde had no love for the man, who was nevertheless a gallant - gentleman, and in love with somebody, with himself, perhaps, or - with heaven, if the worst came to the worst, for he becomes a - monk. And if you want to know any more, you can go to the - Panorama-Dramatique. You are hereby given fair warning--you must - go once to accustom yourself to those irresistible scarlet - stockings with the green clocks, to little feet full of promises, - to eyes with a ray of sunlight shining through them, to the subtle - charm of a Parisienne disguised as an Andalusian girl, and of an - Andalusian masquerading as a Parisienne. You must go a second time - to enjoy the play, to shed tears over the love-distracted grandee, - and die of laughing at the old Alcalde. The play is twice a - success. The author, who writes it, it is said, in collaboration - with one of the great poets of the day, was called before the - curtain, and appeared with a love-distraught damsel on each arm, - and fairly brought down the excited house. The two dancers seemed - to have more wit in their legs than the author himself; but when - once the fair rivals left the stage, the dialogue seemed witty at - once, a triumphant proof of the excellence of the piece. The - applause and calls for the author caused the architect some - anxiety; but M. de Cursy, the author, being accustomed to volcanic - eruptions of the reeling Vesuvius beneath the chandelier, felt no - tremor. As for the actresses, they danced the famous bolero of - Seville, which once found favor in the sight of a council of - reverend fathers, and escaped ecclesiastical censure in spite of - its wanton dangerous grace. The bolero in itself would be enough - to attract old age while there is any lingering heat of youth in - the veins, and out of charity I warn these persons to keep the - lenses of their opera-glasses well polished. - -While Lucien was writing a column which was to set a new fashion in -journalism and reveal a fresh and original gift, Lousteau indited an -article of the kind described as moeurs--a sketch of contemporary -manners, entitled The Elderly Beau. - -"The buck of the Empire," he wrote, "is invariably long, slender, and -well preserved. He wears a corset and the Cross of the Legion of -Honor. His name was originally Potelet, or something very like it; but -to stand well with the Court, he conferred a du upon himself, and du -Potelet he is until another revolution. A baron of the Empire, a man -of two ends, as his name (Potelet, a post) implies, he is paying his -court to the Faubourg Saint-Germain, after a youth gloriously and -usefully spent as the agreeable trainbearer of a sister of the man -whom decency forbids me to mention by name. Du Potelet has forgotten -that he was once in waiting upon Her Imperial Highness; but he still -sings the songs composed for the benefactress who took such a tender -interest in his career," and so forth and so forth. It was a tissue of -personalities, silly enough for the most part, such as they used to -write in those days. Other papers, and notably the Figaro, have -brought the art to a curious perfection since. Lousteau compared the -Baron to a heron, and introduced Mme. de Bargeton, to whom he was -paying his court, as a cuttlefish bone, a burlesque absurdity which -amused readers who knew neither of the personages. A tale of the loves -of the Heron, who tried in vain to swallow the Cuttlefish bone, which -broke into three pieces when he dropped it, was irresistibly -ludicrous. Everybody remembers the sensation which the pleasantry made -in the Faubourg Saint-Germain; it was the first of a series of similar -articles, and was one of the thousand and one causes which provoked -the rigorous press legislation of Charles X. - -An hour later, Blondet, Lousteau, and Lucien came back to the drawing- -room, where the other guests were chatting. The Duke was there and the -Minister, the four women, the three merchants, the manager, and Finot. -A printer's devil, with a paper cap on his head, was waiting even then -for copy. - -"The men are just going off, if I have nothing to take them," he said. - -"Stay a bit, here are ten francs, and tell them to wait," said Finot. - -"If I give them the money, sir, they would take to tippleography, and -good-night to the newspaper." - -"That boy's common-sense is appalling to me," remarked Finot; and the -Minister was in the middle of a prediction of a brilliant future for -the urchin, when the three came in. Blondet read aloud an extremely -clever article against the Romantics; Lousteau's paragraph drew -laughter, and by the Duc de Rhetore's advice an indirect eulogium of -Mme. d'Espard was slipped in, lest the whole Faubourg Saint-Germain -should take offence. - -"What have YOU written?" asked Finot, turning to Lucien. - -And Lucien read, quaking for fear, but the room rang with applause -when he finished; the actresses embraced the neophyte; and the two -merchants, following suit, half choked the breath out of him. There -were tears in du Bruel's eyes as he grasped his critic's hand, and the -manager invited him to dinner. - -"There are no children nowadays," said Blondet. "Since M. de -Chateaubriand called Victor Hugo a 'sublime child,' I can only tell -you quite simply that you have spirit and taste, and write like a -gentleman." - -"He is on the newspaper," said Finot, as he thanked Etienne, and gave -him a shrewd glance. - -"What jokes have you made?" inquired Lousteau, turning to Blondet and -du Bruel. - -"Here are du Bruel's," said Nathan. - - *** "Now, that M. le Vicomte d'A---- is attracting so much - attention, they will perhaps let ME alone," M. le Vicomte - Demosthenes was heard to say yesterday. - - *** An Ultra, condemning M. Pasquier's speech, said his programme - was only a continuation of Decaze's policy. "Yes," said a lady, - "but he stands on a Monarchical basis, he has just the kind of leg - for a Court suit." - -"With such a beginning, I don't ask more of you," said Finot; "it will -be all right.--Run round with this," he added, turning to the boy; -"the paper is not exactly a genuine article, but it is our best number -yet," and he turned to the group of writers. Already Lucien's -colleagues were privately taking his measure. - -"That fellow has brains," said Blondet. - -"His article is well written," said Claude Vignon. - -"Supper!" cried Matifat. - -The Duke gave his arm to Florine, Coralie went across to Lucien, and -Tullia went in to supper between Emile Blondet and the German -Minister. - -"I cannot understand why you are making an onslaught on Mme. de -Bargeton and the Baron du Chatelet; they say that he is prefect- -designate of the Charente, and will be Master of Requests some day." - -"Mme. de Bargeton showed Lucien the door as if he had been an -imposter," said Lousteau. - -"Such a fine young fellow!" exclaimed the Minister. - -Supper, served with new plate, Sevres porcelain, and white damask, was -redolent of opulence. The dishes were from Chevet, the wines from a -celebrated merchant on the Quai Saint-Bernard, a personal friend of -Matifat's. For the first time Lucien beheld the luxury of Paris -displayed; he went from surprise to surprise, but he kept his -astonishment to himself, like a man who had spirit and taste and wrote -like a gentleman, as Blondet had said. - -As they crossed the drawing-room, Coralie bent to Florine, "Make -Camusot so drunk that he will be compelled to stop here all night," -she whispered. - -"So you have hooked your journalist, have you?" returned Florine, -using the idiom of women of her class. - -"No, dear; I love him," said Coralie, with an adorable little shrug of -the shoulders. - -Those words rang in Lucien's ears, borne to them by the fifth deadly -sin. Coralie was perfectly dressed. Every woman possesses some -personal charm in perfection, and Coralie's toilette brought her -characteristic beauty into prominence. Her dress, moreover, like -Florine's, was of some exquisite stuff, unknown as yet to the public, -a mousseline de soie, with which Camusot had been supplied a few days -before the rest of the world; for, as owner of the Golden Cocoon, he -was a kind of Providence in Paris to the Lyons silkweavers. - -Love and toilet are like color and perfume for a woman, and Coralie in -her happiness looked lovelier than ever. A looked-for delight which -cannot elude the grasp possesses an immense charm for youth; perhaps -in their eyes the secret of the attraction of a house of pleasure lies -in the certainty of gratification; perhaps many a long fidelity is -attributable to the same cause. Love for love's sake, first love -indeed, had blent with one of the strange violent fancies which -sometimes possess these poor creatures; and love and admiration of -Lucien's great beauty taught Coralie to express the thoughts in her -heart. - -"I should love you if you were ill and ugly," she whispered as they -sat down. - -What a saying for a poet! Camusot utterly vanished, Lucien had -forgotten his existence, he saw Coralie, and had eyes for nothing -else. How should he draw back--this creature, all sensation, all -enjoyment of life, tired of the monotony of existence in a country -town, weary of poverty, harassed by enforced continence, impatient of -the claustral life of the Rue de Cluny, of toiling without reward? The -fascination of the under world of Paris was upon him; how should he -rise and leave this brilliant gathering? Lucien stood with one foot in -Coralie's chamber and the other in the quicksands of Journalism. After -so much vain search, and climbing of so many stairs, after standing -about and waiting in the Rue de Sentier, he had found Journalism a -jolly boon companion, joyous over the wine. His wrongs had just been -avenged. There were two for whom he had vainly striven to fill the cup -of humiliation and pain which he had been made to drink to the dregs, -and now to-morrow they should receive a stab in their very hearts. -"Here is a real friend!" he thought, as he looked at Lousteau. It -never crossed his mind that Lousteau already regarded him as a -dangerous rival. He had made a blunder; he had done his very best when -a colorless article would have served him admirably well. Blondet's -remark to Finot that it would be better to come to terms with a man of -that calibre, had counteracted Lousteau's gnawing jealousy. He -reflected that it would be prudent to keep on good terms with Lucien, -and, at the same time, to arrange with Finot to exploit this -formidable newcomer--he must be kept in poverty. The decision was made -in a moment, and the bargain made in a few whispered words. - -"He has talent." - -"He will want the more." - -"Ah?" - -"Good!" - -"A supper among French journalists always fills me with dread," said -the German diplomatist, with serene urbanity; he looked as he spoke at -Blondet, whom he had met at the Comtesse de Montcornet's. "It is laid -upon you, gentlemen, to fulfil a prophecy of Blucher's." - -"What prophecy?" asked Nathan. - -"When Blucher and Sacken arrived on the heights of Montmartre in 1814 -(pardon me, gentlemen, for recalling a day unfortunate for France), -Sacken (a rough brute), remarked, 'Now we will set Paris alight!'-- -'Take very good care that you don't,' said Blucher. 'France will die -of THAT, nothing else can kill her,' and he waved his hand over the -glowing, seething city, that lay like a huge canker in the valley of -the Seine.--There are no journalists in our country, thank Heaven!" -continued the Minister after a pause. "I have not yet recovered from -the fright that the little fellow gave me, a boy of ten, in a paper -cap, with the sense of an old diplomatist. And to-night I feel as if I -were supping with lions and panthers, who graciously sheathe their -claws in my honor." - -"It is clear," said Blondet, "that we are at liberty to inform Europe -that a serpent dropped from your Excellency's lips this evening, and -that the venomous creature failed to inoculate Mlle. Tullia, the -prettiest dancer in Paris; and to follow up the story with a -commentary on Eve, and the Scriptures, and the first and last -transgression. But have no fear, you are our guest." - -"It would be funny," said Finot. - -"We would begin with a scientific treatise on all the serpents found -in the human heart and human body, and so proceed to the corps -diplomatique," said Lousteau. - -"And we could exhibit one in spirits, in a bottle of brandied -cherries," said Vernou. - -"Till you yourself would end by believing in the story," added Vignon, -looking at the diplomatist. - -"Gentlemen," cried the Duc de Rhetore, "let sleeping claws lie." - -"The influence and power of the press is only dawning," said Finot. -"Journalism is in its infancy; it will grow. In ten years' time, -everything will be brought into publicity. The light of thought will -be turned on all subjects, and----" - -"The blight of thought will be over it all," corrected Blondet. - -"Here is an apothegm," cried Claude Vignon. - -"Thought will make kings," said Lousteau. - -"And undo monarchs," said the German. - -"And therefore," said Blondet, "if the press did not exist, it would -be necessary to invent it forthwith. But here we have it, and live by -it." - -"You will die of it," returned the German diplomatist. "Can you not -see that if you enlighten the masses, and raise them in the political -scale, you make it all the harder for the individual to rise above -their level? Can you not see that if you sow the seeds of reasoning -among the working-classes, you will reap revolt, and be the first to -fall victims? What do they smash in Paris when a riot begins?" - -"The street-lamps!" said Nathan; "but we are too modest to fear for -ourselves, we only run the risk of cracks." - -"As a nation, you have too much mental activity to allow any -government to run its course without interference. But for that, you -would make the conquest of Europe a second time, and win with the pen -all that you failed to keep with the sword." - -"Journalism is an evil," said Claude Vignon. "The evil may have its -uses, but the present Government is resolved to put it down. There -will be a battle over it. Who will give way? That is the question." - -"The Government will give way," said Blondet. "I keep telling people -that with all my might! Intellectual power is THE great power in -France; and the press has more wit than all men of intellect put -together, and the hypocrisy of Tartufe besides." - -"Blondet! Blondet! you are going too far!" called Finot. "Subscribers -are present." - -"You are the proprietor of one of those poison shops; you have reason -to be afraid; but I can laugh at the whole business, even if I live by -it." - -"Blondet is right," said Claude Vignon. "Journalism, so far from being -in the hands of a priesthood, came to be first a party weapon, and -then a commercial speculation, carried on without conscience or -scruple, like other commercial speculations. Every newspaper, as -Blondet says, is a shop to which people come for opinions of the right -shade. If there were a paper for hunchbacks, it would set forth -plainly, morning and evening, in its columns, the beauty, the utility, -and necessity of deformity. A newspaper is not supposed to enlighten -its readers, but to supply them with congenial opinions. Give any -newspaper time enough, and it will be base, hypocritical, shameless, -and treacherous; the periodical press will be the death of ideas, -systems, and individuals; nay, it will flourish upon their decay. It -will take the credit of all creations of the brain; the harm that it -does is done anonymously. We, for instance--I, Claude Vignon; you, -Blondet; you, Lousteau; and you, Finot--we are all Platos, Aristides, -and Catos, Plutarch's men, in short; we are all immaculate; we may -wash our hands of all iniquity. Napoleon's sublime aphorism, suggested -by his study of the Convention, 'No one individual is responsible for -a crime committed collectively,' sums up the whole significance of a -phenomenon, moral or immoral, whichever you please. However shamefully -a newspaper may behave, the disgrace attaches to no one person." - -"The authorities will resort to repressive legislation," interposed du -Bruel. "A law is going to be passed, in fact." - -"Pooh!" retorted Nathan. "What is the law in France against the spirit -in which it is received, the most subtle of all solvents?" - -"Ideas and opinions can only be counteracted by opinions and ideas," -Vignon continued. "By sheer terror and despotism, and by no other -means, can you extinguish the genius of the French nation; for the -language lends itself admirably to allusion and ambiguity. Epigram -breaks out the more for repressive legislation; it is like steam in an -engine without a safety-valve.--The King, for example, does right; if -a newspaper is against him, the Minister gets all the credit of the -measure, and vice versa. A newspaper invents a scandalous libel--it -has been misinformed. If the victim complains, the paper gets off with -an apology for taking so great a freedom. If the case is taken into -court, the editor complains that nobody asked him to rectify the -mistake; but ask for redress, and he will laugh in your face and treat -his offence as a mere trifle. The paper scoffs if the victim gains the -day; and if heavy damages are awarded, the plaintiff is held up as an -unpatriotic obscurantist and a menace to the liberties of the country. -In the course of an article purporting to explain that Monsieur So- -and-so is as honest a man as you will find in the kingdom, you are -informed that he is not better than a common thief. The sins of the -press? Pooh! mere trifles; the curtailers of its liberties are -monsters; and give him time enough, the constant reader is persuaded -to believe anything you please. Everything which does not suit the -newspaper will be unpatriotic, and the press will be infallible. One -religion will be played off against another, and the Charter against -the King. The press will hold up the magistracy to scorn for meting -out rigorous justice to the press, and applaud its action when it -serves the cause of party hatred. The most sensational fictions will -be invented to increase the circulation; Journalism will descend to -mountebanks' tricks worthy of Bobeche; Journalism would serve up its -father with the Attic salt of its own wit sooner than fail to interest -or amuse the public; Journalism will outdo the actor who put his son's -ashes into the urn to draw real tears from his eyes, or the mistress -who sacrifices everything to her lover." - -"Journalism is, in fact, the People in folio form," interrupted -Blondet. - -"The people with hypocrisy added and generosity lacking," said Vignon. -"All real ability will be driven out from the ranks of Journalism, as -Aristides was driven into exile by the Athenians. We shall see -newspapers started in the first instance by men of honor, falling -sooner or later into the hands of men of abilities even lower than the -average, but endowed with the resistance of flexibility of india- -rubber, qualities denied to noble genius; nay, perhaps the future -newspaper proprietor will be the tradesman with capital sufficient to -buy venal pens. We see such things already indeed, but in ten years' -time every little youngster that has left school will take himself for -a great man, slash his predecessors from the lofty height of a -newspaper column, drag them down by the feet, and take their place. - -"Napoleon did wisely when he muzzled the press. I would wager that the -Opposition papers would batter down a government of their own setting -up, just as they are battering the present government, if any demand -was refused. The more they have, the more they will want in the way of -concessions. The parvenu journalist will be succeeded by the -starveling hack. There is no salve for this sore. It is a kind of -corruption which grows more and more obtrusive and malignant; the -wider it spreads, the more patiently it will be endured, until the day -comes when newspapers shall so increase and multiply in the earth that -confusion will be the result--a second Babel. We, all of us, such as -we are, have reason to know that crowned kings are less ungrateful -than kings of our profession; that the most sordid man of business is -not so mercenary nor so keen in speculation; that our brains are -consumed to furnish their daily supply of poisonous trash. And yet we, -all of us, shall continue to write, like men who work in quicksilver -mines, knowing that they are doomed to die of their trade. - -"Look there," he continued, "at that young man sitting beside Coralie ---what is his name? Lucien! He has a beautiful face; he is a poet; and -what is more, he is witty--so much the better for him. Well, he will -cross the threshold of one of those dens where a man's intellect is -prostituted; he will put all his best and finest thought into his -work; he will blunt his intellect and sully his soul; he will be -guilty of anonymous meannesses which take the place of stratagem, -pillage, and ratting to the enemy in the warfare of condottieri. And -when, like hundreds more, he has squandered his genius in the service -of others who find the capital and do no work, those dealers in -poisons will leave him to starve if he is thirsty, and to die of -thirst if he is starving." - -"Thanks," said Finot. - -"But, dear me," continued Claude Vignon, "_I_ knew all this, yet here -am I in the galleys, and the arrival of another convict gives me -pleasure. We are cleverer, Blondet and I, than Messieurs This and -That, who speculate in our abilities, yet nevertheless we are always -exploited by them. We have a heart somewhere beneath the intellect; we -have NOT the grim qualities of the man who makes others work for him. -We are indolent, we like to look on at the game, we are meditative, -and we are fastidious; they will sweat our brains and blame us for -improvidence." - -"I thought you would be more amusing than this!" said Florine. - -"Florine is right," said Blondet; "let us leave the cure of public -evils to those quacks the statesmen. As Charlet says, 'Quarrel with my -own bread and butter? NEVER!' " - -"Do you know what Vignon puts me in mind of?" said Lousteau. "Of one -of those fat women in the Rue du Pelican telling a schoolboy, 'My boy, -you are too young to come here.' " - -A burst of laughter followed the sally, but it pleased Coralie. The -merchants meanwhile ate and drank and listened. - -"What a nation this is! You see so much good in it and so much evil," -said the Minister, addressing the Duc de Rhetore.--"You are prodigals -who cannot ruin yourselves, gentlemen." - -And so, by the blessing of chance, Lucien, standing on the brink of -the precipice over which he was destined to fall, heard warnings on -all sides. D'Arthez had set him on the right road, had shown him the -noble method of work, and aroused in him the spirit before which all -obstacles disappear. Lousteau himself (partly from selfish motives) -had tried to warn him away by describing Journalism and Literature in -their practical aspects. Lucien had refused to believe that there -could be so much hidden corruption; but now he had heard the -journalists themselves crying woe for their hurt, he had seen them at -their work, had watched them tearing their foster-mother's heart to -read auguries of the future. - -That evening he had seen things as they are. He beheld the very -heart's core of corruption of that Paris which Blucher so aptly -described; and so far from shuddering at the sight, he was intoxicated -with enjoyment of the intellectually stimulating society in which he -found himself. - -These extraordinary men, clad in armor damascened by their vices, -these intellects environed by cold and brilliant analysis, seemed so -far greater in his eyes than the grave and earnest members of the -brotherhood. And besides all this, he was reveling in his first taste -of luxury; he had fallen under the spell. His capricious instincts -awoke; for the first time in his life he drank exquisite wines, this -was his first experience of cookery carried to the pitch of a fine -art. A minister, a duke, and an opera-dancer had joined the party of -journalists, and wondered at their sinister power. Lucien felt a -horrible craving to reign over these kings, and he thought that he had -power to win his kingdom. Finally, there was this Coralie, made happy -by a few words of his. By the bright light of the wax-candles, through -the steam of the dishes and the fumes of wine, she looked sublimely -beautiful to his eyes, so fair had she grown with love. She was the -loveliest, the most beautiful actress in Paris. The brotherhood, the -heaven of noble thoughts, faded away before a temptation that appealed -to every fibre of his nature. How could it have been otherwise? -Lucien's author's vanity had just been gratified by the praises of -those who know; by the appreciation of his future rivals; the success -of his articles and his conquest of Coralie might have turned an older -head than his. - -During the discussion, moreover, every one at table had made a -remarkably good supper, and such wines are not met with every day. -Lousteau, sitting beside Camusot, furtively poured cherry-brandy -several times into his neighbor's wineglass, and challenged him to -drink. And Camusot drank, all unsuspicious, for he thought himself, in -his own way, a match for a journalist. The jokes became more personal -when dessert appeared and the wine began to circulate. The German -Minister, a keen-witted man of the world, made a sign to the Duke and -Tullia, and the three disappeared with the first symptoms of -vociferous nonsense which precede the grotesque scenes of an orgy in -its final stage. Coralie and Lucien had been behaving like children -all the evening; as soon as the wine was uppermost in Camusot's head, -they made good their escape down the staircase and sprang into a cab. -Camusot subsided under the table; Matifat, looking round for him, -thought that he had gone home with Coralie, left his guests to smoke, -laugh, and argue, and followed Florine to her room. Daylight surprised -the party, or more accurately, the first dawn of light discovered one -man still able to speak, and Blondet, that intrepid champion, was -proposing to the assembled sleepers a health to Aurora the rosy- -fingered. - -Lucien was unaccustomed to orgies of this kind. His head was very -tolerably clear as he came down the staircase, but the fresh air was -too much for him; he was horribly drunk. When they reached the -handsome house in the Rue de Vendome, where the actress lived, Coralie -and her waiting-woman were obliged to assist the poet to climb to the -first floor. Lucien was ignominiously sick, and very nearly fainted on -the staircase. - -"Quick, Berenice, some tea! Make some tea," cried Coralie. - -"It is nothing; it is the air," Lucien got out, "and I have never -taken so much before in my life." - -"Poor boy! He is as innocent as a lamb," said Berenice, a stalwart -Norman peasant woman as ugly as Coralie was pretty. Lucien, half -unconscious, was laid at last in bed. Coralie, with Berenice's -assistance, undressed the poet with all a mother's tender care. - -"It is nothing," he murmured again and again. "It is the air. Thank -you, mamma." - -"How charmingly he says 'mamma,' " cried Coralie, putting a kiss on -his hair. - -"What happiness to love such an angel, mademoiselle! Where did you -pick him up? I did not think a man could be as beautiful as you are," -said Berenice, when Lucien lay in bed. He was very drowsy; he knew -nothing and saw nothing; Coralie made him swallow several cups of tea, -and left him to sleep. - -"Did the porter see us? Was there anyone else about?" she asked. - -"No; I was sitting up for you." - -"Does Victoire know anything?" - -"Rather not!" returned Berenice. - -Ten hours later Lucien awoke to meet Coralie's eyes. She had watched -by him as he slept; he knew it, poet that he was. It was almost noon, -but she still wore the delicate dress, abominably stained, which she -meant to lay up as a relic. Lucien understood all the self-sacrifice -and delicacy of love, fain of its reward. He looked into Coralie's -eyes. In a moment she had flung off her clothing and slipped like a -serpent to Lucien's side. - -At five o'clock in the afternoon Lucien was still sleeping, cradled in -this voluptuous paradise. He had caught glimpses of Coralie's chamber, -an exquisite creation of luxury, a world of rose-color and white. He -had admired Florine's apartments, but this surpassed them in its -dainty refinement. - -Coralie had already risen; for if she was to play her part as the -Andalusian, she must be at the theatre by seven o'clock. Yet she had -returned to gaze at the unconscious poet, lulled to sleep in bliss; -she could not drink too deeply of this love that rose to rapture, -drawing close the bond between the heart and the senses, to steep both -in ecstasy. For in that apotheosis of human passion, which of those -that were twain on earth that they might know bliss to the full -creates one soul to rise to love in heaven, lay Coralie's -justification. Who, moreover, would not have found excuse in Lucien's -more than human beauty? To the actress kneeling by the bedside, happy -in love within her, it seemed that she had received love's -consecration. Berenice broke in upon Coralie's rapture. - -"Here comes Camusot!" cried the maid. "And he knows that you are -here." - -Lucien sprang up at once. Innate generosity suggested that he was -doing Coralie an injury. Berenice drew aside a curtain, and he fled -into a dainty dressing-room, whither Coralie and the maid brought his -clothes with magical speed. - -Camusot appeared, and only then did Coralie's eyes alight on Lucien's -boots, warming in the fender. Berenice had privately varnished them, -and put them before the fire to dry; and both mistress and maid alike -forgot that tell-tale witness. Berenice left the room with a scared -glance at Coralie. Coralie flung herself into the depths of a settee, -and bade Camusot seat himself in the gondole, a round-backed chair -that stood opposite. But Coralie's adorer, honest soul, dared not look -his mistress in the face; he could not take his eyes off the pair of -boots. - -"Ought I to make a scene and leave Coralie?" he pondered. "Is it worth -while to make a fuss about a trifle? There is a pair of boots wherever -you go. These would be more in place in a shop window or taking a walk -on the boulevard on somebody's feet; here, however, without a pair of -feet in them, they tell a pretty plain tale. I am fifty years old, and -that is the truth; I ought to be as blind as Cupid himself." - -There was no excuse for this mean-spirited monologue. The boots were -not the high-lows at present in vogue, which an unobservant man may be -allowed to disregard up to a certain point. They were the -unmistakable, uncompromising hessians then prescribed by fashion, a -pair of extremely elegant betasseled boots, which shone in glistening -contrast against tight-fitting trousers invariably of some light -color, and reflected their surroundings like a mirror. The boots -stared the honest silk-mercer out of countenance, and, it must be -added, they pained his heart. - -"What is it?" asked Coralie. - -"Nothing." - -"Ring the bell," said Coralie, smiling to herself at Camusot's want of -spirit.--"Berenice," she said, when the Norman handmaid appeared, -"just bring me a button-hook, for I must put on these confounded boots -again. Don't forget to bring them to my dressing-room to-night." - -"What? . . . YOUR boots?" . . . faltered out Camusot, breathing more -freely. - -"And whose should they be?" she demanded haughtily. "Were you -beginning to believe?--great stupid! Oh! and he would believe it too," -she went on, addressing Berenice.--"I have a man's part in What's-his- -name's piece, and I have never worn a man's clothes in my life before. -The bootmaker for the theatre brought me these things to try if I -could walk in them, until a pair can be made to measure. He put them -on, but they hurt me so much that I have taken them off, and after all -I must wear them." - -"Don't put them on again if they are uncomfortable," said Camusot. -(The boots had made him feel so very uncomfortable himself.) - -"Mademoiselle would do better to have a pair made of very thin -morocco, sir, instead of torturing herself as she did just now; but -the management is so stingy. She was crying, sir; if I was a man and -loved a woman, I wouldn't let her shed a tear, I know. You ought to -order a pair for her----" - -"Yes, yes," said Camusot. "Are you just getting up, Coralie?" - -"Just this moment; I only came in at six o'clock after looking for you -everywhere. I was obliged to keep the cab for seven hours. So much for -your care of me; you forget me for a wine-bottle. I ought to take care -of myself now when I am to play every night so long as the Alcalde -draws. I don't want to fall off after that young man's notice of me." - -"That is a handsome boy," said Camusot. - -"Do you think so? I don't admire men of that sort; they are too much -like women; and they do not understand how to love like you stupid old -business men. You are so bored with your own society." - -"Is monsieur dining with madame?" inquired Berenice. - -"No, my mouth is clammy." - -"You were nicely screwed yesterday. Ah! Papa Camusot, I don't like men -who drink, I tell you at once----" - -"You will give that young man a present, I suppose?" interrupted -Camusot. - -"Oh! yes. I would rather do that than pay as Florine does. There, go -away with you, good-for-nothing that one loves; or give me a carriage -to save time in future." - -"You shall go in your own carriage to-morrow to your manager's dinner -at the Rocher de Cancale. The new piece will not be given next -Sunday." - -"Come, I am just going to dine," said Coralie, hurrying Camusot out of -the room. - -An hour later Berenice came to release Lucien. Berenice, Coralie's -companion since her childhood, had a keen and subtle brain in her -unwieldy frame. - -"Stay here," she said. "Coralie is coming back alone; she even talked -of getting rid of Camusot if he is in your way; but you are too much -of an angel to ruin her, her heart's darling as you are. She wants to -clear out of this, she says; to leave this paradise and go and live in -your garret. Oh! there are those that are jealous and envious of you, -and they have told her that you haven't a brass farthing, and live in -the Latin Quarter; and I should go, too, you see, to do the house- -work.--But I have just been comforting her, poor child! I have been -telling her that you were too clever to do anything so silly. I was -right, wasn't I, sir? Oh! you will see that you are her darling, her -love, the god to whom she gives her soul; yonder old fool has nothing -but the body.--If you only knew how nice she is when I hear her say -her part over! My Coralie, my little pet, she is! She deserved that -God in heaven should send her one of His angels. She was sick of the -life.--She was so unhappy with her mother that used to beat her, and -sold her. Yes, sir, sold her own child! If I had a daughter, I would -wait on her hand and foot as I wait on Coralie; she is like my own -child to me.--These are the first good times she has seen since I have -been with her; the first time that she has been really applauded. You -have written something, it seems, and they have got up a famous claque -for the second performance. Braulard has been going through the play -with her while you were asleep." - -"Who? Braulard?" asked Lucien; it seemed to him that he had heard the -name before. - -"He is the head of the claqueurs, and she was arranging with him the -places where she wished him to look after her. Florine might try to -play her some shabby trick, and take all for herself, for all she -calls herself her friend. There is such a talk about your article on -the Boulevards.--Isn't it a bed fit for a prince," she said, smoothing -the lace bed-spread. - -She lighted the wax-candles, and to Lucien's bewildered fancy, the -house seemed to be some palace in the Cabinet des Fees. Camusot had -chosen the richest stuffs from the Golden Cocoon for the hangings and -window-curtains. A carpet fit for a king's palace was spread upon the -floor. The carving of the rosewood furniture caught and imprisoned the -light that rippled over its surface. Priceless trifles gleamed from -the white marble chimney-piece. The rug beside the bed was of swan's -skins bordered with sable. A pair of little, black velvet slippers -lined with purple silk told of happiness awaiting the poet of The -Marguerites. A dainty lamp hung from the ceiling draped with silk. The -room was full of flowering plants, delicate white heaths and scentless -camellias, in stands marvelously wrought. Everything called up -associations of innocence. How was it possible in these rooms to see -the life that Coralie led in its true colors? Berenice noticed -Lucien's bewildered expression. - -"Isn't it nice?" she said coaxingly. "You would be more comfortable -here, wouldn't you, than in a garret?--You won't let her do anything -rash?" she continued, setting a costly stand before him, covered with -dishes abstracted from her mistress' dinner-table, lest the cook -should suspect that her mistress had a lover in the house. - -Lucien made a good dinner. Berenice waiting on him, the dishes were of -wrought silver, the painted porcelain plates had cost a louis d'or -apiece. The luxury was producing exactly the same effect upon him that -the sight of a girl walking the pavement, with her bare flaunting -throat and neat ankles, produces upon a schoolboy. - -"How lucky Camusot is!" cried he. - -"Lucky?" repeated Berenice. "He would willingly give all that he is -worth to be in your place; he would be glad to barter his gray hair -for your golden head." - -She gave Lucien the richest wine that Bordeaux keeps for the -wealthiest English purchaser, and persuaded Lucien to go to bed to -take a preliminary nap; and Lucien, in truth, was quite willing to -sleep on the couch that he had been admiring. Berenice had read his -wish, and felt glad for her mistress. - -At half-past ten that night Lucien awoke to look into eyes brimming -over with love. There stood Coralie in most luxurious night attire. -Lucien had been sleeping; Lucien was intoxicated with love, and not -with wine. Berenice left the room with the inquiry, "What time -to-morrow morning?" - -"At eleven o'clock. We will have breakfast in bed. I am not at home to -anybody before two o'clock." - -At two o'clock in the afternoon Coralie and her lover were sitting -together. The poet to all appearance had come to pay a call. Lucien -had been bathed and combed and dressed. Coralie had sent to Colliau's -for a dozen fine shirts, a dozen cravats and a dozen pocket- -handkerchiefs for him, as well as twelve pairs of gloves in a cedar- -wood box. When a carriage stopped at the door, they both rushed to the -window, and watched Camusot alight from a handsome coupe. - -"I would not have believed that one could so hate a man and -luxury----" - -"I am too poor to allow you to ruin yourself for me," he replied. And -thus Lucien passed under the Caudine Forks. - -"Poor pet," said Coralie, holding him tightly to her, "do you love me -so much?