The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lost Illusions, by Honore De Balzac LOST ILLUSIONS BY HONORE DE BALZAC

PREPARER'S NOTE The trilogy known as Lost Illusions consists of: Two Poets A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Eve and David In many references parts one and three are combined under the title Lost Illusions and A Distinguished Provincial at Paris is given its individual title. Following this trilogy is a sequel, Scenes from a Courtesan's Life, which is set directly following the end of Eve and David.



The longest, without exception, of Balzac's books, and one which contains hardly any passage that is not very nearly of his best, _Illusions Perdues_ suffers, I think, a little in point of composition from the mixture of the Angouleme scenes of its first and third parts with the purely Parisian interest of _Un Grand Homme de Province_. It is hardly possible to exaggerate the gain in distinctness and lucidity of arrangement derived from putting _Les Deux Poetes_ and _Eve et David_ (a much better title than that which has been preferred in the _Edition Definitive_) together in one volume, and reserving the greatness and decadence of Lucien de Rubempre for another. It is distinctly awkward that this should be divided, as it is itself an enormous episode, a sort of Herodotean parenthesis, rather than an integral part of the story. And, as a matter of fact, it joins on much more to the _Splendeurs et Miseres des Courtisanes_ than to its actual companions. In fact, it is an instance of the somewhat haphazard and arbitrary way in which the actual division of the _Comedie_ has worked, that it should, dealing as it does wholly and solely with Parisian life, be put in the _Scenes de la Vie de Province_, and should be separated from its natural conclusion not merely as a matter of volumes, but as a matter of divisions. In making the arrangement, however, it is necessary to remember Balzac's own scheme, especially as the connection of the three parts in other ways is too close to permit the wrenching of them asunder altogether and finally. This caution given, all that is necessary can be done by devoting the first part of the introduction entirely to the first and third or Angouleme parts, and by consecrating the latter part to the egregious Lucien by

himself. There is a double gain in doing this, for, independently of the connection as above referred to, Lucien has little to do except as an opportunity for the display of virtue by his sister and David Sechard; and the parts in which they appear are among the most interesting of Balzac's work. The "Idyllic" charm of this marriage for love, combined as it is with exhibitions of the author's power in more than one of the ways in which he loved best to show it, has never escaped attention from Balzac's most competent critics. He himself had speculated in print and paper before David Sechard was conceived; he himself had for all "maniacs," all men of one idea, the fraternal enthusiasm of a fellow-victim. He could never touch a miser without a sort of shudder of interest; and that singular fancy of his for describing complicated legal and commercial undertakings came in too. Nor did he spare, in this wide-ranging book, to bring in other favorite matters of his, the _hobereau_--or squireen--aristocracy, the tittle-tattle of the country town and so forth. The result is a book of multifarious interest, not hampered, as some of its fellows are, by an uncertainty on the author's part as to what particular hare he is coursing. Part of the interest, after the description of the printing office and of old Sechard's swindling of his son, is a doubling, it is true, upon that of _La muse du Departement_, and is perhaps a little less amusingly done; but it is blended with better matters. Sixte du Chatelet is a considerable addition to Balzac's gallery of the aristocracy in transition--of the Bonaparte _parvenus_ whom perhaps he understood even better than the old nobility, for they were already in his time becoming adulterated and alloyed; or than the new folk of business and finance, for they were but in their earliest stages. Nor is the rest of the society of Madame de Bargeton inferior. But the real interest both of _Les Deux Poetes_, and still more of _Eve et David_, between which two, be it always remembered, comes in the _Distinguished Provincial_, lies in the characters who gave their name to the last part. In David, the man of one idea, who yet has room for an honest love and an all-deserved friendship, Balzac could not go wrong. David Sechard takes a place by himself among the sheep of the _Comedie_. Some may indeed say that this phrase is unfortunate, that Balzac's sheep have more qualities of the mutton than innocence. It is not quite to be denied. But David is very far indeed from being a good imbecile, like Cesar Birotteau, or a man intoxicated out of common-sense by a passion respectable in itself, like Goriot. His sacrifice of his mania in time is something--nay, it is very much; and his disinterested devotion to his brother-in-law does not quite pass the limits of sense. But what shall we say of Eve? She is good of course, good as gold, as Eugenie Grandet herself; and the novelist has been kind enough to allow her to be happier. But has he quite interested us in her love for David? Has he even persuaded us that the love existed in a form deserving the name? Did not Eve rather take her husband to protect him, to look after him, than either to love, honor, and obey in the orthodox sense, or to love for love's sake only, as some still take their husbands and wives even at the end of the nineteenth century? This is a question which each reader must answer for himself; but few are likely to refuse assent to the sentence, "Happy the husband who has such a wife as Eve Chardon!"

The central part of _Illusions Perdues_, which in reason stands by itself, and may do so ostensibly with considerably less than the introduction explanatory which Balzac often gives to his own books, is one of the most carefully worked out and diversely important of his novels. It should, of course, be read before _Splendeurs et Miseres des Courtisanes_, which is avowedly its second part, a small piece of _Eve et David_ serving as the link between them. But it is almost sufficient by and to itself. _Lucien de Rubempre ou le Journalisme_ would be the most straightforward and descriptive title for it, and one which Balzac in some of his moods would have been content enough to use. The story of it is too continuous and interesting to need elaborate argument, for nobody is likely to miss any important link in it. But Balzac has nowhere excelled in finesse and success of analysis, the double disillusion which introduces itself at once between Madame de Bargeton and Lucien, and which makes any _redintegratio amoris_ of a valid kind impossible, because each cannot but be aware that the other has anticipated the rupture. It will not, perhaps, be a matter of such general agreement whether he has or has not exceeded the fair license of the novelist in attributing to Lucien those charms of body and gifts of mind which make him, till his moral weakness and worthlessness are exposed, irresistible, and enable him for a time to repair his faults by a sort of fairy good-luck. The sonnets of _Les Marguerites_, which were given to the author by poetical friends --Gautier, it is said, supplied the "Tulip"--are undoubtedly good and sufficient. But Lucien's first article, which is (according to a practice the rashness of which cannot be too much deprecated) given likewise, is certainly not very wonderful; and the Paris press must have been rather at a low ebb if it made any sensation. As we are not favored with any actual portrait of Lucien, detection is less possible here, but the novelist has perhaps a very little abused the privilege of making a hero, "Like Paris handsome, and like Hector brave," or rather "Like Paris handsome, and like Phoebus clever." There is no doubt, however, that the interest of the book lies partly in the vivid and severe picture of journalism given in it, and partly in the way in which the character of Lucien is adjusted to show up that of the abstract journalist still farther. How far is the picture true? It must be said, in fairness to Balzac, that a good many persons of some competence in France have pronounced for its truth there; and if that be so, all one can say is, "So much the worse for French journalists." It is also certain that a lesser, but still not inconsiderable number of persons in England--generally persons who, not perhaps with Balzac's genius, have like Balzac published books, and are not satisfied with their reception by the press--agree more or less as to England. For myself, I can only say that I do not believe things have ever been quite so bad in England, and that I am quite sure there never has been any need for them to be. There are, no doubt, spiteful, unprincipled, incompetent practitioners of journalism as of everything else; and it is of course obvious that while advertisements, the favor of the chiefs of parties, and so forth, are temptations to newspaper managers not to hold up a very high standard of honor, anonymity affords to newspaper writers a dangerously easy shield to cover malice or dishonesty. But I can only say that during long practice in every kind of political and literary journalism, I never was seriously asked to write anything I did not think, and never had the slightest difficulty in confining myself to what I did think.