--I persuaded this gentleman to call on me this morning," she -continued, indicating Lucien to Camusot, who entered the room. "I -thought that we might take a drive in the Champs Elysees to try the -carriage." - -"Go without me," said Camusot in a melancholy voice; "I shall not dine -with you. It is my wife's birthday, I had forgotten that." - -"Poor Musot, how badly bored you will be!" she said, putting her arms -about his neck. - -She was wild with joy at the thought that she and Lucien would handsel -this gift together; she would drive with him in the new carriage; and -in her happiness, she seemed to love Camusot, she lavished caresses -upon him. - -"If only I could give you a carriage every day!" said the poor fellow. - -"Now, sir, it is two o'clock," she said, turning to Lucien, who stood -in distress and confusion, but she comforted him with an adorable -gesture. - -Down the stairs she went, several steps at a time, drawing Lucien -after her; the elderly merchant following in their wake like a seal on -land, and quite unable to catch them up. - -Lucien enjoyed the most intoxicating of pleasures; happiness had -increased Coralie's loveliness to the highest possible degree; she -appeared before all eyes an exquisite vision in her dainty toilette. -All Paris in the Champs Elysees beheld the lovers. - -In an avenue of the Bois de Boulogne they met a caleche; Mme. d'Espard -and Mme. de Bargeton looked in surprise at Lucien, and met a scornful -glance from the poet. He saw glimpses of a great future before him, -and was about to make his power felt. He could fling them back in a -glance some of the revengeful thoughts which had gnawed his heart ever -since they planted them there. That moment was one of the sweetest in -his life, and perhaps decided his fate. Once again the Furies seized -on Lucien at the bidding of Pride. He would reappear in the world of -Paris; he would take a signal revenge; all the social pettiness -hitherto trodden under foot by the worker, the member of the -brotherhood, sprang up again afresh in his soul. - -Now he understood all that Lousteau's attack had meant. Lousteau had -served his passions; while the brotherhood, that collective mentor, -had seemed to mortify them in the interests of tiresome virtues and -work which began to look useless and hopeless in Lucien's eyes. Work! -What is it but death to an eager pleasure-loving nature? And how easy -it is for the man of letters to slide into a far niente existence of -self-indulgence, into the luxurious ways of actresses and women of -easy virtues! Lucien felt an overmastering desire to continue the -reckless life of the last two days. - -The dinner at the Rocher de Cancale was exquisite. All Florine's -supper guests were there except the Minister, the Duke, and the -dancer; Camusot, too, was absent; but these gaps were filled by two -famous actors and Hector Merlin and his mistress. This charming woman, -who chose to be known as Mme. du Val-Noble, was the handsomest and -most fashionable of the class of women now euphemistically styled -lorettes. - -Lucien had spent the forty-eight hours since the success of his -article in paradise. He was feted and envied; he gained self- -possession; his talk sparkled; he was the brilliant Lucien de Rubempre -who shone for a few months in the world of letters and art. Finot, -with his infallible instinct for discovering ability, scenting it afar -as an ogre might scent human flesh, cajoled Lucien, and did his best -to secure a recruit for the squadron under his command. And Coralie -watched the manoeuvres of this purveyor of brains, saw that Lucien was -nibbling at the bait, and tried to put him on his guard. - -"Don't make any engagement, dear boy; wait. They want to exploit you; -we will talk of it to-night." - -"Pshaw!" said Lucien. "I am sure I am quite as sharp and shrewd as -they can be." - -Finot and Hector Merlin evidently had not fallen out over that affair -of the white lines and spaces in the columns, for it was Finot who -introduced Lucien to the journalist. Coralie and Mme. du Val-Noble -were overwhelmingly amiable and polite to each other, and Mme. du Val- -Noble asked Lucien and Coralie to dine with her. - -Hector Merlin, short and thin, with lips always tightly compressed, -was the most dangerous journalist present. Unbounded ambition and -jealousy smouldered within him; he took pleasure in the pain of -others, and fomented strife to turn it to his own account. His -abilities were but slender, and he had little force of character, but -the natural instinct which draws the upstart towards money and power -served him as well as fixity of purpose. Lucien and Merlin at once -took a dislike to one another, for reasons not far to seek. Merlin, -unfortunately, proclaimed aloud the thoughts that Lucien kept to -himself. By the time the dessert was put on the table, the most -touching friendship appeared to prevail among the men, each one of -whom in his heart thought himself a cleverer fellow than the rest; and -Lucien as the newcomer was made much of by them all. They chatted -frankly and unrestrainedly. Hector Merlin, alone, did not join in the -laughter. Lucien asked the reason of his reserve. - -"You are just entering the world of letters, I can see," he said. "You -are a journalist with all your illusions left. You believe in -friendship. Here we are friends or foes, as it happens; we strike down -a friend with the weapon which by rights should only be turned against -an enemy. You will find out, before very long, that fine sentiments -will do nothing for you. If you are naturally kindly, learn to be ill- -natured, to be consistently spiteful. If you have never heard this -golden rule before, I give it you now in confidence, and it is no -small secret. If you have a mind to be loved, never leave your -mistress until you have made her shed a tear or two; and if you mean -to make your way in literature, let other people continually feel your -teeth; make no exception even of your friends; wound their -susceptibilities, and everybody will fawn upon you." - -Hector Merlin watched Lucien as he spoke, saw that his words went to -the neophyte's heart like a stab, and Hector Merlin was glad. Play -followed, Lucien lost all his money, and Coralie brought him away; and -he forgot for a while, in the delights of love, the fierce excitement -of the gambler, which was to gain so strong a hold upon him. - -When he left Coralie in the morning and returned to the Latin Quarter, -he took out his purse and found the money he had lost. At first he -felt miserable over the discovery, and thought of going back at once -to return a gift which humiliated him; but--he had already come as far -as the Rue de la Harpe; he would not return now that he had almost -reached the Hotel de Cluny. He pondered over Coralie's forethought as -he went, till he saw in it a proof of the maternal love which is -blended with passion in women of her stamp. For Coralie and her like, -passion includes every human affection. Lucien went from thought to -thought, and argued himself into accepting the gift. "I love her," he -said; "we shall live together as husband and wife; I will never -forsake her!" - -What mortal, short of a Diogenes, could fail to understand Lucien's -feelings as he climbed the dirty, fetid staircase to his lodging, -turned the key that grated in the lock, and entered and looked round -at the unswept brick floor, at the cheerless grate, at the ugly -poverty and bareness of the room. - -A package of manuscript was lying on the table. It was his novel; a -note from Daniel d'Arthez lay beside it:-- - - "Our friends are almost satisfied with your work, dear poet," - d'Arthez wrote. "You will be able to present it with more - confidence now, they say, to friends and enemies. We saw your - charming article on the Panorama-Dramatique; you are sure to - excite as much jealousy in the profession as regret among your - friends here. - -DANIEL." - - -"Regrets! What does he mean?" exclaimed Lucien. The polite tone of the -note astonished him. Was he to be henceforth a stranger to the -brotherhood? He had learned to set a higher value on the good opinion -and the friendship of the circle in the Rue des Quatre-Vents since he -had tasted of the delicious fruits offered to him by the Eve of the -theatrical underworld. For some moments he stood in deep thought; he -saw his present in the garret, and foresaw his future in Coralie's -rooms. Honorable resolution struggled with temptation and swayed him -now this way, now that. He sat down and began to look through his -manuscript, to see in what condition his friends had returned it to -him. What was his amazement, as he read chapter after chapter, to find -his poverty transmuted into riches by the cunning of the pen, and the -devotion of the unknown great men, his friends of the brotherhood. -Dialogue, closely packed, nervous, pregnant, terse, and full of the -spirit of the age, replaced his conversations, which seemed poor and -pointless prattle in comparison. His characters, a little uncertain in -the drawing, now stood out in vigorous contrast of color and relief; -physiological observations, due no doubt to Horace Bianchon, supplied -links of interpretations between human character and the curious -phenomena of human life--subtle touches which made his men and women -live. His wordy passages of description were condensed and vivid. The -misshapen, ill-clad child of his brain had returned to him as a lovely -maiden, with white robes and rosy-hued girdle and scarf--an entrancing -creation. Night fell and took him by surprise, reading through rising -tears, stricken to earth by such greatness of soul, feeling the worth -of such a lesson, admiring the alterations, which taught him more of -literature and art than all his four years' apprenticeship of study -and reading and comparison. A master's correction of a line made upon -the study always teaches more than all the theories and criticisms in -the world. - -"What friends are these! What hearts! How fortunate I am!" he cried, -grasping his manuscript tightly. - -With the quick impulsiveness of a poetic and mobile temperament, he -rushed off to Daniel's lodging. As he climbed the stairs, and thought -of these friends, who refused to leave the path of honor, he felt -conscious that he was less worthy of them than before. A voice spoke -within him, telling him that if d'Arthez had loved Coralie, he would -have had her break with Camusot. And, besides this, he knew that the -brotherhood held journalism in utter abhorrence, and that he himself -was already, to some small extent, a journalist. All of them, except -Meyraux, who had just gone out, were in d'Arthez's room when he -entered it, and saw that all their faces were full of sorrow and -despair. - -"What is it?" he cried. - -"We have just heard news of a dreadful catastrophe; the greatest -thinker of the age, our most loved friend, who was like a light among -us for two years----" - -"Louis Lambert!" - -"Has fallen a victim to catalepsy. There is no hope for him," said -Bianchon. - -"He will die, his soul wandering in the skies, his body unconscious on -earth," said Michel Chrestien solemnly. - -"He will die as he lived," said d'Arthez. - -"Love fell like a firebrand in the vast empire of his brain and burned -him away," said Leon Giraud. - -"Yes," said Joseph Bridau, "he has reached a height that we cannot so -much as see." - -"WE are to be pitied, not Louis," said Fulgence Ridal. - -"Perhaps he will recover," exclaimed Lucien. - -"From what Meyraux has been telling us, recovery seems impossible," -answered Bianchon. "Medicine has no power over the change that is -working in his brain." - -"Yet there are physical means," said d'Arthez. - -"Yes," said Bianchon; "we might produce imbecility instead of -catalepsy." - -"Is there no way of offering another head to the spirit of evil? I -would give mine to save him!" cried Michel Chrestien. - -"And what would become of European federation?" asked d'Arthez. - -"Ah! true," replied Michel Chrestien. "Our duty to Humanity comes -first; to one man afterwards." - -"I came here with a heart full of gratitude to you all," said Lucien. -"You have changed my alloy into golden coin." - -"Gratitude! For what do you take us?" asked Bianchon. - -"We had the pleasure," added Fulgence. - -"Well, so you are a journalist, are you?" asked Leon Giraud. "The fame -of your first appearance has reached even the Latin Quarter." - -"I am not a journalist yet," returned Lucien. - -"Aha! So much the better," said Michel Chrestien. - -"I told you so!" said d'Arthez. "Lucien knows the value of a clean -conscience. When you can say to yourself as you lay your head on the -pillow at night, 'I have not sat in judgment on another man's work; I -have given pain to no one; I have not used the edge of my wit to deal -a stab to some harmless soul; I have sacrificed no one's success to a -jest; I have not even troubled the happiness of imbecility; I have not -added to the burdens of genius; I have scorned the easy triumphs of -epigram; in short, I have not acted against my convictions,' is not -this a viaticum that gives one daily strength?" - -"But one can say all this, surely, and yet work on a newspaper," said -Lucien. "If I had absolutely no other way of earning a living, I -should certainly come to this." - -"Oh! oh! oh!" cried Fulgence, his voice rising a note each time; "we -are capitulating, are we?" - -"He will turn journalist," Leon Giraud said gravely. "Oh, Lucien, if -you would only stay and work with us! We are about to bring out a -periodical in which justice and truth shall never be violated; we will -spread doctrines that, perhaps, will be of real service to -mankind----" - -"You will not have a single subscriber," Lucien broke in with -Machiavellian wisdom. - -"There will be five hundred of them," asserted Michel Chrestien, "but -they will be worth five hundred thousand." - -"You will need a lot of capital," continued Lucien. - -"No, only devotion," said d'Arthez. - -"Anybody might take him for a perfumer's assistant," burst out Michel -Chrestien, looking at Lucien's head, and sniffing comically. "You were -seen driving about in a very smart turnout with a pair of -thoroughbreds, and a mistress for a prince, Coralie herself." - -"Well, and is there any harm in it?" - -"You would not say that if you thought that there was no harm in it," -said Bianchon. - -"I could have wished Lucien a Beatrice," said d'Arthez, "a noble -woman, who would have been a help to him in life----" - -"But, Daniel," asked Lucien, "love is love wherever you find it, is it -not?" - -"Ah!" said the republican member, "on that one point I am an -aristocrat. I could not bring myself to love a woman who must rub -shoulders with all sorts of people in the green-room; whom an actor -kisses on stage; she must lower herself before the public, smile on -every one, lift her skirts as she dances, and dress like a man, that -all the world may see what none should see save I alone. Or if I loved -such a woman, she should leave the stage, and my love should cleanse -her from the stain of it." - -"And if she would not leave the stage?" - -"I should die of mortification, jealousy, and all sorts of pain. You -cannot pluck love out of your heart as you draw a tooth." - -Lucien's face grew dark and thoughtful. - -"When they find out that I am tolerating Camusot, how they will -despise me," he thought. - -"Look here," said the fierce republican, with humorous fierceness, -"you can be a great writer, but a little play-actor you shall never -be," and he took up his hat and went out. - -"He is hard, is Michel Chrestien," commented Lucien. - -"Hard and salutary, like the dentist's pincers," said Bianchon. -"Michel foresees your future; perhaps in the street, at this moment, -he is thinking of you with tears in his eyes." - -D'Arthez was kind, and talked comfortingly, and tried to cheer Lucien. -The poet spent an hour with his friends, then he went, but his -conscience treated him hardly, crying to him, "You will be a -journalist--a journalist!" as the witch cried to Macbeth that he -should be king hereafter! - -Out in the street, he looked up at d'Arthez's windows, and saw a faint -light shining in them, and his heart sank. A dim foreboding told him -that he had bidden his friends good-bye for the last time. - -As he turned out of the Place de la Sorbonne into the Rue de Cluny, he -saw a carriage at the door of his lodging. Coralie had driven all the -way from the Boulevard du Temple for the sake of a moment with her -lover and a "good-night." Lucien found her sobbing in his garret. She -would be as wretchedly poor as her poet, she wept, as she arranged his -shirts and gloves and handkerchiefs in the crazy chest of drawers. Her -distress was so real and so great, that Lucien, but even now chidden -for his connection with an actress, saw Coralie as a saint ready to -assume the hair-shirt of poverty. The adorable girl's excuse for her -visit was an announcement that the firm of Camusot, Coralie, and -Lucien meant to invite Matifat, Florine, and Lousteau (the second -trio) to supper; had Lucien any invitations to issue to people who -might be useful to him? Lucien said that he would take counsel of -Lousteau. - -A few moments were spent together, and Coralie hurried away. She -spared Lucien the knowledge that Camusot was waiting for her below. - -Next morning, at eight o'clock, Lucien went to Etienne Lousteau's -room, found it empty, and hurried away to Florine. Lousteau and -Florine, settled into possession of their new quarters like a married -couple, received their friend in the pretty bedroom, and all three -breakfasted sumptuously together. - -"Why, I should advise you, my boy, to come with me to see Felicien -Vernou," said Lousteau, when they sat at table, and Lucien had -mentioned Coralie's projected supper; "ask him to be of the party, and -keep well with him, if you can keep well with such a rascal. Felicien -Vernou does a feuilleton for a political paper; he might perhaps -introduce you, and you could blossom out into leaders in it at your -ease. It is a Liberal paper, like ours; you will be a Liberal, that is -the popular party; and besides, if you mean to go over to the -Ministerialists, you would do better for yourself if they had reason -to be afraid of you. Then there is Hector Merlin and his Mme. du Val- -Noble; you meet great people at their house--dukes and dandies and -millionaires; didn't they ask you and Coralie to dine with them?" - -"Yes," replied Lucien; "you are going too, and so is Florine." Lucien -and Etienne were now on familiar terms after Friday's debauch and the -dinner at the Rocher de Cancale. - -"Very well, Merlin is on the paper; we shall come across him pretty -often; he is the chap to follow close on Finot's heels. You would do -well to pay him attention; ask him and Mme. du Val-Noble to supper. He -may be useful to you before long; for rancorous people are always in -need of others, and he may do you a good turn if he can reckon on your -pen." - -"Your beginning has made enough sensation to smooth your way," said -Florine; "take advantage of it at once, or you will soon be -forgotten." - -"The bargain, the great business, is concluded," Lousteau continued. -"That Finot, without a spark of talent in him, is to be editor of -Dauriat's weekly paper, with a salary of six hundred francs per month, -and owner of a sixth share, for which he has not paid one penny. And -I, my dear fellow, am now editor of our little paper. Everything went -off as I expected; Florine managed superbly, she could give points to -Tallyrand himself." - -"We have a hold on men through their pleasures," said Florine, "while -a diplomatist only works on their self-love. A diplomatist sees a man -made up for the occasion; we know him in his moments of folly, so our -power is greater." - -"And when the thing was settled, Matifat made the first and last joke -of his whole druggist's career," put in Lousteau. "He said, 'This -affair is quite in my line; I am supplying drugs to the public.' " - -"I suspect that Florine put him up to it," cried Lucien. - -"And by these means, my little dear, your foot is in the stirrup," -continued Lousteau. - -"You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth," remarked Florine. -"What lots of young fellows wait for years, wait till they are sick of -waiting, for a chance to get an article into a paper! You will do like -Emile Blondet. In six months' time you will be giving yourself high -and mighty airs," she added, with a mocking smile, in the language of -her class. - -"Haven't I been in Paris for three years?" said Lousteau, "and only -yesterday Finot began to pay me a fixed monthly salary of three -hundred francs, and a hundred francs per sheet for his paper." - -"Well; you are saying nothing!" exclaimed Florine, with her eyes -turned on Lucien. - -"We shall see, said Lucien. - -"My dear boy, if you had been my brother, I could not have done more -for you," retorted Lousteau, somewhat nettled, "but I won't answer for -Finot. Scores of sharp fellows will besiege Finot for the next two -days with offers to work for low pay. I have promised for you, but you -can draw back if you like.--You little know how lucky you are," he -added after a pause. "All those in our set combine to attack an enemy -in various papers, and lend each other a helping hand all round." - -"Let us go in the first place to Felicien Vernou," said Lucien. He was -eager to conclude an alliance with such formidable birds of prey. - -Lousteau sent for a cab, and the pair of friends drove to Vernou's -house on the second floor up an alley in the Rue Mandar. To Lucien's -great astonishment, the harsh, fastidious, and severe critic's -surroundings were vulgar to the last degree. A marbled paper, cheap -and shabby, with a meaningless pattern repeated at regular intervals, -covered the walls, and a series of aqua tints in gilt frames decorated -the apartment, where Vernou sat at table with a woman so plain that -she could only be the legitimate mistress of the house, and two very -small children perched on high chairs with a bar in front to prevent -the infants from tumbling out. Felicien Vernou, in a cotton dressing- -gown contrived out of the remains of one of his wife's dresses, was -not over well pleased by this invasion. - -"Have you breakfasted, Lousteau?" he asked, placing a chair for -Lucien. - -"We have just left Florine; we have been breakfasting with her." - -Lucien could not take his eyes off Mme. Vernou. She looked like a -stout, homely cook, with a tolerably fair complexion, but commonplace -to the last degree. The lady wore a bandana tied over her night-cap, -the strings of the latter article of dress being tied so tightly under -the chin that her puffy cheeks stood out on either side. A shapeless, -beltless garment, fastened by a single button at the throat, enveloped -her from head to foot in such a fashion that a comparison to a -milestone at once suggested itself. Her health left no room for hope; -her cheeks were almost purple; her fingers looked like sausages. In a -moment it dawned upon Lucien how it was that Vernou was always so ill -at ease in society; here was the living explanation of his -misanthropy. Sick of his marriage, unable to bring himself to abandon -his wife and family, he had yet sufficient of the artistic temper to -suffer continually from their presence; Vernou was an actor by nature -bound never to pardon the success of another, condemned to chronic -discontent because he was never content with himself. Lucien began to -understand the sour look which seemed to add to the bleak expression -of envy on Vernou's face; the acerbity of the epigrams with which his -conversation was sown, the journalist's pungent phrases, keen and -elaborately wrought as a stiletto, were at once explained. - -"Let us go into my study," Vernou said, rising from the table; "you -have come on business, no doubt." - -"Yes and no," replied Etienne Lousteau. "It is a supper, old chap." - -"I have brought a message from Coralie," said Lucien (Mme. Vernou -looked up at once at the name), "to ask you to supper to-night at her -house to meet the same company as before at Florine's, and a few more -besides--Hector Merlin and Mme. du Val-Noble and some others. There -will be play afterwards." - -"But we are engaged to Mme. Mahoudeau this evening, dear," put in the -wife. - -"What does that matter?" returned Vernou. - -"She will take offence if we don't go; and you are very glad of her -when you have a bill to discount." - -"This wife of mine, my dear boy, can never be made to understand that -a supper engagement for twelve o'clock does not prevent you from going -to an evening party that comes to an end at eleven. She is always with -me while I work," he added. - -"You have so much imagination!" said Lucien, and thereby made a mortal -enemy of Vernou. - -"Well," continued Lousteau, "you are coming; but that is not all. M. -de Rubempre is about to be one of us, so you must push him in your -paper. Give him out for a chap that will make a name for himself in -literature, so that he can put in at least a couple of articles every -month." - -"Yes, if he means to be one of us, and will attack our enemies, as we -will attack his, I will say a word for him at the Opera to-night," -replied Vernou. - -"Very well--good-bye till to-morrow, my boy," said Lousteau, shaking -hands with every sign of cordiality. "When is your book coming out?" - -"That depends on Dauriat; it is ready," said Vernou pater-familias. - -"Are you satisfied?" - -"Yes and no----" - -"We will get up a success," said Lousteau, and he rose with a bow to -his colleague's wife. - -The abrupt departure was necessary indeed; for the two infants, -engaged in a noisy quarrel, were fighting with their spoons, and -flinging the pap in each other's faces. - -"That, my boy, is a woman who all unconsciously will work great havoc -in contemporary literature," said Etienne, when they came away. "Poor -Vernou cannot forgive us for his wife. He ought to be relieved of her -in the interests of the public; and a deluge of blood-thirsty reviews -and stinging sarcasms against successful men of every sort would be -averted. What is to become of a man with such a wife and that pair of -abominable brats? Have you seen Rigaudin in Picard's La Maison en -Loterie? You have? Well, like Rigaudin, Vernou will not fight himself, -but he will set others fighting; he would give an eye to put out both -eyes in the head of the best friend he has. You will see him using the -bodies of the slain for a stepping-stone, rejoicing over every one's -misfortunes, attacking princes, dukes, marquises, and nobles, because -he himself is a commoner; reviling the work of unmarried men because -he forsooth has a wife; and everlastingly preaching morality, the joys -of domestic life, and the duties of the citizen. In short, this very -moral critic will spare no one, not even infants of tender age. He -lives in the Rue Mandar with a wife who might be the Mamamouchi of the -Bourgeois gentilhomme and a couple of little Vernous as ugly as sin. -He tries to sneer at the Faubourg Saint-Germain, where he will never -set foot, and makes his duchesses talk like his wife. That is the sort -of man to raise a howl at the Jesuits, insult the Court, and credit -the Court party with the design of restoring feudal rights and the -right of primogeniture--just the one to preach a crusade for Equality, -he that thinks himself the equal of no one. If he were a bachelor, he -would go into society; if he were in a fair way to be a Royalist poet -with a pension and the Cross of the Legion of Honor, he would be an -optimist, and journalism offers starting-points by the hundred. -Journalism is the giant catapult set in motion by pigmy hatreds. Have -you any wish to marry after this? Vernou has none of the milk of human -kindness in him, it is all turned to gall; and he is emphatically the -Journalist, a tiger with two hands that tears everything to pieces, as -if his pen had the hydrophobia." - -"It is a case of gunophobia," said Lucien. "Has he ability?" - -"He is witty, he is a writer of articles. He incubates articles; he -does that all his life and nothing else. The most dogged industry -would fail to graft a book on his prose. Felicien is incapable of -conceiving a work on a large scale, of broad effects, of fitting -characters harmoniously in a plot which develops till it reaches a -climax. He has ideas, but he has no knowledge of facts; his heroes are -utopian creatures, philosophical or Liberal notions masquerading. He -is at pains to write an original style, but his inflated periods would -collapse at a pin-prick from a critic; and therefore he goes in terror -of reviews, like every one else who can only keep his head above water -with the bladders of newspaper puffs." - -"What an article you are making out of him!" - -"That particular kind, my boy, must be spoken, and never written." - -"You are turning editor," said Lucien. - -"Where shall I put you down?" - -"At Coralie's." - -"Ah! we are infatuated," said Lousteau. "What a mistake! Do as I do -with Florine, let Coralie be your housekeeper, and take your fling." - -"You would send a saint to perdition," laughed Lucien. - -"Well, there is no damning a devil," retorted Lousteau. - -The flippant tone, the brilliant talk of this new friend, his views of -life, his paradoxes, the axioms of Parisian Machiavelism,--all these -things impressed Lucien unawares. Theoretically the poet knew that -such thoughts were perilous; but he believed them practically useful. - -Arrived in the Boulevard du Temple, the friends agreed to meet at the -office between four and five o'clock. Hector Merlin would doubtless be -there. Lousteau was right. The infatuation of desire was upon Lucien; -for the courtesan who loves knows how to grapple her lover to her by -every weakness in his nature, fashioning herself with incredible -flexibility to his every wish, encouraging the soft, effeminate habits -which strengthen her hold. Lucien was thirsting already for enjoyment; -he was in love with the easy, luxurious, and expensive life which the -actress led. - -He found Coralie and Camusot intoxicated with joy. The Gymnase offered -Coralie an engagement after Easter on terms for which she had never -dared to hope. - -"And this great success is owing to you," said Camusot. - -"Yes, surely. The Alcalde would have fallen flat but for him," cried -Coralie; "if there had been no article, I should have been in for -another six years of the Boulevard theatres." - -She danced up to Lucien and flung her arms round him, putting an -indescribable silken softness and sweetness into her enthusiasm. Love -had come to Coralie. And Camusot? his eyes fell. Looking down after -the wont of mankind in moments of sharp pain, he saw the seam of -Lucien's boots, a deep yellow thread used by the best bootmakers of -that time, in strong contrast with the glistening leather. The color -of that seam had tinged his thoughts during a previous conversation -with himself, as he sought to explain the presence of a mysterious -pair of hessians in Coralie's fender. He remembered now that he had -seen the name of "Gay, Rue de la Michodiere," printed in black letters -on the soft white kid lining. - -"You have a handsome pair of boots, sir," he said. - -"Like everything else about him," said Coralie. - -"I should be very glad of your bootmaker's address." - -"Oh, how like the Rue des Bourdonnais to ask for a tradesman's -address," cried Coralie. "Do YOU intend to patronize a young man's -bootmaker? A nice young man you would make! Do keep to your own top- -boots; they are the kind for a steady-going man with a wife and family -and a mistress." - -"Indeed, if you would take off one of your boots, sir, I should be -very much obliged," persisted Camusot. - -"I could not get it on again without a button-hook," said Lucien, -flushing up. - -"Berenice will fetch you one; we can do with some here," jeered -Camusot. - -"Papa Camusot!" said Coralie, looking at him with cruel scorn, "have -the courage of your pitiful baseness. Come, speak out! You think that -this gentleman's boots are very like mine, do you not?--I forbid you -to take off your boots," she added, turning to Lucien.--"Yes, M. -Camusot. Yes, you saw some boots lying about in the fender here the -other day, and that is the identical pair, and this gentleman was -hiding in my dressing-room at the time, waiting for them; and he had -passed the night here. That was what you were thinking, hein? Think -so; I would rather you did. It is the simple truth. I am deceiving -you. And if I am? I do it to please myself." - -She sat down. There was no anger in her face, no embarrassment; she -looked from Camusot to Lucien. The two men avoided each other's eyes. - -"I will believe nothing that you do not wish me to believe," said -Camusot. "Don't play with me, Coralie; I was wrong----" - -"I am either a shameless baggage that has taken a sudden fancy; or a -poor, unhappy girl who feels what love really is for the first time, -the love that all women long for. And whichever way it is, you must -leave me or take me as I am," she said, with a queenly gesture that -crushed Camusot. - -"Is it really true?" he asked, seeing from their faces that this was -no jest, yet begging to be deceived. - -"I love mademoiselle," Lucien faltered out. - -At that word, Coralie sprang to her poet and held him tightly to her; -then, with her arms still about him, she turned to the silk-mercer, as -if to bid him see the beautiful picture made by two young lovers. - -"Poor Musot, take all that you gave to me back again; I do not want to -keep anything of yours; for I love this boy here madly, not for his -intellect, but for his beauty. I would rather starve with him than -have millions with you." - -Camusot sank into a low chair, hid his face in his hands, and said not -a word. - -"Would you like us to go away?" she asked. There was a note of -ferocity in her voice which no words can describe. - -Cold chills ran down Lucien's spine; he beheld himself burdened with a -woman, an actress, and a household. - -"Stay here, Coralie; keep it all," the old tradesman said at last, in -a faint, unsteady voice that came from his heart; "I don't want -anything back. There is the worth of sixty thousand francs here in the -furniture; but I could not bear to think of my Coralie in want. And -yet, it will not be long before you come to want. However great this -gentleman's talent may be, he can't afford to keep you. We old fellows -must expect this sort of thing. Coralie, let me come and see you -sometimes; I may be of use to you. And--I confess it; I cannot live -without you." - -The poor man's gentleness, stripped as he was of his happiness just as -happiness had reached its height, touched Lucien deeply. Coralie was -quite unsoftened by it. - -"Come as often as you wish, poor Musot," she said; "I shall like you -all the better when I don't pretend to love you." - -Camusot seemed to be resigned to his fate so long as he was not driven -out of the earthly paradise, in which his life could not have been all -joy; he trusted to the chances of life in Paris and to the temptations -that would beset Lucien's path; he would wait a while, and all that -had been his should be his again. Sooner or later, thought the wily -tradesman, this handsome young fellow would be unfaithful; he would -keep a watch on him; and the better to do this and use his opportunity -with Coralie, he would be their friend. The persistent passion that -could consent to such humiliation terrified Lucien. Camusot's proposal -of a dinner at Very's in the Palais Royal was accepted. - -"What joy!" cried Coralie, as soon as Camusot had departed. "You will -not go back now to your garret in the Latin Quarter; you will live -here. We shall always be together. You can take a room in the Rue -Charlot for the sake of appearances, and vogue le galere!" - -She began to dance her Spanish dance, with an excited eagerness that -revealed the strength of the passion in her heart. - -"If I work hard I may make five hundred francs a month," Lucien said. - -"And I shall make as much again at the theatre, without counting -extras. Camusot will pay for my dresses as before. He is fond of me! -We can live like Croesus on fifteen hundred francs a month." - -"And the horses? and the coachman? and the footman?" inquired -Berenice. - -"I will get into debt," said Coralie. And she began to dance with -Lucien. - -"I must close with Finot after this," Lucien exclaimed. - -"There!" said Coralie, "I will dress and take you to your office. I -will wait outside in the boulevard for you with the carriage." - -Lucien sat down on the sofa and made some very sober reflections as he -watched Coralie at her toilet. It would have been wiser to leave -Coralie free than to start all at once with such an establishment; but -Coralie was there before his eyes, and Coralie was so lovely, so -graceful, so bewitching, that the more picturesque aspects of bohemia -were in evidence; and he flung down the gauntlet to fortune. - -Berenice was ordered to superintend Lucien's removal and installation; -and Coralie, triumphant, radiant, and happy, carried off her love, her -poet, and must needs go all over Paris on the way to the Rue Saint- -Fiacre. Lucien sprang lightly up the staircase, and entered the office -with an air of being quite at home. Coloquinte was there with the -stamped paper still on his head; and old Giroudeau told him again, -hypocritically enough, that no one had yet come in. - -"But the editor and contributors MUST meet somewhere or other to -arrange about the journal," said Lucien. - -"Very likely; but I have nothing to do with the writing of the paper," -said the Emperor's captain, resuming his occupation of checking off -wrappers with his eternal broum! broum! - -Was it lucky or unlucky? Finot chanced to come in at that very moment -to announce his sham abdication and to bid Giroudeau watch over his -interests. - -"No shilly-shally with this gentleman; he is on the staff," Finot -added for his uncle's benefit, as he grasped Lucien by the hand. - -"Oh! is he on the paper?" exclaimed Giroudeau, much surprised at this -friendliness. "Well, sir, you came on without much difficulty." - -"I want to make things snug for you here, lest Etienne should -bamboozle you," continued Finot, looking knowingly at Lucien. "This -gentleman will be paid three francs per column all round, including -theatres." - -"You have never taken any one on such terms before," said Giroudeau, -opening his eyes. - -"And he will take the four Boulevard theatres. See that nobody sneaks -his boxes, and that he gets his share of tickets.--I should advise -you, nevertheless, to have them sent to your address," he added, -turning to Lucien.--"And he agrees to write besides ten miscellaneous -articles of two columns each, for fifty francs per month, for one -year. Does that suit you?" - -"Yes," said Lucien. Circumstances had forced his hand. - -"Draw up the agreement, uncle, and we will sign it when we come -downstairs." - -"Who is the gentleman?" inquired Giroudeau, rising and taking off his -black silk skull-cap. - -"M. Lucien de Rubempre, who wrote the article on The Alcalde." - -"Young man, you have a gold mine THERE," said the old soldier, tapping -Lucien on the forehead. "I am not literary myself, but I read that -article of yours, and I liked it. That is the kind of thing! There's -gaiety for you! 'That will bring us new subscribers,' says I to -myself. And so it did. We sold fifty more numbers." - -"Is my agreement with Lousteau made out in duplicate and ready to -sign?" asked Finot, speaking aside. - -"Yes." - -"Then ante-date this gentleman's agreement by one day, so that -Lousteau will be bound by the previous contract." - -Finot took his new contributor's arm with a friendliness that charmed -Lucien, and drew him out on the landing to say:-- - -"Your position is made for you. I will introduce you to MY staff -myself, and to-night Lousteau will go round with you to the theatres. -You can make a hundred and fifty francs per month on this little paper -of ours with Lousteau as its editor, so try to keep well with him. The -rogue bears a grudge against me as it is, for tying his hands so far -as you are concerned; but you have ability, and I don't choose that -you shall be subjected to the whims of the editor. You might let me -have a couple of sheets every month for my review, and I will pay you -two hundred francs. This is between ourselves, don't mention it to -anybody else; I should be laid open to the spite of every one whose -vanity is mortified by your good fortune. Write four articles, fill -your two sheets, sign two with your own name, and two with a -pseudonym, so that you may not seem to be taking the bread out of -anybody else's mouth. You owe your position to Blondet and Vignon; -they think that you have a future before you. So keep out of scrapes, -and, above all things, be on your guard against your friends. As for -me, we shall always get on well together, you and I. Help me, and I -will help you. You have forty francs' worth of boxes and tickets to -sell, and sixty francs' worth of books to convert into cash. With that -and your work on the paper, you will be making four hundred and fifty -francs every month. If you use your wits, you will find ways of making -another two hundred francs at least among the publishers; they will -pay you for reviews and prospectuses. But you are mine, are you not? I -can count upon you." - -Lucien squeezed Finot's hand in transports of joy which no words can -express. - -"Don't let any one see that anything has passed between us," said -Finot in his ear, and he flung open a door of a room in the roof at -the end of a long passage on the fifth floor. - -A table covered with a green cloth was drawn up to a blazing fire, and -seated in various chairs and lounges Lucien discovered Lousteau, -Felicien Vernou, Hector Merlin, and two others unknown to him, all -laughing or smoking. A real inkstand, full of ink this time, stood on -the table among a great litter of papers; while a collection of pens, -the worse for wear, but still serviceable for journalists, told the -new contributor very plainly that the mighty enterprise was carried on -in this apartment. - -"Gentlemen," said Finot, "the object of this gathering is the -installation of our friend Lousteau in my place as editor of the -newspaper which I am compelled to relinquish. But although my opinions -will necessarily undergo a transformation when I accept the editorship -of a review of which the politics are known to you, my CONVICTIONS -remain the same, and we shall be friends as before. I am quite at your -service, and you likewise will be ready to do anything for me. -Circumstances change; principles are fixed. Principles are the pivot -on which the hands of the political barometer turn." - -There was an instant shout of laughter. - -"Who put that into your mouth?" asked Lousteau. - -"Blondet!" said Finot. - -"Windy, showery, stormy, settled fair," said Merlin; "we will all row -in the same boat." - -"In short," continued Finot, "not to muddle our wits with metaphors, -any one who has an article or two for me will always find Finot.--This -gentleman," turning to Lucien, "will be one of you.--I have arranged -with him, Lousteau." - -Every one congratulated Finot on his advance and new prospects. - -"So there you are, mounted on our shoulders," said a contributor -whom Lucien did not know. "You will be the Janus of Journal----" - -"So long as he isn't the Janot," put in Vernou. - -"Are you going to allow us to make attacks on our betes noires?" - -"Any one you like." - -"Ah, yes!" said Lousteau; "but the paper must keep on its lines. M. -Chatelet is very wroth; we shall not let him off for a week yet." - -"What has happened?" asked Lucien. - -"He came here to ask for an explanation," said Vernou. "The Imperial -buck found old Giroudeau at home; and old Giroudeau told him, with all -the coolness in the world, that Philippe Bridau wrote the article. -Philippe asked the Baron to mention the time and the weapons, and -there it ended. We are engaged at this moment in offering excuses to -the Baron in to-morrow's issue. Every phrase is a stab for him." - -"Keep your teeth in him and he will come round to me," said Finot; -"and it will look as if I were obliging him by appeasing you. He can -say a word to the Ministry, and we can get something or other out of -him--an assistant schoolmaster's place, or a tobacconist's license. It -is a lucky thing for us that we flicked him on the raw. Does anybody -here care to take a serious article on Nathan for my new paper?" - -"Give it to Lucien," said Lousteau. "Hector and Vernou will write -articles in their papers at the same time." - -"Good-day, gentlemen; we shall meet each other face to face at -Barbin's," said Finot, laughing. - -Lucien received some congratulations on his admission to the mighty -army of journalists, and Lousteau explained that they could be sure of -him. "Lucien wants you all to sup in a body at the house of the fair -Coralie." - -"Coralie is going on at the Gymnase," said Lucien. - -"Very well, gentlemen; it is understood that we push Coralie, eh? Put -a few lines about her new engagement in your papers, and say something -about her talent. Credit the management of the Gymnase with tack and -discernment; will it do to say intelligence?" - -"Yes, say intelligence," said Merlin; "Frederic has something of -Scribe's." - -"Oh! Well, then, the manager of the Gymnase is the most perspicacious -and far-sighted of men of business," said Vernou. - -"Look here! don't write your articles on Nathan until we have come to -an understanding; you shall hear why," said Etienne Lousteau. "We -ought to do something for our new comrade. Lucien here has two books -to bring out--a volume of sonnets and a novel. The power of the -paragraph should make him a great poet due in three months; and we -will make use of his sonnets (Marguerites is the title) to run down -odes, ballads, and reveries, and all the Romantic poetry." - -"It would be a droll thing if the sonnets were no good after all," -said Vernou.--"What do you yourself think of your sonnets, Lucien?" - -"Yes, what do you think of them?" asked one of the two whom Lucien did -not know. - -"They are all right, gentlemen; I give you my word," said Lousteau. - -"Very well, that will do for me," said Vernou; "I will heave your book -at the poets of the sacristy; I am tired of them." - -"If Dauriat declines to take the Marguerites this evening, we will -attack him by pitching into Nathan." - -"But what will Nathan say?" cried Lucien. - -His five colleagues burst out laughing. - -"Oh! he will be delighted," said Vernou. "You will see how we manage -these things." - -"So he is one of us?" said one of the two journalists. - -"Yes, yes, Frederic; no tricks.--We are all working for you, Lucien, -you see; you must stand by us when your turn comes. We are all friends -of Nathan's, and we are attacking him. Now, let us divide Alexander's -empire.--Frederic, will you take the Francais and the Odeon?" - -"If these gentlemen are willing," returned the person addressed as -Frederic. The others nodded assent, but Lucien saw a gleam of jealousy -here and there. - -"I am keeping the Opera, the Italiens, and the Opera-Comique," put in -Vernou. - -"And how about me? Am I to have no theatres at all?" asked the second -stranger. - -"Oh well, Hector can let you have the Varietes, and Lucien can spare -you the Porte Saint-Martin.--Let him have the Porte Saint-Martin, -Lucien, he is wild about Fanny Beaupre; and you can take the Cirque- -Olympique in exchange. I shall have Bobino and the Funambules and -Madame Saqui. Now, what have we for to-morrow?" - -"Nothing." - -"Nothing?" - -"Nothing." - -"Gentlemen, be brilliant for my first number. The Baron du Chatelet -and his cuttlefish bone will not last for a week, and the writer of Le -Solitaire is worn out." - -"And 'Sosthenes-Demosthenes' is stale too," said Vernou; "everybody -has taken it up." - -"The fact is, we want a new set of ninepins," said Frederic. - -"Suppose that we take the virtuous representatives of the Right?" -suggested Lousteau. "We might say that M. de Bonald has sweaty feet." - -"Let us begin a series of sketches of Ministerialist orators," -suggested Hector Merlin. - -"You do that, youngster; you know them; they are your own party," said -Lousteau; "you could indulge any little private grudges of your own. -Pitch into Beugnot and Syrieys de Mayrinhac and the rest. You might -have the sketches ready in advance, and we shall have something to -fall back upon." - -"How if we invented one or two cases of refusal of burial with -aggravating circumstances?" asked Hector. - -"Do not follow in the tracks of the big Constitutional papers; they -have pigeon-holes full of ecclesiastical canards," retorted Vernou. - -"Canards?" repeated Lucien. - -"That is our word for a scrap of fiction told for true, put in to -enliven the column of morning news when it is flat. We owe the -discovery to Benjamin Franklin, the inventor of the lightning -conductor and the republic. That journalist completely deceived the -Encyclopaedists by his transatlantic canards. Raynal gives two of them -for facts in his Histoire philosophique des Indes." - -"I did not know that," said Vernou. "What were the stories?" - -"One was a tale about an Englishman and a negress who helped him to -escape; he sold the woman for a slave after getting her with child -himself to enhance her value. The other was the eloquent defence of a -young woman brought before the authorities for bearing a child out of -wedlock. Franklin owned to the fraud in Necker's house when he came to -Paris, much to the confusion of French philosophism. Behold how the -New World twice set a bad example to the Old!" - -"In journalism," said Lousteau, "everything that is probable is true. -That is an axiom." - -"Criminal procedure is based on the same rule," said Vernou. - -"Very well, we meet here at nine o'clock," and with that they rose, -and the sitting broke up with the most affecting demonstrations of -intimacy and good-will. - -"What have you done to Finot, Lucien, that he should make a special -arrangement with you? You are the only one that he has bound to -himself," said Etienne Lousteau, as they came downstairs. - -"I? Nothing. It was his own proposal," said Lucien. - -"As a matter of fact, if you should make your own terms with him, I -should be delighted; we should, both of us, be the better for it." - -On the ground floor they found Finot. He stepped across to Lousteau -and asked him into the so-called private office. Giroudeau immediately -put a couple of stamped agreements before Lucien. - -"Sign your agreement," he said, "and the new editor will think the -whole thing was arranged yesterday." - -Lucien, reading the document, overheard fragments of a tolerably warm -dispute within as to the line of conduct and profits of the paper. -Etienne Lousteau wanted his share of the blackmail levied by -Giroudeau; and, in all probability, the matter was compromised, for -the pair came out perfectly good friends. - -"We will meet at Dauriat's, Lucien, in the Wooden Galleries at eight -o'clock," said Etienne Lousteau. - -A young man appeared, meanwhile, in search of employment, wearing the -same nervous shy look with which Lucien himself had come to the office -so short a while ago; and in his secret soul Lucien felt amused as he -watched Giroudeau playing off the same tactics with which the old -campaigner had previously foiled him. Self-interest opened his eyes to -the necessity of the manoeuvres which raised well-nigh insurmountable -barriers between beginners and the upper room where the elect were -gathered together. - -"Contributors don't get very much as it is," he said, addressing -Giroudeau. - -"If there were more of you, there would be so much less," retorted the -captain. "So there!" - -The old campaigner swung his loaded cane, and went down coughing as -usual. Out in the street he was amazed to see a handsome carriage -waiting on the boulevard for Lucien. - -"YOU are the army nowadays," he said, "and we are the civilians." - -"Upon my word," said Lucien, as he drove away with Coralie, "these -young writers seem to me to be the best fellows alive. Here am I a -journalist, sure of making six hundred francs a month if I work like a -horse. But I shall find a publisher for my two books, and I will write -others; for my friends will insure a success. And so, Coralie, 'vogue -le galere!' as you say." - -"You will make your way, dear boy; but you must not be as good-natured -as you are good-looking; it would be the ruin of you. Be ill-natured, -that is the proper thing." - -Coralie and Lucien drove in the Bois de Boulogne, and again they met -the Marquise d'Espard, Mme. de Bargeton and the Baron du Chatelet. -Mme. de Bargeton gave Lucien a languishing glance which might be taken -as a greeting. Camusot had ordered the best possible dinner; and -Coralie, feeling that she was rid of her adorer, was more charming to -the poor silk-mercer than she had ever been in the fourteen months -during which their connection lasted; he had never seen her so kindly, -so enchantingly lovely. - -"Come," he thought, "let us keep near her anyhow!" - -In consequence, Camusot made secret overtures. He promised Coralie an -income of six thousand livres; he would transfer the stock in the -funds into her name (his wife knew nothing about the investment) if -only she would consent to be his mistress still. He would shut his -eyes to her lover. - -"And betray such an angel? . . . Why, just look at him, you old -fossil, and look at yourself!" and her eyes turned to her poet. -Camusot had pressed Lucien to drink till the poet's head was rather -cloudy. - -There was no help for it; Camusot made up his mind to wait till sheer -want should give him this woman a second time. - -"Then I can only be your friend," he said, as he kissed her on the -forehead. - -Lucien went from Coralie and Camusot to the Wooden Galleries. What a -change had been wrought in his mind by his initiation into Journalism! -He mixed fearlessly now with the crowd which surged to and fro in the -buildings; he even swaggered a little because he had a mistress; and -he walked into Dauriat's shop in an offhand manner because he was a -journalist. - -He found himself among distinguished men; gave a hand to Blondet and -Nathan and Finot, and to all the coterie with whom he had been -fraternizing for a week. He was a personage, he thought, and he -flattered himself that he surpassed his comrades. That little flick of -the wine did him admirable service; he was witty, he showed that he -could "howl with the wolves." - -And yet, the tacit approval, the praises spoken and unspoken on which -he had counted, were not forthcoming. He noticed the first stirrings -of jealousy among a group, less curious, perhaps, than anxious to know -the place which this newcomer might take, and the exact portion of the -sum-total of profits which he would probably secure and swallow. -Lucien only saw smiles on two faces--Finot, who regarded him as a mine -to be exploited, and Lousteau, who considered that he had proprietary -rights in the poet, looked glad to see him. Lousteau had begun already -to assume the airs of an editor; he tapped sharply on the window-panes -of Dauriat's private office. - -"One moment, my friend," cried a voice within as the publisher's face -appeared above the green curtains. - -The moment lasted an hour, and finally Lucien and Etienne were -admitted into the sanctum. - -"Well, have you thought over our friend's proposal?" asked Etienne -Lousteau, now an editor. - -"To be sure," said Dauriat, lolling like a sultan in his chair. "I -have read the volume. And I submitted it to a man of taste, a good -judge; for I don't pretend to understand these things myself. I -myself, my friend, buy reputations ready-made, as the Englishman -bought his love affairs.--You are as great as a poet as you are -handsome as a man, my boy," pronounced Dauriat. "Upon my word and -honor (I don't tell you that as a publisher, mind), your sonnets are -magnificent; no sign of effort about them, as is natural when a man -writes with inspiration and verve. You know your craft, in fact, one -of the good points of the new school. Your volume of Marguerites is a -fine book, but there is no business in it, and it is not worth my -while to meddle with anything but a very big affair. In conscience, I -won't take your sonnets. It would be impossible to push them; there is -not enough in the thing to pay the expenses of a big success. You will -not keep to poetry besides; this book of yours will be your first and -last attempt of the kind. You are young; you bring me the everlasting -volume of early verse which every man of letters writes when he leaves -school, he thinks a lot of it at the time, and laughs at it later on. -Lousteau, your friend, has a poem put away somewhere among his old -socks, I'll warrant. Haven't you a poem that you thought a good deal -of once, Lousteau?" inquired Dauriat, with a knowing glance at the -other. - -"How should I be writing prose otherwise, eh?" asked Lousteau. - -"There, you see! He has never said a word to me about it, for our -friend understands business and the trade," continued Dauriat. "For me -the question is not whether you are a great poet, I know that," he -added, stroking down Lucien's pride; "you have a great deal, a very -great deal of merit; if I were only just starting in business, I -should make the mistake of publishing your book. But in the first -place, my sleeping partners and those at the back of me are cutting -off my supplies; I dropped twenty thousand francs over poetry last -year, and that is enough for them; they will not hear of any more just -now, and they are my masters. Nevertheless, that is not the question. -I admit that you may be a great poet, but will you be a prolific -writer? Will you hatch sonnets regularly? Will you run into ten -volumes? Is there business in it? Of course not. You will be a -delightful prose writer; you have too much sense to spoil your style -with tagging rhymes together. You have a chance to make thirty -thousand francs per annum by writing for the papers, and you will not -exchange that chance for three thousand francs made with difficulty by -your hemistiches and strophes and tomfoolery----" - -"You know that he is on the paper, Dauriat?" put in Lousteau. - -"Yes," Dauriat answered. "Yes, I saw his article, and in his own -interests I decline the Marguerites. Yes, sir, in six months' time I -shall have paid you more money for the articles that I shall ask you -to write than for your poetry that will not sell." - -"And fame?" said Lucien. - -Dauriat and Lousteau laughed. - -"Oh dear!" said Lousteau, "there be illusions left." - -"Fame means ten years of sticking to work, and a hundred thousand -francs lost or made in the publishing trade. If you find anybody mad -enough to print your poetry for you, you will feel some respect for me -in another twelvemonth, when you have had time to see the outcome of -the transaction" - -"Have you the manuscript here?" Lucien asked coldly. - -"Here it is, my friend," said Dauriat. The publisher's manner towards -Lucien had sweetened singularly. - -Lucien took up the roll without looking at the string, so sure he felt -that Dauriat had read his Marguerites. He went out with Lousteau, -seemingly neither disconcerted nor dissatisfied. Dauriat went with -them into the shop, talking of his newspaper and Lousteau's daily, -while Lucien played with the manuscript of the Marguerites. - -"Do you suppose that Dauriat has read your sonnets or sent them to any -one else?" Etienne Lousteau snatched an opportunity to whisper. - -"Yes," said Lucien. - -"Look at the string." Lucien looked down at the blot of ink, and saw -that the mark on the string still coincided; he turned white with -rage. - -"Which of the sonnets was it that you particularly liked?" he asked, -turning to the publisher. - -"They are all of them remarkable, my friend; but the sonnet on the -Marguerite is delightful, the closing thought is fine, and exquisitely -expressed. I felt sure from that sonnet that your prose work would -command a success, and I spoke to Finot about you at once. Write -articles for us, and we will pay you well for them. Fame is a very -fine thing, you see, but don't forget the practical and solid, and -take every chance that turns up. When you have made money, you can -write poetry." - -The poet dashed out of the shop to avoid an explosion. He was furious. -Lousteau followed. - -"Well, my boy, pray keep cool. Take men as they are--for means to an -end. Do you wish for revenge?" - -"At any price," muttered the poet. - -"Here is a copy of Nathan's book. Dauriat has just given it to me. The -second edition is coming out to-morrow; read the book again, and knock -off an article demolishing it. Felicien Vernou cannot endure Nathan, -for he thinks that Nathan's success will injure his own forthcoming -book. It is a craze with these little minds to fancy that there is not -room for two successes under the sun; so he will see that your article -finds a place in the big paper for which he writes." - -"But what is there to be said against the book; it is good work!" -cried Lucien. - -"Oh, I say! you must learn your trade," said Lousteau, laughing. -"Given that the book was a masterpiece, under the stroke of your pen -it must turn to dull trash, dangerous and unwholesome stuff." - -"But how?" - -"You turn all the good points into bad ones." - -"I am incapable of such a juggler's feat." - -"My dear boy, a journalist is a juggler; a man must make up his mind -to the drawbacks of the calling. Look here! I am not a bad fellow; -this is the way _I_ should set to work myself. Attention! You might -begin by praising the book, and amuse yourself a while by saying what -you really think. 'Good,' says the reader, 'this critic is not -jealous; he will be impartial, no doubt,' and from that point your -public will think that your criticism is a piece of conscientious -work. Then, when you have won your reader's confidence, you will -regret that you must blame the tendency and influence of such work -upon French literature. 'Does not France,' you will say, 'sway the -whole intellectual world? French writers have kept Europe in the path -of analysis and philosophical criticism from age to age by their -powerful style and the original turn given by them to ideas.' Here, -for the benefit of the philistine, insert a panegyric on Voltaire, -Rousseau, Diderot, Montesquieu, and Buffon. Hold forth upon the -inexorable French language; show how it spreads a varnish, as it were, -over thought. Let fall a few aphorisms, such as--'A great writer in -France is invariably a great man; he writes in a language which -compels him to think; it is otherwise in other countries'--and so on, -and so on. Then, to prove your case, draw a comparison between -Rabener, the German satirical moralist, and La Bruyere. Nothing gives -a critic such an air as an apparent familiarity with foreign -literature. Kant is Cousin's pedestal. - -"Once on that ground you bring out a word which sums up the French men -of genius of the eighteenth century for the benefit of simpletons--you -call that literature the 'literature of ideas.' Armed with this -expression, you fling all the mighty dead at the heads of the -illustrious living. You explain that in the present day a new form of -literature has sprung up; that dialogue (the easiest form of writing) -is overdone, and description dispenses with any need for thinking on -the part of the author or reader. You bring up the fiction of -Voltaire, Diderot, Sterne, and Le Sage, so trenchant, so compact of -the stuff of life; and turn from them to the modern novel, composed of -scenery and word-pictures and metaphor and the dramatic situations, of -which Scott is full. Invention may be displayed in such work, but -there is no room for anything else. 'The romance after the manner of -Scott is a mere passing fashion in literature,' you will say, and -fulminate against the fatal way in which ideas are diluted and beaten -thin; cry out against a style within the reach of any intellect, for -any one can commence author at small expense in a way of literature, -which you can nickname the 'literature of imagery.' - -"Then you fall upon Nathan with your argument, and establish it -beyound cavil that he is a mere imitator with an appearance of genius. -The concise grand style of the eighteenth century is lacking; you show -that the author substitutes events for sentiments. Action and stir is -not life; he gives you pictures, but no ideas. - -"Come out with such phrases, and people will take them up.--In spite -of the merits of the work, it seems to you to be a dangerous, nay, a -fatal precedent. It throws open the gates of the temple of Fame to the -crowd; and in the distance you descry a legion of petty authors -hastening to imitate this novel and easy style of writing. - -"Here you launch out into resounding lamentations over the decadence -and decline of taste, and slip in eulogies of Messieurs Etienne Jouy, -Tissot, Gosse, Duval, Jay, Benjamin Constant, Aignan, Baour-Lormian, -Villemain, and the whole Liberal-Bonapartist chorus who patronize -Vernou's paper. Next you draw a picture of that glorious phalanx of -writers repelling the invasion of the Romantics; these are the -upholders of ideas and style as against metaphor and balderdash; the -modern representatives of the school of Voltaire as opposed to the -English and German schools, even as the seventeen heroic deputies of -the Left fought the battle for the nation against the Ultras of the -Right. - -"And then, under cover of names respected by the immense majority of -Frenchmen (who will always be against the Government), you can crush -Nathan; for although his work is far above the average, it confirms -the bourgeois taste for literature without ideas. And after that, you -understand, it is no longer a question of Nathan and his book, but of -France and the glory of France. It is the duty of all honest and -courageous pens to make strenuous opposition to these foreign -importations. And with that you flatter your readers. Shrewd French -mother-wit is not easily caught napping. If publishers, by ways which -you do not choose to specify, have stolen a success, the reading -public very soon judges for itself, and corrects the mistakes made by -some five hundred fools, who always rush to the fore. - -"Say that the publisher who sold a first edition of the book is -audacious indeed to issue a second, and express regret that so clever -a man does not know the taste of the country better. There is the gist -of it. Just a sprinkle of the salt of wit and a dash of vinegar to -bring out the flavor, and Dauriat will be done to a turn. But mind -that you end with seeming to pity Nathan for a mistake, and speak of -him as of a man from whom contemporary literature may look for great -things if he renounces these ways." - -Lucien was amazed at this talk from Lousteau. As the journalist spoke, -the scales fell from his eyes; he beheld new truths of which he had -never before caught so much as a glimpse. - -"But all this that you are saying is quite true and just," said he. - -"If it were not, how could you make it tell against Nathan's book?" -asked Lousteau. "That is the first manner of demolishing a book, my -boy; it is the pickaxe style of criticism. But there are plenty of -other ways. Your education will complete itself in time. When you are -absolutely obliged to speak of a man whom you do not like, for -proprietors and editors are sometimes under compulsion, you bring out -a neutral special article. You put the title of the book at the head -of it, and begin with general remarks, on the Greeks and the Romans if -you like, and wind up with--'and this brings us to Mr. So-and-so's -book, which will form the subject of a second article.' The second -article never appears, and in this way you snuff out the book between -two promises. But in this case you are writing down, not Nathan, but -Dauriat; he needs the pickaxe style. If the book is really good, the -pickaxe does no harm; but it goes to the core of it if it is bad. In -the first case, no one but the publisher is any the worse; in the -second, you do the public a service. Both methods, moreover, are -equally serviceable in political criticism." - -Etienne Lousteau's cruel lesson opened up possibilities for Lucien's -imagination. He understood this craft to admiration. - -"Let us go to the office," said Lousteau; "we shall find our friends -there, and we will agree among ourselves to charge at Nathan; they -will laugh, you will see." - -Arrived in the Rue Saint-Fiacre, they went up to the room in the roof -where the paper was made up, and Lucien was surprised and gratified no -less to see the alacrity with which his comrades proceeded to demolish -Nathan's book. Hector Merlin took up a piece of paper and wrote a few -lines for his own newspaper.-- - - "A second edition of M. Nathan's book is announced. We had - intended to keep silence with regard to that work, but its - apparent success obliges us to publish an article, not so much - upon the book itself as upon certain tendencies of the new school - of literature." - -At the head of the "Facetiae" in the morning's paper, Lousteau -inserted the following note:-- - - "M. Dauriat is bringing out a second edition of M. Nathan's book. - Evidently he does not know the legal maxim, Non bis in idem. All - honor to rash courage." - -Lousteau's words had been like a torch for burning; Lucien's hot -desire to be revenged on Dauriat took the place of conscience and -inspiration. For three days he never left Coralie's room; he sat at -work by the fire, waited upon by Berenice; petted, in moments of -weariness, by the silent and attentive Coralie; till, at the end of -that time, he had made a fair copy of about three columns of -criticism, and an astonishingly good piece of work. - -It was nine o'clock in the evening when he ran round to the office, -found his associates, and read over his work to an attentive audience. -Felicien said not a syllable. He took up the manuscript, and made off -with it pell-mell down the staircase. - -"What has come to him?" cried Lucien. - -"He has taken your article straight to the printer," said Hector -Merlin. " 'Tis a masterpiece; not a line to add, nor a word to take -out." - -"There was no need to do more than show you the way," said Lousteau. - -"I should like to see Nathan's face when he reads this to-morrow," -said another contributor, beaming with gentle satisfaction. - -"It is as well to have you for a friend," remarked Hector Merlin. - -"Then it will do?" Lucien asked quickly. - -"Blondet and Vignon will feel bad," said Lousteau. - -"Here is a short article which I have knocked together for you," began -Lucien; "if it takes, I could write you a series." - -"Read it over," said Lousteau, and Lucien read the first of the -delightful short papers which made the fortune of the little -newspaper; a series of sketches of Paris life, a portrait, a type, an -ordinary event, or some of the oddities of the great city. This -specimen--"The Man in the Street"--was written in a way that was fresh -and original; the thoughts were struck out by the shock of the words, -the sounding ring of the adverbs and adjectives caught the reader's -ear. The paper was as different from the serious and profound article -on Nathan as the Lettres persanes from the Esprit des lois. - -"You are a born journalist," said Lousteau. "It shall go in to-morrow. -Do as much of this sort of thing as you like." - -"Ah, by the by," said Merlin, "Dauriat is furious about those two -bombshells hurled into his magazine. I have just come from him. He was -hurling imprecations, and in such a rage with Finot, who told him that -he had sold his paper to you. As for me, I took him aside and just -said a word in his ear. 'The Marguerites will cost you dear,' I told -him. 'A man of talent comes to you, you turn the cold shoulder on him, -and send him into the arms of the newspapers.' " - -"Dauriat will be dumfounded by the article on Nathan," said Lousteau. -"Do you see now what journalism is, Lucien? Your revenge is beginning -to tell. The Baron Chatelet came here this morning for your address. -There was a cutting article upon him in this morning's issue; he is a -weakling, that buck of the Empire, and he has lost his head. Have you -seen the paper? It is a funny article. Look, 'Funeral of the Heron, -and the Cuttlefish-bone's lament.' Mme. de Bargeton is called the -Cuttlefish-bone now, and no mistake, and Chatelet is known everywhere -as Baron Heron." - -Lucien took up the paper, and could not help laughing at Vernou's -extremely clever skit. - -"They will capitulate soon," said Hector Merlin. - -Lucien merrily assisted at the manufacture of epigrams and jokes at -the end of the paper; and the associates smoked and chatted over the -day's adventures, over the foibles of some among their number, or some -new bit of personal gossip. From their witty, malicious, bantering -talk, Lucien gained a knowledge of the inner life of literature, and -of the manners and customs of the craft. - -"While they are setting up the paper, I will go round with you and -introduce you to the managers of your theatres, and take you behind -the scenes," said Lousteau. "And then we will go to the Panorama- -Dramatique, and have a frolic in their dressing-rooms." - -Arm-in-arm, they went from theatre to theatre. Lucien was introduced -to this one and that, and enthroned as a dramatic critic. Managers -complimented him, actresses flung him side glances; for every one of -them knew that this was the critic who, by a single article, had -gained an engagement at the Gymnase, with twelve thousand francs a -year, for Coralie, and another for Florine at the Panorama-Dramatique -with eight thousand francs. Lucien was a man of importance. The little -ovations raised Lucien in his own eyes, and taught him to know his -power. At eleven o'clock the pair arrived at the Panorama-Dramatique; -Lucien with a careless air that worked wonders. Nathan was there. -Nathan held out a hand, which Lucien squeezed. - -"Ah! my masters, so you have a mind to floor me, have you?" said -Nathan, looking from one to the other. - -"Just you wait till to-morrow, my dear fellow, and you shall see how -Lucien has taken you in hand. Upon my word, you will be pleased. A -piece of serious criticism like that is sure to do a book good." - -Lucien reddened with confusion. - -"Is it severe?" inquired Nathan. - -"It is serious," said Lousteau. - -"Then there is no harm done," Nathan rejoined. "Hector Merlin in the -greenroom of the Vaudeville was saying that I had been cut up." - -"Let him talk, and wait," cried Lucien, and took refuge in Coralie's -dressing-room. Coralie, in her alluring costume, had just come off the -stage. - -Next morning, as Lucien and Coralie sat at breakfast, a carriage drove -along the Rue de Vendome. The street was quiet enough, so that they -could hear the light sound made by an elegant cabriolet; and there was -that in the pace of the horse, and the manner of pulling up at the -door, which tells unmistakably of a thoroughbred. Lucien went to the -window, and there, in fact, beheld a splendid English horse, and no -less a person than Dauriat flinging the reins to his man as he stepped -down. - -" 'Tis the publisher, Coralie," said Lucien. - -"Let him wait, Berenice," Coralie said at once. - -Lucien smiled at her presence of mind, and kissed her with a great -rush of tenderness. This mere girl had made his interests hers in a -wonderful way; she was quick-witted where he was concerned. The -apparition of the insolent publisher, the sudden and complete collapse -of that prince of charlatans, was due to circumstances almost entirely -forgotten, so utterly has the book trade changed during the last -fifteen years. - -From 1816 to 1827, when newspaper reading-rooms were only just -beginning to lend new books, the fiscal law pressed more heavily than -ever upon periodical publications, and necessity created the invention -of advertisements. Paragraphs and articles in the newspapers were the -only means of advertisement known in those days; and French newspapers -before the year 1822 were so small, that the largest sheet of those -times was not so large as the smallest daily paper of ours. Dauriat -and Ladvocat, the first publishers to make a stand against the tyranny -of journalists, were also the first to use the placards which caught -the attention of Paris by strange type, striking colors, vignettes, -and (at a later time) by lithograph illustrations, till a placard -became a fairy-tale for the eyes, and not unfrequently a snare for the -purse of the amateur. So much originality indeed was expended on -placards in Paris, that one of that peculiar kind of maniacs, known as -a collector, possesses a complete series. - -At first the placard was confined to the shop-windows and stalls upon -the Boulevards in Paris; afterwards it spread all over France, till it -was supplanted to some extent by a return to advertisements in the -newspapers. But the placard, nevertheless, which continues to strike -the eye, after the advertisement and the book which is advertised are -both forgotten, will always be among us; it took a new lease of life -when walls were plastered with posters. - -Newspaper advertising, the offspring of heavy stamp duties, a high -rate of postage, and the heavy deposits of caution-money required by -the government as security for good behavior, is within the reach of -all who care to pay for it, and has turned the fourth page of every -journal into a harvest field alike for the speculator and the Inland -Revenue Department. The press restrictions were invented in the time -of M. de Villele, who had a chance, if he had but known it, of -destroying the power of journalism by allowing newspapers to multiply -till no one took any notice of them; but he missed his opportunity, -and a sort of privilege was created, as it were, by the almost -insuperable difficulties put in the way of starting a new venture. So, -in 1821, the periodical press might be said to have power of life and -death over the creations of the brain and the publishing trade. A few -lines among the items of news cost a fearful amount. Intrigues were -multiplied in newspaper offices; and of a night when the columns were -divided up, and this or that article was put in or left out to suit -the space, the printing-room became a sort of battlefield; so much so, -that the largest publishing firms had writers in their pay to insert -short articles in which many ideas are put in little space. Obscure -journalists of this stamp were only paid after the insertion of the -items, and not unfrequently spent the night in the printing-office to -make sure that their contributions were not omitted; sometimes putting -in a long article, obtained heaven knows how, sometimes a few lines of -a puff. - -The manners and customs of journalism and of the publishing houses -have since changed so much, that many people nowadays will not believe -what immense efforts were made by writers and publishers of books to -secure a newspaper puff; the martyrs of glory, and all those who are -condemned to the penal servitude of a life-long success, were reduced -to such shifts, and stooped to depths of bribery and corruption as -seem fabulous to-day. Every kind of persuasion was brought to bear on -journalists--dinners, flattery, and presents. The following story will -throw more light on the close connection between the critic and the -publisher than any quantity of flat assertions. - -There was once upon a time an editor of an important paper, a clever -writer with a prospect of becoming a statesman; he was young in those -days, and fond of pleasure, and he became the favorite of a well-known -publishing house. One Sunday the wealthy head of the firm was -entertaining several of the foremost journalists of the time in the -country, and the mistress of the house, then a young and pretty woman, -went to walk in her park with the illustrious visitor. The head-clerk -of the firm, a cool, steady, methodical German with nothing but -business in his head, was discussing a project with one of the -journalists, and as they chatted they walked on into the woods beyond -the park. In among the thickets the German thought he caught a glimpse -of his hostess, put up his eyeglass, made a sign to his young -companion to be silent, and turned back, stepping softly.--"What did -you see?" asked the journalist.--"Nothing particular," said the clerk. -"Our affair of the long article is settled. To-morrow we shall have at -least three columns in the Debats." - -Another anecdote will show the influence of a single article. - -A book of M. de Chateaubriand's on the last of the Stuarts was for -some time a "nightingale" on the bookseller's shelves. A single -article in the Journal des Debats sold the work in a week. In those -days, when there were no lending libraries, a publisher would sell an -edition of ten thousand copies of a book by a Liberal if it was well -reviewed by the Opposition papers; but then the Belgian pirated -editions were not as yet. - -The preparatory attacks made by Lucien's friends, followed up by his -article on Nathan, proved efficacious; they stopped the sale of his -book. Nathan escaped with the mortification; he had been paid; he had -nothing to lose; but Dauriat was like to lose thirty thousand francs. -The trade in new books may, in fact, be summed up much on this wise. A -ream of blank paper costs fifteen francs, a ream of printed paper is -worth anything between a hundred sous and a hundred crowns, according -to its success; a favorable or unfavorable review at a critical time -often decides the question; and Dauriat having five hundred reams of -printed paper on hand, hurried to make terms with Lucien. The sultan -was now the slave. - -After waiting for some time, fidgeting and making as much noise as he -could while parleying with Berenice, he at last obtained speech of -Lucien; and, arrogant publisher though he was, he came in with the -radiant air of a courtier in the royal presence, mingled, however, -with a certain self-sufficiency and easy good humor. - -"Don't disturb yourselves, my little dears! How nice they look, just -like a pair of turtle-doves! Who would think now, mademoiselle, that -he, with that girl's face of his, could be a tiger with claws of -steel, ready to tear a reputation to rags, just as he tears your -wrappers, I'll be bound, when you are not quick enough to unfasten -them," and he laughed before he had finished his jest. - -"My dear boy----" he began, sitting down beside Lucien.-- -"Mademoiselle, I am Dauriat," he said, interrupting himself. He judged -it expedient to fire his name at her like a pistol shot, for he -considered that Coralie was less cordial than she should have been. - -"Have you breakfasted, monsieur; will you keep us company?" asked -Coralie. - -"Why, yes; it is easier to talk at table," said Dauriat. "Besides, by -accepting your invitation I shall have a right to expect you to dine -with my friend Lucien here, for we must be close friends now, hand and -glove!" - -"Berenice! Bring oysters, lemons, fresh butter, and champagne," said -Coralie. - -"You are too clever not to know what has brought me here," said -Dauriat, fixing his eyes on Lucien. - -"You have come to buy my sonnets." - -"Precisely. First of all, let us lay down our arms on both sides." As -he spoke he took out a neat pocketbook, drew from it three bills for a -thousand francs each, and laid them before Lucien with a suppliant -air. "Is monsieur content?" asked he. - -"Yes," said the poet. A sense of beatitude, for which no words exist, -flooded his soul at the sight of that unhoped wealth. He controlled -himself, but he longed to sing aloud, to jump for joy; he was ready to -believe in Aladdin's lamp and in enchantment; he believed in his own -genius, in short. - -"Then the Marguerites are mine," continued Dauriat; "but you will -undertake not to attack my publications, won't you?" - -"The Marguerites are yours, but I cannot pledge my pen; it is at the -service of my friends, as theirs are mine." - -"But you are one of my authors now. All my authors are my friends. So -you won't spoil my business without warning me beforehand, so that I -am prepared, will you?" - -"I agree to that." - -"To your fame!" and Dauriat raised his glass. - -"I see that you have read the Marguerites," said Lucien. - -Dauriat was not disconcerted. - -"My boy, a publisher cannot pay a greater compliment than by buying -your Marguerites unread. In six months' time you will be a great poet. -You will be written up; people are afraid of you; I shall have no -difficulty in selling your book. I am the same man of business that I -was four days ago. It is not I who have changed; it is YOU. Last week -your sonnets were so many cabbage leaves for me; to-day your position -has ranked them beside Delavigne." - -"Ah well," said Lucien, "if you have not read my sonnets, you have -read my article." With the sultan's pleasure of possessing a fair -mistress, and the certainty of success, he had grown satirical and -adorably impertinent of late. - -"Yes, my friend; do you think I should have come here in such a hurry -but for that? That terrible article of yours is very well written, -worse luck. Oh! you have a very great gift, my boy. Take my advice and -make the most of your vogue," he added, with good humor, which masked -the extreme insolence of the speech. "But have you yourself a copy of -the paper? Have you seen your article in print?" - -"Not yet," said Lucien, "though this is the first long piece of prose -which I have published; but Hector will have sent a copy to my address -in the Rue Charlot." - -"Here--read!" . . . cried Dauriat, copying Talma's gesture in Manlius. - -Lucien took the paper but Coralie snatched it from him. - -"The first-fruits of your pen belong to me, as you well know," she -laughed. - -Dauriat was unwontedly courtier-like and complimentary. He was afraid -of Lucien, and therefore he asked him to a great dinner which he was -giving to a party of journalists towards the end of the week, and -Coralie was included in the invitation. He took the Marguerites away -with him when he went, asking HIS poet to look in when he pleased in -the Wooden Galleries, and the agreement should be ready for his -signature. Dauriat never forgot the royal airs with which he -endeavored to overawe superficial observers, and to impress them with -the notion that he was a Maecenas rather than a publisher; at this -moment he left the three thousand francs, waving away in lordly -fashion the receipt which Lucien offered, kissed Coralie's hand, and -took his departure. - -"Well, dear love, would you have seen many of these bits of paper if -you had stopped in your hole in the Rue de Cluny, prowling about among -the musty old books in the Bibliotheque de Sainte-Genevieve?" asked -Coralie, for she knew the whole story of Lucien's life by this time. -"Those little friends of yours in the Rue des Quatre-Vents are great -ninnies, it seems to me." - -His brothers of the cenacle! And Lucien could hear the verdict and -laugh. - -He had seen himself in print; he had just experienced the ineffable -joy of the author, that first pleasurable thrill of gratified vanity -which comes but once. The full import and bearing of his article -became apparent to him as he read and re-read it. The garb of print is -to manuscript as the stage is to women; it brings beauties and defects -to light, killing and giving life; the fine thoughts and the faults -alike stare you in the face. - -Lucien, in his excitement and rapture, gave not another thought to -Nathan. Nathan was a stepping-stone for him--that was all; and he -(Lucien) was happy exceedingly--he thought himself rich. The money -brought by Dauriat was a very Potosi for the lad who used to go about -unnoticed through the streets of Angouleme and down the steep path -into L'Houmeau to Postel's garret, where his whole family had lived -upon an income of twelve hundred francs. The pleasures of his life in -Paris must inevitably dim the memories of those days; but so keen were -they, that, as yet, he seemed to be back again in the Place du Murier. -He thought of Eve, his beautiful, noble sister, of David his friend, -and of his poor mother, and he sent Berenice out to change one of the -notes. While she went he wrote a few lines to his family, and on the -maid's return he sent her to the coach-office with a packet of five -hundred francs addressed to his mother. He could not trust himself; he -wanted to sent the money at once; later he might not be able to do it. -Both Lucien and Coralie looked upon this restitution as a meritorious -action. Coralie put her arms about her lover and kissed him, and -thought him a model son and brother; she could not make enough of him, -for generosity is a trait of character which delights these kindly -creatures, who always carry their hearts in their hands. - -"We have a dinner now every day for a week," she said; "we will make a -little carnival; you have worked quite hard enough." - - - -Coralie, fain to delight in the beauty of a man whom all other women -should envy her, took Lucien back to Staub. He was not dressed finely -enough for her. Thence the lovers went to drive in the Bois de -Boulogne, and came back to dine at Mme. du Val-Noble's. Rastignac, -Bixiou, des Lupeaulx, Finot, Blondet, Vignon, the Baron de Nucingen, -Beaudenord, Philippe Bridau, Conti, the great musician, all the -artists and speculators, all the men who seek for violent sensations -as a relief from immense labors, gave Lucien a welcome among them. And -Lucien had gained confidence; he gave himself out in talk as though he -had not to live by his wit, and was pronounced to be a "clever fellow" -in the slang of the coterie of semi-comrades. - -"Oh! we must wait and see what he has in him," said Theodore Gaillard, -a poet patronized by the Court, who thought of starting a Royalist -paper to be entitled the Reveil at a later day. - -After dinner, Merlin and Lucien, Coralie and Mme. du Val-Noble, went -to the Opera, where Merlin had a box. The whole party adjourned -thither, and Lucien triumphant reappeared upon the scene of his first -serious check. - -He walked in the lobby, arm in arm with Merlin and Blondet, looking -the dandies who had once made merry at his expense between the eyes. -Chatelet was under his feet. He clashed glances with de Marsay, -Vandenesse, and Manerville, the bucks of that day. And indeed Lucien, -beautiful and elegantly arrayed, had caused a discussion in the -Marquise d'Espard's box; Rastignac had paid a long visit, and the -Marquise and Mme. de Bargeton put up their opera-glasses at Coralie. -Did the sight of Lucien send a pang of regret through Mme. de -Bargeton's heart? This thought was uppermost in the poet's mind. The -longing for revenge aroused in him by the sight of the Corinne of -Angouleme was as fierce as on that day when the lady and her cousin -had cut him in the Champs-Elysees. - -"Did you bring an amulet with you from the provinces?"--It was Blondet -who made this inquiry some few days later, when he called at eleven -o'clock in the morning and found that Lucien was not yet risen.--"His -good looks are making ravages from cellar to garret, high and low," -continued Blondet, kissing Coralie on the forehead. "I have come to -enlist you, dear fellow," he continued, grasping Lucien by the hand. -"Yesterday, at the Italiens, the Comtesse de Montcornet asked me to -bring you to her house. You will not give a refusal to a charming -woman? You meet people of the first fashion there." - -"If Lucien is nice, he will not go to see your Countess," put in -Coralie. "What call is there for him to show his face in fine society? -He would only be bored there." - -"Have you a vested interest in him? Are you jealous of fine ladies?" - -"Yes," cried Coralie. "They are worse than we are." - -"How do you know that, my pet?" asked Blondet. - -"From their husbands," retorted she. "You are forgetting that I once -had six months of de Marsay." - -"Do you suppose, child, that _I_ am particularly anxious to take such -a handsome fellow as your poet to Mme. de Montcornet's house? If you -object, let us consider that nothing has been said. But I don't fancy -that the women are so much in question as a poor devil that Lucien -pilloried in his newspaper; he is begging for mercy and peace. The -Baron du Chatelet is imbecile enough to take the thing seriously. The -Marquise d'Espard, Mme. de Bargeton, and Mme. de Montcornet's set have -taken up the Heron's cause; and I have undertaken to reconcile -Petrarch and his Laura--Mme. de Bargeton and Lucien." - -"Aha!" cried Lucien, the glow of the intoxication of revenge throbbing -full-pulsed through every vein. "Aha! so my foot is on their necks! -You make me adore my pen, worship my friends, bow down to the fate- -dispensing power of the press. I have not written a single sentence as -yet upon the Heron and the Cuttlefish-bone.--I will go with you, my -boy," he cried, catching Blondet by the waist; "yes, I will go; but -first, the couple shall feel the weight of THIS, for so light as it -is." He flourished the pen which had written the article upon Nathan. - -"To-morrow," he cried, "I will hurl a couple of columns at their -heads. Then, we shall see. Don't be frightened, Coralie, it is not -love but revenge; revenge! And I will have it to the full!" - -"What a man it is!" said Blondet. "If you but knew, Lucien, how rare -such explosions are in this jaded Paris, you might appreciate -yourself. You will be a precious scamp" (the actual expression was a -trifle stronger); "you are in a fair way to be a power in the land." - -"He will get on," said Coralie. - -"Well, he has come a good way already in six weeks." - -"And if he should climb so high that he can reach a sceptre by -treading over a corpse, he shall have Coralie's body for a stepping- -stone," said the girl. - -"You are a pair of lovers of the Golden Age," said Blondet.