In fact Balzac, like a good many other men of letters who abuse journalism, put himself very much out of court by continually practising it, not merely during his struggling period, but long after he had made his name, indeed almost to the very last. And it is very hard to resist the conclusion that when he charged journalism generally not merely with envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness, but with hopeless and pervading dishonesty, he had little more ground for it than an inability to conceive how any one, except from vile reasons of this kind, could fail to praise Honore de Balzac. At any rate, either his art by itself, or his art assisted and strengthened by that personal feeling which, as we have seen counted for much with him, has here produced a wonderfully vivid piece of fiction--one, I think, inferior in success to hardly anything he has done. Whether, as at a late period a very well-informed, well-affected, and well-equipped critic hinted, his picture of the Luciens and the Lousteaus did not a little to propagate both is another matter. The seriousness with which Balzac took the accusation perhaps shows a little sense of galling. But putting this aside, _Un Grand Homme de Province a Paris_ must be ranked, both for comedy and tragedy, both for scheme and execution, in the first rank of his work. The bibliography of this long and curious book--almost the only one which contains some verse, some of Balzac's own, some given to him by his more poetical friends--occupies full ten pages of M. de Lovenjoul's record. The first part, which bore the general title, was a book from the beginning, and appeared in 1837 in the _Scenes de la Vie de Province_. It had five chapters, and the original verse it contained had appeared in the _Annalaes Romantiques_ ten years earlier with slight variants. The second part, _Un Grand Homme de Province_, likewise appeared as a book, independently published by Souverain in 1839 in two volumes and forty chapters. But two of these chapters had been inserted a few days before the publications in the _Estafette_. Here Canalis was more distinctly identified with Lamartine than in the subsequent texts. The third part, unlike its forerunners, appeared serially in two papers, _L'Etat_ and _Le Parisien_, in the year 1843, under the title of _David Sechard, ou les Souffrances d'un Inventeur_, and next year became a book under the first title only. But before this last issue it had been united to the other two parts, and had appeared as _Eve et David_ in the first edition of the _Comedie. George Saintsbury



Translated By

Ellen Marriage

DEDICATION To Monsieur Victor Hugo, It was your birthright to be, like a Rafael or a Pitt, a great poet at an age when other men are children; it was your fate, the fate of Chateaubriand and of every man of genius, to struggle against jealousy skulking behind the columns of a newspaper, or crouching in the subterranean places of journalism. For this reason I desired that your victorious name should help to win a victory for this work that I inscribe to you, a work which, if some persons are to be believed, is an act of courage as well as a veracious history. If there had been journalists in the time of Moliere, who can doubt but that they, like marquises, financiers, doctors, and lawyers, would have been within the province of the writer of plays? And why should Comedy, _qui castigat ridendo mores_, make an exception in favor of one power, when the Parisian press spares none? I am happy, monsieur, in this opportunity of subscribing myself your sincere admirer and friend, DE BALZAC.


At the time when this story opens, the Stanhope press and the ink-distributing roller were not as yet in general use in small provincial printing establishments. Even at Angouleme, so closely connected through its paper-mills with the art of typography in Paris, the only machinery in use was the primitive wooden invention to which the language owes a figure of speech--"the press groans" was no mere rhetorical expression in those days. Leather ink-balls were still used in old-fashioned printing houses; the pressman dabbed the ink by hand on the characters, and the movable table on which the form of type was placed in readiness for the sheet of paper, being made of marble, literally deserved its name of "impression-stone." Modern machinery has swept all this old-world mechanism into oblivion; the wooden press which, with all its imperfections, turned out such beautiful work for the Elzevirs, Plantin, Aldus, and Didot is so completely forgotten, that something must be said as to the obsolete gear on which Jerome-Nicolas Sechard set an almost superstitious affection, for it plays a part in this chronicle of great small things. Sechard had been in his time a journeyman pressman, a "bear" in compositors' slang. The continued pacing to and fro of the pressman from ink-table to press, from press to ink-table, no doubt suggested the nickname. The "bears," however, make matters even by calling the compositors monkeys, on account of the nimble industry displayed by those gentlemen in picking out the type from the hundred and fifty-two compartments of the cases. In the disastrous year 1793, Sechard, being fifty years old and a