--"I -congratulate you on your big article," he added, turning to Lucien. -"There were a lot of new things in it. You are past master!" - -Lousteau called with Hector Merlin and Vernou. Lucien was immensely -flattered by this attention. Felicien Vernou brought a hundred francs -for Lucien's article; it was felt that such a contributor must be well -paid to attach him to the paper. - -Coralie, looking round at the chapter of journalists, ordered in a -breakfast from the Cadran bleu, the nearest restaurant, and asked her -visitors to adjourn to her handsomely furnished dining-room when -Berenice announced that the meal was ready. In the middle of the -repast, when the champagne had gone to all heads, the motive of the -visit came out. - -"You do not mean to make an enemy of Nathan, do you?" asked Lousteau. -"Nathan is a journalist, and he has friends; he might play you an ugly -trick with your first book. You have your Archer of Charles IX. to -sell, have you not? We went round to Nathan this morning; he is in a -terrible way. But you will set about another article, and puff praise -in his face." - -"What! After my article against his book, would you have me say----" -began Lucien. - -The whole party cut him short with a shout of laughter. - -"Did you ask him to supper here the day after to-morrow?" asked -Blondet. - -"You article was not signed," added Lousteau. "Felicien, not being -quite such a new hand as you are, was careful to put an initial C at -the bottom. You can do that now with all your articles in his paper, -which is pure unadulterated Left. We are all of us in the Opposition. -Felicien was tactful enough not to compromise your future opinions. -Hector's shop is Right Centre; you might sign your work on it with an -L. If you cut a man up, you do it anonymously; if you praise him, it -is just as well to put your name to your article." - -"It is not the signatures that trouble me," returned Lucien, "but I -cannot see anything to be said in favor of the book." - -"Then did you really think as you wrote?" asked Hector. - -"Yes." - -"Oh! I thought you were cleverer than that, youngster," said Blondet. -"No. Upon my word, as I looked at that forehead of yours, I credited -you with the omnipotence of the great mind--the power of seeing both -sides of everything. In literature, my boy, every idea is reversible, -and no man can take upon himself to decide which is the right or wrong -side. Everything is bi-lateral in the domain of thought. Ideas are -binary. Janus is a fable signifying criticism and the symbol of -Genius. The Almighty alone is triform. What raises Moliere and -Corneille above the rest of us but the faculty of saying one thing -with an Alceste or an Octave, and another with a Philinte or a Cinna? -Rousseau wrote a letter against dueling in the Nouvelle Heloise, and -another in favor of it. Which of the two represented his own opinion? -will you venture to take it upon yourself to decide? Which of us could -give judgement for Clarissa or Lovelace, Hector or Achilles? Who was -Homer's hero? What did Richardson himself think? It is the function of -criticism to look at a man's work in all its aspects. We draw up our -case, in short." - -"Do you really stick to your written opinions?" asked Vernou, with a -satirical expression. "Why, we are retailers of phrases; that is how -we make a livelihood. When you try to do a good piece of work--to -write a book, in short--you can put your thoughts, yourself into it, -and cling to it, and fight for it; but as for newspaper articles, read -to-day and forgotten to-morrow, they are worth nothing in my eyes but -the money that is paid for them. If you attach any importance to such -drivel, you might as well make the sign of the Cross and invoke heaven -when you sit down to write a tradesman's circular." - -Every one apparently was astonished at Lucien's scruples. The last -rags of the boyish conscience were torn away, and he was invested with -the toga virilis of journalism. - -"Do you know what Nathan said by way of comforting himself after your -criticism?" asked Lousteau. - -"How should I know?" - -"Nathan exclaimed, 'Paragraphs pass away; but a great work lives!' He -will be here to supper in two days, and he will be sure to fall flat -at your feet, and kiss your claws, and swear that you are a great -man." - -"That would be a funny thing," was Lucien's comment. - -"FUNNY!" repeated Blondet. "He can't help himself." - -"I am quite willing, my friends," said Lucien, on whom the wine had -begun to take effect. "But what am I to say?" - -"Oh well, refute yourself in three good columns in Merlin's paper. We -have been enjoying the sight of Nathan's wrath; we have just been -telling him that he owes us no little gratitude for getting up a hot -controversy that will sell his second edition in a week. In his eyes -at this present moment you are a spy, a scoundrel, a caitiff wretch; -the day after to-morrow you will be a genius, an uncommonly clever -fellow, one of Plutarch's men. Nathan will hug you and call you his -best friend. Dauriat has been to see you; you have your three thousand -francs; you have worked the trick! Now you want Nathan's respect and -esteem. Nobody ought to be let in except the publisher. We must not -immolate any one but an enemy. We should not talk like this if it were -a question of some outsider, some inconvenient person who had made a -name for himself without us and was not wanted; but Nathan is one of -us. Blondet got some one to attack him in the Mercure for the pleasure -of replying in the Debats. For which reason the first edition went off -at once." - -"My friends, upon my word and honor, I cannot write two words in -praise of that book----" - -"You will have another hundred francs," interrupted Merlin. "Nathan -will have brought you in ten louis d'or, to say nothing of an article -that you might put in Finot's paper; you would get a hundred francs -for writing that, and another hundred francs from Dauriat--total, -twenty louis." - -"But what am I to say?" - -"Here is your way out of the difficulty," said Blondet, after some -thought. "Say that the envy that fastens on all good work, like wasps -on ripe fruit, has attempted to set its fangs in this production. The -captious critic, trying his best to find fault, has been obliged to -invent theories for that purpose, and has drawn a distinction between -two kinds of literature--'the literature of ideas and the literature -of imagery,' as he calls them. On the heads of that, youngster, say -that to give expression to ideas through imagery is the highest form -of art. Try to show that all poetry is summed up in that, and lament -that there is so little poetry in French; quote foreign criticisms on -the unimaginative precision of our style, and then extol M. de Canalis -and Nathan for the services they have done France by infusing a less -prosaic spirit into the language. Knock your previous argument to -pieces by calling attention to the fact that we have made progress -since the eighteenth century. (Discover the 'progress,' a beautiful -word to mystify the bourgeois public.) Say that the new methods in -literature concentrate all styles, comedy and tragedy, description, -character-drawing and dialogues, in a series of pictures set in the -brilliant frame of a plot which holds the reader's interest. The -Novel, which demands sentiment, style, and imagery, is the greatest -creation of modern days; it is the successor of stage comedy grown -obsolete with its restrictions. Facts and ideas are all within the -province of fiction. The intellect of an incisive moralist, like La -Bruyere, the power of treating character as Moliere could treat it, -the grand machinery of a Shakespeare, together with the portrayal of -the most subtle shades of passion (the one treasury left untouched by -our predecessors)--for all this the modern novel affords free scope. -How far superior is all this to the cut-and-dried logic-chopping, the -cold analysis to the eighteenth century!--'The Novel,' say -sententiously, 'is the Epic grown amusing.' Instance Corinne, bring -Mme. de Stael up to support your argument. The eighteenth century -called all things in question; it is the task of the nineteenth to -conclude and speak the last word; and the last word of the nineteenth -century has been for realities--realities which live however and move. -Passion, in short, an element unknown in Voltaire's philosophy, has -been brought into play. Here a diatribe against Voltaire, and as for -Rousseau, his characters are polemics and systems masquerading. Julie -and Claire are entelechies--informing spirit awaiting flesh and bones. - -"You might slip off on a side issue at this, and say that we owe a new -and original literature to the Peace and the Restoration of the -Bourbons, for you are writing for a Right Centre paper. - -"Scoff at Founders of Systems. And cry with a glow of fine enthusiasm, -'Here are errors and misleading statements in abundance in our -contemporary's work, and to what end? To depreciate a fine work, to -deceive the public, and to arrive at this conclusion--"A book that -sells, does not sell." ' Proh pudor! (Mind you put Proh pudor! 'tis a -harmless expletive that stimulates the reader's interest.) Foresee the -approaching decadence of criticism, in fact. Moral--'There is but one -kind of literature, the literature which aims to please. Nathan has -started upon a new way; he understands his epoch and fulfils the -requirements of his age--the demand for drama, the natural demand of a -century in which the political stage has become a permanent puppet -show. Have we not seen four dramas in a score of years--the -Revolution, the Directory, the Empire, and the Restoration?' With -that, wallow in dithyramb and eulogy, and the second edition shall -vanish like smoke. This is the way to do it. Next Saturday put a -review in our magazine, and sign it 'de Rubempre,' out in full. - -"In that final article say that 'fine work always brings about -abundant controversy. This week such and such a paper contained such -and such an article on Nathan's book, and such another paper made a -vigorous reply.' Then you criticise the critics 'C' and 'L'; pay me a -passing compliment on the first article in the Debats, and end by -averring that Nathan's work is the great book of the epoch; which is -all as if you said nothing at all; they say the same of everything -that comes out. - -"And so," continued Blondet, "you will have made four hundred francs -in a week, to say nothing of the pleasure of now and again saying what -you really think. A discerning public will maintain that either C or L -or Rubempre is in the right of it, or mayhap all the three. Mythology, -beyond doubt one of the grandest inventions of the human brain, places -Truth at the bottom of a well; and what are we to do without buckets? -You will have supplied the public with three for one. There you are, -my boy, Go ahead!" - -Lucien's head was swimming with bewilderment. Blondet kissed him on -both cheeks. - -"I am going to my shop," said he. And every man likewise departed to -his shop. For these "hommes forts," a newspaper office was nothing but -a shop. - -They were to meet again in the evening at the Wooden Galleries, and -Lucien would sign his treaty of peace with Dauriat. Florine and -Lousteau, Lucien and Coralie, Blondet and Finot, were to dine at the -Palais-Royal; du Bruel was giving the manager of the Panorama- -Dramatique a dinner. - -"They are right," exclaimed Lucien, when he was alone with Coralie. -"Men are made to be tools in the hands of stronger spirits. Four -hundred francs for three articles! Doguereau would scarcely give me as -much for a book which cost me two years of work." - -"Write criticism," said Coralie, "have a good time! Look at me, I am -an Andalusian girl to-night, to-morrow I may be a gypsy, and a man the -night after. Do as I do, give them grimaces for their money, and let -us live happily." - -Lucien, smitten with love of Paradox, set himself to mount and ride -that unruly hybrid product of Pegasus and Balaam's ass; started out at -a gallop over the fields of thought while he took a turn in the Bois, -and discovered new possibilities in Blondet's outline. - -He dined as happy people dine, and signed away all his rights in the -Marguerites. It never occurred to him that any trouble might arise -from that transaction in the future. He took a turn of work at the -office, wrote off a couple of columns, and came back to the Rue de -Vendome. Next morning he found the germs of yesterday's ideas had -sprung up and developed in his brain, as ideas develop while the -intellect is yet unjaded and the sap is rising; and thoroughly did he -enjoy the projection of this new article. He threw himself into it -with enthusiasm. At the summons of the spirit of contradiction, new -charms met beneath his pen. He was witty and satirical, he rose to yet -new views of sentiment, of ideas and imagery in literature. With -subtle ingenuity, he went back to his own first impressions of -Nathan's work, when he read it in the newsroom of the Cour du -Commerce; and the ruthless, bloodthirsty critic, the lively mocker, -became a poet in the final phrases which rose and fell with majestic -rhythm like the swaying censer before the altar. - -"One hundred francs, Coralie!" cried he, holding up eight sheets of -paper covered with writing while she dressed. - -The mood was upon him; he went on to indite, stroke by stroke, the -promised terrible article on Chatelet and Mme. de Bargeton. That -morning he experienced one of the keenest personal pleasures of -journalism; he knew what it was to forge the epigram, to whet and -polish the cold blade to be sheathed in a victim's heart, to make of -the hilt a cunning piece of workmanship for the reader to admire. For -the public admires the handle, the delicate work of the brain, while -the cruelty is not apparent; how should the public know that the steel -of the epigram, tempered in the fire of revenge, has been plunged -deftly, to rankle in the very quick of a victim's vanity, and is -reeking from wounds innumerable which it has inflicted? It is a -hideous joy, that grim, solitary pleasure, relished without witnesses; -it is like a duel with an absent enemy, slain at a distance by a -quill; a journalist might really possess the magical power of -talismans in Eastern tales. Epigram is distilled rancor, the -quintessence of a hate derived from all the worst passions of man, -even as love concentrates all that is best in human nature. The man -does not exist who cannot be witty to avenge himself; and, by the same -rule, there is not one to whom love does not bring delight. Cheap and -easy as this kind of wit may be in France, it is always relished. -Lucien's article was destined to raise the previous reputation of the -paper for venomous spite and evil-speaking. His article probed two -hearts to the depths; it dealt a grievous wound to Mme. de Bargeton, -his Laura of old days, as well as to his rival, the Baron du Chatelet. - -"Well, let us go for a drive in the Bois," said Coralie, "the horses -are fidgeting. There is no need to kill yourself." - -"We will take the article on Nathan to Hector. Journalism is really -very much like Achilles' lance, it salves the wounds that it makes," -said Lucien, correcting a phrase here and there. - -The lovers started forth in splendor to show themselves to the Paris -which had but lately given Lucien the cold shoulder, and now was -beginning to talk about him. To have Paris talking of you! and this -after you have learned how large the great city is, how hard it is to -be anybody there--it was this thought that turned Lucien's head with -exultation. - -"Let us go by way of your tailor's, dear boy, and tell him to be quick -with your clothes, or try them on if they are ready. If you are going -to your fine ladies' houses, you shall eclipse that monster of a de -Marsay and young Rastignac and any Ajuda-Pinto or Maxime de Trailles -or Vandenesse of them all. Remember that your mistress is Coralie! But -you will not play me any tricks, eh?" - -Two days afterwards, on the eve of the supper-party at Coralie's -house, there was a new play at the Ambigu, and it fell to Lucien to -write the dramatic criticism. Lucien and Coralie walked together after -dinner from the Rue de Vendome to the Panorama-Dramatique, going along -the Cafe Turc side of the Boulevard du Temple, a lounge much -frequented at that time. People wondered at his luck, and praised -Coralie's beauty. Chance remarks reached his ears; some said that -Coralie was the finest woman in Paris, others that Lucien was a match -for her. The romantic youth felt that he was in his atmosphere. This -was the life for him. The brotherhood was so far away that it was -almost out of sight. Only two months ago, how he had looked up to -those lofty great natures; now he asked himself if they were not just -a trifle ridiculous with their notions and their Puritanism. Coralie's -careless words had lodged in Lucien's mind, and begun already to bear -fruit. He took Coralie to her dressing-room, and strolled about like a -sultan behind the scenes; the actresses gave him burning glances and -flattering speeches. - -"I must go to the Ambigu and attend to business," said he. - -At the Ambigu the house was full; there was not a seat left for him. -Indignant complaints behind the scenes brought no redress; the box- -office keeper, who did not know him as yet, said that they had sent -orders for two boxes to his paper, and sent him about his business. - -"I shall speak of the play as I find it," said Lucien, nettled at -this. - -"What a dunce you are!" said the leading lady, addressing the box- -office keeper, "that is Coralie's adorer." - -The box-office keeper turned round immediately at this. "I will speak -to the manager at once, sir," he said. - -In all these small details Lucien saw the immense power wielded by the -press. His vanity was gratified. The manager appeared to say that the -Duc de Rhetore and Tullia the opera-dancer were in the stage-box, and -they had consented to allow Lucien to join them. - -"You have driven two people to distraction," remarked the young Duke, -mentioning the names of the Baron du Chatelet and Mme. de Bargeton. - -"Distraction? What will it be to-morrow?" said Lucien. "So far, my -friends have been mere skirmishers, but I have given them red-hot shot -to-night. To-morrow you will know why we are making game of 'Potelet.' -The article is called 'Potelet from 1811 to 1821.' Chatelet will be a -byword, a name for the type of courtiers who deny their benefactor and -rally to the Bourbons. When I have done with him, I am going to Mme. -de Montcornet's." - -Lucien's talk was sparkling. He was eager that this great personage -should see how gross a mistake Mesdames d'Espard and de Bargeton had -made when they slighted Lucien de Rubempre. But he showed the tip of -his ear when he asserted his right to bear the name of Rubempre, the -Duc de Rhetore having purposely addressed him as Chardon. - -"You should go over to the Royalists," said the Duke. "You have proved -yourself a man of ability; now show your good sense. The one way of -obtaining a patent of nobility and the right to bear the title of your -mother's family, is by asking for it in return for services to be -rendered to the Court. The Liberals will never make a count of you. -The Restoration will get the better of the press, you see, in the long -run, and the press is the only formidable power. They have borne with -it too long as it is; the press is sure to be muzzled. Take advantage -of the last moments of liberty to make yourself formidable, and you -will have everything--intellect, nobility, and good looks; nothing -will be out of your reach. So if you are a Liberal, let it be simply -for the moment, so that you can make a better bargain for your -Royalism." - -With that the Duke entreated Lucien to accept an invitation to dinner, -which the German Minister (of Florine's supper-party) was about to -send. Lucien fell under the charm of the noble peer's arguments; the -salons from which he had been exiled for ever, as he thought, but a -few months ago, would shortly open their doors for him! He was -delighted. He marveled at the power of the press; Intellect and the -Press, these then were the real powers in society. Another thought -shaped itself in his mind--Was Etienne Lousteau sorry that he had -opened the gate of the temple to a newcomer? Even now he (Lucien) felt -on his own account that it was strongly advisable to put difficulties -in the way of eager and ambitious recruits from the provinces. If a -poet should come to him as he had flung himself into Etienne's arms, -he dared not think of the reception that he would give him. - -The youthful Duke meanwhile saw that Lucien was deep in thought, and -made a pretty good guess at the matter of his meditations. He himself -had opened out wide horizons of public life before an ambitious poet, -with a vacillating will, it is true, but not without aspirations; and -the journalists had already shown the neophyte, from a pinnacle of the -temple, all the kingdoms of the world of letters and its riches. - -Lucien himself had no suspicion of a little plot that was being woven, -nor did he imagine that M. de Rhetore had a hand in it. M. de Rhetore -had spoken of Lucien's cleverness, and Mme. d'Espard's set had taken -alarm. Mme. de Bargeton had commissioned the Duke to sound Lucien, and -with that object in view, the noble youth had come to the Ambigu- -Comique. - -Do not believe in stories of elaborate treachery. Neither the great -world nor the world of journalists laid any deep schemes; definite -plans are not made by either; their Machiavelism lives from hand to -mouth, so to speak, and consists, for the most part, in being always -on the spot, always on the alert to turn everything to account, always -on the watch for the moment when a man's ruling passion shall deliver -him into the hands of his enemies. The young Duke had seen through -Lucien at Florine's supper-party; he had just touched his vain -susceptibilities; and now he was trying his first efforts in diplomacy -upon the living subject. - -Lucien hurried to the Rue Saint-Fiacre after the play to write his -article. It was a piece of savage and bitter criticism, written in -pure wantonness; he was amusing himself by trying his power. The -melodrama, as a matter of fact, was a better piece than the Alcalde; -but Lucien wished to see whether he could damn a good play and send -everybody to see a bad one, as his associates had said. - -He unfolded the sheet at breakfast next morning, telling Coralie as he -did so that he had cut up the Ambigu-Comique; and not a little -astonished was he to find below his paper on Mme. de Bargeton and -Chatelet a notice of the Ambigu, so mellowed and softened in the -course of the night, that although the witty analysis was still -preserved, the judgment was favorable. The article was more likely to -fill the house than to empty it. No words can describe his wrath. He -determined to have a word or two with Lousteau. He had already begun -to think himself an indespensable man, and he vowed that he would not -submit to be tyrannized over and treated like a fool. To establish his -power beyond cavil, he wrote the article for Dauriat's review, summing -up and weighing all the various opinions concerning Nathan's book; and -while he was in the humor, he hit off another of his short sketches -for Lousteau's newspaper. Inexperienced journalists, in the first -effervescence of youth, make a labor of love of ephemeral work, and -lavish their best thought unthriftily thereon. - -The manager of the Panorama-Dramatique gave a first performance of a -vaudeville that night, so that Florine and Coralie might be free for -the evening. There were to be cards before supper. Lousteau came for -the short notice of the vaudeville; it had been written beforehand -after the general rehearsal, for Etienne wished to have the paper off -his mind. Lucien read over one of the charming sketches of Parisian -whimsicalities which made the fortune of the paper, and Lousteau -kissed him on both eyelids, and called him the providence of -journalism. - -"Then why do you amuse yourself by turning my article inside out?" -asked Lucien. He had written his brilliant sketch simply and solely to -give emphasis to his grievance. - -"I?" exclaimed Lousteau. - -"Well, who else can have altered my article?" - -"You do not know all the ins and outs yet, dear fellow. The Ambigu -pays for thirty copies, and only takes nine for the manager and box -office-keeper and their mistresses, and for the three lessees of the -theatre. Every one of the Boulevard theatres pays eight hundred francs -in this way to the paper; and there is quite as much again in boxes -and orders for Finot, to say nothing of the contributions of the -company. And if the minor theatres do this, you may imagine what the -big ones do! Now you understand? We are bound to show a good deal of -indulgence." - -"I understand this, that I am not at liberty to write as I think----" - -"Eh! what does that matter, so long as you turn an honest penny?" -cried Lousteau. "Besides, my boy, what grudge had you against the -theatre? You must have had some reason for it, or you would not have -cut up the play as you did. If you slash for the sake of slashing, the -paper will get into trouble, and when there is good reason for hitting -hard it will not tell. Did the manager leave you out in the cold?" - -"He had not kept a place for me." - -"Good," said Lousteau. "I shall let him see your article, and tell him -that I softened it down; you will find it serves you better than if it -had appeared in print. Go and ask him for tickets to-morrow, and he -will sign forty blank orders every month. I know a man who can get rid -of them for you; I will introduce you to him, and he will buy them all -up at half-price. There is a trade done in theatre tickets, just as -Barbet trades in reviewers' copies. This is another Barbet, the leader -of the claque. He lives near by; come and see him, there is time -enough." - -"But, my dear fellow, it is a scandalous thing that Finot should levy -blackmail in matters intellectual. Sooner or later----" - -"Really!" cried Lousteau, "where do you come from? For what do you -take Finot? Beneath his pretence of good-nature, his ignorance and -stupidity, and those Turcaret's airs of his, there is all the cunning -of his father the hatter. Did you notice an old soldier of the Empire -in the den at the office? That is Finot's uncle. The uncle is not only -one of the right sort, he has the luck to be taken for a fool; and he -takes all that kind of business upon his shoulders. An ambitious man -in Paris is well off indeed if he has a willing scapegoat at hand. In -public life, as in journalism, there are hosts of emergencies in which -the chiefs cannot afford to appear. If Finot should enter on a -political career, his uncle would be his secretary, and receive all -the contributions levied in his department on big affairs. Anybody -would take Giroudeau for a fool at first sight, but he has just enough -shrewdness to be an inscrutable old file. He is on picket duty; he -sees that we are not pestered with hubbub, beginners wanting a job, or -advertisements. No other paper has his equal, I think." - -"He plays his part well," said Lucien; "I saw him at work." - -Etienne and Lucien reached a handsome house in the Rue du Faubourg-du- -Temple. - -"Is M. Braulard in?" Etienne asked of the porter. - -"MONSIEUR?" said Lucien. "Then, is the leader of the claque -'Monsieur'?" - -"My dear boy, Braulard has twenty thousand francs of income. All the -dramatic authors of the Boulevards are in his clutches, and have a -standing account with him as if he were a banker. Orders and -complimentary tickets are sold here. Braulard knows where to get rid -of such merchandise. Now for a turn at statistics, a useful science -enough in its way. At the rate of fifty complimentary tickets every -evening for each theatre, you have two hundred and fifty tickets -daily. Suppose, taking one with another, that they are worth a couple -of francs apiece, Braulard pays a hundred and twenty-five francs daily -for them, and takes his chance of making cent per cent. In this way -authors' tickets alone bring him in about four thousand francs every -month, or forty-eight thousand francs per annum. Allow twenty thousand -francs for loss, for he cannot always place all his tickets----" - -"Why not?" - -"Oh! the people who pay at the door go in with the holders of -complimentary tickets for unreserved seats, and the theatre reserves -the right of admitting those who pay. There are fine warm evenings to -be reckoned with besides, and poor plays. Braulard makes, perhaps, -thirty thousand francs every year in this way, and he has his -claqueurs besides, another industry. Florine and Coralie pay tribute -to him; if they did not, there would be no applause when they come on -or go off." - -Lousteau gave this explanation in a low voice as they went up the -stair. - -"Paris is a queer place," said Lucien; it seemed to him that he saw -self-interest squatting in every corner. - -A smart maid-servant opened the door. At the sight of Etienne -Lousteau, the dealer in orders and tickets rose from a sturdy chair -before a large cylinder desk, and Lucien beheld the leader of the -claque, Braulard himself, dressed in a gray molleton jacket, footed -trousers, and red slippers; for all the world like a doctor or a -solicitor. He was a typical self-made man, Lucien thought--a vulgar- -looking face with a pair of exceedingly cunning gray eyes, hands made -for hired applause, a complexion over which hard living had passed -like rain over a roof, grizzled hair, and a somewhat husky voice. - -"You have come from Mlle. Florine, no doubt, sir, and this gentleman -for Mlle. Coralie," said Braulard; "I know you very well by sight. -Don't trouble yourself, sir," he continued, addressing Lucien; "I am -buying the Gymnase connection, I will look after your lady, and I will -give her notice of any tricks they may try to play on her." - -"That is not an offer to be refused, my dear Braulard, but we have -come about the press orders for the Boulevard theatres--I as editor, -and this gentleman as dramatic critic." - -"Oh!--ah, yes! Finot has sold his paper. I heard about it. He is -getting on, is Finot. I have asked him to dine with me at the end of -the week; if you will do me the honor and pleasure of coming, you may -bring your ladies, and there will be a grand jollification. Adele -Dupuis is coming, and Ducange, and Frederic du Petit-Mere, and Mlle. -Millot, my mistress. We shall have good fun and better liquor." - -"Ducange must be in difficulties. He has lost his lawsuit." - -"I have lent him ten thousand francs; if Calas succeeds, it will repay -the loan, so I have been organizing a success. Ducange is a clever -man; he has brains----" - -Lucien fancied that he must be dreaming when he heard a claqueur -appraising a writer's value. - -"Coralie has improved," continued Braulard, with the air of a -competent critic. "If she is a good girl, I will take her part, for -they have got up a cabal against her at the Gymnase. This is how I -mean to do it. I will have a few well-dressed men in the balconies to -smile and make a little murmur, and the applause will follow. That is -a dodge which makes a position for an actress. I have a liking for -Coralie, and you ought to be satisfied, for she has feeling. Aha! I -can hiss any one on the stage if I like." - -"But let us settle this business about the tickets," put in Lousteau. - -"Very well, I will come to this gentleman's lodging for them at the -beginning of the month. He is a friend of yours, and I will treat him -as I do you. You have five theatres; you will get thirty tickets--that -will be something like seventy-five francs a month. Perhaps you will -be wanting an advance?" added Braulard, lifting a cash-box full of -coin out of his desk. - -"No, no," said Lousteau; "we will keep that shift against a rainy -day." - -"I will work with Coralie, sir, and we will come to an understanding," -said Braulard, addressing Lucien, who was looking about him, not -without profound astonishment. There was a bookcase in Braulard's -study, there were framed engravings and good furniture; and as they -passed through the drawing room, he noticed that the fittings were -neither too luxurious nor yet mean. The dining-room seemed to be the -best ordered room, he remarked on this jokingly. - -"But Braulard is an epicure," said Lousteau; "his dinners are famous -in dramatic literature, and they are what you might expect from his -cash-box." - -"I have good wine," Braulard replied modestly.--"Ah! here are my -lamplighters," he added, as a sound of hoarse voices and strange -footsteps came up from the staircase. - -Lucien on his way down saw a march past of claqueurs and retailers of -tickets. It was an ill smelling squad, attired in caps, seedy -trousers, and threadbare overcoats; a flock of gallows-birds with -bluish and greenish tints in their faces, neglected beards, and a -strange mixture of savagery and subservience in their eyes. A horrible -population lives and swarms upon the Paris boulevards; selling watch -guards and brass jewelry in the streets by day, applauding under the -chandeliers of the theatre at night, and ready to lend themselves to -any dirty business in the great city. - -"Behold the Romans!" laughed Lousteau; "behold fame incarnate for -actresses and dramatic authors. It is no prettier than our own when -you come to look at it close." - -"It is difficult to keep illusions on any subject in Paris," answered -Lucien as they turned in at his door. "There is a tax upon everything ---everything has its price, and anything can be made to order--even -success." - -Thirty guests were assembled that evening in Coralie's rooms, her -dining room would not hold more. Lucien had asked Dauriat and the -manager of the Panorama-Dramatique, Matifat and Florine, Camusot, -Lousteau, Finot, Nathan, Hector Merlin and Mme. du Val-Noble, Felicien -Vernou, Blondet, Vignon, Philippe Bridau, Mariette, Giroudeau, Cardot -and Florentine, and Bixiou. He had also asked all his friends of the -Rue des Quatre-Vents. Tullia the dancer, who was not unkind, said -gossip, to du Bruel, had come without her duke. The proprietors of the -newspapers, for whom most of the journalists wrote, were also of the -party. - -At eight o'clock, when the lights of the candles in the chandeliers -shone over the furniture, the hangings, and the flowers, the rooms -wore the festal air that gives to Parisian luxury the appearance of a -dream; and Lucien felt indefinable stirrings of hope and gratified -vanity and pleasure at the thought that he was the master of the -house. But how and by whom the magic wand had been waved he no longer -sought to remember. Florine and Coralie, dressed with the fanciful -extravagance and magnificent artistic effect of the stage, smiled on -the poet like two fairies at the gates of the Palace of Dreams. And -Lucien was almost in a dream. - -His life had been changed so suddenly during the last few months; he -had gone so swiftly from the depths of penury to the last extreme of -luxury, that at moments he felt as uncomfortable as a dreaming man who -knows that he is asleep. And yet, he looked round at the fair reality -about him with a confidence to which envious minds might have given -the name of fatuity. - -Lucien himself had changed. He had grown paler during these days of -continual enjoyment; languor had lent a humid look to his eyes; in -short, to use Mme. d'Espard's expression, he looked like a man who is -loved. He was the handsomer for it. Consciousness of his powers and -his strength was visible in his face, enlightened as it was by love -and experience. Looking out over the world of letters and of men, it -seemed to him that he might go to and fro as lord of it all. Sober -reflection never entered his romantic head unless it was driven in by -the pressure of adversity, and just now the present held not a care -for him. The breath of praise swelled the sails of his skiff; all the -instruments of success lay there to his hand; he had an establishment, -a mistress whom all Paris envied him, a carriage, and untold wealth in -his inkstand. Heart and soul and brain were alike transformed within -him; why should he care to be over nice about the means, when the -great results were visibly there before his eyes. - -As such a style of living will seem, and with good reason, to be -anything but secure to economists who have any experience of Paris, it -will not be superfluous to give a glance to the foundation, uncertain -as it was, upon which the prosperity of the pair was based. - -Camusot had given Coralie's tradesmen instructions to grant her credit -for three months at least, and this had been done without her -knowledge. During those three months, therefore, horses and servants, -like everything else, waited as if by enchantment at the bidding of -two children, eager for enjoyment, and enjoying to their hearts' -content. - -Coralie had taken Lucien's hand and given him a glimpse of the -transformation scene in the dining-room, of the splendidly appointed -table, of chandeliers, each fitted with forty wax-lights, of the -royally luxurious dessert, and a menu of Chevet's. Lucien kissed her -on the forehead and held her closely to his heart. - -"I shall succeed, child," he said, "and then I will repay you for such -love and devotion." - -"Pshaw!" said Coralie. "Are you satisfied?" - -"I should be very hard to please if I were not." - -"Very well, then, that smile of yours pays for everything," she said, -and with a serpentine movement she raised her head and laid her lips -against his. - -When they went back to the others, Florine, Lousteau, Matifat, and -Camusot were setting out the card-tables. Lucien's friends began to -arrive, for already these folk began to call themselves "Lucien's -friends"; and they sat over the cards from nine o'clock till midnight. -Lucien was unacquainted with a single game, but Lousteau lost a -thousand francs, and Lucien could not refuse to lend him the money -when he asked for it. - -Michel, Fulgence, and Joseph appeared about ten o'clock; and Lucien, -chatting with them in a corner, saw that they looked sober and serious -enough, not to say ill at ease. D'Arthez could not come, he was -finishing his book; Leon Giraud was busy with the first number of his -review; so the brotherhood had sent three artists among their number, -thinking that they would feel less out of their element in an -uproarious supper party than the rest. - -"Well, my dear fellows," said Lucien, assuming a slightly patronizing -tone, "the 'comical fellow' may become a great public character yet, -you see." - -"I wish I may be mistaken; I don't ask better," said Michel. - -"Are you living with Coralie until you can do better?" asked Fulgence. - -"Yes," said Lucien, trying to look unconscious. "Coralie had an -elderly adorer, a merchant, and she showed him the door, poor fellow. -I am better off than your brother Philippe," he added, addressing -Joseph Bridau; "he does not know how to manage Mariette." - -"You are a man like another now; in short, you will make your way," -said Fulgence. - -"A man that will always be the same for you, under all circumstances," -returned Lucien. - -Michel and Fulgence exchanged incredulous scornful smiles at this. -Lucien saw the absurdity of his remark. - -"Coralie is wonderfully beautiful," exclaimed Joseph Bridau. "What a -magnificent portrait she would make!" - -"Beautiful and good," said Lucien; "she is an angel, upon my word. And -you shall paint her portrait; she shall sit to you if you like for -your Venetian lady brought by the old woman to the senator." - -"All women who love are angelic," said Michel Chrestien. - -Just at that moment Raoul Nathan flew upon Lucien, and grasped both -his hands and shook them in a sudden access of violent friendship. - -"Oh, my good friend, you are something more than a great man, you have -a heart," cried he, "a much rarer thing than genius in these days. You -are a devoted friend. I am yours, in short, through thick and thin; I -shall never forget all that you have done for me this week." - -Lucien's joy had reached the highest point; to be thus caressed by a -man of whom everyone was talking! He looked at his three friends of -the brotherhood with something like a superior air. Nathan's -appearance upon the scene was the result of an overture from Merlin, -who sent him a proof of the favorable review to appear in to-morrow's -issue. - -"I only consented to write the attack on condition that I should be -allowed to reply to it myself," Lucien said in Nathan's ear. "I am one -of you." This incident was opportune; it justified the remark which -amused Fulgence. Lucien was radiant. - -"When d'Arthez's book comes out," he said, turning to the three, "I am -in a position to be useful to him. That thought in itself would induce -me to remain a journalist." - -"Can you do as you like?" Michel asked quickly. - -"So far as one can when one is indispensable," said Lucien modestly. - -It was almost midnight when they sat down to supper, and the fun grew -fast and furious. Talk was less restrained in Lucien's house than at -Matifat's, for no one suspected that the representatives of the -brotherhood and the newspaper writers held divergent opinions. Young -intellects, depraved by arguing for either side, now came into -conflict with each other, and fearful axioms of the journalistic -jurisprudence, then in its infancy, hurtled to and fro. Claude Vignon, -upholding the dignity of criticism, inveighed against the tendency of -the smaller newspapers, saying that the writers of personalities -lowered themselves in the end. Lousteau, Merlin, and Finot took up the -cudgels for the system known by the name of blague; puffery, gossip, -and humbug, said they, was the test of talent, and set the hall-mark, -as it were, upon it. "Any man who can stand that test has real power," -said Lousteau. - -"Besides," cried Merlin, "when a great man receives ovations, there -ought to be a chorus in insults to balance, as in a Roman triumph." - -"Oho!" put in Lucien; "then every one held up to ridicule in print -will fancy that he has made a success." - -"Any one would think that the question interested you," exclaimed -Finot. - -"And how about our sonnets," said Michel Chrestien; "is that the way -they will win us the fame of a second Petrarch?" - -"Laura already counts for something in his fame," said Dauriat, a pun -[Laure (l'or)] received with acclamations. - -"Faciamus experimentum in anima vili," retorted Lucien with a smile. - -"And woe unto him whom reviewers shall spare, flinging him crowns at -his first appearance, for he shall be shelved like the saints in their -shrines, and no man shall pay him the slightest attention," said -Vernou. - -"People will say, 'Look elsewhere, simpleton; you have had your due -already,' as Champcenetz said to the Marquis de Genlis, who was -looking too fondly at his wife," added Blondet. - -"Success is the ruin of a man in France," said Finot. "We are so -jealous of one another that we try to forget, and to make others -forget, the triumphs of yesterday." - -"Contradiction is the life of literature, in fact," said Claude -Vignon. - -"In art as in nature, there are two principles everywhere at strife," -exclaimed Fulgence; "and victory for either means death." - -"So it is with politics," added Michel Chrestien. - -"We have a case in point," said Lousteau. "Dauriat will sell a couple -of thousand copies of Nathan's book in the coming week. And why? -Because the book that was cleverly attacked will be ably defended." - -Merlin took up the proof of to-morrow's paper. "How can such an -article fail to sell an edition?" he asked. - -"Read the article," said Dauriat. "I am a publisher wherever I am, -even at supper." - -Merlin read Lucien's triumphant refutation aloud, and the whole party -applauded. - -"How could that article have been written unless the attack had -preceded it?" asked Lousteau. - -Dauriat drew the proof of the third article from his pocket and read -it over, Finot listening closely; for it was to appear in the second -number of his own review, and as editor he exaggerated his enthusiasm. - -"Gentlemen," said he, "so and not otherwise would Bossuet have written -if he had lived in our day." - -"I am sure of it," said Merlin. "Bossuet would have been a journalist -to-day." - -"To Bossuet the Second!" cried Claude Vignon, raising his glass with -an ironical bow. - -"To my Christopher Columbus!" returned Lucien, drinking a health to -Dauriat. - -"Bravo!" cried Nathan. - -"Is it a nickname?" Merlin inquired, looking maliciously from Finot to -Lucien. - -"If you go on at this pace, you will be quite beyond us," said -Dauriat; "these gentlemen" (indicating Camusot and Matifat) "cannot -follow you as it is. A joke is like a bit of thread; if it is spun too -fine, it breaks, as Bonaparte said." - -"Gentlemen," said Lousteau, "we have been eye-witnesses of a strange, -portentous, unheard-of, and truly surprising phenomenon. Admire the -rapidity with which our friend here has been transformed from a -provincial into a journalist!" - -"He is a born journalist," said Dauriat. - -"Children!" called Finot, rising to his feet, "all of us here present -have encouraged and protected our amphitryon in his entrance upon a -career in which he has already surpassed our hopes. In two months he -has shown us what he can do in a series of excellent articles known to -us all. I propose to baptize him in form as a journalist." - -"A crown of roses! to signalize a double conquest," cried Bixiou, -glancing at Coralie. - -Coralie made a sign to Berenice. That portly handmaid went to -Coralie's dressing-room and brought back a box of tumbled artificial -flowers. The more incapable members of the party were grotesquely -tricked out in these blossoms, and a crown of roses was soon woven. -Finot, as high priest, sprinkled a few drops of champagne on Lucien's -golden curls, pronouncing with delicious gravity the words--"In the -name of the Government Stamp, the Caution-money, and the Fine, I -baptize thee, Journalist. May thy articles sit lightly on thee!" - -"And may they be paid for, including white lines!" cried Merlin. - -Just at that moment Lucien caught sight of three melancholy faces. -Michel Chrestien, Joseph Bridau, and Fulgence Ridal took up their hats -and went out amid a storm of invective. - -"Queer customers!" said Merlin. - -"Fulgence used to be a good fellow," added Lousteau, "before they -perverted his morals." - -"Who are 'they'?" asked Claude Vignon. - -"Some very serious young men," said Blondet, "who meet at a -philosophico-religious symposium in the Rue des Quatre-Vents, and -worry themselves about the meaning of human life----" - -"Oh! oh!" - -"They are trying to find out whether it goes round in a circle, or -makes some progress," continued Blondet. "They were very hard put to -it between the straight line and the curve; the triangle, warranted by -Scripture, seemed to them to be nonsense, when, lo! there arose among -them some prophet or other who declared for the spiral." - -"Men might meet to invent more dangerous nonsense than that!" -exclaimed Lucien, making a faint attempt to champion the brotherhood. - -"You take theories of that sort for idle words," said Felicien Vernou; -"but a time comes when the arguments take the form of gunshot and the -guillotine." - -"They have not come to that yet," said Bixiou; "they have only come as -far as the designs of Providence in the invention of champagne, the -humanitarian significance of breeches, and the blind deity who keeps -the world going. They pick up fallen great men like Vico, Saint-Simon, -and Fourier. I am much afraid that they will turn poor Joseph Bridau's -head among them." - -"Bianchon, my old schoolfellow, gives me the cold shoulder now," said -Lousteau; "it is all their doing----" - -"Do they give lectures on orthopedy and intellectual gymnastics?" -asked Merlin. - -"Very likely," answered Finot, "if Bianchon has any hand in their -theories." - -"Pshaw!" said Lousteau; "he will be a great physician anyhow." - -"Isn't d'Arthez their visible head?" asked Nathan, "a little youngster -that is going to swallow all of us up." - -"He is a genius!" cried Lucien. - -"Genius, is he! Well, give me a glass of sherry!" said Claude Vignon, -smiling. - -Every one, thereupon, began to explain his character for the benefit -of his neighbor; and when a clever man feels a pressing need of -explaining himself, and of unlocking his heart, it is pretty clear -that wine has got the upper hand. An hour later, all the men in the -company were the best friends in the world, addressing each other as -great men and bold spirits, who held the future in their hands. -Lucien, in his quality of host, was sufficiently clearheaded to -apprehend the meaning of the sophistries which impressed him and -completed his demoralization. - -"The Liberal party," announced Finot, "is compelled to stir up -discussion somehow. There is no fault to find with the action of the -Government, and you may imagine what a fix the Opposition is in. Which -of you now cares to write a pamphlet in favor of the system of -primogeniture, and raise a cry against the secret designs of the -Court? The pamphlet will be paid for handsomely." - -"I will write it," said Hector Merlin. "It is my own point of view." - -"Your party will complain that you are compromising them," said Finot. -"Felicien, you must undertake it; Dauriat will bring it out, and we -will keep the secret." - -"How much shall I get?" - -"Six hundred francs. Sign it 'Le Comte C, three stars.' " - -"It's a bargain," said Felicien Vernou. - -"So you are introducing the canard to the political world," remarked -Lousteau. - -"It is simply the Chabot affair carried into the region of abstract -ideas," said Finot. "Fasten intentions on the Government, and then let -loose public opinion." - -"How a Government can leave the control of ideas to such a pack of -scamps as we are, is matter for perpetual and profound astonishment to -me," said Claude Vignon. - -"If the Ministry blunders so far as to come down into the arena, we -can give them a drubbing. If they are nettled by it, the thing will -rankle in people's minds, and the Government will lose its hold on the -masses. The newspaper risks nothing, and the authorities have -everything to lose." - -"France will be a cipher until newspapers are abolished by law," said -Claude Vignon. "You are making progress hourly," he added, addressing -Finot. "You are a modern order of Jesuits, lacking the creed, the -fixed idea, the discipline, and the union." - -They went back to the card-tables; and before long the light of the -candles grew feeble in the dawn. - -"Lucien, your friends from the Rue des Quatre-Vents looked as dismal -as criminals going to be hanged," said Coralie. - -"They were the judges, not the criminals," replied the poet. - -"Judges are more amusing than THAT," said Coralie. - - - -For a month Lucien's whole time was taken up with supper parties, -dinner engagements, breakfasts, and evening parties; he was swept away -by an irresistible current into a vortex of dissipation and easy work. -He no longer thought of the future. The power of calculation amid the -complications of life is the sign of a strong will which poets, -weaklings, and men who live a purely intellectual life can never -counterfeit. Lucien was living from hand to mouth, spending his money -as fast as he made it, like many another journalist; nor did he give -so much as a thought to those periodically recurrent days of reckoning -which chequer the life of the bohemian in Paris so sadly. - -In dress and figure he was a rival for the great dandies of the day. -Coralie, like all zealots, loved to adorn her idol. She ruined herself -to give her beloved poet the accoutrements which had so stirred his -envy in the Garden of the Tuileries. Lucien had wonderful canes, and a -charming eyeglass; he had diamond studs, and scarf-rings, and signet- -rings, besides an assortment of waistcoats marvelous to behold, and in -sufficient number to match every color in a variety of costumes. His -transition to the estate of dandy swiftly followed. When he went to -the German Minister's dinner, all the young men regarded him with -suppressed envy; yet de Marsay, Vandenesse, Ajuda-Pinto, Maxime de -Trailles, Rastignac, Beaudenord, Manerville, and the Duc de -Maufrigneuse gave place to none in the kingdom of fashion. Men of -fashion are as jealous among themselves as women, and in the same way. -Lucien was placed between Mme. de Montcornet and Mme. d'Espard, in -whose honor the dinner was given; both ladies overwhelmed him with -flatteries. - -"Why did you turn your back on society when you would have been so -well received?" asked the Marquise. "Every one was prepared to make -much of you. And I have a quarrel with you too. You owed me a call--I -am still waiting to receive it. I saw you at the Opera the other day, -and you would not deign to come to see me nor to take any notice of -me." - -"Your cousin, madame, so unmistakably dismissed me--" - -"Oh! you do not know women," the Marquise d'Espard broke in upon him. -"You have wounded the most angelic heart, the noblest nature that I -know. You do not know all that Louise was trying to do for you, nor -how tactfully she laid her plans for you.