married man, escaped the great Requisition which swept the bulk of French workmen into the army. The old pressman was the only hand left in the printing-house; and when the master (otherwise the "gaffer") died, leaving a widow, but no children, the business seemed to be on the verge of extinction; for the solitary "bear" was quite incapable of the feat of transformation into a "monkey," and in his quality of pressman had never learned to read or write. Just then, however, a Representative of the People being in a mighty hurry to publish the Decrees of the Convention, bestowed a master printer's license on Sechard, and requisitioned the establishment. Citizen Sechard accepted the dangerous patent, bought the business of his master's widow with his wife's savings, and took over the plant at half its value. But he was not even at the beginning. He was bound to print the Decrees of the Republic without mistakes and without delay. In this strait Jerome-Nicolas Sechard had the luck to discover a noble Marseillais who had no mind to emigrate and lose his lands, nor yet to show himself openly and lose his head, and consequently was fain to earn a living by some lawful industry. A bargain was struck. M. le Comte de Maucombe, disguised in a provincial printer's jacket, set up, read, and corrected the decrees which forbade citizens to harbor aristocrats under pain of death; while the "bear," now a "gaffer," printed the copies and duly posted them, and the pair remained safe and sound. In 1795, when the squall of the Terror had passed over, Nicolas Sechard was obliged to look out for another jack-of-all-trades to be compositor, reader, and foreman in one; and an Abbe who declined the oath succeeded the Comte de Maucombe as soon as the First Consul restored public worship. The Abbe became a Bishop at the Restoration, and in after days the Count and the Abbe met and sat together on the same bench of the House of Peers. In 1795 Jerome-Nicolas had not known how to read or write; in 1802 he had made no progress in either art; but by allowing a handsome margin for "wear and tear" in his estimates, he managed to pay a foreman's wages. The once easy-going journeyman was a terror to his "bears" and "monkeys." Where poverty ceases, avarice begins. From the day when Sechard first caught a glimpse of the possibility of making a fortune, a growing covetousness developed and sharpened in him a certain practical faculty for business--greedy, suspicious, and keen-eyed. He carried on his craft in disdain of theory. In course of time he had learned to estimate at a glance the cost of printing per page or per sheet in every kind of type. He proved to unlettered customers that large type costs more to move; or, if small type was under discussion, that it was more difficult to handle. The setting-up of the type was the one part of his craft of which he knew nothing; and so great was his terror lest he should not charge enough, that he always made a heavy profit. He never took his eyes off his compositors while they were paid by the hour. If he knew that a paper manufacturer was in difficulties, he would buy up his stock at a cheap rate and warehouse the paper. So from this time forward he was his own landlord, and owned the old house which had been a printing office from time immemorial. He had every sort of luck. He was left a widower with but one son. The boy he sent to the grammar school; he must be educated, not so much for his own sake as to train a successor to the business; and Sechard treated the lad harshly so as to prolong the time of parental rule, making him work at case on holidays, telling him that he must learn to

earn his own living, so as to recompense his poor old father, who was slaving his life out to give him an education. Then the Abbe went, and Sechard promoted one of his four compositors to be foreman, making his choice on the future bishop's recommendation of the man as an honest and intelligent workman. In these ways the worthy printer thought to tide over the time until his son could take a business which was sure to extend in young and clever hands. David Sechard's school career was a brilliant one. Old Sechard, as a "bear" who had succeeded in life without any education, entertained a very considerable contempt for attainments in book learning; and when he sent his son to Paris to study the higher branches of typography, he recommended the lad so earnestly to save a good round sum in the "working man's paradise" (as he was pleased to call the city), and so distinctly gave the boy to understand that he was not to draw upon the paternal purse, that it seemed as if old Sechard saw some way of gaining private ends of his own by that sojourn in the Land of Sapience. So David learned his trade, and completed his education at the same time, and Didot's foreman became a scholar; and yet when he left Paris at the end of 1819, summoned home by his father to take the helm of business, he had not cost his parent a farthing. Now Nicolas Sechard's establishment hitherto had enjoyed a monopoly of all the official printing in the department, besides the work of the prefecture and the diocese--three connections which should prove mighty profitable to an active young printer; but precisely at this juncture the firm of Cointet Brothers, paper manufacturers, applied to the authorities for the second printer's license in Angouleme. Hitherto old Sechard had contrived to reduce this license to a dead letter, thanks to the war crisis of the Empire, and consequent atrophy of commercial enterprise; but he had neglected to buy up the right himself, and this piece of parsimony was the ruin of the old business. Sechard thought joyfully when he heard the news that the coming struggle with the Cointets would be fought out by his son and not by himself. "I should have gone to the wall," he thought, "but a young fellow from the Didots will pull through." The septuagenarian sighed for the time when he could live at ease in his own fashion. If his knowledge of the higher branches of the craft of printing was scanty, on the other hand, he was supposed to be past master of an art which workmen pleasantly call "tipple-ography," an art held in high esteem by the divine author of _Pantagruel_; though of late, by reason of the persecution of societies yclept of Temperance, the cult has fallen, day by day, into disuse. Jerome-Nicolas Sechard, bound by the laws of etymology to be a dry subject, suffered from an inextinguishable thirst. His wife, during her lifetime, managed to control within reasonable bounds the passion for the juice of the grape, a taste so natural to the bear that M. de Chateaubriand remarked it among the ursine tribes of the New World. But philosophers inform us that old age is apt to revert to the habits of youth, and Sechard senior is a case in point--the older he grew, the better he loved to drink. The master-passion had given a stamp of originality to an ursine physiognomy; his nose had developed till it reached the proportions of a double great-canon A; his veined cheeks looked like vine-leaves, covered, as they were, with bloated patches of purple, madder red, and often mottled hues; till altogether, the