--Oh! and she would have -succeeded," the Marquise continued, replying to Lucien's mute -incredulity. "Her husband is dead now; died, as he was bound to die, -of an indigestion; could you doubt that she would be free sooner or -later? And can you suppose that she would like to be Madame Chardon? -It was worth while to take some trouble to gain the title of Comtesse -de Rubempre. Love, you see, is a great vanity, which requires the -lesser vanities to be in harmony with itself--especially in marriage. -I might love you to madness--which is to say, sufficiently to marry -you--and yet I should find it very unpleasant to be called Madame -Chardon. You can see that. And now that you understand the -difficulties of Paris life, you will know how many roundabout ways you -must take to reach your end; very well, then, you must admit that -Louise was aspiring to an all but impossible piece of Court favor; she -was quite unknown, she is not rich, and therefore she could not afford -to neglect any means of success. - -"You are clever," the Marquise d'Espard continued; "but we women, when -we love, are cleverer than the cleverest man. My cousin tried to make -that absurd Chatelet useful--Oh!" she broke off, "I owe not a little -amusement to you; your articles on Chatelet made me laugh heartily." - -Lucien knew not what to think of all this. Of the treachery and bad -faith of journalism he had had some experience; but in spite of his -perspicacity, he scarcely expected to find bad faith or treachery in -society. There were some sharp lessons in store for him. - -"But, madame," he objected, for her words aroused a lively curiosity, -"is not the Heron under your protection?" - -"One is obliged to be civil to one's worst enemies in society," -protested she; "one may be bored, but one must look as if the talk was -amusing, and not seldom one seems to sacrifice friends the better to -serve them. Are you still a novice? You mean to write, and yet you -know nothing of current deceit? My cousin apparently sacrificed you to -the Heron, but how could she dispense with his influence for you? Our -friend stands well with the present ministry; and we have made him see -that your attacks will do him service--up to a certain point, for we -want you to make it up again some of these days. Chatelet has received -compensations for his troubles; for, as des Lupeaulx said, 'While the -newspapers are making Chatelet ridiculous, they will leave the -Ministry in peace.' " - -There was a pause; the Marquise left Lucien to his own reflections. - -"M. Blondet led me to hope that I should have the pleasure of seeing -you in my house," said the Comtesse de Montcornet. "You will meet a -few artists and men of letters, and some one else who has the keenest -desire to become acquainted with you--Mlle. des Touches, the owner of -talents rare among our sex. You will go to her house, no doubt. Mlle. -de Touches (or Camille Maupin, if you prefer it) is prodigiously rich, -and presides over one of the most remarkable salons in Paris. She has -heard that you are as handsome as you are clever, and is dying to meet -you." - -Lucien could only pour out incoherent thanks and glance enviously at -Emile Blondet. There was as great a difference between a great lady -like Mme. de Montcornet and Coralie as between Coralie and a girl out -of the streets. The Countess was young and witty and beautiful, with -the very white fairness of women of the north. Her mother was the -Princess Scherbellof, and the Minister before dinner had paid her the -most respectful attention. - -By this time the Marquise had made an end of trifling disdainfully -with the wing of a chicken. - -"My poor Louise felt so much affection for you," she said. "She took -me into her confidence; I knew her dreams of a great career for you. -She would have borne a great deal, but what scorn you showed her when -you sent back her letters! Cruelty we can forgive; those who hurt us -must have still some faith in us; but indifference! Indifference is -like polar snows, it extinguishes all life. So, you must see that you -have lost a precious affection through your own fault. Why break with -her? Even if she had scorned you, you had your way to make, had you -not?--your name to win back? Louise thought of all that." - -"Then why was she silent?" - -"EH! mon Dieu!" cried the Marquise, "it was I myself who advised her -not to take you into her confidence. Between ourselves, you know, you -seemed so little used to the ways of the world, that I took alarm. I -was afraid that your inexperience and rash ardor might wreck our -carefully-made schemes. Can you recollect yourself as you were then? -You must admit that if you could see your double to-day, you would say -the same yourself. You are not like the same man. That was our -mistake. But would one man in a thousand combine such intellectual -gifts with such wonderful aptitude for taking the tone of society? I -did not think that you would be such an astonishing exception. You -were transformed so quickly, you acquired the manner of Paris so -easily, that I did not recognize you in the Bois de Boulogne a month -ago." - -Lucien heard the great lady with inexpressible pleasure; the -flatteries were spoken with such a petulant, childlike, confiding air, -and she seemed to take such a deep interest in him, that he thought of -his first evening at the Panorama-Dramatique, and began to fancy that -some such miracle was about to take place a second time. Everything -had smiled upon him since that happy evening; his youth, he thought, -was the talisman that worked this change. He would prove this great -lady; she should not take him unawares. - -"Then, what were these schemes which have turned to chimeras, madame?" -asked he. - -"Louise meant to obtain a royal patent permitting you to bear the name -and title of Rubempre. She wished to put Chardon out of sight. Your -opinions have put that out of the question now, but THEN it would not -have been so hard to manage, and a title would mean a fortune for you. - -"You will look on these things as trifles and visionary ideas," she -continued; "but we know something of life, and we know, too, all the -solid advantages of a Count's title when it is borne by a fashionable -and extremely charming young man. Announce 'M. Chardon' and 'M. le -Comte de Rubempre' before heiresses or English girls with a million to -their fortune, and note the difference of the effect. The Count might -be in debt, but he would find open hearts; his good looks, brought -into relief by his title, would be like a diamond in a rich setting; -M. Chardon would not be so much as noticed. WE have not invented these -notions; they are everywhere in the world, even among the burgeois. -You are turning your back on fortune at this minute. Do you see that -good-looking young man? He is the Vicomte Felix de Vandenesse, one of -the King's private secretaries. The King is fond enough of young men -of talent, and Vandenesse came from the provinces with baggage nearly -as light as yours. You are a thousand times cleverer than he; but do -you belong to a great family, have you a name? You know des Lupeaulx; -his name is very much like yours, for he was born a Chardin; well, he -would not sell his little farm of Lupeaulx for a million, he will be -Comte des Lupeaulx some day, and perhaps his grandson may be a duke.-- -You have made a false start; and if you continue in that way, it will -be all over with you. See how much wiser M. Emile Blondet has been! He -is engaged on a Government newspaper; he is well looked on by those in -authority; he can afford to mix with Liberals, for he holds sound -opinions; and soon or later he will succeed. But then he understood -how to choose his opinions and his protectors. - -"Your charming neighbor" (Mme. d'Espard glanced at Mme. de Montcornet) -"was a Troisville; there are two peers of France in the family and two -deputies. She made a wealthy marriage with her name; she sees a great -deal of society at her house; she has influence, she will move the -political world for young M. Blondet. Where will a Coralie take you? -In a few years' time you will be hopelessly in debt and weary of -pleasure. You have chosen badly in love, and you are arranging your -life ill. The woman whom you delight to wound was at the Opera the -other night, and this was how she spoke of you. She deplored the way -in which you were throwing away your talent and the prime of youth; -she was thinking of you, and not of herself, all the while." - -"Ah! if you were only telling me the truth, madame!" cried Lucien. - -"What object should I have in telling lies?" returned the Marquise, -with a glance of cold disdain which annihilated him. He was so dashed -by it, that the conversation dropped, for the Marquise was offended, -and said no more. - -Lucien was nettled by her silence, but he felt that it was due to his -own clumsiness, and promised himself that he would repair his error. -He turned to Mme. de Montcornet and talked to her of Blondet, -extolling that young writer for her benefit. The Countess was gracious -to him, and asked him (at a sign from Mme. d'Espard) to spend an -evening at her house. It was to be a small and quiet gathering to -which only friends were invited--Mme. de Bargeton would be there in -spite of her mourning; Lucien would be pleased, she was sure, to meet -Mme. de Bargeton. - -"Mme. la Marquise says that all the wrong is on my side," said Lucien; -"so surely it rests with her cousin, does it not, to decide whether -she will meet me?" - -"Put an end to those ridiculous attacks, which only couple her name -with the name of a man for whom she does not care at all, and you will -soon sign a treaty of peace. You thought that she had used you ill, I -am told, but I myself have seen her in sadness because you had -forsaken her. Is it true that she left the provinces on your account?" - -Lucien smiled; he did not venture to make any other reply. - -"Oh! how could you doubt the woman who made such sacrifices for you? -Beautiful and intellectual as she is, she deserves besides to be loved -for her own sake; and Mme. de Bargeton cared less for you than for -your talents. Believe me, women value intellect more than good looks," -added the Countess, stealing a glance at Emile Blondet. - -In the Minister's hotel Lucien could see the differences between the -great world and that other world beyond the pale in which he had -lately been living. There was no sort of resemblance between the two -kinds of splendor, no single point in common. The loftiness and -disposition of the rooms in one of the handsomest houses in the -Faubourg Saint-Germain, the ancient gilding, the breadth of decorative -style, the subdued richness of the accessories, all this was strange -and new to him; but Lucien had learned very quickly to take luxury for -granted, and he showed no surprise. His behavior was as far removed -from assurance or fatuity on the one hand as from complacency and -servility upon the other. His manner was good; he found favor in the -eyes of all who were not prepared to be hostile, like the younger men, -who resented his sudden intrusion into the great world, and felt -jealous of his good looks and his success. - -When they rose from table, he offered his arm to Mme. d'Espard, and -was not refused. Rastignac, watching him, saw that the Marquise was -gracious to Lucien, and came in the character of a fellow-countryman -to remind the poet that they had met once before at Mme. du Val- -Noble's. The young patrician seemed anxious to find an ally in the -great man from his own province, asked Lucien to breakfast with him -some morning, and offered to introduce him to some young men of -fashion. Lucien was nothing loath. - -"The dear Blondet is coming," said Rastignac. - -The two were standing near the Marquis de Ronquerolles, the Duc de -Rhetore, de Marsay, and General Montriveau. The Minister came across -to join the group. - -"Well," said he, addressing Lucien with a bluff German heartiness that -concealed his dangerous subtlety; "well, so you have made your peace -with Mme. d'Espard; she is delighted with you, and we all know," he -added, looking round the group, "how difficult it is to please her." - -"Yes, but she adores intellect," said Rastignac, "and my illustrious -fellow-countryman has wit enough to sell." - -"He will soon find out that he is not doing well for himself," Blondet -put in briskly. "He will come over; he will soon be one of us." - -Those who stood about Lucien rang the changes on this theme; the older -and responsible men laid down the law with one or two profound -remarks; the younger ones made merry at the expense of the Liberals. - -"He simply tossed up head or tails for Right or Left, I am sure," -remarked Blondet, "but now he will choose for himself." - -Lucien burst out laughing; he thought of his talk with Lousteau that -evening in the Luxembourg Gardens. - -"He has taken on a bear-leader," continued Blondet, "one Etienne -Lousteau, a newspaper hack who sees a five-franc piece in a column. -Lousteau's politics consist in a belief that Napoleon will return, and -(and this seems to me to be still more simple) in a confidence in the -gratitude and patriotism of their worships the gentlemen of the Left. -As a Rubempre, Lucien's sympathies should lean towards the -aristocracy; as a journalist, he ought to be for authority, or he will -never be either Rubempre or a secretary-general." - -The Minister now asked Lucien to take a hand at whist; but, to the -great astonishment of those present, he declared that he did not know -the game. - -"Come early to me on the day of that breakfast affair," Rastignac -whispered, "and I will teach you to play. You are a discredit to the -royal city of Angouleme; and, to repeat M. de Talleyrand's saying, you -are laying up an unhappy old age for yourself." - -Des Lupeaulx was announced. He remembered Lucien, whom he had met at -Mme. du Val-Noble's, and bowed with a semblance of friendliness which -the poet could not doubt. Des Lupeaulx was in favor, he was a Master -of Requests, and did the Ministry secret services; he was, moreover, -cunning and ambitious, slipping himself in everywhere; he was -everybody's friend, for he never knew whom he might need. He saw -plainly that this was a young journalist whose social success would -probably equal his success in literature; saw, too, that the poet was -ambitious, and overwhelmed him with protestations and expressions of -friendship and interest, till Lucien felt as if they were old friends -already, and took his promises and speeches for more than their worth. -Des Lupeaulx made a point of knowing a man thoroughly well if he -wanted to get rid of him or feared him as a rival. So, to all -appearance, Lucien was well received. He knew that much of his success -was owing to the Duc de Rhetore, the Minister, Mme. d'Espard, and Mme. -de Montcornet, and went to spend a few moments with the two ladies -before taking leave, and talked his very best for them. - -"What a coxcomb!" said des Lupeaulx, turning to the Marquise when he -had gone. - -"He will be rotten before he is ripe," de Marsay added, smiling. "You -must have private reasons of your own, madame, for turning his head in -this way." - - - -When Lucien stepped into the carriage in the courtyard, he found -Coralie waiting for him. She had come to fetch him. The little -attention touched him; he told her the history of his evening; and, to -his no small astonishment, the new notions which even now were running -in his head met with Coralie's approval. She strongly advised him to -enlist under the ministerial banner. - -"You have nothing to expect from the Liberals but hard knocks," she -said. "They plot and conspire; they murdered the Duc de Berri. Will -they upset the Government? Never! You will never come to anything -through them, while you will be Comte de Rubempre if you throw in your -lot with the other side. You might render services to the State, and -be a peer of France, and marry an heiress. Be an Ultra. It is the -proper thing besides," she added, this being the last word with her on -all subjects. "I dined with the Val-Noble; she told me that Theodore -Gaillard is really going to start his little Royalist Revue, so as to -reply to your witticisms and the jokes in the Miroir. To hear them -talk, M. Villele's party will be in office before the year is out. Try -to turn the change to account before they come to power; and say -nothing to Etienne and your friends, for they are quite equal to -playing you some ill turn." - -A week later, Lucien went to Mme. de Montcornet's house, and saw the -woman whom he had so loved, whom later he had stabbed to the heart -with a jest. He felt the most violent agitation at the sight of her, -for Louise also had undergone a transformation. She was the Louise -that she would always have been but for her detention in the provinces ---she was a great lady. There was a grace and refinement in her -mourning dress which told that she was a happy widow; Lucien fancied -that this coquetry was aimed in some degree at him, and he was right; -but, like an ogre, he had tasted flesh, and all that evening he -vacillated between Coralie's warm, voluptuous beauty and the dried-up, -haughty, cruel Louise. He could not make up his mind to sacrifice the -actress to the great lady; and Mme. de Bargeton--all the old feeling -reviving in her at the sight of Lucien, Lucien's beauty, Lucien's -cleverness--was waiting and expecting that sacrifice all evening; and -after all her insinuating speeches and her fascinations, she had her -trouble for her pains. She left the room with a fixed determination to -be revenged. - -"Well, dear Lucien," she had said, and in her kindness there was both -generosity and Parisian grace; "well, dear Lucien, so you, that were -to have been my pride, took me for your first victim; and I forgave -you, my dear, for I felt that in such a revenge there was a trace of -love still left." - -With that speech, and the queenly way in which it was uttered, Mme. de -Bargeton recovered her position. Lucien, convinced that he was a -thousand times in the right, felt that he had been put in the wrong. -Not one word of the causes of the rupture! not one syllable of the -terrible farewell letter! A woman of the world has a wonderful genius -for diminishing her faults by laughing at them; she can obliterate -them all with a smile or a question of feigned surprise, and she knows -this. She remembers nothing, she can explain everything; she is -amazed, asks questions, comments, amplifies, and quarrels with you, -till in the end her sins disappear like stains on the application of a -little soap and water; black as ink you knew them to be; and lo! in a -moment, you behold immaculate white innocence, and lucky are you if -you do not find that you yourself have sinned in some way beyond -redemption. - -In a moment old illusions regained their power over Lucien and Louise; -they talked like friends, as before; but when the lady, with a -hesitating sigh, put the question, "Are you happy?" Lucien was not -ready with a prompt, decided answer; he was intoxicated with gratified -vanity; Coralie, who (let us admit it) had made life easy for him, had -turned his head. A melancholy "No" would have made his fortune, but he -must needs begin to explain his position with regard to Coralie. He -said that he was loved for his own sake; he said a good many foolish -things that a man will say when he is smitten with a tender passion, -and thought the while that he was doing a clever thing. - -Mme. de Bargeton bit her lips. There was no more to be said. Mme. -d'Espard brought Mme. de Montcornet to her cousin, and Lucien became -the hero of the evening, so to speak. He was flattered, petted, and -made much of by the three women; he was entangled with art which no -words can describe. His social success in this fine and brilliant -circle was at least as great as his triumphs in journalism. Beautiful -Mlle. des Touches, so well known as "Camille Maupin," asked him to one -of her Wednesday dinners; his beauty, now so justly famous, seemed to -have made an impression upon her. Lucien exerted himself to show that -his wit equaled his good looks, and Mlle. des Touches expressed her -admiration with a playful outspokenness and a pretty fervor of -friendship which deceives those who do not know life in Paris to its -depths, nor suspect how continual enjoyment whets the appetite for -novelty. - -"If she should like me as much as I like her, we might abridge the -romance," said Lucien, addressing de Marsay and Rastignac. - -"You both of you write romances too well to care to live them," -returned Rastignac. "Can men and women who write ever fall in love -with each other? A time is sure to come when they begin to make little -cutting remarks." - -"It would not be a bad dream for you," laughed de Marsay. "The -charming young lady is thirty years old, it is true, but she has an -income of eighty thousand livres. She is adorably capricious, and her -style of beauty wears well. Coralie is a silly little fool, my dear -boy, well enough for a start, for a young spark must have a mistress; -but unless you make some great conquest in the great world, an actress -will do you harm in the long run. Now, my boy, go and cut out Conti. -Here he is, just about to sing with Camille Maupin. Poetry has taken -precedence of music ever since time began." - -But when Lucien heard Mlle. des Touches' voice blending with Conti's, -his hopes fled. - -"Conti sings too well," he told des Lupeaulx; and he went back to Mme. -de Bargeton, who carried him off to Mme. d'Espard in another room. - -"Well, will you not interest yourself in him?" asked Mme. de Bargeton. - -The Marquise spoke with an air half kindly, half insolent. "Let M. -Chardon first put himself in such a position that he will not -compromise those who take an interest in him," she said. "If he wishes -to drop his patronymic and to bear his mother's name, he should at any -rate be on the right side, should he not?" - -"In less than two months I will arrange everything," said Lucien. - -"Very well," returned Mme. d'Espard. "I will speak to my father and -uncle; they are in waiting, they will speak to the Chancellor for -you." - -The diplomatist and the two women had very soon discovered Lucien's -weak side. The poet's head was turned by the glory of the aristocracy; -every man who entered the rooms bore a sounding name mounted in a -glittering title, and he himself was plain Chardon. Unspeakable -mortification filled him at the sound of it. Wherever he had been -during the last few days, that pang had been constantly present with -him. He felt, moreover, a sensation quite as unpleasant when he went -back to his desk after an evening spent in the great world, in which -he made a tolerable figure, thanks to Coralie's carriage and Coralie's -servants. - -He learned to ride, in order to escort Mme. d'Espard, Mlle. des -Touches, and the Comtesse de Montcornet when they drove in the Bois, a -privilege which he had envied other young men so greatly when he first -came to Paris. Finot was delighted to give his right-hand man an order -for the Opera, so Lucien wasted many an evening there, and -thenceforward he was among the exquisites of the day. - -The poet asked Rastignac and his new associates to a breakfast, and -made the blunder of giving it in Coralie's rooms in the Rue de -Vendome; he was too young, too much of a poet, too self-confident, to -discern certain shades and distinctions in conduct; and how should an -actress, a good-hearted but uneducated girl, teach him life? His -guests were anything but charitably disposed towards him; it was -clearly proven to their minds that Lucien the critic and the actress -were in collusion for their mutual interests, and all of the young men -were jealous of an arrangement which all of them stigmatized. The most -pitiless of those who laughed that evening at Lucien's expense was -Rastignac himself. Rastignac had made and held his position by very -similar means; but so careful had he been of appearances, that he -could afford to treat scandal as slander. - -Lucien proved an apt pupil at whist. Play became a passion with him; -and so far from disapproving, Coralie encouraged his extravagance with -the peculiar short-sightedness of an all-absorbing love, which sees -nothing beyond the moment, and is ready to sacrifice anything, even -the future, to the present enjoyment. Coralie looked on cards as a -safe-guard against rivals. A great love has much in common with -childhood--a child's heedless, careless, spendthrift ways, a child's -laughter and tears. - -In those days there lived and flourished a set of young men, some of -them rich, some poor, and all of them idle, called "free-livers" -(viveurs); and, indeed, they lived with incredible insolence-- -unabashed and unproductive consumers, and yet more intrepid drinkers. -These spendthrifts mingled the roughest practical jokes with a life -not so much reckless as suicidal; they drew back from no -impossibility, and gloried in pranks which, nevertheless, were -confined within certain limits; and as they showed the most original -wit in their escapades, it was impossible not to pardon them. - -No sign of the times more plainly discovered the helotism to which the -Restoration had condemned the young manhood of the epoch. The younger -men, being at a loss to know what to do with themselves, were -compelled to find other outlets for their superabundant energy besides -journalism, or conspiracy, or art, or letters. They squandered their -strength in the wildest excesses, such sap and luxuriant power was -there in young France. The hard workers among these gilded youths -wanted power and pleasure; the artists wished for money; the idle -sought to stimulate their appetites or wished for excitement; one and -all of them wanted a place, and one and all were shut out from -politics and public life. Nearly all the "free-livers" were men of -unusual mental powers; some held out against the enervating life, -others were ruined by it. The most celebrated and the cleverest among -them was Eugene Rastignac, who entered, with de Marsay's help, upon a -political career, in which he has since distinguished himself. The -practical jokes, in which the set indulged became so famous, that not -a few vaudevilles have been founded upon them. - -Blondet introduced Lucien to this society of prodigals, of which he -became a brilliant ornament, ranking next to Bixiou, one of the most -mischievous and untiring scoffing wits of his time. All through that -winter Lucien's life was one long fit of intoxication, with intervals -of easy work. He continued his series of sketches of contemporary -life, and very occasionally made great efforts to write a few pages of -serious criticism, on which he brought his utmost power of thought to -bear. But study was the exception, not the rule, and only undertaken -at the bidding of necessity; dinners and breakfasts, parties of -pleasure and play, took up most of his time, and Coralie absorbed all -that was left. He would not think of the morrow. He saw besides that -his so-called friends were leading the same life, earning money easily -by writing publishers' prospectuses and articles paid for by -speculators; all of them lived beyond their incomes, none of them -thought seriously of the future. - -Lucien had been admitted into the ranks of journalism and of -literature on terms of equality; he foresaw immense difficulties in -the way if he should try to rise above the rest. Every one was willing -to look upon him as an equal; no one would have him for a superior. -Unconsciously he gave up the idea of winning fame in literature, for -it seemed easier to gain success in politics. - -"Intrigue raises less opposition than talent," du Chatelet had said -one day (for Lucien and the Baron had made up their quarrel); "a plot -below the surface rouses no one's attention. Intrigue, moreover, is -superior to talent, for it makes something out of nothing; while, for -the most part, the immense resources of talent only injure a man." - -So Lucien never lost sight of his principal idea; and though -to-morrow, following close upon the heels of to-day in the midst of an -orgy, never found the promised work accomplished, Lucien was assiduous -in society. He paid court to Mme. de Bargeton, the Marquise d'Espard, -and the Comtesse de Montcornet; he never missed a single party given -by Mlle. des Touches, appearing in society after a dinner given by -authors or publishers, and leaving the salons for a supper given in -consequence of a bet. The demands of conversation and the excitement -of play absorbed all the ideas and energy left by excess. The poet had -lost the lucidity of judgment and coolness of head which must be -preserved if a man is to see all that is going on around him, and -never to lose the exquisite tact which the parvenue needs at every -moment. How should he know how many a time Mme. de Bargeton left him -with wounded susceptibilities, how often she forgave him or added one -more condemnation to the rest? - -Chatelet saw that his rival had still a chance left, so he became -Lucien's friend. He encouraged the poet in dissipation that wasted his -energies. Rastignac, jealous of his fellow-countryman, and thinking, -besides, that Chatelet would be a surer and more useful ally than -Lucien, had taken up the Baron's cause. So, some few days after the -meeting of the Petrarch and Laura of Angouleme, Rastignac brought -about the reconciliation between the poet and the elderly beau at a -sumptuous supper given at the Rocher de Cancale. Lucien never returned -home till morning, and rose in the middle of the day; Coralie was -always at his side, he could not forego a single pleasure. Sometimes -he saw his real position, and made good resolutions, but they came to -nothing in his idle, easy life; and the mainspring of will grew slack, -and only responded to the heaviest pressure of necessity. - -Coralie had been glad that Lucien should amuse himself; she had -encouraged him in this reckless expenditure, because she thought that -the cravings which she fostered would bind her lover to her. But -tender-hearted and loving as she was, she found courage to advise -Lucien not to forget his work, and once or twice was obliged to remind -him that he had earned very little during the month. Their debts were -growing frightfully fast. The fifteen hundred francs which remained -from the purchase-money of the Marguerites had been swallowed up at -once, together with Lucien's first five hundred livres. In three -months he had only made a thousand francs, yet he felt as though he -had been working tremendously hard. But by this time Lucien had -adopted the "free-livers" pleasant theory of debts. - -Debts are becoming to a young man, but after the age of five-and- -twenty they are inexcusable. It should be observed that there are -certain natures in which a really poetic temper is united with a -weakened will; and these while absorbed in feeling, that they may -transmute personal experience, sensation, or impression into some -permanent form are essentially deficient in the moral sense which -should accompany all observation. Poets prefer rather to receive their -own impressions than to enter into the souls of others to study the -mechanism of their feelings and thoughts. So Lucien neither asked his -associates what became of those who disappeared from among them, nor -looked into the futures of his so-called friends. Some of them were -heirs to property, others had definite expectations; yet others either -possessed names that were known in the world, or a most robust belief -in their destiny and a fixed resolution to circumvent the law. Lucien, -too, believed in his future on the strength of various profound -axiomatic sayings of Blondet's: "Everything comes out all right at -last--If a man has nothing, his affairs cannot be embarrassed--We have -nothing to lose but the fortune that we seek--Swim with the stream; it -will take you somewhere--A clever man with a footing in society can -make a fortune whenever he pleases." - -That winter, filled as it was with so many pleasures and dissipations, -was a necessary interval employed in finding capital for the new -Royalist paper; Theodore Gaillard and Hector Merlin only brought out -the first number of the Reveil in March 1822. The affair had been -settled at Mme. du Val-Noble's house. Mme. du val-Noble exercised a -certain influence over the great personages, Royalist writers, and -bankers who met in her splendid rooms--"fit for a tale out of the -Arabian Nights," as the elegant and clever courtesan herself used to -say--to transact business which could not be arranged elsewhere. The -editorship had been promised to Hector Merlin. Lucien, Merlin's -intimate, was pretty certain to be his right-hand man, and a -feuilleton in a Ministerial paper had been promised to him besides. -All through the dissipations of that winter Lucien had been secretly -making ready for this change of front. Child as he was, he fancied -that he was a deep politician because he concealed the preparation for -the approaching transformation-scene, while he was counting upon -Ministerial largesses to extricate himself from embarrassment and to -lighten Coralie's secret cares. Coralie said nothing of her distress; -she smiled now, as always; but Berenice was bolder, she kept Lucien -informed of their difficulties; and the budding great man, moved, -after the fashion of poets, by the tale of disasters, would vow that -he would begin to work in earnest, and then forget his resolution, and -drown his fleeting cares in excess. One day Coralie saw the poetic -brow overcast, and scolded Berenice, and told her lover that -everything would be settled. - -Mme. d'Espard and Mme. de Bargeton were waiting for Lucien's -profession of his new creed, so they said, before applying through -Chatelet for the patent which should permit Lucien to bear the so-much -desired name. Lucien had proposed to dedicate the Marguerites to Mme. -d'Espard, and the Marquise seemed to be not a little flattered by a -compliment which authors have been somewhat chary of paying since they -became a power in the land; but when Lucien went to Dauriat and asked -after his book, that worthy publisher met him with excellent reasons -for the delay in its appearance. Dauriat had this and that in hand, -which took up all his time; a new volume by Canalis was coming out, -and he did not want the two books to clash; M. de Lamartine's second -series of Meditations was in the press, and two important collections -of poetry ought not to appear together. - -By this time, however, Lucien's needs were so pressing that he had -recourse to Finot, and received an advance on his work. When, at a -supper-party that evening, the poet journalist explained his position -to his friends in the fast set, they drowned his scruples in -champagne, iced with pleasantries. Debts! There was never yet a man of -any power without debts! Debts represented satisfied cravings, -clamorous vices. A man only succeeds under the pressure of the iron -hand of necessity. Debts forsooth! - -"Why, the one pledge of which a great man can be sure, is given him by -his friend the pawnbroker," cried Blondet. - -"If you want everything, you must owe for everything," called Bixiou. - -"No," corrected des Lupeaulx, "if you owe for everything, you have had -everything." - -The party contrived to convince the novice that his debts were a -golden spur to urge on the horses of the chariot of his fortunes. -There is always the stock example of Julius Caesar with his debt of -forty millions, and Friedrich II. on an allowance of one ducat a -month, and a host of other great men whose failings are held up for -the corruption of youth, while not a word is said of their wide- -reaching ideas, their courage equal to all odds. - -Creditors seized Coralie's horses, carriage, and furniture at last, -for an amount of four thousand francs. Lucien went to Lousteau and -asked his friend to meet his bill for the thousand francs lent to pay -gaming debts; but Lousteau showed him certain pieces of stamped paper, -which proved that Florine was in much the same case. Lousteau was -grateful, however, and offered to take the necessary steps for the -sale of Lucien's Archer of Charles IX. - -"How came Florine to be in this plight?" asked Lucien. - -"The Matifat took alarm," said Lousteau. "We have lost him; but if -Florine chooses, she can make him pay dear for his treachery. I will -tell you all about it." - -Three days after this bootless errand, Lucien and Coralie were -breakfasting in melancholy spirits beside the fire in their pretty -bedroom. Berenice had cooked a dish of eggs for them over the grate; -for the cook had gone, and the coachman and servants had taken leave. -They could not sell the furniture, for it had been attached; there was -not a single object of any value in the house. A goodly collection of -pawntickets, forming a very instructive octavo volume, represented all -the gold, silver, and jewelry. Berenice had kept back a couple of -spoons and forks, that was all. - -Lousteau's newspaper was of service now to Coralie and Lucien, little -as they suspected it; for the tailor, dressmaker, and milliner were -afraid to meddle with a journalist who was quite capable of writing -down their establishments. - -Etienne Lousteau broke in upon their breakfast with a shout of -"Hurrah! Long live The Archer of Charles IX.! And I have converted a -hundred francs worth of books into cash, children. We will go halves." - -He handed fifty francs to Coralie, and sent Berenice out in quest of a -more substantial breakfast. - -"Hector Merlin and I went to a booksellers' trade dinner yesterday, -and prepared the way for your romance with cunning insinuations. -Dauriat is in treaty, but Dauriat is haggling over it; he won't give -more than four thousand francs for two thousand copies, and you want -six thousand francs. We made you out twice as great as Sir Walter -Scott! Oh! you have such novels as never were in the inwards of you. -It is not a mere book for sale, it is a big business; you are not -simply the writer of one more or less ingenious novel, you are going -to write a whole series. The word 'series' did it! So, mind you, don't -forget that you have a great historical series on hand--La Grande -Mademoiselle, or The France of Louis Quatorze; Cotillon I., or the -Early Days of Louis Quinze; The Queen and the Cardinal, or Paris and -the Fronde; The Son of the Concini, or Richelieu's Intrigue. These -novels will be announced on the wrapper of the book. We call this -manoeuvre 'giving a success a toss in the coverlet,' for the titles -are all to appear on the cover, till you will be better known for the -books that you have not written than for the work you have done. And -'In the Press' is a way of gaining credit in advance for work that you -will do. Come, now, let us have a little fun! Here comes the -champagne. You can understand, Lucien, that our men opened eyes as big -as saucers. By the by, I see that you have saucers still left." - -"They are attached," explained Coralie. - -"I understand, and I resume. Show a publisher one manuscript volume -and he will believe in all the rest. A publisher asks to see your -manuscript, and gives you to understand that he is going to read it. -Why disturb his harmless vanity? They never read a manuscript; they -would not publish so many if they did. Well, Hector and I allowed it -to leak out that you might consider an offer of five thousand francs -for three thousand