countenance suggested a huge truffle clasped about by autumn vine tendrils. The little gray eyes, peering out from beneath thick eyebrows like bushes covered with snow, were agleam with the cunning of avarice that had extinguished everything else in the man, down to the very instinct of fatherhood. Those eyes never lost their cunning even when disguised in drink. Sechard put you in mind of one of La Fontaine's Franciscan friars, with the fringe of grizzled hair still curling about his bald pate. He was short and corpulent, like one of the old-fashioned lamps for illumination, that burn a vast deal of oil to a very small piece of wick; for excess of any sort confirms the habit of body, and drunkenness, like much study, makes the fat man stouter, and the lean man leaner still. For thirty years Jerome-Nicolas-Sechard had worn the famous municipal three-cornered hat, which you may still see here and there on the head of the towncrier in out-of-the-way places. His breeches and waistcoat were of greenish velveteen, and he wore an old-fashioned brown greatcoat, gray cotton stockings, and shoes with silver buckles to them. This costume, in which the workman shone through the burgess, was so thoroughly in keeping with the man's character, defects, and way of life, that he might have come ready dressed into the world. You could no more imagine him apart from his clothes than you could think of a bulb without its husk. If the old printer had not long since given the measure of his blind greed, the very nature of the man came out in the manner of his abdication. Knowing, as he did, that his son must have learned his business pretty thoroughly in the great school of the Didots, he had yet been ruminating for a long while over the bargain that he meant to drive with David. All that the father made, the son, of course, was bound to lose, but in business this worthy knew nothing of father or son. If, in the first instance, he had looked on David as his only child, later he came to regard him as the natural purchaser of the business, whose interests were therefore his own. Sechard meant to sell dear; David, of course, to buy cheap; his son, therefore, was an antagonist, and it was his duty to get the better of him. The transformation of sentiment into self-seeking, ordinarily slow, tortuous, and veiled by hypocrisy in better educated people, was swift and direct in the old "bear," who demonstrated the superiority of shrewd tipple-ography over book-learned typography. David came home, and the old man received him with all the cordiality which cunning folk can assume with an eye to business. He was as full of thought for him as any lover for his mistress; giving him his arm, telling him where to put his foot down so as to avoid the mud, warming the bed for him, lighting a fire in his room, making his supper ready. The next day, after he had done his best to fluster his son's wits over a sumptuous dinner, Jerome-Nicolas Sechard, after copious potations, began with a "Now for business," a remark so singularly misplaced between two hiccoughs, that David begged his parent to postpone serious matters until the morrow. But the old "bear" was by no means inclined to put off the long-expected battle; he was too well prepared to turn his tipsiness to good account. He had dragged the chain these fifty years, he would not wear it another hour; to-morrow his son should be the "gaffer." Perhaps a word or two about the business premises may be said here. The printing-house had been established since the reign of Louis XIV. in the angle made by the Rue de Beaulieu and the Place du Murier; it had been devoted to its present purposes for a long time past. The

ground floor consisted of a single huge room lighted on the side next the street by an old-fashioned casement, and by a large sash window that gave upon the yard at the back. A passage at the side led to the private office; but in the provinces the processes of typography excite such a lively interest, that customers usually preferred to enter by way of the glass door in the street front, though they at once descended three steps, for the floor of the workshop lay below the level of the street. The gaping newcomer always failed to note the perils of the passage through the shop; and while staring at the sheets of paper strung in groves across the ceiling, ran against the rows of cases, or knocked his hat against the tie-bars that secured the presses in position. Or the customer's eyes would follow the agile movements of a compositor, picking out type from the hundred and fifty-two compartments of his case, reading his copy, verifying the words in the composing-stick, and leading the lines, till a ream of damp paper weighted with heavy slabs, and set down in the middle of the gangway, tripped up the bemused spectator, or he caught his hip against the angle of a bench, to the huge delight of boys, "bears," and "monkeys." No wight had ever been known to reach the further end without accident. A couple of glass-windowed cages had been built out into the yard at the back; the foreman sat in state in the one, the master printer in the other. Out in the yard the walls were agreeably decorated by trellised vines, a tempting bit of color, considering the owner's reputation. On the one side of the space stood the kitchen, on the other the woodshed, and in a ramshackle penthouse against the hall at the back, the paper was trimmed and damped down. Here, too, the forms, or, in ordinary language, the masses of set-up type, were washed. Inky streams issuing thence blended with the ooze from the kitchen sink, and found their way into the kennel in the street outside; till peasants coming into the town of a market day believed that the Devil was taking a wash inside the establishment. As to the house above the printing office, it consisted of three rooms on the first floor and a couple of attics in the roof. The first room did duty as dining-room and lobby; it was exactly the same length as the passage below, less the space taken up by the old-fashioned wooden staircase; and was lighted by a narrow casement on the street and a bull's-eye window looking into the yard. The chief characteristic of the apartment was a cynic simplicity, due to money-making greed. The bare walls were covered with plain whitewash, the dirty brick floor had never been scoured, the furniture consisted of three rickety chairs, a round table, and a sideboard stationed between the two doors of a bedroom and a sitting-room. Windows and doors alike were dingy with accumulated grime. Reams of blank paper or printed matter usually encumbered the floor, and more frequently than not the remains of Sechard's dinner, empty bottles and plates, were lying about on the packages. The bedroom was lighted on the side of the yard by a window with leaded panes, and hung with the old-world tapestry that decorated house fronts in provincial towns on Corpus Christi Day. For furniture it boasted a vast four-post bedstead with canopy, valances and quilt of crimson serge, a couple of worm-eaten armchairs, two tapestry-covered chairs in walnut wood, an aged bureau, and a timepiece on the mantel-shelf. The Seigneur Rouzeau, Jerome-Nicolas' master and predecessor, had furnished the homely old-world room; it was just as he had left it. The sitting-room had been partly modernized by the late Mme. Sechard; the walls were adorned with a wainscot, fearful to behold, painted

knotty staircase that shook under his tread. Jerome-Nicolas Sechard brought his son. "_Sabots_? There. Sabots! Yes. The third presenting to his wine-troubled eye a patch overlooked by the apprentice. tried and trusty. You will soon see whether your paltry iron-work contrivances will work like these solid old tools. et cetera. rolling a drunken eye from the paper to his son. had left it at this point. sabots that are like to hold salt enough to cook your eggs with--sabots that your father has plodded on with these twenty years. all with as much agility as the youngest of the tribe. In the passage he opened the door of the workshop. half-a-dozen chairs with lyre-shaped backs and blue leather cushions were ranged round the room. ink-tables." said Jerome-Nicolas. and pointed to a sheet of paper lying on the table--a valuation of plant drawn up by the foreman under his direction. for Mme. and back to the paper. father. my boy." "'Three wooden presses. with a . cast-iron plates----'" "An improvement of my own. balls." put in Sechard senior. repeating the manoeuvre with equal dexterity. letting the sheet fall. without coming to grief on the way. "'----Together with all the implements. drew out the carriage. take the inventory and let us go downstairs." cried David. ran in the carriage. and lifted the frisket and tympan. benches. "these presses of yours are old sabots not worth a hundred crowns. and then to the third in order. "Isn't it a love of a press?" A wedding announcement lay in the press. The two clumsy arched windows that gave upon the Place du Murier were curtainless. The old "bear" folded down the frisket upon the tympan. and are good to last you your lifetime without needing repairs of any sort. lurched down the worn. The panels were decorated with wall-paper --Oriental scenes in sepia tint--and for all furniture. there was neither clock nor candle sconce nor mirror above the mantel-shelf. "You will see what a jewel of a printing-house I am giving you. handled in this sort." unable to conceive the use of improvements that brought in no return in money. _pede titubante_. The press. held in position by iron tie-bars. worked the lever. and the tympan upon the form. they have helped him to make you what you are. Hither. "Where is the English press that could go at that pace?" the parent asked of his astonished son.the color of powder blue. Old Sechard hurried to the second. they are only fit for firewood." The father." "Sabots?" cried old Sechard. "Read that. You will not have the heart after that to slander honest old presses that go like mail coaches. creaked aloud in such fine style that you might have thought some bird had dashed itself against the window pane and flown away again. sixteen hundred francs!' Why. Sechard had died before she carried out her scheme of decoration. polished up by the apprentice. and the "bear. flew to the nearest press (artfully oiled and cleaned for the occasion) and pointed out the strong oaken cheeks.

that used to be printer to the Emperor! And type that costs six francs a pound! masterpieces of engraving. I am opposed to your replacing these presses by your cursed cast-iron machinery. I know enough to see that M. bought only five years ago. who uses hard metal. taking up an unused pica type. paste-pots." he went on. because there is no give in them." "You call M. "I am not book-learned. much as a horse-dealer polishes the coat of an animal that he is trying to sell. Old Sechard grew uneasy over his son's silence. wetting-boards. and lye-brushes had all been put down and valued separately with miserly exactitude. but you keep this well in mind.'" pursued David. father! Why. the printing will be properly done. That is what I call a typefounder! M. Look here!" Old Sechard pounced upon some packets of unused sorts. The very ropes across the ceiling had gone down into the old "bear's" inventory. Vaflard is an honest man. did you? Thanks for your Stanhopes. you can make your nine thousand francs a year without a foreman. Here is the round-hand. I haven't book-learning like you. and held them out for David to see. David asked himself whether or not this thing was feasible." "'Item. You in Paris have been making such a to-do over that damned Englishman's invention--a foreigner. and. "A man who is ready to pay you anything you ask will . and the Messrs. and not the smallest item was omitted. David saw that there was no way of coming to terms with his father. "Ten thousand francs. David. that type is as good as new. he would rather have had stormy argument than a wordless acceptance of the situation. 'nail-heads. Didot only ask thirty-six sous for their _Cicero_! These nail-heads of yours will only fetch the price of old metal--fivepence a pound.' do you? M. an enemy of France who wants to help the ironfounders to a fortune. Those three presses will serve your turn well enough. that wears out the type. but. Gille's sloping letters are the fathers of your Messrs. As your future partner. Vaflard's foundry----'" Didot's apprentice could not help smiling at the name. Gille. "'five thousand pounds weight of type from M. about twice as much as my three jewels put together. that cost two thousand five hundred francs apiece. Gille's italics. that is two francs a pound. Didot's English running-hand. "With those three presses. Some of them are as bright yet as when they came from the foundry. You may print with presses made of wood or iron or gold or silver. to my way of thinking. the life of the Stanhope is the death of the type. jobbing chases.'" continued David. The total amounted to thirty thousand francs. "Laugh away! After twelve years of wear. and maul your type to pieces. all the same. _they_ will never pay you a farthing more. rinsing-trough. including the license and the goodwill." "'----Taken at ten thousand francs. the best typefounder is the one you go to most seldom.notable oath he rubbed it with the skirt of his overcoat. running-hand and round-hand. and folk here in Angouleme won't ask any more of you. I don't know how to read or write. Chaffering in these sorts of bargains means that a man can look after his interests. It was a case of Yes or No--of taking or leaving it. Oh! you wanted Stanhopes.

and the fact that the old toper had himself well in hand. he would not believe that he was properly married." old Sechard was saying to himself." cried the old toper. and gives way at once if an opponent touches his feelings." A generous man is a bad bargain-driver. If a man came in from L'Houmeau with an order for wedding cards. skeletons raising the lids of their tombs to describe a V or an M. He himself had tried to sell them a better class of almanac than the _Double Liegeois_ on grocers' paper." Attached to the valuation of plant there was a deed of partnership between Sechard senior and his son. but their inventions won't take in the provinces for another hundred years. Old custom. like goldbeaters' tools. he told his son. Still. and huge borders of masks for theatrical posters became in turn objects of tremendous value through old Jerome-Nicolas' vinous eloquence. You are haggling over the horse that will carry you to some pretty bit of property like Marsac. bragging of its usefulness and sound condition. So long as David's purchase-money was not paid in nothing. David would soon see the importance of these old-fashioned things when he found he could get more for them than for the most costly new-fangled articles." Hideous vignettes. You are a do-nothing that has no mind to get on. now to a cutting-press. David. Didot." said he. he went through the list of odds and ends of plant needed by a country business. raising his hand to the lines of cord across the ceiling. and the bishop too. brought in five hundred francs last month? You turn up the books. especially as he credited that father with the best intentions. as Jerome-Nicolas Sechard had taken the whole place over from Rouzeau's widow for ten thousand francs. and took his covetous greed for a printer's attachment to his old familiar tools. reserving one of the two rooms in the roof for himself. put him still further at a disadvantage in a dispute about money matters with his own father. His loftiness of feeling. "In our line of business they ought to fetch more than the new. So there you are. David's nature was of the sensitive and affectionate type that shrinks from a dispute. at fivepence a line. and the provinces are the provinces. They may be fine printers. and the work for the mayor's office. paid in assignats. representing Hymen and Cupids. lad. "_I_. While he tried to follow his son's train of thought. and you were to print them without a Cupid and garlands. Paris is Paris. "I who gave you life? Why. you are cutting my throat!" exclaimed David. "Father. what do you suppose the license is worth? Do you know that the sheet of advertisements alone. "Aha! my boy. "Old tools are always the best tools. the profits were to be . and what came of it?--the original _Double Liegeois_ sold better than the most sumptuous calendars. was so deeply rooted in the district that he (David) would only waste his pains if he gave them the finest things in life. it stood to reason that thirty thousand francs in coin at the present day was an exorbitant demand. you would have them all back again if you sent them out with a plain M on them after the style of your Messrs. drawing David now to a hot-press. The good father was to let his house and premises to the new firm for twelve hundred francs per annum. and see what we make by placards and the registers at the Prefecture.