copies, in two editions. Let me have your Archer; -the day after to-morrow we are to breakfast with the publishers, and -we will get the upper hand of them." - -"Who are they?" asked Lucien. - -"Two partners named Fendant and Cavalier; they are two good fellows, -pretty straightforward in business. One of them used to be with Vidal -and Porchon, the other is the cleverest hand on the Quai des -Augustins. They only started in business last year, and have lost a -little on translations of English novels; so now my gentlemen have a -mind to exploit the native product. There is a rumor current that -those dealers in spoiled white paper are trading on other people's -capital; but I don't think it matters very much to you who finds the -money, so long as you are paid." - -Two days later, the pair went to a breakfast in the Rue Serpente, in -Lucien's old quarter of Paris. Lousteau still kept his room in the Rue -de la Harpe; and it was in the same state as before, but this time -Lucien felt no surprise; he had been initiated into the life of -journalism; he knew all its ups and downs. Since that evening of his -introduction to the Wooden Galleries, he had been paid for many an -article, and gambled away the money along with the desire to write. He -had filled columns, not once but many times, in the ingenious ways -described by Lousteau on that memorable evening as they went to the -Palais Royal. He was dependent upon Barbet and Braulard; he trafficked -in books and theatre-tickets; he shrank no longer from any attack, -from writing any panegyric; and at this moment he was in some sort -rejoicing to make all he could out of Lousteau before turning his back -on the Liberals. His intimate knowledge of the party would stand him -in good stead in future. And Lousteau, on his side, was privately -receiving five hundred francs of purchase-money, under the name of -commission, from Fendant and Cavalier for introducing the future Sir -Walter Scott to two enterprising tradesmen in search of a French -Author of "Waverley." - -The firm of Fendant and Cavalier had started in business without any -capital whatsoever. A great many publishing houses were established at -that time in the same way, and are likely to be established so long as -papermakers and printers will give credit for the time required to -play some seven or eight of the games of chance called "new -publications." At that time, as at present, the author's copyright was -paid for in bills at six, nine, and twelve months--a method of payment -determined by the custom of the trade, for booksellers settle accounts -between themselves by bills at even longer dates. Papermakers and -printers are paid in the same way, so that in practice the publisher- -bookseller has a dozen or a score of works on sale for a twelvemonth -before he pays for them. Even if only two or three of these hit the -public taste, the profitable speculations pay for the bad, and the -publisher pays his way by grafting, as it were, one book upon another. -But if all of them turn out badly; or if, for his misfortune, the -publisher-bookseller happens to bring out some really good literature -which stays on hand until the right public discovers and appreciates -it; or if it costs too much to discount the paper that he receives, -then, resignedly, he files his schedule, and becomes a bankrupt with -an untroubled mind. He was prepared all along for something of the -kind. So, all the chances being in favor of the publishers, they -staked other people's money, not their own upon the gaming-table of -business speculation. - -This was the case with Fendant and Cavalier. Cavalier brought his -experience, Fendant his industry; the capital was a joint-stock -affair, and very accurately described by that word, for it consisted -in a few thousand francs scraped together with difficulty by the -mistresses of the pair. Out of this fund they allowed each other a -fairly handsome salary, and scrupulously spent it all in dinners to -journalists and authors, or at the theatre, where their business was -transacted, as they said. This questionably honest couple were both -supposed to be clever men of business, but Fendant was more slippery -than Cavalier. Cavalier, true to his name, traveled about, Fendant -looked after business in Paris. A partnership between two publishers -is always more or less of a duel, and so it was with Fendant and -Cavalier. - -They had brought out plenty of romances already, such as the Tour du -Nord, Le Marchand de Benares, La Fontaine du Sepulcre, and Tekeli, -translations of the works of Galt, an English novelist who never -attained much popularity in France. The success of translations of -Scott had called the attention of the trade to English novels. The -race of publishers, all agog for a second Norman conquest, were -seeking industriously for a second Scott, just as at a rather later -day every one must needs look for asphalt in stony soil, or bitumen in -marshes, and speculate in projected railways. The stupidity of the -Paris commercial world is conspicuous in these attempts to do the same -thing twice, for success lies in contraries; and in Paris, of all -places in the world, success spoils success. So beneath the title of -Strelitz, or Russia a Hundred Years Ago, Fendant and Cavalier rashly -added in big letters the words, "In the style of Scott." - -Fendant and Cavalier were in great need of a success. A single good -book might float their sunken bales, they thought; and there was the -alluring prospect besides of articles in the newspapers, the great way -of promoting sales in those days. A book is very seldom bought and -sold for its just value, and purchases are determined by -considerations quite other than the merits of the work. So Fendant and -Cavalier thought of Lucien as a journalist, and of his book as a -salable article, which would help them to tide over their monthly -settlement. - -The partners occupied the ground floor of one of the great old- -fashioned houses in the Rue Serpente; their private office had been -contrived at the further end of a suite of large drawing-rooms, now -converted into warehouses for books. Lucien and Etienne found the -publishers in their office, the agreement drawn up, and the bills -ready. Lucien wondered at such prompt action. - -Fendant was short and thin, and by no means reassuring of aspect. With -his low, narrow forehead, sunken nose, and hard mouth, he looked like -a Kalmuck Tartar; a pair of small, wide-awake black eyes, the crabbed -irregular outline of his countenance, a voice like a cracked bell--the -man's whole appearance, in fact, combined to give the impression that -this was a consummate rascal. A honeyed tongue compensated for these -disadvantages, and he gained his ends by talk. Cavalier, a stout, -thick-set young fellow, looked more like the driver of a mail coach -than a publisher; he had hair of a sandy color, a fiery red -countenance, and the heavy build and untiring tongue of a commercial -traveler. - -"There is no need to discuss this affair," said Fendant, addressing -Lucien and Lousteau. "I have read the work, it is very literary, and -so exactly the kind of thing we want, that I have sent it off as it is -to the printer. The agreement is drawn on the lines laid down, and -besides, we always make the same stipulations in all cases. The bills -fall due in six, nine, and twelve months respectively; you will meet -with no difficulty in discounting them, and we will refund you the -discount. We have reserved the right of giving a new title to the -book. We don't care for The Archer of Charles IX.; it doesn't tickle -the reader's curiosity sufficiently; there were several kings of that -name, you see, and there were so many archers in the Middle Ages. If -you had only called it the Soldier of Napoleon, now! But The Archer of -Charles IX.!--why, Cavalier would have to give a course of history -lessons before he could place a copy anywhere in the provinces." - -"If you but knew the class of people that we have to do with!" -exclaimed Cavalier. - -"Saint Bartholomew would suit better," continued Fendant. - -"Catherine de' Medici, or France under Charles IX., would sound more -like one of Scott's novels," added Cavalier. - -"We will settle it when the work is printed," said Fendant. - -"Do as you please, so long as I approve your title," said Lucien. - -The agreement was read over, signed in duplicate, and each of the -contracting parties took their copy. Lucien put the bills in his -pocket with unequaled satisfaction, and the four repaired to Fendant's -abode, where they breakfasted on beefsteaks and oysters, kidneys in -champagne, and Brie cheese; but if the fare was something of the -homeliest, the wines were exquisite; Cavalier had an acquaintance a -traveler in the wine trade. Just as they sat down to table the printer -appeared, to Lucien's surprise, with the first two proof-sheets. - -"We want to get on with it," Fendant said; "we are counting on your -book; we want a success confoundedly badly." - -The breakfast, begun at noon, lasted till five o'clock. - -"Where shall we get cash for these things?" asked Lucien as they came -away, somewhat heated and flushed with the wine. - -"We might try Barbet," suggested Etienne, and they turned down to the -Quai des Augustins. - -"Coralie is astonished to the highest degree over Florine's loss. -Florine only told her about it yesterday; she seemed to lay the blame -of it on you, and was so vexed, that she was ready to throw you over." - -"That's true," said Lousteau. Wine had got the better of prudence, and -he unbosomed himself to Lucien, ending up with: "My friend--for you -are my friend, Lucien; you lent me a thousand francs, and you have -only once asked me for the money--shun play! If I had never touched a -card, I should be a happy man. I owe money all round. At this moment I -have the bailiffs at my heels; indeed, when I go to the Palais Royal, -I have dangerous capes to double." - -In the language of the fast set, doubling a cape meant dodging a -creditor, or keeping out of his way. Lucien had not heard the -expression before, but he was familiar with the practice by this time. - -"Are your debts so heavy?" - -"A mere trifle," said Lousteau. "A thousand crowns would pull me -through. I have resolved to turn steady and give up play, and I have -done a little 'chantage' to pay my debts." - -"What is 'chantage'?" asked Lucien. - -"It is an English invention recently imported. A 'chanteur' is a man -who can manage to put a paragraph in the papers--never an editor nor a -responsible man, for they are not supposed to know anything about it, -and there is always a Giroudeau or a Philippe Bridau to be found. A -bravo of this stamp finds up somebody who has his own reasons for not -wanting to be talked about. Plenty of people have a few peccadilloes, -or some more or less original sin, upon their consciences; there are -plenty of fortunes made in ways that would not bear looking into; -sometimes a man has kept the letter of the law, and sometimes he has -not; and in either case, there is a tidbit of tattle for the inquirer, -as, for instance, that tale of Fouche's police surrounding the spies -of the Prefect of Police, who, not being in the secret of the -fabrication of forged English banknotes, were just about to pounce on -the clandestine printers employed by the Minister, or there is the -story of Prince Galathionne's diamonds, the Maubreuile affair, or the -Pombreton will case. The 'chanteur' gets possession of some -compromising letter, asks for an interview; and if the man that made -the money does not buy silence, the 'chanteur' draws a picture of the -press ready to take the matter up and unravel his private affairs. The -rich man is frightened, he comes down with the money, and the trick -succeeds. - -"You are committed to some risky venture, which might easily be -written down in a series of articles; a 'chanteur' waits upon you, and -offers to withdraw the articles--for a consideration. 'Chanteurs' are -sent to men in office, who will bargain that their acts and not their -private characters are to be attacked, or they are heedless of their -characters, and anxious only to shield the woman they love. One of -your acquaintance, that charming Master of Requests des Lupeaulx, is a -kind of agent for affairs of this sort. The rascal has made a position -for himself in the most marvelous way in the very centre of power; he -is the middle-man of the press and the ambassador of the Ministers; he -works upon a man's self-love; he bribes newspapers to pass over a loan -in silence, or to make no comment on a contract which was never put up -for public tender, and the jackals of Liberal bankers get a share out -of it. That was a bit of 'chantage' that you did with Dauriat; he gave -you a thousand crowns to let Nathan alone. In the eighteenth century, -when journalism was still in its infancy, this kind of blackmail was -levied by pamphleteers in the pay of favorites and great lords. The -original inventor was Pietro Aretino, a great Italian. Kings went in -fear of him, as stage-players go in fear of a newspaper to-day." - -"What did you do to the Matifat to make the thousand crowns?" - -"I attacked Florine in half a dozen papers. Florine complained to -Matifat. Matifat went to Braulard to find out what the attacks meant. -I did my 'chantage' for Finot's benefit, and Finot put Braulard on the -wrong scent; Braulard told the man of drugs that YOU were demolishing -Florine in Coralie's interest. Then Giroudeau went round to Matifat -and told him (in confidence) that the whole business could be -accommodated if he (Matifat) would consent to sell his sixth share in -Finot's review for ten thousand francs. Finot was to give me a -thousand crowns if the dodge succeeded. Well, Matifat was only too -glad to get back ten thousand francs out of the thirty thousand -invested in a risky speculation, as he thought, for Florine had been -telling him for several days past that Finot's review was doing badly; -and, instead of paying a dividend, something was said of calling up -more capital. So Matifat was just about to close with the offer, when -the manager of the Panorama-Dramatique comes to him with some -accommodation bills that he wanted to negotiate before filing his -schedule. To induce Matifat to take them of him, he let out a word of -Finot's trick. Matifat, being a shrewd man of business, took the hint, -held tight to his sixth, and is laughing in his sleeve at us. Finot -and I are howling with despair. We have been so misguided as to attack -a man who has no affection for his mistress, a heartless, soulless -wretch. Unluckily, too, for us, Matifat's business is not amenable to -the jurisdiction of the press, and he cannot be made to smart for it -through his interests. A druggist is not like a hatter or a milliner, -or a theatre or a work of art; he is above criticism; you can't run -down his opium and dyewoods, nor cocoa beans, paint, and pepper. -Florine is at her wits' end; the Panorama closes to-morrow, and what -will become of her she does not know." - -"Coralie's engagement at the Gymnase begins in a few days," said -Lucien; "she might do something for Florine." - -"Not she!" said Lousteau. "Coralie is not clever, but she is not quite -simple enough to help herself to a rival. We are in a mess with a -vengeance. And Finot is in such a hurry to buy back his sixth----" - -"Why?" - -"It is a capital bit of business, my dear fellow. There is a chance of -selling the paper for three hundred thousand francs; Finot would have -one-third, and his partners besides are going to pay him a commission, -which he will share with des Lupeaulx. So I propose to do another turn -of 'chantage.' " - -" 'Chantage' seems to mean your money or your life?" - -"It is better than that," said Lousteau; "it is your money or your -character. A short time ago the proprietor of a minor newspaper was -refused credit. The day before yesterday it was announced in his -columns that a gold repeater set with diamonds belonging to a certain -notability had found its way in a curious fashion into the hands of a -private soldier in the Guards; the story promised to the readers might -have come from the Arabian Nights. The notability lost no time in -asking that editor to dine with him; the editor was distinctly a -gainer by the transaction, and contemporary history has lost an -anecdote. Whenever the press makes vehement onslaughts upon some one -in power, you may be sure that there is some refusal to do a service -behind it. Blackmailing with regard to private life is the terror of -the richest Englishman, and a great source of wealth to the press in -England, which is infinitely more corrupt than ours. We are children -in comparison! In England they will pay five or six thousand francs -for a compromising letter to sell again." - -"Then how can you lay hold of Matifat?" asked Lucien. - -"My dear boy, that low tradesman wrote the queerest letters to -Florine; the spelling, style, and matter of them is ludicrous to the -last degree. We can strike him in the very midst of his Lares and -Penates, where he feels himself safest, without so much as mentioning -his name; and he cannot complain, for he lives in fear and terror of -his wife. Imagine his wrath when he sees the first number of a little -serial entitled the Amours of a Druggist, and is given fair warning -that his love-letters have fallen into the hands of certain -journalists. He talks about the 'little god Cupid,' he tells Florine -that she enables him to cross the desert of life (which looks as if he -took her for a camel), and spells 'never' with two v's. There is -enough in that immensely funny correspondence to bring an influx of -subscribers for a fortnight. He will shake in his shoes lest an -anonymous letter should supply his wife with the key to the riddle. -The question is whether Florine will consent to appear to persecute -Matifat. She has some principles, which is to say, some hopes, still -left. Perhaps she means to keep the letters and make something for -herself out of them. She is cunning, as befits my pupil. But as soon -as she finds out that a bailiff is no laughing matter, or Finot gives -her a suitable present or hopes of an engagement, she will give me the -letters, and I will sell them to Finot. Finot will put the -correspondence in his uncle's hands, and Giroudeau will bring Matifat -to terms." - -These confidences sobered Lucien. His first thought was that he had -some extremely dangerous friends; his second, that it would be -impolitic to break with them; for if Mme. d'Espard, Mme. de Bargeton, -and Chatelet should fail to keep their word with him, he might need -their terrible power yet. By this time Etienne and Lucien had reached -Barbet's miserable bookshop on the Quai. Etienne addressed Barbet: - -"We have five thousand francs' worth of bills at six, nine, and twelve -months, given by Fendant and Cavalier. Are you willing to discount -them for us?" - -"I will give you three thousand francs for them," said Barbet with -imperturbable coolness. - -"Three thousand francs!" echoed Lucien. - -"Nobody else will give you as much," rejoined the bookseller. "The -firm will go bankrupt before three months are out; but I happen to -know that they have some good books that are hanging on hand; they -cannot afford to wait, so I shall buy their stock for cash and pay -them with their own bills, and get the books at a reduction of two -thousand francs. That's how it is." - -"Do you mind losing a couple of thousand francs, Lucien?" asked -Lousteau. - -"Yes!" Lucien answered vehemently. He was dismayed by this first -rebuff. - -"You are making a mistake," said Etienne. - -"You won't find any one that will take their paper," said Barbet. -"Your book is their last stake, sir. The printer will not trust them; -they are obliged to leave the copies in pawn with him. If they make a -hit now, it will only stave off bankruptcy for another six months, -sooner or later they will have to go. They are cleverer at tippling -than at bookselling. In my own case, their bills mean business; and -that being so, I can afford to give more than a professional -discounter who simply looks at the signatures. It is a bill- -discounter's business to know whether the three names on a bill are -each good for thirty per cent in case of bankruptcy. And here at the -outset you only offer two signatures, and neither of them worth ten -per cent." - -The two journalists exchanged glances in surprise. Here was a little -scrub of a bookseller putting the essence of the art and mystery of -bill-discounting in these few words. - -"That will do, Barbet," said Lousteau. "Can you tell us of a bill- -broker that will look at us?" - -"There is Daddy Chaboisseau, on the Quai Saint-Michel, you know. He -tided Fendant over his last monthly settlement. If you won't listen to -my offer, you might go and see what he says to you; but you would only -come back to me, and then I shall offer you two thousand francs -instead of three." - -Etienne and Lucien betook themselves to the Quai Saint-Michel, and -found Chaboisseau in a little house with a passage entry. Chaboisseau, -a bill-discounter, whose dealings were principally with the book -trade, lived in a second-floor lodging furnished in the most eccentric -manner. A brevet-rank banker and millionaire to boot, he had a taste -for the classical style. The cornice was in the classical style; the -bedstead, in the purest classical taste, dated from the time of the -Empire, when such things were in fashion; the purple hangings fell -over the wall like the classic draperies in the background of one of -David's pictures. Chairs and tables, lamps and sconces, and every -least detail had evidently been sought with patient care in furniture -warehouses. There was the elegance of antiquity about the classic -revival as well as its fragile and somewhat arid grace. The man -himself, like his manner of life, was in grotesque contrast with the -airy mythological look of his rooms; and it may be remarked that the -most eccentric characters are found among men who give their whole -energies to money-making. - -Men of this stamp are, in a certain sense, intellectual libertines. -Everything is within their reach, consequently their fancy is jaded, -and they will make immense efforts to shake off their indifference. -The student of human nature can always discover some hobby, some -accessible weakness and sensitive spot in their heart. Chaboisseau -might have entrenched himself in antiquity as in an impregnable camp. - -"The man will be an antique to match, no doubt," said Etienne, -smiling. - -Chaboisseau, a little old person with powdered hair, wore a greenish -coat and snuff-brown waistcoat; he was tricked out besides in black -small-clothes, ribbed stockings, and shoes that creaked as he came -forward to take the bills. After a short scrutiny, he returned them to -Lucien with a serious countenance. - -"MM Fendant and Cavalier are delightful young fellows; they have -plenty of intelligence; but, I have no money," he said blandly. - -"My friend here would be willing to meet you in the matter of -discount----" Etienne began. - -"I would not take the bills on any consideration," returned the little -broker. The words slid down upon Lousteau's suggestion like the blade -of the guillotine on a man's neck. - -The two friends withdrew; but as Chaboisseau went prudently out with -them across the ante-chamber, Lucien noticed a pile of second-hand -books. Chaboisseau had been in the trade, and this was a recent -purchase. Shining conspicuous among them, he noticed a copy of a work -by the architect Ducereau, which gives exceedingly accurate plans of -various royal palaces and chateaux in France. - -"Could you let me have that book?" he asked. - -"Yes," said Chaboisseau, transformed into a bookseller. - -"How much?" - -"Fifty francs." - -"It is dear, but I want it. And I can only pay you with one of the -bills which you refuse to take." - -"You have a bill there for five hundred francs at six months; I will -take that one of you," said Chaboisseau. - -Apparently at the last statement of accounts, there had been a balance -of five hundred francs in favor of Fendant and Cavalier. - -They went back to the classical department. Chaboisseau made out a -little memorandum, interest so much and commission so much, total -deduction thirty francs, then he subtracted fifty francs for -Ducerceau's book; finally, from a cash-box full of coin, he took four -hundred and twenty francs. - -"Look here, though, M. Chaboisseau, the bills are either all of them -good, or all bad alike; why don't you take the rest?" - -"This is not discounting; I am paying myself for a sale," said the old -man. - -Etienne and Lucien were still laughing at Chaboisseau, without -understanding him, when they reached Dauriat's shop, and Etienne asked -Gabusson to give them the name of a bill-broker. Gabusson thus -appealed to gave them a letter of introduction to a broker in the -Boulevard Poissonniere, telling them at the same time that this was -the "oddest and queerest party" (to use his own expression) that he, -Gabusson, had come across. The friends took a cab by the hour, and -went to the address. - -"If Samanon won't take your bills," Gabusson had said, "nobody else -will look at them." - -A second-hand bookseller on the ground floor, a second-hand clothes- -dealer on the first story, and a seller of indecent prints on the -second, Samanon carried on a fourth business--he was a money-lender -into the bargain. No character in Hoffmann's romances, no sinister- -brooding miser of Scott's, can compare with this freak of human and -Parisian nature (always admitting that Samanon was human). In spite of -himself, Lucien shuddered at the sight of the dried-up little old -creature, whose bones seemed to be cutting a leather skin, spotted -with all sorts of little green and yellow patches, like a portrait by -Titian or Veronese when you look at it closely. One of Samanon's eyes -was fixed and glassy, the other lively and bright; he seemed to keep -that dead eye for the bill-discounting part of his profession, and the -other for the trade in the pornographic curiosities upstairs. A few -stray white hairs escaping from under a small, sleek, rusty black wig, -stood erect above a sallow forehead with a suggestion of menace about -it; a hollow trench in either cheek defined the outline of the jaws; -while a set of projecting teeth, still white, seemed to stretch the -skin of the lips with the effect of an equine yawn. The contrast -between the ill-assorted eyes and grinning mouth gave Samanon a -passably ferocious air; and the very bristles on the man's chin looked -stiff and sharp as pins. - -Nor was there the slightest sign about him of any desire to redeem a -sinister appearance by attention to the toilet; his threadbare jacket -was all but dropping to pieces; a cravat, which had once been black, -was frayed by contact with a stubble chin, and left on exhibition a -throat as wrinkled as a turkey-gobbler's. - -This was the individual whom Etienne and Lucien discovered in his -filthy counting-house, busily affixing tickets to the backs of a -parcel of books from a recent sale. In a glance, the friends exchanged -the innumerable questions raised by the existence of such a creature; -then they presented Gabusson's introduction and Fendant and Cavalier's -bills. Samanon was still reading the note when a third comer entered, -the wearer of a short jacket, which seemed in the dimly-lighted shop -to be cut out of a piece of zinc roofing, so solid was it by reason of -alloy with all kinds of foreign matter. Oddly attired as he was, the -man was an artist of no small intellectual power, and ten years later -he was destined to assist in the inauguration of the great but ill- -founded Saint-Simonian system. - -"I want my coat, my black trousers, and satin waistcoat," said this -person, pressing a numbered ticket on Samanon's attention. Samanon -touched the brass button of a bell-pull, and a woman came down from -some upper region, a Normande apparently, to judge by her rich, fresh -complexion. - -"Let the gentleman have his clothes," said Samanon, holding out a hand -to the newcomer. "It's a pleasure to do business with you, sir; but -that youngster whom one of your friends introduced to me took me in -most abominably." - -"Took HIM in!" chuckled the newcomer, pointing out Samanon to the two -journalists with an extremely comical gesture. The great man dropped -thirty sous into the money-lender's yellow, wrinkled hand; like the -Neapolitan lazzaroni, he was taking his best clothes out of pawn for a -state occasion. The coins dropped jingling into the till. - -"What queer business are you up to?" asked Lousteau of the artist, an -opium-eater who dwelt among visions of enchanted palaces till he -either could not or would not create. - -"HE lends you a good deal more than an ordinary pawnbroker on anything -you pledge; and, besides, he is so awfully charitable, he allows you -to take your clothes out when you must have something to wear. I am -going to dine with the Kellers and my mistress to-night," he -continued; "and to me it is easier to find thirty sous than two -hundred francs, so I keep my wardrobe here. It has brought the -charitable usurer a hundred francs in the last six months. Samanon has -devoured my library already, volume by volume" (livre a livre). - -"And sou by sou," Lousteau said with a laugh. - -"I will let you have fifteen hundred francs," said Samanon, looking -up. - -Lucien started, as if the bill-broker had thrust a red-hot skewer -through his heart. Samanon was subjecting the bills and their dates to -a close scrutiny. - -"And even then," he added, "I must see Fendant first. He ought to -deposit some books with me. You aren't worth much" (turning to -Lucien); "you are living with Coralie, and your furniture has been -attached." - -Lousteau, watching Lucien, saw him take up his bills, and dash out -into the street. "He is the devil himself!" exclaimed the poet. For -several seconds he stood outside gazing at the shop front. The whole -place was so pitiful, that a passer-by could not see it without -smiling at the sight, and wondering what kind of business a man could -do among those mean, dirty shelves of ticketed books. - -A very few moments later, the great man, in incognito, came out, very -well dressed, smiled at his friends, and turned to go with them in the -direction of the Passage des Panoramas, where he meant to complete his -toilet by the polishing of his boots. - -"If you see Samanon in a bookseller's shop, or calling on a paper- -merchant or a printer, you may know that it is all over with that -man," said the artist. "Samanon is the undertaker come to take the -measurements for a coffin." - -"You won't discount your bills now, Lucien," said Etienne. - -"If Samanon will not take them, nobody else will; he is the ultima -ratio," said the stranger. "He is one of Gigonnet's lambs, a spy for -Palma, Werbrust, Gobseck, and the rest of those crocodiles who swim in -the Paris money-market. Every man with a fortune to make, or unmake, -is sure to come across one of them sooner or later." - -"If you cannot discount your bills at fifty per cent," remarked -Lousteau, "you must exchange them for hard cash." - -"How?" - -"Give them to Coralie; Camusot will cash them for her.--You are -disgusted," added Lousteau, as Lucien cut him short with a start. -"What nonsense! How can you allow such a silly scruple to turn the -scale, when your future is in the balance?" - -"I shall take this money to Coralie in any case," began Lucien. - -"Here is more folly!" cried Lousteau. "You will not keep your -creditors quiet with four hundred francs when you must have four -thousand. Let us keep a little and get drunk on it, if we lose the -rest at rouge et noir." - -"That is sound advice," said the great man. - -Those words, spoken not four paces from Frascati's, were magnetic in -their effect. The friends dismissed their cab and went up to the -gaming-table. - -At the outset they won three thousand francs, then they lost and fell -to five hundred; again they won three thousand seven hundred francs, -and again they lost all but a five-franc piece. After another turn of -luck they staked two thousand francs on an even number to double the -stake at a stroke; an even number had not turned up for five times in -succession, and this was the sixth time. They punted the whole sum, -and an odd number turned up once more. - -After two hours of all-absorbing, frenzied excitement, the two dashed -down the staircase with the hundred francs kept back for the dinner. -Upon the steps, between two pillars which support the little sheet- -iron veranda to which so many eyes have been upturned in longing or -despair, Lousteau stopped and looked into Lucien's flushed, excited -face. - -"Let us just try fifty francs," he said. - -And up the stairs again they went. An hour later they owned a thousand -crowns. Black had turned up for the fifth consecutive time; they -trusted that their previous luck would not repeat itself, and put the -whole sum on the red--black turned up for the sixth time. They had -lost. It was now six o'clock. - -"Let us just try twenty-five francs," said Lucien. - -The new venture was soon made--and lost. The twenty-five francs went -in five stakes. Then Lucien, in a frenzy, flung down his last twenty- -five francs on the number of his age, and won. No words can describe -how his hands trembled as he raked in the coins which the bank paid -him one by one. He handed ten louis to Lousteau. - -"Fly!" he cried; "take it to Very's." - -Lousteau took the hint and went to order dinner. Lucien, left alone, -laid his thirty louis on the red and won. Emboldened by the inner -voice which a gambler always hears, he staked the whole again on the -red, and again he won. He felt as if there were a furnace within him. -Without heeding the voice, he laid a hundred and twenty louis on the -black and lost. Then to the torturing excitement of suspense succeeded -the delicious feeling of relief known to the gambler who has nothing -left to lose, and must perforce leave the palace of fire in which his -dreams melt and vanish. - -He found Lousteau at Very's, and flung himself upon the cookery (to -make use of Lafontaine's expression), and drowned his cares in wine. -By nine o'clock his ideas were so confused that he could not imagine -why the portress in the Rue de Vendome persisted in sending him to the -Rue de la Lune. - -"Mlle. Coralie has gone," said the woman. "She has taken lodgings -elsewhere. She left her address with me on this scrap of paper." - -Lucien was too far gone to be surprised at anything. He went back to -the cab which had brought him, and was driven to the Rue de la Lune, -making puns to himself on the name of the street as he went. - -The news of the failure of the Panorama-Dramatique had come like a -thunder-clap. Coralie, taking alarm, made haste to sell her furniture -(with the consent of her creditors) to little old Cardot, who -installed Florentine in the rooms at once. The tradition of the house -remained unbroken. Coralie paid her creditors and satisfied the -landlord, proceeding with her "washing-day," as she called it, while -Berenice bought the absolutely indispensable necessaries to furnish a -fourth-floor lodging in the Rue de la Lune, a few doors from the -Gymnase. Here Coralie was waiting for Lucien's return. She had brought -her love unsullied out of the shipwreck and twelve hundred francs. - -Lucien, more than half intoxicated, poured out his woes to Coralie and -Berenice. - -"You did quite right, my angel," said Coralie, with her arms about his -neck. "Berenice can easily negotiate your bills with Braulard." - -The next morning Lucien awoke to an enchanted world of happiness made -about him by Coralie. She was more loving and tender in those days -than she had ever been; perhaps she thought that the wealth of love in -her heart should make him amends for the poverty of their lodging. She -looked bewitchingly charming, with the loose hair straying from under -the crushed white silk handkerchief about her head; there was soft -laughter in her eyes; her words were as bright as the first rays of -sunrise that shone in through the windows, pouring a flood of gold -upon such charming poverty. - -Not that the room was squalid. The walls were covered with a sea-green -paper, bordered with red; there was one mirror over the chimney-piece, -and a second above the chest of drawers. The bare boards were covered -with a cheap carpet, which Berenice had bought in spite of Coralie's -orders, and paid for out of her own little store. A wardrobe, with a -glass door and a chest, held the lovers' clothing, the mahogany chairs -were covered with blue cotton stuff, and Berenice had managed to save -a clock and a couple of china vases from the catastrophe, as well as -four spoons and forks and half-a-dozen little spoons. The bedroom was -entered from the dining-room, which might have belonged to a clerk -with an income of twelve hundred francs. The kitchen was next the -landing, and Berenice slept above in an attic. The rent was not more -than a hundred crowns. - -The dismal house boasted a sham carriage entrance, the porter's box -being contrived behind one of the useless leaves of the gate, and -lighted by a peephole through which that personage watched the comings -and goings of seventeen families, for this hive was a "good-paying -property," in auctioneer's phrase. - -Lucien, looking round the room, discovered a desk, an easy-chair, -paper, pens, and ink. The sight of Berenice in high spirits (she was -building hopes on Coralie's debut at the Gymnase), and of Coralie -herself conning her part with a knot of blue ribbon tied about it, -drove all cares and anxieties from the sobered poet's mind. - -"So long as nobody in society hears of this sudden comedown, we shall -pull through," he said. "After all, we have four thousand five hundred -francs before us. I will turn my new position in Royalist journalism -to account. To-morrow we shall start the Reveil; I am an old hand now, -and I will make something out." - -And Coralie, seeing nothing but love in the words, kissed the lips -that uttered them. By this time Berenice had set the table near the -fire and served a modest breakfast of scrambled eggs, a couple of -cutlets, coffee, and cream. Just then there came a knock at the door, -and Lucien, to his astonishment, beheld three of his loyal friends of -old days--d'Arthez, Leon Giraud, and Michel Chrestien. He was deeply -touched, and asked them to share the breakfast. - -"No; we have come on more serious business than condolence," said -d'Arthez; "we know the whole story, we have just come from the Rue de -Vendome. You know my opinions, Lucien. Under any other circumstances I -should be glad to hear that you had adopted my political convictions; -but situated as you are with regard to the Liberal Press, it is -impossible for you to go over to the Ultras. Your life will be -sullied, your character blighted for ever. We have come to entreat you -in the name of our friendship, weakened though it may be, not to soil -yourself in this way. You have been prominent in attacking the -Romantics, the Right, and the Government; you cannot now declare for -the Government; the Right, and the Romantics." - -"My reasons for the change are based on lofty grounds; the end will -justify the means," said Lucien. - -"Perhaps you do not fully comprehend our position on the side of the -Government," said Leon Giraud. "The Government, the Court, the -Bourbons, the Absolutist Party, or to sum up in the general -expression, the whole system opposed to the constitutional system, may -be divided upon the question of the best means of extinguishing the -Revolution, but is unanimous as to the advisability of extinguishing -the newspapers. The Reveil, the Foudre, and the Drapeau Blanc have all -been founded for the express purpose of replying to the slander, -gibes, and railing of the Liberal press. I cannot approve them, for it -is precisely this failure to recognize the grandeur of our priesthood -that has led us to bring out a serious and self-respecting paper; -which perhaps," he added parenthetically, "may exercise a worthy -influence before very long, and win respect, and carry weight; but -this Royalist artillery is destined for a first attempt at reprisals, -the Liberals are to be paid back in their own coin--shaft for shaft, -wound for wound. - -"What can come of it Lucien? The majority of newspaper readers incline -for the Left; and in the press, as in warfare, the victory is with the -big battalions. You will be blackguards, liars, enemies of the people; -the other side will be defenders of their country, martyrs, men to be -held in honor, though they may be even more hypocritical and slippery -than their opponents. In these ways the pernicious influence of the -press will be increased, while the most odious form of journalism will -receive sanction. Insult and personalities will become a recognized -privilege of the press; newspapers have taken this tone in the -subscribers' interests; and when both sides have recourse to the same -weapons, the standard is set and the general tone of journalism taken -for granted. When the evil is developed to its fullest extent, -restrictive laws will be followed by prohibitions; there will be a -return of the censorship of the press imposed after the assassination -of the Duc de Berri, and repealed since the opening of the Chambers. -And do you know what the nation will conclude from the debate? The -people will believe the insinuations of the Liberal press; they will -think that the Bourbons mean to attack the rights of property acquired -by the Revolution, and some fine day they will rise and shake off the -Bourbons. You are not only soiling your life, Lucien, you are going -over to the losing side. You are too young, too lately a journalist, -too little initiated into the secret springs of motive and the tricks -of the craft, you have aroused too much jealousy, not to fall a victim -to the general hue and cry that will be raised against you in the -Liberal newspapers. You will be drawn into the fray by party spirit -now still at fever-heat; though the fever, which spent itself in -violence in 1815 and 1816, now appears in debates in the Chamber and -polemics in the papers." - -"I am not quite a featherhead, my friends," said Lucien, "though you -may choose to see a poet in me. Whatever may happen, I shall gain one -solid advantage which no Liberal victory can give me. By the time your -victory is won, I shall have gained my end." - -"We will cut off--your hair," said Michel Chrestien, with a laugh. - -"I shall have my children by that time," said Lucien; "and if you cut -off my head, it will not matter." - -The three could make nothing of Lucien. Intercourse with the great -world had developed in him the pride of caste, the vanities of the -aristocrat. The poet thought, and not without reason, that there was a -fortune in his good looks and intellect, accompanied by the name and -title of Rubempre. Mme. d'Espard and Mme. de Bargeton held him fast by -this clue, as a child holds a cockchafer by a string. Lucien's flight -was circumscribed. The words, "He is one of us, he is sound," -accidentally overheard but three days ago in Mlle. de Touches' salon, -had turned his head. The Duc de Lenoncourt, the Duc de Navarreins, the -Duc de Grandlieu, Rastignac, Blondet, the lovely Duchesse de -Maufrigneuse, the Comte d'Escrignon, and des Lupeaulx, all the most -influential people at Court in fact, had congratulated him on his -conversion, and completed his intoxication. - -"Then there is no more to be said," d'Arthez rejoined. "You, of all -men, will find it hard to keep clean hands and self-respect. I know -you, Lucien; you will feel it acutely when you are despised by the -very men to whom you offer yourself." - -The three took leave, and not one of them gave him a friendly -handshake. Lucien was thoughtful and sad for a few minutes. - -"Oh! never mind those ninnies," cried Coralie, springing upon his knee -and putting her beautiful arms about his neck. "They take life -seriously, and life is a joke. Besides, you are going to be Count -Lucien de Rubempre. I will wheedle the Chancellerie if there is no -other way. I know how to come round that rake of a des Lupeaulx, who -will sign your patent. Did I not tell you, Lucien, that at the last -you should have Coralie's dead body for a stepping stone?" - -Next day Lucien allowed his name to appear in the list of contributors -to the Reveil. His name was announced in the prospectus with a -flourish of trumpets, and the Ministry took care that a hundred -thousand copies should be scattered abroad far and wide. There was a -dinner at Robert's, two doors away from Frascati's, to celebrate the -inauguration, and the whole band of Royalist writers for the press -were present. Martainville was there, and Auger and Destains, and a -host of others, still living, who "did Monarchy and religion," to use -the familiar expression coined for them. Nathan had also enlisted -under the banner, for he was thinking of starting a theatre, and not -unreasonably held that it was better to have the licensing authorities -for him than against him. - -"We will pay the Liberals out," cried