too. David remained close buttoned up to the chin. "Your mother's fortune?" echoed old Sechard. He had found the printing-house. it was her beauty and intelligence!" . leaving the plant out of account. "Or is he scheming out. accustomed to peasants' haggling. he tried to find out how far the old man would go. to clear off the debt. he answered that when he himself had paid Rouzeau's widow he had not had a penny left. ignorant working man. to contribute his share towards the working expenses. The old man's inquisitiveness roused his son's distrust. "why. had I not to live?" David asked indignantly. without one sou wherewith to pay his men's wages. he said. "and books to buy besides?" "Oh! you bought books. he thought. If he. if that fortune would not buy the printing-house. He had paid his share. money-getting reasons--in which the niggardly old man wrapped his refusal. saw. some way of not paying me?" With this notion in his head. returning to the charge. "What have you done with your 'polls?'" he asked. contemptible. he wanted to be paid something on account. there was nothing for it but to be passive while his father poured out a flood of reasons--sordid. and the stock of paper. When he asked his father. he saw that he was alone. David made a mental calculation of the value of the license. Pressed close by his son's reasoning. knowing nothing of the wider business views of Paris." Then David endured the most painful of humiliations--the sense of shame for a parent. did you? You will make a poor man of business. it might go some ways towards paying the working expenses. was amazed at such a prompt conclusion. as a partner. old Sechard made the apprentice move all his own household stuff up into the attic until such time as an empty market cart could take it out on the return journey into the country. at this moment. saw that he had no one to look to but himself. the old man pretended not to understand. A man that buys books is hardly fit to print them. as soon as he paid off his father. had not David been earning money." retorted the "bear. the goodwill. Next day. He accepted the conditions. that his father was trying to make money out of him. It was just possible. thanks to an education paid for by the sweat of his old father's brow? Now surely was the time when the education would come in useful. whining. Besides. and in a spirit of philosophical curiosity. and David entered into possession of three bare. a poor. and he was not bound to find the money too. had made his way. he was to be made sole proprietor of the business. Old Sechard. "Why. He called old Sechard's attention to the fact that he had never as yet made any inquiry as to his mother's fortune. "Can he have been putting money by?" he asked himself. unfurnished rooms on the day that saw him installed in the printing-house.divided equally. He meant to have light on a problem which his son left unresolved the day before. he tried to find out whether David had any money with him. Didot's apprentice should do still better. David crushed down his pain into the depths of his soul.

the agony of uncertainty as to the completion of the purchase inevitably succeeds. he was not quite easy in his mind as to the payment. To the throes of the vendor. was cleaning the ink-balls. "I will work. and marketing. and from year to year had added other bits of land to it. shall I not?" "I am leaving you a treasure. washing. Marion. if I have a rough time of it. Marion unloaded the paper carts. and cleaned the ink-balls." During the first twelvemonth of rural retirement. The noble heart accepted the heavy burden laid upon it." said Sechard. already in imagination he fingered the coin. and disgraceful lawsuit could he obtain any account of the money which by rights was his. until in 1809 the old "bear" bought the whole. was an indispensable part of the establishment. so had the old man. "After all. Old Sechard set out on foot for the country. Passion of every sort is essentially Jesuitical. besides." he said to himself. David asked what the treasure might be. the one apprentice. there was a creaking of a press over the . seeing clearly beforehand how difficult it would be to free himself from the engagements into which he had entered with his father. David's knowledge would discover new resources. Here was a man who thought that education was useless. day in. a big country girl. uneasy at his son's silence. Delighted as he was with his sale of the business. he had lived in his shop. David had received a good training. and thinks that he has acted a father's part.David understood his father thoroughly after that answer. "he had been in that line so long that he ought to know something about it. he understood that only after an interminable. I shall be working for myself. he would climb up the rocky staircases into the old city and walk into his son's workshop to see how business went. The previous owner had built a nice little house on the bit of property. day out. the more eager he grew to pouch it. As he put it himself. Marion did the cooking. There stood the presses in their places. and David seemed to be full of fine feelings. so David would sweat blood and water to fulfil his engagements. The prospect of thirty thousand francs was even more intoxicating than sweet wine. in a paper cap. He was mortgaging thirty thousand francs upon the ideas of honor and conduct which education should have developed in his son. "Marion!" said his father. Sechard senior showed a careful countenance among his vine props. a hamlet some four leagues out of Angouleme. in the old days. Not seldom his anxieties sent him hurrying from Marsac to Angouleme. exchanging the toil of the printing press for the labor of the winepress. old Sechard was quite of that opinion by the time that he had reached his vineyard at Marsac. and went thither. The less the claim to the money. collected accounts. forcing himself to believe in the influence of education. It was Marion who damped the paper and cut it to size. and if Marion had but known how to read. old Sechard would have put her to set up type into the bargain. so--David would pay! Many a parent does in this way. just as. expensive. for he was always in his vineyard now.

had come to David's heart. reminding him. Meanwhile the Cointets grew richer. and what not. of days when he was making his way. David preserved a most unlucky neutrality on the burning questions of the day. he could afford to take things easily. and hugging its presentiments. started a second local sheet of advertisements and announcements. and so forth and so forth. instinctively guessing at future contingencies. whereas . he would have plenty one of these days. In those times provincial men of business were bound to profess political opinions of some sort if they meant to secure custom. they had made handsome profits on their devotional books. far from the workshop and the machinery which possessed such a fascination for him. and in consequence. and by a chain of unforeseen circumstances that tutelary deity was so ordering matters that the purchase-money of his extortionate bargain was to be tumbled after all into the old toper's pouch. disaster was hovering over the house of Sechard. The older establishment was left at length with the job-printing orders from the town. Then he would join David at dinner and go back to Marsac. while David was a bachelor and could do as he pleased. The shades of opinion so sharply defined in the country are blurred and lost in the great currents of Parisian business life. . they cultivated the society of the clergy. has the gift of second sight. Cointet Brothers were the first in this lucrative field. once put into circulation. a Bonapartist. Atheism. accusing him of Liberalism. How. moreover. to have all the trade and judicial announcements of the department in their . they haunted the cathedral. it choked the keen money-getting instinct which would have led him to study the differences between the Paris trade and the business of a provincial printing-house. and with his scientific preoccupation and finer nature he had not room for the dogged greed of which our successful man of business is made. And Love. In short. They themselves were poor men with families to support. as it did. asked they. which the "bear" took for proof-sheets. Sechard senior living at a distance. emboldened by his inaction. when books of devotion were once more in demand. and before long David's keen competitors. They let every one know that they fasted of a Friday and kept Lent. he saw Sechard & Son dropping into the second place. produced their effect. like love. Avarice. chewing the cud of uneasy reflection. Cointet Brothers set themselves deliberately to assimilate all shades of monarchical opinion. could _feel_ that there were disquieting symptoms of inactivity in his son. could any one employ a man whose father had been a Septembrist. the old man scented misfortune in the wind. and a drunkard to boot? The old man was sure to leave plenty of gold pieces behind him. and now they offered to buy Sechard's paper. They slandered David. His presentiments were too well founded. Such tales against David. and in the dens at the end of the room he saw his son and the foreman reading books. Indifferent to the religious reaction brought about by the Restoration.printing of some trade circular. The name of Cointet Brothers haunted him like a dread. But there is a tutelary deity for misers. and the circulation of the _Charente Chronicle_ fell off by one-half. . The monopoly of the prefectorial and diocesan work passed gradually into the hands of Cointet Brothers. indifferent no less to the Liberal movement. they were forced to choose for themselves between the patronage of the Liberals on the one hand or the Royalists on the other. the old type was still unchanged.

or the other. The old man came into town very seldom after the paper was sold to the Cointets. and when business brought him into Angouleme. he was fond of his son. who had gone over to the rival establishment. The vinegrower brought his son to the front to gain his point. To have the cash in his own hands he would have given in David himself over and above the bargain." said he to his son. "What was to become of the connection if David gave up the paper? It all depended upon the paper. and he. "Leave me to manage the Cointets. The old foreman. the generous parent consented to abandon his share of the business but not the business premises. until. Still. he drew them on to give twenty-two thousand francs for the _Charente Chronicle_. he was taking his son's part. so as not to ruin his son. Our worthy friend intended to pay himself with the ready money. Sechard. and they took alarm at his clearsighted sagacity. His son was making a blunder. and the rental was still maintained at the famous sum of twelve hundred francs per annum. knew exactly how much this fatherly generosity was worth.own hands. That transaction dealt the deathblow to the Sechard establishment. it would have been hard to say which was the stronger attraction to the old house --his wooden presses or the son whom (as a matter of form) he asked for rent. Taking this fact into consideration. The Cointets had tried to ruin the Sechards by accusing them of Liberalism. but the truth was that he took little interest in the establishment now that it was his no longer. "don't you meddle in this business. The news of this proposal sent by David to his father brought the old vinegrower from Marsac into the Place du Murier with the swiftness of the raven that scents the corpses on a battlefield. that. Sell the paper indeed! Why. the old fox meant to reserve a right to interfere in his son's affairs. you might as well sell the stock-in-trade and the license!" Old Sechard asked the Cointets sixty thousand francs for the printing business. therefore. and by so doing gave them a plank to cling to--the Sechards should keep the Liberal business. All the attorneys and solicitors and men of business in L'Houmeau were Liberals to a man." The old man saw what the Cointets meant. The causes of David's heedlessness throw a light on the character of that young man. at the same time. But. Only a few days after his establishment in the . His son was unwilling to do this. he could not quite shake off his old kindness for his stock-in-trade. He pleaded his advanced age. and had taken care to appear in the bankruptcy as a privileged creditor for arrears of rent. Murder usually follows robbery. had come to put a stop to it. he said. as a peasant brings in his wife. but the old vinegrower did not trouble himself much on that head. not without an effort. under a penalty of thirty thousand francs for damages. it varied according to the offers which he wrung one after another from the Cointets. David must pledge himself thenceforward to print no newspaper whatsoever. and so much the more willingly since that this nuisance of a son could claim one-half of the unexpected windfall.

It may have been that some presentiment of the end had led the country druggist to do all that in him lay to give his boy and girl a good education. and had studied the causes of the complaint. but it was impossible for even one woman to exist on the three hundred francs of income brought in by the investment of the purchase-money. and lost all the fruits of his labors. was the son of a surgeon-major who had retired with a wound from the republican army. and worked to earn a living. for these hopes were extinguished by their father's death. death cut him off in the midst of his incompleted experiments. and on this sum three persons must be fed. he saw that the scientific method was the one road to assured success. had left deep traces in her beautiful face. After many years of scientific research. . M. when in a manner he had created a claim to call her his wife. and now when they were left almost destitute. The mother went out as a monthly nurse. it was an aggravation of their misfortune that they had been brought up in the expectations of a brilliant future. and lodged. and for this reason the druggist deliberately selected gout as his problem. like all children of love. clothed. and persons requiring her services were requested to apply to M. Nature had meant M. Chardon's successor in the business. The great Desplein. so the mother and daughter accepted the position. and based his remedy on a certain general theory of treatment. she assumed the name of Madame Charlotte. Halfway between the man of science on the one side and the charlatan on the other. Postel. the rich will pay large sums to recover health when they have lost it. he came across an old school friend in the direst poverty. To save her son the embarrassment of seeing his mother reduced to this humble position. saved as by a miracle from the guillotine in 1793.paternal printing office. Then. The secret of the army surgeon's ambition lay in his passionate love for his wife. but both she and her children confronted evil days bravely enough. together with Mme. with modifications in practice for varying temperaments. chance opened the way for a retail druggist's business in Angouleme. inherited the mother's wonderful beauty. Chardon had tried to find a specific for the gout. where she lived without expense to her children. The life of hope and hard work and despair. saw him die in convulsions of rage. Chardon had shared with such keen sympathy. the last survivor of the family of Rubempre. amounted to about eight hundred francs a year. Then. The children of this marriage. a decent woman much respected in L'Houmeau. the principal suburb of Angouleme. Chardon senior for a chemist. and earned fifteen daily sous. a lie told without the girl's knowledge or consent. who attended Chardon in his last illness. As Mme. Lucien's sister worked for a laundress. She sold the druggist's shop in the Grand' Rue de L'Houmeau. Prieur's forewoman she had a certain position in the workroom. and earned some seven francs a week. he had married her in spite of their common poverty. Gout is a rich man's malady. in all of which Mme. just as the slow decline of a scanty income had changed her ways and habits. on a visit to Paris undertaken to solicit the approval of the _Academie des Sciences_. which raised her slightly above the class of working-girls. and for her gentle manners was preferred to any other among the wealthy houses. he died. a young fellow of one-and-twenty or thereabouts. He had gained time by declaring that she was pregnant. that gift so often fatal when accompanied by poverty. the family had been living up to the income brought in by the business. and the great discovery that should have brought wealth to the family was never made. Lucien Chardon. The two women's slender earnings. Chardon's three hundred francs of _rentes_.