Merlin. - -"Gentlemen," said Nathan, "if we are for war, let us have war in -earnest; we must not carry it on with pop-guns. Let us fall upon all -Classicals and Liberals without distinction of age or sex, and put -them all to the sword with ridicule. There must be no quarter." - -"We must act honorably; there must be no bribing with copies of books -or presents; no taking money of publishers. We must inaugurate a -Restoration of Journalism." - -"Good!" said Martainville. "Justum et tenacem propositi virum! Let us -be implacable and virulent. I will give out La Fayette for the prince -of harlequins that he is!" - -"And I will undertake the heroes of the Constitutionnel," added -Lucien; "Sergeant Mercier, M. Jouy's Complete Works, and 'the -illustrious orators of the Left.' " - -A war of extermination was unanimously resolved upon, and by one -o'clock in the morning all shades of opinion were merged and drowned, -together with every glimmer of sense, in a flaming bowl of punch. - -"We have had a fine Monarchical and Religious jollification," remarked -an illustrious reveler in the doorway as he went. - -That comment appeared in the next day's issue of the Miroir through -the good offices of a publisher among the guests, and became historic. -Lucien was supposed to be the traitor who blabbed. His defection gave -the signal for a terrific hubbub in the Liberal camp; Lucien was the -butt of the Opposition newspapers, and ridiculed unmercifully. The -whole history of his sonnets was given to the public. Dauriat was said -to prefer a first loss of a thousand crowns to the risk of publishing -the verses; Lucien was called "the Poet sans Sonnets;" and one -morning, in that very paper in which he had so brilliant a beginning, -he read the following lines, significant enough for him, but barely -intelligible to other readers: - - *** "If M. Dauriat persistently withholds the Sonnets of the - future Petrarch from publication, we will act like generous foes. - We will open our own columns to his poems, which must be piquant - indeed, to judge by the following specimen obligingly communicated - by a friend of the author." - -And close upon that ominous preface followed a sonnet entitled "The -Thistle" (le Chardon): - - A chance-come seedling, springing up one day - Among the flowers in a garden fair, - Made boast that splendid colors bright and rare - Its claims to lofty lineage should display. - - So for a while they suffered it to stay; - But with such insolence it flourished there, - That, out of patience with its braggart's air, - They bade it prove its claims without delay. - - It bloomed forthwith; but ne'er was blundering clown - Upon the boards more promptly hooted down; - The sister flowers began to jeer and laugh. - - The owner flung it out. At close of day - A solitary jackass came to bray-- - A common Thistle's fitting epitaph. - -Lucien read the words through scalding tears. - -Vernou touched elsewhere on Lucien's gambling propensities, and spoke -of the forthcoming Archer of Charles IX. as "anti-national" in its -tendency, the writer siding with Catholic cut-throats against their -Calvinist victims. - -Another week found the quarrel embittered. Lucien had counted upon his -friend Etienne; Etienne owed him a thousand francs, and there had been -besides a private understanding between them; but Etienne Lousteau -during the interval became his sworn foe, and this was the manner of -it. - -For the past three months Nathan had been smitten with Florine's -charms, and much at a loss how to rid himself of Lousteau his rival, -who was in fact dependent upon the actress. And now came Nathan's -opportunity, when Florine was frantic with distress over the failure -of the Panorama-Dramatique, which left her without an engagement. He -went as Lucien's colleague to beg Coralie to ask for a part for -Florine in a play of his which was about to be produced at the -Gymnase. Then Nathan went to Florine and made capital with her out of -the service done by the promise of a conditional engagement. Ambition -turned Florine's head; she did not hesitate. She had had time to gauge -Lousteau pretty thoroughly. Lousteau's courses were weakening his -will, and here was Nathan with his ambitions in politics and -literature, and energies strong as his cravings. Florine proposed to -reappear on the stage with renewed eclat, so she handed over Matifat's -correspondence to Nathan. Nathan drove a bargain for them with -Matifat, and took the sixth share of Finot's review in exchange for -the compromising billets. After this, Florine was installed in -sumptuously furnished apartments in the Rue Hauteville, where she took -Nathan for her protector in the face of the theatrical and -journalistic world. - -Lousteau was terribly overcome. He wept (towards the close of a dinner -given by his friends to console him in his affliction). In the course -of that banquet it was decided that Nathan had not acted unfairly; -several writers present--Finot and Vernou, for instance,--knew of -Florine's fervid admiration for dramatic literature; but they all -agreed that Lucien had behaved very ill when he arranged that business -at the Gymnase; he had indeed broken the most sacred laws of -friendship. Party-spirit and zeal to serve his new friends had led the -Royalist poet on to sin beyond forgiveness. - -"Nathan was carried away by passion," pronounced Bixiou, "while this -'distinguished provincial,' as Blondet calls him, is simply scheming -for his own selfish ends." - -And so it came to pass that deep plots were laid by all parties alike -to rid themselves of this little upstart intruder of a poet who wanted -to eat everybody up. Vernou bore Lucien a personal grudge, and -undertook to keep a tight hand on him; and Finot declared that Lucien -had betrayed the secret of the combination against Matifat, and -thereby swindled him (Finot) out of fifty thousand francs. Nathan, -acting on Florine's advice, gained Finot's support by selling him the -sixth share for fifteen thousand francs, and Lousteau consequently -lost his commission. His thousand crowns had vanished away; he could -not forgive Lucien for this treacherous blow (as he supposed it) dealt -to his interests. The wounds of vanity refuse to heal if oxide of -silver gets into them. - -No words, no amount of description, can depict the wrath of an author -in a paroxysm of mortified vanity, nor the energy which he discovers -when stung by the poisoned darts of sarcasm; but, on the other hand, -the man that is roused to fighting-fury by a personal attack usually -subsides very promptly. The more phlegmatic race, who take these -things quietly, lay their account with the oblivion which speedily -overtakes the spiteful article. These are the truly courageous men of -letters; and if the weaklings seem at first to be the strong men, they -cannot hold out for any length of time. - -During that first fortnight, while the fury was upon him, Lucien -poured a perfect hailstorm of articles into the Royalist papers, in -which he shared the responsibilities of criticism with Hector Merlin. -He was always in the breach, pounding away with all his might in the -Reveil, backed up by Martainville, the only one among his associates -who stood by him without an afterthought. Martainville was not in the -secret of certain understandings made and ratified amid after-dinner -jokes, or at Dauriat's in the Wooden Galleries, or behind the scenes -at the Vaudeville, when journalists of either side met on neutral -ground. - -When Lucien went to the greenroom of the Vaudeville, he met with no -welcome; the men of his own party held out a hand to shake, the others -cut him; and all the while Hector Merlin and Theodore Gaillard -fraternized unblushingly with Finot, Lousteau, and Vernou, and the -rest of the journalists who were known for "good fellows." - -The greenroom of the Vaudeville in those days was a hotbed of gossip, -as well as a neutral ground where men of every shade of opinion could -meet; so much so that the President of a court of law, after reproving -a learned brother in a certain council chamber for "sweeping the -greenroom with his gown," met the subject of his strictures, gown to -gown, in the greenroom of the Vaudeville. Lousteau, in time, shook -hands again with Nathan; Finot came thither almost every evening; and -Lucien, whenever he could spare the time, went to the Vaudeville to -watch the enemies, who showed no sign of relenting towards the -unfortunate boy. - -In the time of the Restoration party hatred was far more bitter than -in our day. Intensity of feeling is diminished in our high-pressure -age. The critic cuts a book to pieces and shakes hands with the author -afterwards, and the victim must keep on good terms with his -slaughterer, or run the gantlet of innumerable jokes at his expense. -If he refuses, he is unsociable, eaten up with self-love, he is sulky -and rancorous, he bears malice, he is a bad bed-fellow. To-day let an -author receive a treacherous stab in the back, let him avoid the -snares set for him with base hypocrisy, and endure the most unhandsome -treatment, he must still exchange greetings with his assassin, who, -for that matter, claims the esteem and friendship of his victim. -Everything can be excused and justified in an age which has -transformed vice into virtue and virtue into vice. Good-fellowship has -come to be the most sacred of our liberties; the representatives of -the most opposite opinions courteously blunt the edge of their words, -and fence with buttoned foils. But in those almost forgotten days the -same theatre could scarcely hold certain Royalist and Liberal -journalists; the most malignant provocation was offered, glances were -like pistol-shots, the least spark produced an explosion of quarrel. -Who has not heard his neighbor's half-smothered oath on the entrance -of some man in the forefront of the battle on the opposing side? There -were but two parties--Royalists and Liberals, Classics and Romantics. -You found the same hatred masquerading in either form, and no longer -wondered at the scaffolds of the Convention. - -Lucien had been a Liberal and a hot Voltairean; now he was a rabid -Royalist and a Romantic. Martainville, the only one among his -colleagues who really liked him and stood by him loyally, was more -hated by the Liberals than any man on the Royalist side, and this fact -drew down all the hate of the Liberals on Lucien's head. -Martainville's staunch friendship injured Lucien. Political parties -show scanty gratitude to outpost sentinels, and leave leaders of -forlorn hopes to their fate; 'tis a rule of warfare which holds -equally good in matters political, to keep with the main body of the -army if you mean to succeed. The spite of the small Liberal papers -fastened at once on the opportunity of coupling the two names, and -flung them into each other's arms. Their friendship, real or -imaginary, brought down upon them both a series of articles written by -pens dipped in gall. Felicien Vernou was furious with jealousy of -Lucien's social success; and believed, like all his old associates, in -the poet's approaching elevation. - -The fiction of Lucien's treason was embellished with every kind of -aggravating circumstance; he was called Judas the Less, Martainville -being Judas the Great, for Martainville was supposed (rightly or -wrongly) to have given up the Bridge of Pecq to the foreign invaders. -Lucien said jestingly to des Lupeaulx that he himself, surely, had -given up the Asses' Bridge. - -Lucien's luxurious life, hollow though it was, and founded on -expectations, had estranged his friends. They could not forgive him -for the carriage which he had put down--for them he was still rolling -about in it--nor yet for the splendors of the Rue de Vendome which he -had left. All of them felt instinctively that nothing was beyond the -reach of this young and handsome poet, with intellect enough and to -spare; they themselves had trained him in corruption; and, therefore, -they left no stone unturned to ruin him. - -Some few days before Coralie's first appearance at the Gymnase, Lucien -and Hector Merlin went arm-in-arm to the Vaudeville. Merlin was -scolding his friend for giving a helping hand to Nathan in Florine's -affair. - -"You then and there made two mortal enemies of Lousteau and Nathan," -he said. "I gave you good advice, and you took no notice of it. You -gave praise, you did them a good turn--you will be well punished for -your kindness. Florine and Coralie will never live in peace on the -same stage; both will wish to be first. You can only defend Coralie in -our papers; and Nathan not only has a pull as a dramatic author, he -can control the dramatic criticism in the Liberal newspapers. He has -been a journalist a little longer than you!" - -The words responded to Lucien's inward misgivings. Neither Nathan nor -Gaillard was treating him with the frankness which he had a right to -expect, but so new a convert could hardly complain. Gaillard utterly -confounded Lucien by saying roundly that newcomers must give proofs of -their sincerity for some time before their party could trust them. -There was more jealousy than he had imagined in the inner circles of -Royalist and Ministerial journalism. The jealousy of curs fighting for -a bone is apt to appear in the human species when there is a loaf to -divide; there is the same growling and showing of teeth, the same -characteristics come out. - -In every possible way these writers of articles tried to injure each -other with those in power; they brought reciprocal accusations of -lukewarm zeal; they invented the most treacherous ways of getting rid -of a rival. There had been none of this internecine warfare among the -Liberals; they were too far from power, too hopelessly out of favor; -and Lucien, amid the inextricable tangle of ambitions, had neither the -courage to draw sword and cut the knot, or the patience to unravel it. -He could not be the Beaumarchais, the Aretino, the Freron of his -epoch; he was not made of such stuff; he thought of nothing but his -one desire, the patent of nobility; for he saw clearly that for him -such a restoration meant a wealthy marriage, and, the title once -secured, chance and his good looks would do the rest. This was all his -plan, and Etienne Lousteau, who had confided so much to him, knew his -secret, knew how to deal a deathblow to the poet of Angouleme. That -very night, as Lucien and Merlin went to the Vaudeville, Etienne had -laid a terrible trap, into which an inexperienced boy could not but -fall. - -"Here is our handsome Lucien," said Finot, drawing des Lupeaulx in the -direction of the poet, and shaking hands with feline amiability. "I -cannot think of another example of such rapid success," continued -Finot, looking from des Lupeaulx to Lucien. "There are two sorts of -success in Paris: there is a fortune in solid cash, which any one can -amass, and there is the intangible fortune of connections, position, -or a footing in certain circles inaccessible for certain persons, -however rich they may be. Now my friend here----" - -"Our friend," interposed des Lupeaulx, smiling blandly. - -"Our friend," repeated Finot, patting Lucien's hand, "has made a -brilliant success from this point of view. Truth to tell, Lucien has -more in him, more gift, more wit than the rest of us that envy him, -and he is enchantingly handsome besides; his old friends cannot -forgive him for his success--they call it luck." - -"Luck of that sort never comes to fools or incapables," said des -Lupeaulx. "Can you call Bonaparte's fortune luck, eh? There were a -score of applicants for the command of the army in Italy, just as -there are a hundred young men at this moment who would like to have an -entrance to Mlle. des Touches' house; people are coupling her name -with yours already in society, my dear boy," said des Lupeaulx, -clapping Lucien on the shoulder. "Ah! you are in high favor. Mme. -d'Espard, Mme. de Bargeton, and Mme. de Montcornet are wild about you. -You are going to Mme. Firmiani's party to-night, are you not, and to -the Duchesse de Grandlieu's rout to-morrow?" - -"Yes," said Lucien. - -"Allow me to introduce a young banker to you, a M. du Tillet; you -ought to be acquainted, he has contrived to make a great fortune in a -short time." - -Lucien and du Tillet bowed, and entered into conversation, and the -banker asked Lucien to dinner. Finot and des Lupeaulx, a well-matched -pair, knew each other well enough to keep upon good terms; they turned -away to continue their chat on one of the sofas in the greenroom, and -left Lucien with du Tillet, Merlin, and Nathan. - -"By the way, my friend," said Finot, "tell me how things stand. Is -there really somebody behind Lucien? For he is the bete noire of my -staff; and before allowing them to plot against him, I thought I -should like to know whether, in your opinion, it would be better to -baffle them and keep well with him." - -The Master of Requests and Finot looked at each other very closely for -a moment or two. - -"My dear fellow," said des Lupeaulx, "how can you imagine that the -Marquise d'Espard, or Chatelet, or Mme. de Bargeton--who has procured -the Baron's nomination to the prefecture and the title of Count, so as -to return in triumph to Angouleme--how can you suppose that any of -them will forgive Lucien for his attacks on them? They dropped him -down in the Royalist ranks to crush him out of existence. At this -moment they are looking round for any excuse for not fulfilling the -promises they made to that boy. Help them to some; you will do the -greatest possible service to the two women, and some day or other they -will remember it. I am in their secrets; I was surprised to find how -much they hated the little fellow. This Lucien might have rid himself -of his bitterest enemy (Mme. de Bargeton) by desisting from his -attacks on terms which a woman loves to grant--do you take me? He is -young and handsome, he should have drowned her hate in torrents of -love, he would be Comte de Rubempre by this time; the Cuttlefish-bone -would have obtained some sinecure for him, some post in the Royal -Household. Lucien would have made a very pretty reader to Louis -XVIII.; he might have been librarian somewhere or other, Master of -Requests for a joke, Master of Revels, what you please. The young fool -has missed his chance. Perhaps that is his unpardonable sin. Instead -of imposing his conditions, he has accepted them. When Lucien was -caught with the bait of the patent of nobility, the Baron Chatelet -made a great step. Coralie has been the ruin of that boy. If he had -not had the actress for his mistress, he would have turned again to -the Cuttlefish-bone; and he would have had her too." - -"Then we can knock him over?" - -"How?" des Lupeaulx asked carelessly. He saw a way of gaining credit -with the Marquise d'Espard for this service. - -"He is under contract to write for Lousteau's paper, and we can the -better hold him to his agreement because he has not a sou. If we -tickle up the Keeper of the Seals with a facetious article, and prove -that Lucien wrote it, he will consider that Lucien is unworthy of the -King's favor. We have a plot on hand besides. Coralie will be ruined, -and our distinguished provincial will lose his head when his mistress -is hissed off the stage and left without an engagement. When once the -patent is suspended, we will laugh at the victim's aristocratic -pretensions, and allude to his mother the nurse and his father the -apothecary. Lucien's courage is only skindeep, he will collapse; we -will send him back to his provinces. Nathan made Florine sell me -Matifat's sixth share of the review, I was able to buy; Dauriat and I -are the only proprietors now; we might come to an understanding, you -and I, and the review might be taken over for the benefit of the -Court. I stipulated for the restitution of my sixth before I undertook -to protect Nathan and Florine; they let me have it, and I must help -them; but I wished to know first how Lucien stood----" - -"You deserve your name," said des Lupeaulx. "I like a man of your -sort----" - -"Very well. Then can you arrange a definite engagement for Florine?" -asked Finot. - -"Yes, but rid us of Lucien, for Rastignac and de Marsay never wish to -hear of him again." - -"Sleep in peace," returned Finot. "Nathan and Merlin will always have -articles ready for Gaillard, who will promise to take them; Lucien -will never get a line into the paper. We will cut off his supplies. -There is only Martainville's paper left him in which to defend himself -and Coralie; what can a single paper do against so many?" - -"I will let you know the weak points of the Ministry; but get Lucien -to write that article and hand over the manuscript," said des -Lupeaulx, who refrained carefully from informing Finot that Lucien's -promised patent was nothing but a joke. - -When des Lupeaulx had gone, Finot went to Lucien, and taking the good- -natured tone which deceives so many victims, he explained that he -could not possibly afford to lose his contributor, and at the same -time he shrank from taking proceedings which might ruin him with his -friends of the other side. Finot himself liked a man who was strong -enough to change his opinions. They were pretty sure to come across -one another, he and Lucien, and might be mutually helpful in a -thousand little ways. Lucien, besides, needed a sure man in the -Liberal party to attack the Ultras and men in office who might refuse -to help him. - -"Suppose that they play you false, what will you do?" Finot ended. -"Suppose that some Minister fancies that he has you fast by the halter -of your apostasy, and turns the cold shoulder on you? You will be glad -to set on a few dogs to snap at his legs, will you not? Very well. But -you have made a deadly enemy of Lousteau; he is thirsting for your -blood. You and Felicien are not on speaking terms. I only remain to -you. It is a rule of the craft to keep a good understanding with every -man of real ability. In the world which you are about to enter you can -do me services in return for mine with the press. But business first. -Let me have purely literary articles; they will not compromise you, -and we shall have executed our agreement." - -Lucien saw nothing but good-fellowship and a shrewd eye to business in -Finot's offer; Finot and des Lupeaulx had flattered him, and he was in -a good humor. He actually thanked Finot! - -Ambitious men, like all those who can only make their way by the help -of others and of circumstances, are bound to lay their plans very -carefully and to adhere very closely to the course of conduct on which -they determine; it is a cruel moment in the lives of such aspirants -when some unknown power brings the fabric of their fortunes to some -severe test and everything gives way at once; threads are snapped or -entangled, and misfortune appears on every side. Let a man lose his -head in the confusion, it is all over with him; but if he can resist -this first revolt of circumstances, if he can stand erect until the -tempest passes over, or make a supreme effort and reach the serene -sphere about the storm--then he is really strong. To every man, unless -he is born rich, there comes sooner or later "his fatal week," as it -must be called. For Napoleon, for instance, that week was the Retreat -from Moscow. It had begun now for Lucien. - -Social and literary success had come to him too easily; he had had -such luck that he was bound to know reverses and to see men and -circumstances turn against him. - -The first blow was the heaviest and the most keenly felt, for it -touched Lucien where he thought himself invulnerable--in his heart and -his love. Coralie might not be clever, but hers was a noble nature, -and she possessed the great actress' faculty of suddenly standing -aloof from self. This strange phenomenon is subject, until it -degenerates into a habit with long practice, to the caprices of -character, and not seldom to an admirable delicacy of feeling in -actresses who are still young. Coralie, to all appearance bold and -wanton, as the part required, was in reality girlish and timid, and -love had wrought in her a revulsion of her woman's heart against the -comedian's mask. Art, the supreme art of feigning passion and feeling, -had not yet triumphed over nature in her; she shrank before a great -audience from the utterance that belongs to Love alone; and Coralie -suffered besides from another true woman's weakness--she needed -success, born stage queen though she was. She could not confront an -audience with which she was out of sympathy; she was nervous when she -appeared on the stage, a cold reception paralyzed her. Each new part -gave her the terrible sensations of a first appearance. Applause -produced a sort of intoxication which gave her encouragement without -flattering her vanity; at a murmur of dissatisfaction or before a -silent house, she flagged; but a great audience following attentively, -admiringly, willing to be pleased, electrified Coralie. She felt at -once in communication with the nobler qualities of all those -listeners; she felt that she possessed the power of stirring their -souls and carrying them with her. But if this action and reaction of -the audience upon the actress reveals the nervous organization of -genius, it shows no less clearly the poor child's sensitiveness and -delicacy. Lucien had discovered the treasures of her nature; had -learned in the past months that this woman who loved him was still so -much of a girl. And Coralie was unskilled in the wiles of an actress-- -she could not fight her own battles nor protect herself against the -machinations of jealousy behind the scenes. Florine was jealous of -her, and Florine was as dangerous and depraved as Coralie was simple -and generous. Roles must come to find Coralie; she was too proud to -implore authors or to submit to dishonoring conditions; she would not -give herself to the first journalist who persecuted her with his -advances and threatened her with his pen. Genius is rare enough in the -extraordinary art of the stage; but genius is only one condition of -success among many, and is positively hurtful unless it is accompanied -by a genius for intrigue in which Coralie was utterly lacking. - -Lucien knew how much his friend would suffer on her first appearance -at the Gymnase, and was anxious at all costs to obtain a success for -her; but all the money remaining from the sale of the furniture and -all Lucien's earnings had been sunk in costumes, in the furniture of a -dressing-room, and the expenses of a first appearance. - -A few days later, Lucien made up his mind to a humiliating step for -love's sake. He took Fendant and Cavalier's bills, and went to the -Golden Cocoon in the Rue des Bourdonnais. He would ask Camusot to -discount them. The poet had not fallen so low that he could make this -attempt quite coolly. There had been many a sharp struggle first, and -the way to that decision had been paved with many dreadful thoughts. -Nevertheless, he arrived at last in the dark, cheerless little private -office that looked out upon a yard, and found Camusot seated gravely -there; this was not Coralie's infatuated adorer, not the easy-natured, -indolent, incredulous libertine whom he had known hitherto as Camusot, -but a heavy father of a family, a merchant grown old in shrewd -expedients of business and respectable virtues, wearing a magistrate's -mask of judicial prudery; this Camusot was the cool, business-like -head of the firm surrounded by clerks, green cardboard boxes, -pigeonholes, invoices, and samples, and fortified by the presence of a -wife and a plainly-dressed daughter. Lucien trembled from head to foot -as he approached; for the worthy merchant, like the money-lenders, -turned cool, indifferent eyes upon him. - -"Here are two or three bills, monsieur," he said, standing beside the -merchant, who did not rise from his desk. "If you will take them of -me, you will oblige me extremely." - -"You have taken something of ME, monsieur," said Camusot; "I do not -forget it." - -On this, Lucien explained Coralie's predicament. He spoke in a low -voice, bending to murmur his explanation, so that Camusot could hear -the heavy throbbing of the humiliated poet's heart. It was no part of -Camusot's plans that Coralie should suffer a check. He listened, -smiling to himself over the signatures on the bills (for, as a judge -at the Tribunal of Commerce, he knew how the booksellers stood), but -in the end he gave Lucien four thousand five hundred francs for them, -stipulating that he should add the formula "For value received in -silks." - -Lucien went straight to Braulard, and made arrangements for a good -reception. Braulard promised to come to the dress-rehearsal, to -determine on the points where his "Romans" should work their fleshy -clappers to bring down the house in applause. Lucien gave the rest of -the money to Coralie (he did not tell her how he had come by it), and -allayed her anxieties and the fears of Berenice, who was sorely -troubled over their daily expenses. - -Martainville came several times to hear Coralie rehearse, and he knew -more of the stage than most men of his time; several Royalist writers -had promised favorable articles; Lucien had not a suspicion of the -impending disaster. - -A fatal event occurred on the evening before Coralie's debut. -D'Arthez's book had appeared; and the editor of Merlin's paper, -considering Lucien to be the best qualified man on the staff, gave him -the book to review. He owed his unlucky reputation to those articles -on Nathan's work. There were several men in the office at the time, -for all the staff had been summoned; Martainville was explaining that -the party warfare with the Liberals must be waged on certain lines. -Nathan, Merlin, all the contributors, in fact, were talking of Leon -Giraud's paper, and remarking that its influence was the more -pernicious because the language was guarded, cool, moderate. People -were beginning to speak of the circle in the Rue des Quatre-Vents as a -second Convention. It had been decided that the Royalist papers were -to wage a systematic war of extermination against these dangerous -opponents, who, indeed, at a later day, were destined to sow the -doctrines that drove the Bourbons into exile; but that was only after -the most brilliant of Royalist writers had joined them for the sake of -a mean revenge. - -D'Arthez's absolutist opinions were not known; it was taken for -granted that he shared the views of his clique, he fell under the same -anathema, and he was to be the first victim. His book was to be -honored with "a slashing article," to use the consecrated formula. -Lucien refused to write the article. Great was the commotion among the -leading Royalist writers thus met in conclave. Lucien was told plainly -that a renegade could not do as he pleased; if it did not suit his -views to take the side of the Monarchy and Religion, he could go back -to the other camp. Merlin and Martainville took him aside and begged -him, as his friends, to remember that he would simply hand Coralie -over to the tender mercies of the Liberal papers, for she would find -no champions on the Royalist and Ministerial side. Her acting was -certain to provoke a hot battle, and the kind of discussion which -every actress longs to arouse. - -"You don't understand it in the least," said Martainville; "if she -plays for three months amid a cross-fire of criticism, she will make -thirty thousand francs when she goes on tour in the provinces at the -end of the season; and here are you about to sacrifice Coralie and -your own future, and to quarrel with your own bread and butter, all -for a scruple that will always stand in your way, and ought to be got -rid of at once." - -Lucien was forced to choose between d'Arthez and Coralie. His mistress -would be ruined unless he dealt his friend a death-blow in the Reveil -and the great newspaper. Poor poet! He went home with death in his -soul; and by the fireside he sat and read that finest production of -modern literature. Tears fell fast over it as the pages turned. For a -long while he hesitated, but at last he took up the pen and wrote a -sarcastic article of the kind that he understood so well, taking the -book as children might take some bright bird to strip it of its -plumage and torture it. His sardonic jests were sure to tell. Again he -turned to the book, and as he read it over a second time, his better -self awoke. In the dead of night he hurried across Paris, and stood -outside d'Arthez's house. He looked up at the windows and saw the -faint pure gleam of light in the panes, as he had so often seen it, -with a feeling of admiration for the noble steadfastness of that truly -great nature. For some moments he stood irresolute on the curbstone; -he had not courage to go further; but his good angel urged him on. He -tapped at the door and opened, and found d'Arthez sitting reading in a -fireless room. - -"What has happened?" asked d'Arthez, for news of some dreadful kind -was visible in Lucien's ghastly face. - -"Your book is sublime, d'Arthez," said Lucien, with tears in his eyes, -"and they have ordered me to write an attack upon it." - -"Poor boy! the bread that they give you is hard indeed!" said d'Arthez - -"I only ask for one favor, keep my visit a secret and leave me to my -hell, to the occupations of the damned. Perhaps it is impossible to -attain to success until the heart is seared and callous in every most -sensitive spot." - -"The same as ever!" cried d'Arthez. - -"Do you think me a base poltroon? No, d'Arthez; no, I am a boy half -crazed with love," and he told his story. - -"Let us look at the article," said d'Arthez, touched by all that -Lucien said of Coralie. - -Lucien held out the manuscript; d'Arthez read, and could not help -smiling. - -"Oh, what a fatal waste of intellect!" he began. But at the sight of -Lucien overcome with grief in the opposite armchair, he checked -himself. - -"Will you leave it with me to correct? I will let you have it again -to-morrow," he went on. "Flippancy depreciates a work; serious and -conscientious criticism is sometimes praise in itself. I know a way to -make your article more honorable both for yourself and for me. -Besides, I know my faults well enough." - -"When you climb a hot, shadowless hillside, you sometimes find fruit -to quench your torturing thirst; and I have found it here and now," -said Lucien, as he sprang sobbing to d'Arthez's arms and kissed his -friend on the forehead. "It seems to me that I am leaving my -conscience in your keeping; some day I will come to you and ask for it -again." - -"I look upon a periodical repentance as great hypocrisy," d'Arthez -said solemnly; "repentance becomes a sort of indemnity for wrongdoing. -Repentance is virginity of the soul, which we must keep for God; a man -who repents twice is a horrible sycophant. I am afraid that you regard -repentance as absolution." - -Lucien went slowly back to the Rue de la Lune, stricken dumb by those -words. - -Next morning d'Arthez sent back his article, recast throughout, and -Lucien sent it in to the review; but from that day melancholy preyed -upon him, and he could not always disguise his mood. That evening, -when the theatre was full, he experienced for the first time the -paroxysm of nervous terror caused by a debut; terror aggravated in his -case by all the strength of his love. Vanity of every kind was -involved. He looked over the rows of faces as a criminal eyes the -judges and the jury on whom his life depends. A murmur would have set -him quivering; any slight incident upon the stage, Coralie's exits and -entrances, the slightest modulation of the tones of her voice, would -perturb him beyond all reason. - -The play in which Coralie made her first appearance at the Gymnase was -a piece of the kind which sometimes falls flat at first, and -afterwards has immense success. It fell flat that night. Coralie was -not applauded when she came on, and the chilly reception reacted upon -her. The only applause came from Camusot's box, and various persons -posted in the balcony and galleries silenced Camusot with repeated -cries of "Hush!" The galleries even silenced the claqueurs when they -led off with exaggerated salvos. Martainville applauded bravely; -Nathan, Merlin, and the treacherous Florine followed his example; but -it was clear that the piece was a failure. A crowd gathered in -Coralie's dressing-room and consoled her, till she had no courage -left. She went home in despair, less for her own sake than for -Lucien's. - -"Braulard has betrayed us," Lucien said. - -Coralie was heartstricken. The next day found her in a high fever, -utterly unfit to play, face to face with the thought that she had been -cut short in her career. Lucien hid the papers from her, and looked -them over in the dining-room. The reviewers one and all attributed the -failure of the piece to Coralie; she had overestimated her strength; -she might be the delight of a boulevard audience, but she was out of -her element at the Gymnase; she had been inspired by a laudable -ambition, but she had not taken her powers into account; she had -chosen a part to which she was quite unequal. Lucien read on through a -pile of penny-a-lining, put together on the same system as his attack -upon Nathan. Milo of Crotona, when he found his hands fast in the oak -which he himself had cleft, was not more furious than Lucien. He grew -haggard with rage. His friends gave Coralie the most treacherous -advice, in the language of kindly counsel and friendly interest. She -should play (according to these authorities) all kind of roles, which -the treacherous writers of these unblushing feuilletons knew to be -utterly unsuited to her genius. And these were the Royalist papers, -led off by Nathan. As for the Liberal press, all the weapons which -Lucien had used were now turned against him. - -Coralie heard a sob, followed by another and another. She sprang out -of bed to find Lucien, and saw the papers. Nothing would satisfy her -but she must read them all; and when she had read them, she went back -to bed, and lay there in silence. - -Florine was in the plot; she had foreseen the outcome; she had studied -Coralie's part, and was ready to take her place. The management, -unwilling to give up the piece, was ready to take Florine in Coralie's -stead. When the manager came, he found poor Coralie sobbing and -exhausted on her bed; but when he began to say, in Lucien's presence, -that Florine knew the part, and that the play must be given that -evening, Coralie sprang up at once. - -"I will play!" she cried, and sank fainting on the floor. - -So Florine took the part, and made her reputation in it; for the piece -succeeded, the newspapers all sang her praises, and from that time -forth Florine was the great actress whom we all know. Florine's -success exasperated Lucien to the highest degree. - -"A wretched girl, whom you helped to earn her bread! If the Gymnase -prefers to do so, let the management pay you to cancel your -engagement. I shall be the Comte de Rubempre; I will make my fortune, -and you shall be my wife." - -"What nonsense!" said Coralie, looking at him with wan eyes. - -"Nonsense!" repeated he. "Very well, wait a few days, and you shall -live in a fine house, you shall have a carriage, and I will write a -part for you!" - -He took two thousand francs and hurried to Frascati's. For seven hours -the unhappy victim of the Furies watched his varying luck, and -outwardly seemed cool and self-contained. He experienced both extremes -of fortune during that day and part of the night that followed; at one -time he possessed as much as thirty thousand francs, and he came out -at last without a sou. In the Rue de la Lune he found Finot waiting -for him with a request for one of his short articles. Lucien so far -forgot himself, that he complained. - -"Oh, it is not all rosy," returned Finot. "You made your right-about- -face in such a way that you were bound to lose the support of the -Liberal press, and the Liberals are far stronger in print than all the -Ministerialist and Royalist papers put together. A man should never -leave one camp for another until he has made a comfortable berth for -himself, by way of consolation for the losses that he must expect; and -in any case, a prudent politician will see his friends first, and give -them his reasons for going over, and take their opinions. You can -still act together; they sympathize with you, and you agree to give -mutual help. Nathan and Merlin did that before they went over. Hawks -don't pike out hawks' eyes. You were as innocent as a lamb; you will -be forced to show your teeth to your new party to make anything out of -them. You have been necessarily sacrificed to Nathan. I cannot conceal -from you that your article on d'Arthez has roused a terrific hubbub. -Marat is a saint compared with you. You will be attacked, and your -book will be a failure. How far have things gone with your romance?" - -"These are the last proof sheets." - -"All the anonymous articles against that young d'Arthez in the -Ministerialist and Ultra papers are set down to you. The Reveil is -poking fun at the set in the Rue des Quatre-Vents, and the hits are -the more telling because they are funny. There is a whole serious -political coterie at the back of Leon Giraud's paper; they will come -into power too, sooner or later." - -"I have not written a line in the Reveil this week past." - -"Very well. Keep my short articles in mind. Write fifty of them -straight off, and I will pay you for them in a lump; but they must be -of the same color as the paper." And Finot, with seeming carelessness, -gave Lucien an edifying anecdote of the Keeper of the Seals, a piece -of current gossip, he said, for the subject of one of the papers. - -Eager to retrieve his losses at play, Lucien shook off his dejection, -summoned up his energy and youthful force, and wrote thirty articles -of two columns each. These finished, he went to Dauriat's, partly -because he felt sure of meeting Finot there, and he wished to give the -articles to Finot in person; partly because he wished for an -explanation of the non-appearance of the Marguerites. He found the -bookseller's shop full of his enemies. All the talk immediately ceased -as he entered. Put under the ban of journalism, his courage rose, and -once more he said to himself, as he had said in the alley at the -Luxembourg, "I will triumph." - -Dauriat was neither amiable or inclined to patronize; he was sarcastic -in tone, and determined not to bate an inch of his rights. The -Marguerites should appear when it suited his purpose; he should wait -until Lucien was in a position to secure the success of the book; it -was his, he had bought it outright. When Lucien asserted that Dauriat -was bound to publish the Marguerites by the very nature of the -contract, and the relative positions of the parties to the agreement, -Dauriat flatly contradicted him, said that no publisher could be -compelled by law to publish at a loss, and that he himself was the -best judge of the expediency of producing the book. There was, -besides, a remedy open to Lucien, as any court of law would admit--the -poet was quite welcome to take his verses to a Royalist publisher upon -the repayment of the thousand crowns. - -Lucien went away. Dauriat's moderate tone had exasperated him even -more than his previous arrogance at their first interview. So the -Marguerites would not appear until Lucien had found a host of -formidable supporters, or grown formidable himself! He walked home -slowly, so oppressed and out of heart that he felt ready for suicide. -Coralie lay in bed, looking white and ill. - -"She must have a part, or she will die," said Berenice, as Lucien -dressed for a great evening party at Mlle. des Touches' house in the -Rue du Mont Blanc. Des Lupeaulx and Vignon and Blondet were to be -there, as well as Mme. d'Espard and Mme. de Bargeton. - -The party was given in honor of Conti, the great composer, owner -likewise of one of the most famous voices off the stage, Cinti, Pasta, -Garcia, Levasseur, and two or three celebrated amateurs in society not -excepted. Lucien saw the Marquise, her cousin, and Mme. de Montcornet -sitting together, and made one of the party. The unhappy young fellow -to all appearances was light-hearted, happy, and content; he jested, -he was the Lucien de Rubempre of his days of splendor, he would not -seem to need help from any one. He dwelt on his services to the -Royalist party, and cited the hue and cry raised after him by the -Liberal press as a proof of his zeal. - -"And you will be well rewarded, my friend," said Mme. de Bargeton, -with a gracious smile. "Go to the Chancellerie the day after to-morrow -with 'the Heron' and des Lupeaulx, and you will find your patent -signed by His Majesty. The Keeper of the Seals will take it to-morrow -to the Tuileries, but there is to be a meeting of the Council, and he -will not come back till late. Still, if I hear the result to-morrow -evening, I will let you know. Where are you living?" - -"I will come to you," said Lucien, ashamed to confess that he was -living in the Rue de la Lune. - -"The Duc de Lenoncourt and the Duc de Navarreins have made mention of -you to the King," added the Marquise; "they praised your absolute and -entire devotion, and said that some distinction ought to avenge your -treatment in the Liberal press. The name and title of Rubempre, to -which you have a claim through your mother, would become illustrious -through you, they said. The King gave his lordship instructions that -evening to prepare a patent authorizing the Sieur Lucien Chardon to -bear the arms and title of the Comtes de Rubempre, as grandson of the -last Count by the mother's side. 'Let us favor the songsters' -(chardonnerets) 'of Pindus,' said his Majesty, after reading your -sonnet on the Lily, which my cousin luckily remembered to give the -Duke.--'Especially when the King can work miracles, and change the -song-bird into an eagle,' M. de Navarreins replied." - -Lucien's expansion of feeling would have softened the heart of any -woman less deeply wounded than Louise d'Espard de Negrepelisse; but -her thirst for vengeance was only increased by Lucien's graciousness. -Des Lupeaulx was right; Lucien was wanting in tact. It never crossed -his mind that this history of the patent was one of the mystifications -at which Mme. d'Espard was an adept. Emboldened with success and the -flattering distinction shown to him by Mlle. des Touches, he stayed -till two o'clock in the morning for a word in private with his -hostess. Lucien had learned in Royalist newspaper offices that Mlle. -des Touches was the author of a play in which La petite Fay, the -marvel of the moment was about to appear. As the rooms emptied, he -drew Mlle. des Touches to a sofa in the boudoir, and told the story of -Coralie's misfortune and his own so touchingly, that Mlle. des Touches -promised to give the heroine's part to his friend. - -That promise put new life into Coralie. But the next day, as they -breakfasted together, Lucien opened Lousteau's newspaper, and found -that unlucky anecdote of the Keeper of the Seals and his wife. The -story was full of the blackest malice lurking in the most caustic wit. -Louis XVIII. was brought into the story in a masterly fashion, and -held up to ridicule in such a way that prosecution was impossible. -Here is the substance of a fiction for which the Liberal party -attempted to win credence, though they only succeeded in adding one -more to the tale of their ingenious calumnies. - -The King's passion for pink-scented notes and a correspondence full of -madrigals and sparkling wit was declared to be the last phase of the -tender passion; love had reached the Doctrinaire stage; or had passed, -in other words, from the concrete to the abstract. The illustrious -lady, so cruelly ridiculed under the name of Octavie by Beranger, had -conceived (so it was said) the gravest fears. The correspondence was -languishing. The more Octavie displayed her wit, the cooler grew the -royal lover. At last Octavie discovered the cause of her decline; her -power was threatened by the novelty and piquancy of a correspondence -between the august scribe and the wife of his Keeper of the Seals. -That excellent woman was believed to be incapable of writing a note; -she was simply and solely godmother to the efforts of audacious -ambition. Who could be hidden behind her petticoats? Octavie decided, -after making observations of her own, that the King was corresponding -with his Minister. - -She laid her plans. With the help of a faithful friend, she arranged -that a stormy debate should detain the Minister at the Chamber; then -she contrived to secure a tete-a-tete, and to convince outraged -Majesty of the fraud. Louis XVIII. flew into a royal and truly Bourbon -passion, but the tempest broke on Octavie's head. He would not believe -her. Octavie offered immediate proof, begging the King to write a note -which must be answered at once. The unlucky wife of the Keeper of the -Seals sent to the Chamber for her husband; but precautions had been -taken, and at that moment the Minister was on his legs addressing the -Chamber. The lady racked her brains and replied to the note with such -intellect as she could improvise. - -"Your Chancellor will supply the rest," cried Octavie, laughing at the -King's chagrin. - -There was not a word of truth in the story; but it struck home to -three persons--the Keeper of the Seals, his wife, and the King. It was -said that des Lupeaulx had invented the tale, but Finot always kept -his counsel. The article was caustic and clever, the Liberal papers -and the Orleanists were delighted with it, and Lucien himself laughed, -and thought of it merely as a very amusing canard. - -He called next day for des Lupeaulx and the Baron du Chatelet. The -Baron had just been to thank his lordship. The Sieur Chatelet, newly -appointed Councillor Extraordinary, was now Comte du Chatelet, with a -promise of the prefecture of the Charente so soon as the present -prefect should have completed the term of office necessary to receive -the maximum retiring pension. The Comte DU Chatelet (for the DU had -been inserted in the patent) drove with Lucien to the Chancellerie, -and treated his companion as an equal. But for Lucien's articles, he -said, his patent would not have been granted so soon; Liberal -persecution had been a stepping-stone to advancement. Des Lupeaulx was -waiting for them in the Secretary-General's office. That functionary -started with surprise when Lucien appeared and looked at des Lupeaulx. - -"What!" he exclaimed, to Lucien's utter bewilderment. "Do you dare to -come here, sir? Your patent was made out, but his lordship has torn it -up. Here it is!" (the Secretary-General caught up the first torn sheet -that came to hand). "The Minister wished to discover the author of -yesterday's atrocious article, and here is the manuscript," added the -speaker, holding out the sheets of Lucien's article. "You call -yourself a Royalist, sir, and you are on the staff of that detestable -paper which turns the Minister's hair gray, harasses the Centre, and -is dragging the country headlong to ruin? You breakfast on the -Corsaire, the Miroir, the Constitutionnel, and the Courier; you dine -on the Quotidienne and the Reveil, and then sup with Martainville, the -worst enemy of the Government! Martainville urges the Government on to -Absolutist measures; he is more likely to bring on another Revolution -than if he had gone over to the extreme Left. You are a very clever -journalist, but you will never make a politician. The Minister -denounced you to the King, and the King was so angry that he scolded -M. le Duc de Navarreins, his First Gentleman of the Bedchamber. Your -enemies will be all the more formidable because they have hitherto -been your friends. Conduct that one expects from an enemy is atrocious -in a friend." - -"Why, really, my dear fellow, are you a child?" said des Lupeaulx. -"You have compromised me. Mme. d'Espard, Mme. de Bargeton, and Mme. de -Montcornet, who were responsible for you, must be furious. The Duke is -sure to have handed on his annoyance to the Marquise, and the Marquise -will have scolded her cousin. Keep away from them and wait." - -"Here comes his lordship--go!" said the Secretary-General. - -Lucien went out into the Place Vendome; he was stunned by this -bludgeon blow. He walked home along the Boulevards trying to think -over his position. He saw himself a plaything in the hands of envy, -treachery, and greed. What was he in this world of contending -ambitions? A child sacrificing everything to the pursuit of pleasure -and the gratification of vanity; a poet whose thoughts never went -beyond the moment, a moth flitting from one bright gleaming object to -another. He had no definite aim; he was the slave of circumstance-- -meaning well, doing ill. Conscience tortured him remorselessly. And to -crown it all, he was penniless and exhausted with work and emotion. -His articles could not compare with Merlin's or Nathan's work. - -He walked at random, absorbed in these thoughts. As he passed some of -the reading-rooms which were already lending books as well as -newspapers, a placard caught his eyes. It was an advertisement of a -book with a grotesque title, but beneath the announcement he saw his -name in brilliant letters--"By Lucien Chardon de Rubempre." So his -book had come out, and he had heard nothing of it! All the newspapers -were silent. He stood motionless before the placard, his arms hanging -at his sides. He did not notice a little knot of acquaintances-- -Rastignac and de Marsay and some other fashionable young men; nor did -he see that Michel Chrestien and Leon Giraud were coming towards him. - -"Are you M. Chardon?" It was Michel who spoke, and there was that in -the sound of his voice that set Lucien's heartstrings vibrating. - -"Do you not know me?" he asked, turning very pale. - -Michel spat in his face. - -"Take that as your wages for your article against d'Arthez. If -everybody would do as I do on his own or his friend's behalf, the -press would be as it ought to be--a self-respecting and respected -priesthood." - -Lucien staggered back and caught hold of Rastignac. - -"Gentlemen," he said, addressing Rastignac and de Marsay, "you will -not refuse to act as my seconds. But first, I wish to make matters -even and apology impossible." - -He struck Michel a sudden, unexpected blow in the face. The rest -rushed in between the Republican and Royalist, to prevent a street -brawl. Rastignac dragged Lucien off to the Rue Taitbout, only a few -steps away from the Boulevard de Gand, where this scene took place. It -was the hour of dinner, or a crowd would have assembled at once. De -Marsay came to find Lucien, and the pair insisted that he should dine -with them at the Cafe Anglais, where they drank and made merry. - -"Are you a good swordsman?" inquired de Marsay. - -"I have never had a foil in my hands." - -"A good shot?" - -"Never fired a pistol in my life." - -"Then you have luck on your side. You are a formidable antagonist to -stand up to; you may kill your man," said de Marsay. - -Fortunately, Lucien found Coralie in bed and asleep. - -She had played without rehearsal in a one-act play, and taken her -revenge. She had met with genuine applause. Her enemies had not been -prepared for this step on her part, and her success had determined the -manager to give her the heroine's part in Camille Maupin's play. He -had discovered the cause of her apparent failure, and was indignant -with Florine and Nathan. Coralie should have the protection of the -management. - -At five o'clock that morning, Rastignac came for Lucien. - -"The name of your street my dear fellow, is particularly appropriate -for your lodgings; you are up in the sky," he said, by way of -greeting. "Let us be first upon the ground on the road to -Clignancourt; it is good form, and we ought to set them an example." - -"Here is the programme," said de Marsay, as the cab rattled through -the Faubourg Saint-Denis: "You stand up at twenty-five paces, coming -nearer, till you are only fifteen apart. You have, each of you, five -paces to take and three shots to fire--no more. Whatever happens, that -must be the end of it. We load for your antagonist, and his seconds -load for you. The weapons were chosen by the four seconds at a -gunmaker's. We helped you to a chance, I will promise you; horse -pistols are to be the weapons." - -For Lucien, life had become a bad dream. He did not care whether he -lived or died. The courage of suicide helped him in some sort to carry -things off with a dash of bravado before the spectators. He stood in -his place; he would not take a step, a piece of recklessness which the -others took for deliberate calculation. They thought the poet an -uncommonly cool hand. Michel Chrestien came as far as his limit; both -fired twice and at the same time, for either party was considered to -be equally insulted. Michel's first bullet grazed Lucien's chin; -Lucien's passed ten feet above Chrestien's head. The second shot hit -Lucien's coat collar, but the buckram lining fortunately saved its -wearer. The third bullet struck him in the chest, and he dropped. - -"Is he dead?" asked Michel Chrestien. - -"No," said the surgeon, "he will pull through." - -"So much the worse," answered Michel. - -"Yes; so much the worse," said Lucien, as his tears fell fast. - -By noon the unhappy boy lay in bed in his own room. With untold pains -they had managed to remove him, but it had taken five hours to bring -him to the Rue de la Lune. His condition was not dangerous, but -precautions were necessary lest fever should set in and bring about -troublesome complications. Coralie choked down her grief and anguish. -She sat up with him at night through the anxious weeks of his illness, -studying her parts by his bedside. Lucien was in danger for two long -months; and often at the theatre Coralie acted her frivolous role with -one thought in her heart, "Perhaps he is dying at this moment." - -Lucien owed his life to the skill and devotion of a friend whom he had -grievously hurt. Bianchon had come to tend him after hearing the story -of the attack from d'Arthez, who told it in confidence, and excused -the unhappy poet. Bianchon suspected that d'Arthez was generously -trying to screen the renegade; but on questioning Lucien during a -lucid interval in the dangerous nervous fever, he learned that his -patient was only responsible for the one serious article in Hector -Merlin's paper. - -Before the first month was out, the firm of Fendant and Cavalier filed -their schedule. Bianchon told Coralie that Lucien must on no account -hear the news. The famous Archer of Charles IX., brought out with an -absurd title, had been a complete failure. Fendant, being anxious to -realize a little ready money before going into bankruptcy, had sold -the whole edition (without Cavalier's knowledge) to dealers in printed -paper. These, in their turn, had disposed of it at a cheap rate to -hawkers, and Lucien's book at that moment was adorning the bookstalls -along the Quays. The booksellers on the Quai des Augustins, who had -previously taken a quantity of copies, now discovered that after this -sudden reduction of the price they were like to lose heavily on their -purchases; the four duodecimo volumes, for which they had paid four -francs fifty centimes, were being given away for fifty sous. Great was -the outcry in the trade; but the newspapers preserved a profound -silence. Barbet had not foreseen this "clearance;" he had a belief in -Lucien's abilities; for once he had broken his rule and taken two -hundred copies. The prospect of a loss drove him frantic; the things -he said of Lucien were fearful to hear. Then Barbet took a heroic -resolution. He stocked his copies in a corner of his shop, with the -obstinacy of greed, and left his competitors to sell their wares at a -loss. Two years afterwards, when d'Arthez's fine preface, the merits -of the book, and one or two articles by Leon Giraud had raised the -value of the book, Barbet sold his copies, one by one, at ten francs -each. - -Lucien knew nothing of all this, but Berenice and Coralie could not -refuse to allow Hector Merlin to see his dying comrade, and Hector -Merlin made him drink, drop by drop, the whole of the bitter draught -brewed by the failure of Fendant and Cavalier, made bankrupts by his -first ill-fated book. Martainville, the one friend who stood by Lucien -through thick and thin, had written a magnificent article on his work; -but so great was the general exasperation against the editor of -L'Aristarque, L'Oriflamme, and Le Drapeau Blanc, that his championship -only injured Lucien. In vain did the athlete return the Liberal -insults tenfold, not a newspaper took up the challenge in spite of all -his attacks. - -Coralie, Berenice, and Bianchon might shut the door on Lucien's so- -called friends, who raised a great outcry, but it was impossible to -keep out creditors and writs. After the failure of Fendant and -Cavalier, their bills were taken into bankruptcy according to that -provision of the Code of Commerce most inimical to the claims of third -parties, who in this way lose the benefit of delay. - -Lucien discovered that Camusot was proceeding against him with great -energy. When Coralie heard the name, and for the first time learned -the dreadful and humiliating step which her poet had taken for her -sake, the angelic creature loved him ten times more than before, and -would not approach Camusot. The bailiff bringing the warrant of arrest -shrank back from the idea of dragging his prisoner out of bed, and -went back to Camusot before applying to the President of the Tribunal -of Commerce for an order to remove the debtor to a private hospital. -Camusot hurried at once to the Rue de la Lune, and Coralie went down -to him. - -When she came up again she held the warrants, in which Lucien was -described as a tradesman, in her hand. How had she obtained those -papers from Camusot? What promise had she given? Coralie kept a sad, -gloomy silence, but when she returned she looked as if all the life -had gone out of her. She played in Camille Maupin's play, and -contributed not a little to the success of that illustrious literary -hermaphrodite; but the creation of this character was the last flicker -of a bright, dying lamp. On the twentieth night, when Lucien had so -far recovered that he had regained his appetite and could walk abroad, -and talked of getting to work again, Coralie broke down; a secret -trouble was weighing upon her. Berenice always believed that she had -promised to go back to Camusot to save Lucien. - -Another mortification followed. Coralie was obliged to see her part -given to Florine. Nathan had threatened the Gymnase with war if the -management refused to give the vacant place to Coralie's rival. -Coralie had persisted till she could play no longer, knowing that -Florine was waiting to step into her place. She had overtasked her -strength. The Gymnase had advanced sums during Lucien's illness, she -had no money to draw; Lucien, eager to work though he was, was not yet -strong enough to write, and he helped besides to nurse Coralie and to -relieve Berenice. From poverty they had come to utter distress; but in -Bianchon they found a skilful and devoted doctor, who obtained credit -for them of the druggist. The landlord of the house and the -tradespeople knew by this time how matters stood. The furniture was -attached. The tailor and dressmaker no longer stood in awe of the -journalist, and proceeded to extremes; and at last no one, with the -exception of the pork-butcher and the druggist, gave the two unlucky -children credit. For a week or more all three of them--Lucien, -Berenice, and the invalid--were obliged to live on the various -ingenious preparations sold by the pork-butcher; the inflammatory diet -was little suited to the sick girl, and Coralie grew worse. Sheer want -compelled Lucien to ask Lousteau for a return of the loan of a -thousand francs lost at play by the friend who had deserted him in his -hour of need. Perhaps, amid all his troubles, this step cost him most -cruel suffering. - -Lousteau was not to be found in the Rue de la Harpe. Hunted down like -a hare, he was lodging now with this friend, now with that. Lucien -found him at last at Flicoteaux's; he was sitting at the very table at -which Lucien had found him that evening when, for his misfortune, he -forsook d'Arthez for journalism. Lousteau offered him dinner, and -Lucien accepted the offer. - -As they came out of Flicoteaux's with Claude Vignon (who happened to -be dining there that day) and the great man in obscurity, who kept his -wardrobe at Samanon's, the four among them could not produce enough -specie to pay for a cup of coffee at the Cafe Voltaire. They lounged -about the Luxembourg in the hope of meeting with a publisher; and, as -it fell out, they met with one of the most famous printers of the day. -Lousteau borrowed forty francs of him, and divided the money into four -equal parts. - -Misery had brought down Lucien's pride and extinguished sentiment; he -shed tears as he told the story of his troubles, but each one of his -comrades had a tale as cruel as his own; and when the three versions -had been given, it seemed to the poet that he was the least -unfortunate among the four. All of them craved a respite from -remembrance and thoughts which made trouble doubly hard to bear. - -Lousteau hurried to the Palais Royal to gamble with his remaining nine -francs. The great man unknown to fame, though he had a divine -mistress, must needs hie him to a low haunt of vice to wallow in -perilous pleasure. Vignon betook himself to the Rocher de Cancale to -drown memory and thought in a couple of bottles of Bordeaux; Lucien -parted company with him on the threshold, declining to share that -supper. When he shook hands with the one journalist who had not been -hostile to him, it was with a cruel pang in his heart. - -"What shall I do?" he asked aloud. - -"One must do as one can," the great critic said. "Your book is good, -but it excited jealousy, and your struggle will be hard and long. -Genius is a cruel disease. Every writer carries a canker in his heart, -a devouring monster, like the tapeworm in the stomach, which destroys -all feeling as it arises in him. Which is the stronger? The man or the -disease? One has need be a great man, truly, to keep the balance -between genius and character. The talent grows, the heart withers. -Unless a man is a giant, unless he has the thews of a Hercules, he -must be content either to lose his gift or to live without a heart. -You are slender and fragile, you will give way," he added, as he -turned into the restaurant. - -Lucien returned home, thinking over that terrible verdict. He beheld -the life of literature by the light of the profound truths uttered by -Vignon. - -"Money! money!" a voice cried in his ears. - -Then he drew three bills of a thousand francs each, due respectively -in one, two, and three months, imitating the handwriting of his -brother-in-law, David Sechard, with admirable skill. He endorsed the -bills, and took them next morning to Metivier, the paper-dealer in the -Rue Serpente, who made no difficulty about taking them. Lucien wrote a -few lines to give his brother-in-law notice of this assault upon his -cash-box, promising, as usual in such cases, to be ready to meet the -bills as they fell due. - -When all debts, his own and Coralie's, were paid, he put the three -hundred francs which remained into Berenice's hands, bidding her to -refuse him money if he asked her for it. He was afraid of a return of -the gambler's frenzy. Lucien worked away gloomily in a sort of cold, -speechless fury, putting forth all his powers into witty articles, -written by the light of the lamp at Coralie's bedside. Whenever he -looked up in search of ideas, his eyes fell on that beloved face, -white as porcelain, fair with the beauty that belongs to the dying, -and he saw a smile on her pale lips, and her eyes, grown bright with a -more consuming pain than physical suffering, always turned on his -face. - -Lucien sent in his work, but he could not leave the house to worry -editors, and his articles did not appear. When he at last made up his -mind to go to the office, he met with a cool reception from Theodore -Gaillard, who had advanced him money, and turned his literary diamonds -to good account afterwards. - -"Take care, my dear fellow, you are falling off," he said. "You must -not let yourself down, your work wants inspiration!" - -"That little Lucien has written himself out with his romance and his -first articles," cried Felicien Vernou, Merlin, and the whole chorus -of his enemies, whenever his name came up at Dauriat's or the -Vaudeville. "The work he is sending us is pitiable." - -"To have written oneself out" (in the slang of journalism), is a -verdict very hard to live down. It passed everywhere from mouth to -mouth, ruining Lucien, all unsuspicious as he was. And, indeed, his -burdens were too heavy for his strength. In the midst of a heavy -strain of work, he was sued for the bills which he had drawn in David -Sechard's name. He had recourse to Camusot's experience, and Coralie's -sometime adorer was generous enough to assist the man she loved. The -intolerable situation lasted for two whole months; the days being -diversified by stamped papers handed over to Desroches, a friend of -Bixiou, Blondet, and des Lupeaulx. - -Early in August, Bianchon told them that Coralie's condition was -hopeless--she had only a few days to live. Those days were spent in -tears by Berenice and Lucien; they could not hide their grief from the -dying girl, and she was broken-hearted for Lucien's sake. - -Some strange change was working in Coralie. She would have Lucien -bring a priest; she must be reconciled to the Church and die in peace. -Coralie died as a Christian; her repentance was sincere. Her agony and -death took all energy and heart out of Lucien. He sank into a low -chair at the foot of the bed, and never took his eyes off her till -Death brought the end of her suffering. It was five o'clock in the -morning. Some singing-bird lighting upon a flower-pot on the window- -sill, twittered a few notes. Berenice, kneeling by the bedside, was -covering a hand fast growing cold with kisses and tears. On the -chimney-piece there lay eleven sous. - -Lucien went out. Despair made him beg for money to lay Coralie in her -grave. He had wild thoughts of flinging himself at the Marquise -d'Espard's feet, of entreating the Comte du Chatelet, Mme. de -Bargeton, Mlle. des Touches, nay, that terrible dandy of a de Marsay. -All his pride had gone with his strength. He would have enlisted as a -common soldier at that moment for money. He walked on with a -slouching, feverish gait known to all the unhappy, reached Camille -Maupin's house, entered, careless of his disordered dress, and sent in -a message. He entreated Mlle. des Touches to see him for a moment. - -"Mademoiselle only went to bed at three o'clock this morning," said -the servant, "and no one would dare to disturb her until she rings." - -"When does she ring?" - -"Never before ten o'clock." - -Then Lucien wrote one of those harrowing appeals in which the well- -dressed beggar flings all pride and self-respect to the winds. One -evening, not so very long ago, when Lousteau had told him of the -abject begging letters which Finot received, Lucien had thought it -impossible that any creature would sink so low; and now, carried away -by his pen, he had gone further, it may be, than other unlucky -wretches upon the same road. He did not suspect, in his fever and -imbecility, that he had just written a masterpiece of pathos. On his -way home along the Boulevards, he met Barbet. - -"Barbet!" he begged, holding out his hand. "Five hundred francs!" - -"No. Two hundred," returned the other. - -"Ah! then you have a heart." - -"Yes; but I am a man of business as well. I have lost a lot of money -through you," he concluded, after giving the history of the failure of -Fendant and Cavalier, "will you put me in the way of making some?" - -Lucien quivered. - -"You are a poet. You ought to understand all kinds of poetry," -continued the little publisher. "I want a few rollicking songs at this -moment to put along with some more by different authors, or they will -be down upon me over the copyright. I want to have a good collection -to sell on the streets at ten sous. If you care to let me have ten -good drinking-songs by to-morrow morning, or something spicy,--you -know the sort of thing, eh!--I will pay you two hundred francs." - -When Lucien returned home, he found Coralie stretched out straight and -stiff on a pallet-bed; Berenice, with many tears, had wrapped her in a -coarse linen sheet, and put lighted candles at the four corners of the -bed. Coralie's face had taken that strange, delicate beauty of death -which so vividly impresses the living with the idea of absolute calm; -she looked like some white girl in a decline; it seemed as if those -pale, crimson lips must open and murmur the name which had blended -with the name of God in the last words that she uttered before she -died. - -Lucien told Berenice to order a funeral which should not cost more -than two hundred francs, including the service at the shabby little -church of the Bonne-Nouvelle. As soon as she had gone out, he sat down -to a table, and beside the dead body of his love he composed ten -rollicking songs to fit popular airs. The effort cost him untold -anguish, but at last the brain began to work at the bidding of -Necessity, as if suffering were not; and already Lucien had learned to -put Claude Vignon's terrible maxims in practice, and to raise a -barrier between heart and brain. What a night the poor boy spent over -those drinking songs, writing by the light of the tall wax candles -while the priest recited the prayers for the dead! - -Morning broke before the last song was finished. Lucien tried it over -to a street-song of the day, to the consternation of Berenice and the -priest, who thought that he was mad:-- - - Lads, 'tis tedious waste of time - To mingle song and reason; - Folly calls for laughing rhyme, - Sense is out of season. - Let Apollo be forgot - When Bacchus fills the drinking-cup; - Any catch is good, I wot, - If good fellows take it up. - Let philosophers protest, - Let us laugh, - And quaff, - And a fig for the rest! - - As Hippocrates has said, - Every jolly fellow, - When a century has sped, - Still is fit and mellow. - No more following of a lass - With the palsy in your legs?-- - While your hand can hold a glass, - You can drain it to the dregs, - With an undiminished zest. - Let us laugh, - And quaff, - And a fig for the rest! - - Whence we come we know full well. - Whiter are we going? - Ne'er a one of us can tell, - 'Tis a thing past knowing. - Faith! what does it signify, - Take the good that Heaven sends; - It is certain that we die, - Certain that we live, my friends. - Life is nothing but a jest. - Let us laugh, - And quaff, - And a fig for the rest! - -He was shouting the reckless refrain when d'Arthez and Bianchon -arrived, to find him in a paroxysm of despair and exhaustion, utterly -unable to make a fair copy of his verses. A torrent of tears followed; -and when, amid his sobs, he had told his story, he saw the tears -standing in his friends' eyes. - -"This wipes out many sins," said d'Arthez. - -"Happy are they who suffer for their sins in this world," the priest -said solemnly. - -At the sight of the fair, dead face smiling at Eternity, while -Coralie's lover wrote tavern-catches to buy a grave for her, and -Barbet paid for the coffin--of the four candles lighted about the dead -body of her who had thrilled a great audience as she stood behind the -footlights in her Spanish basquina and scarlet green-clocked -stockings; while beyond in the doorway, stood the priest who had -reconciled the dying actress with God, now about to return to the -church to say a mass for the soul of her who had "loved much,"--all -the grandeur and the sordid aspects of the scene, all that sorrow -crushed under by Necessity, froze the blood of the great writer and -the great doctor. They sat down; neither of them could utter a word. - -Just at that moment a servant in livery announced Mlle. des Touches. -That beautiful and noble woman understood everything at once. She -stepped quickly across the room to Lucien, and slipped two thousand- -franc notes into his hand as she grasped it. - -"It is too late," he said, looking up at her with dull, hopeless eyes. - -The three stayed with Lucien, trying to soothe his despair with -comforting words; but every spring seemed to be broken. At noon all -the brotherhood, with the exception of Michel Chrestien (who, however, -had learned the truth as to Lucien's treachery), was assembled in the -poor little church of the Bonne-Nouvelle; Mlle. de Touches was -present, and Berenice and Coralie's dresser from the theatre, with a -couple of supernumeraries and the disconsolate Camusot. All the men -accompanied the actress to her last resting-place in Pere Lachaise. -Camusot, shedding hot tears, had solemnly promised Lucien to buy the -grave in perpetuity, and to put a headstone above it with the words: - - - CORALIE - -AGED NINETEEN YEARS - - August, 1822 - - -Lucien stayed there, on the sloping ground that looks out over Paris, -until the sun had set. - -"Who will love me now?" he thought. "My truest friends despise me. -Whatever I might have done, she who lies here would have thought me -wholly noble and good. I have no one left to me now but my sister and -mother and David. And what do they think of me at home?" - -Poor distinguished provincial! He went back to the Rue de la Lune; but -the sight of the rooms was so acutely painful, that he could not stay -in them, and he took a cheap lodging elsewhere in the same street. -Mlle. des Touches' two thousand francs and the sale of the furniture -paid the debts. - -Berenice had two hundred francs left, on which they lived for two -months. Lucien was prostrate; he could neither write nor think; he -gave way to morbid grief. Berenice took pity upon him. - -"Suppose that you were to go back to your own country, how are you to -get there?" she asked one day, by way of reply to an exclamation of -Lucien's. - -"On foot." - -"But even so, you must live and sleep on the way. Even if you walk -twelve leagues a day, you will want twenty francs at least." - -"I will get them together," he said. - -He took his clothes and his best linen, keeping nothing but strict -necessaries, and went to Samanon, who offered fifty francs for his -entire wardrobe. In vain he begged the money-lender to let him have -enough to pay his fare by the coach; Samanon was inexorable. In a -paroxysm of fury, Lucien rushed to Frascati's, staked the proceeds of -the sale, and lost every farthing. Back once more in the wretched room -in the Rue de la Lune, he asked Berenice for Coralie's shawl. The good -girl looked at him, and knew in a moment what he meant to do. He had -confessed to his loss at the gaming-table; and now he was going to -hang himself. - -"Are you mad, sir? Go out for a walk, and come back again at midnight. -I will get the money for you; but keep to the Boulevards, do not go -towards the Quais." - -Lucien paced up and down the Boulevards. He was stupid with grief. He -watched the passers-by and the stream of traffic, and felt that he was -alone, and a very small atom in this seething whirlpool of Paris, -churned by the strife of innumerable interests. His thoughts went back -to the banks of his Charente; a craving for happiness and home awoke -in him; and with the craving, came one of the sudden febrile bursts of -energy which half-feminine natures like his mistake for strength. He -would not give up until he had poured out his heart to David Sechard, -and taken counsel of the three good angels still left to him on earth. - -As he lounged along, he caught sight of Berenice--Berenice in her -Sunday clothes, speaking to a stranger at the corner of the Rue de la -Lune and the filthy Boulevard Bonne-Nouvelle, where she had taken her -stand. - -"What are you doing?" asked Lucien, dismayed by a sudden suspicion. - -"Here are your twenty francs," said the girl, slipping four five-franc -pieces into the poet's hand. "They may cost dear yet; but you can go," -and she had fled before Lucien could see the way she went; for, in -justice to him, it must be said that the money burned his hand, he -wanted to return it, but he was forced to keep it as the final brand -set upon him by life in Paris. - - - - -ADDENDUM - -The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. - -Barbet - A Man of Business - The Seamy Side of History - The Middle Classes - -Beaudenord, Godefroid de - The Ball at Sceaux - The Firm of Nucingen - -Berenice - Lost Illusions - -Bianchon, Horace - Father Goriot - The Atheist's Mass - Cesar Birotteau - The Commission in Lunacy - Lost Illusions - A Bachelor's Establishment - The Secrets of a Princess - The Government Clerks - Pierrette - A Study of Woman - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - Honorine - The Seamy Side of History - The Magic Skin - A Second Home - A Prince of Bohemia - Letters of Two Brides - The Muse of the Department - The Imaginary Mistress - The Middle Classes - Cousin Betty - The Country Parson -In addition, M. Bianchon narrated the following: - Another Study of Woman - La Grande Breteche - -Blondet, Emile - Jealousies of a Country Town - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - Modeste Mignon - Another Study of Woman - The Secrets of a Princess - A Daughter of Eve - The Firm of Nucingen - The Peasantry - -Blondet, Virginie - Jealousies of a Country Town - The Secrets of a Princess - The Peasantry - Another Study of Woman - The Member for Arcis - A Daughter of Eve - -Braulard - Cousin Betty - Cousin Pons - -Bridau, Joseph - The Purse - A Bachelor's Establishment - A Start in Life - Modeste Mignon - Another Study of Woman - Pierre Grassou - Letters of Two Brides - Cousin Betty - The Member for Arcis - -Bruel, Jean Francois du - A Bachelor's Establishment - The Government Clerks - A Start in Life - A Prince of Bohemia - The Middle Classes - A Daughter of Eve - -Bruel, Claudine Chaffaroux, Madame du - A Bachelor's Establishment - A Prince of Bohemia - Letters of Two Brides - The Middle Classes - -Cabirolle, Agathe-Florentine - A Start in Life - Lost Illusions - A Bachelor's Establishment - -Camusot - A Bachelor's Establishment - Cousin Pons - The Muse of the Department - Cesar Birotteau - At the Sign of the Cat and Racket - -Canalis, Constant-Cyr-Melchior, Baron de - Letters of Two Brides - Modeste Mignon - The Magic Skin - Another Study of Woman - A Start in Life - Beatrix - The Unconscious Humorists - The Member for Arcis - -Cardot, Jean-Jerome-Severin - A Start in Life - Lost Illusions - - A Bachelor's Establishment - At the Sign of the Cat and Racket - Cesar Birotteau - -Carigliano, Duchesse de - At the Sign of the Cat and Racket - The Peasantry - The Member for Arcis - -Cavalier - The Seamy Side of History - -Chaboisseau - The Government Clerks - A Man of Business - -Chatelet, Sixte, Baron du - Lost Illusions - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - The Thirteen - -Chatelet, Marie-Louise-Anais de Negrepelisse, Baronne du - Lost Illusions - The Government Clerks - -Chrestien, Michel - A Bachelor's Establishment - The Secrets of a Princess - -Collin, Jacques - Father Goriot - Lost Illusions - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - The Member for Arcis - -Coloquinte - A Bachelor's Establishment - -Coralie, Mademoiselle - A Start in Life - A Bachelor's Establishment - -Dauriat - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - Modeste Mignon - -Desroches (son) - A Bachelor's Establishment - Colonel Chabert - A Start in Life - A Woman of Thirty - The Commission in Lunacy - The Government Clerks - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - The Firm of Nucingen - A Man of Business - The Middle Classes - -Arthez, Daniel d' - Letters of Two Brides - The Member for Arcis - The Secrets of a Princess - -Espard, Jeanne-Clementine-Athenais de Blamont-Chauvry, Marquise d' - The Commission in Lunacy - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - Letters of Two Brides - Another Study of Woman - The Gondreville Mystery - The Secrets of a Princess - A Daughter of Eve - Beatrix - -Finot, Andoche - Cesar Birotteau - A Bachelor's Establishment - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - The Government Clerks - A Start in Life - Gaudissart the Great - The Firm of Nucingen - -Foy, Maximilien-Sebastien - Cesar Birotteau - -Gaillard, Theodore - Beatrix - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - The Unconscious Humorists - -Gaillard, Madame Theodore - Jealousies of a Country Town - A Bachelor's Establishment - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - Beatrix - The Unconscious Humorists - -Galathionne, Prince and Princess (both not in each story) - The Secrets of a Princess - The Middle Classes - Father Goriot - A Daughter of Eve - Beatrix - -Gentil - Lost Illusions - -Giraud, Leon - A Bachelor's Establishment - The Secrets of a Princess - The Unconscious Humorists - -Giroudeau - A Start in Life - A Bachelor's Establishment - -Grindot - Cesar Birotteau - Lost Illusions - A Start in Life - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - Beatrix - The Middle Classes - Cousin Betty - -Lambert, Louis - Louis Lambert - A Seaside Tragedy - -Listomere, Marquis de - The Lily of the Valley - A Study of Woman - -Listomere, Marquise de - The Lily of the Valley - Lost Illusions - A Study of Woman - A Daughter of Eve - -Lousteau, Etienne - A Bachelor's Establishment - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - A Daughter of Eve - Beatrix - The Muse of the Department - Cousin Betty - A Prince of Bohemia - A Man of Business - The Middle Classes - The Unconscious Humorists - -Lupeaulx, Clement Chardin des - The Muse of the Department - Eugenie Grandet - A Bachelor's Establishment - The Government Clerks - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - Ursule Mirouet - -Manerville, Paul Francois-Joseph, Comte de - The Thirteen - The Ball at Sceaux - Lost Illusions - A Marriage Settlement - -Marsay, Henri de - The Thirteen - The Unconscious Humorists - Another Study of Woman - The Lily of the Valley - Father Goriot - Jealousies of a Country Town - Ursule Mirouet - A Marriage Settlement - Lost Illusions - Letters of Two Brides - The Ball at Sceaux - Modeste Mignon - The Secrets of a Princess - The Gondreville Mystery - A Daughter of Eve - -Matifat (wealthy druggist) - Cesar Birotteau - A Bachelor's Establishment - Lost Illusions - The Firm of Nucingen - Cousin Pons - -Meyraux - Louis Lambert - -Montcornet, Marechal, Comte de - Domestic Peace - Lost Illusions - - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - The Peasantry - A Man of Business - Cousin Betty - -Montriveau, General Marquis Armand de - The Thirteen - Father Goriot - Lost Illusions - Another Study of Woman - Pierrette - The Member for Arcis - -Nathan, Raoul - Lost Illusions - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - The Secrets of a Princess - A Daughter of Eve - Letters of Two Brides - The Seamy Side of History - The Muse of the Department - A Prince of Bohemia - A Man of Business - The Unconscious Humorists - -Nathan, Madame Raoul - The Muse of the Department - Lost Illusions - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - The Government Clerks - A Bachelor's Establishment - Ursule Mirouet - Eugenie Grandet - The Imaginary Mistress - A Prince of Bohemia - -Negrepelisse, De - The Commission in Lunacy - Lost Illusions - -Nucingen, Baron Frederic de - The Firm of Nucingen - Father Goriot - Pierrette - Cesar Birotteau - Lost Illusions - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - Another Study of Woman - The Secrets of a Princess - A Man of Business - Cousin Betty - The Muse of the Department - The Unconscious Humorists - -Nucingen, Baronne Delphine de - Father Goriot - The Thirteen - Eugenie Grandet - Cesar Birotteau - Melmoth Reconciled - Lost Illusions - The Commission in Lunacy - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - Modeste Mignon - The Firm of Nucingen - Another Study of Woman - A Daughter of Eve - The Member for Arcis - -Palma (banker) - The Firm of Nucingen - Cesar Birotteau - Gobseck - Lost Illusions - The Ball at Sceaux - -Pombreton, Marquis de - Lost Illusions - Jealousies of a Country Town - -Rastignac, Eugene de - Father Goriot - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - The Ball at Sceaux - The Commission in Lunacy - A Study of Woman - Another Study of Woman - The Magic Skin - The Secrets of a Princess - A Daughter of Eve - The Gondreville Mystery - The Firm of Nucingen - Cousin Betty - The Member for Arcis - The Unconscious Humorists - -Rhetore, Duc Alphonse de - A Bachelor's Establishment - - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - Letters of Two Brides - Albert Savarus - The Member for Arcis - -Ridal, Fulgence - A Bachelor's Establishment - The Unconscious Humorists - -Rubempre, Lucien-Chardon de - Lost Illusions - The Government Clerks - Ursule Mirouet - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - -Samanon - The Government Clerks - A Man of Business - Cousin Betty - -Sechard, David - Lost Illusions - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - -Sechard, Madame David - Lost Illusions - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - -Tillet, Ferdinand du - Cesar Birotteau - The Firm of Nucingen - The Middle Classes - A Bachelor's Establishment - Pierrette - Melmoth Reconciled - The Secrets of a Princess - A Daughter of Eve - The Member for Arcis - Cousin Betty - The Unconscious Humorists - -Touches, Mademoiselle Felicite des - Beatrix - Lost Illusions - A Bachelor's Establishment - Another Study of Woman - A Daughter of Eve - Honorine - Beatrix - The Muse of the Department - -Vandenesse, Comte Felix de - The Lily of the Valley - Lost Illusions - Cesar Birotteau - Letters of Two Brides - A Start in Life - The Marriage Settlement - The Secrets of a Princess - Another Study of Woman - The Gondreville Mystery - A Daughter of Eve - -Vernou, Felicien - A Bachelor's Establishment - Lost Illusions - Scenes from a Courtesan's Life - A Daughter of Eve - Cousin Betty - -Vignon, Claude - A Daughter of Eve - Honorine - Beatrix - Cousin Betty - The Unconscious Humorists - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of A Distinguished Provincial at Paris - |