it was very sweet to him to draw nearer to his love by sharing her hopes and her self-sacrifice. The _et nunc et semper et in secula seculorum_ of the Liturgy is the device taken by many a sublime unknown poet. Lucien. Chardon and her daughter Eve believed in Lucien as Mahomet's wife believed in her husband. nearly the whole of it was needed for Lucien. And in this way Lucien came to be David's chosen brother. he spoiled Lucien as a mother spoils her child. Lucien bethought himself of two of his father's ideas. Chardon had talked of a method of refining sugar by a chemical process. under pressure of the lack of money which tied their hands. whose works consist in magnificent epics conceived and lost between heart and heart. Lucien was weary of drinking from the rude cup of penury. Then it was that David caught a glimpse of Eve's fair face. Not many days had passed before the young men's friendship became a passion such as is only known in early manhood.Yet. The exchange of roles was the beginning of an intellectual comradeship. And then. Both felt high swelling hopes of manifold success. Mme. and ready for any of the rash. Fate's injustice was a strong bond between them. David read the secret hopes set by the mother and sister on Lucien's poet's brow. for M. destined for the highest speculative fields of natural science. As there are ultras who would fain be more Royalist than the King. David's generous offer of forty francs a month if Lucien would come to him and learn the work of a printer's reader came in time. with that meditative temperament which inclines to poetry. decisive steps that youth takes at the age of twenty. and. something after the Chinese fashion. and effecting an enormous saving in the cost of raw material. and loved. and when David Sechard left. David had no need whatever of a printer's reader. When chance brought the school-fellows together again. with all their frugal thrift. as grave and meditative natures can love. after fruitless shakings of all the trees already stripped by previous comers. With a lover's insight. was drawn by his tastes towards natural science. Lucien was one of the most brilliant pupils at the grammar school of Angouleme. The ties of a school friendship thus renewed were soon drawn closer than ever by the similarity of their lot in life and the dissimilarity of their characters. Before long. and knowing their blind devotion. M. and at first induced him to follow in the same path. but he saved Lucien from despair. his future friend was in the third form. which would reduce the cost of production by one-half. the two were ruminating after the manner of young men over ways of promptly realizing a large fortune. knowing the importance of a question raised already . while David pointed out the new ways in literature that Lucien must follow if he meant to succeed. consigned though they were socially to the lowest level. Once. they had attained to poesy. by different ways. following each his own bent of mind. Postel let them have rooms at the further end of a yard at the back of the laboratory for a very low rent. A father's passion for natural science had stimulated the boy. while David. David. and he had another plan for employing an American vegetable fibre for making paper. Lucien told David of his own father's farsighted views of the application of science to manufacture. and Lucien slept in the poor garret above. the pittance was scarcely sufficient. Their present landlord was the successor to the business. their devotion for his future knew no bounds. was aiming with hot enthusiasm at fame through literature. both consciously possessed the high order of intelligence which sets a man on a level with lofty heights. so David outdid the mother and sister in his belief in Lucien's genius.

out of which the foreman's salary must be paid. wise policy required that they should allow the business to flicker on. so riven it was with seams and cracks of all sorts and sizes. the cobweb of cordage across the ceiling. The Cointets. Any one may guess how the ruling thoughts and inner life of this pair of friends unfitted them for carrying on the business of a printing house." as they called it. and . well pleased with his "craze. Try to picture the workshop. and dark in the middle. the old-fashioned presses. deep in absorbing intellectual interests. seemed to be bending beneath the weight of a worm-eaten roof covered with the curved pantiles in common use in the South of France. So it came about that. built of brick and stone. but. and looked upon Lucien as the benefactor whom he could never repay. The old house had stood in sun and rain. commercially speaking. were quite content with such orders as came to them from their remaining customers. and the two dens in the far corners where the master printer and foreman sat--and you will have some idea of the life led by the two friends. the pile of slabs for weighting the damp sheets. lest it should fall into the hands of some more formidable competitor. So far from making fifteen to twenty thousand francs. unwieldy shutters necessary in that climate." who never spent a penny on repairs. then he drew Lucien out into the yard as if the smell of paper. printers and publishers to the diocese. to the cunning schemes of his competitors. the stacks of paper. Inside and outside. as a matter of the Didots. It was nearly two o'clock. and proprietors of the _Charente Chronicle_ (now the only newspaper in the department)--Sechard & Son made a bare three hundred francs per month. like Cointet Brothers. they were adopting the tactics of the mail-coach owners who set up a sham opposition coach to keep _bona fide_ rivals out of the field. Active and industrious men of business would have bought new type and new machinery. In the long length the Cointets had come to understand David's character and habits. saw a fortune in it. as well as Marion's wages and the rent and taxes. ink. and made an effort to secure orders for cheap printing from the Paris book trade. They did not slander him now. caught at this latter notion. It would have puzzled you to find a more dilapidated house in Angouleme. as it is called--to the Sechard's establishment. behaved to all appearance both fairly and handsomely. they made a practice of sending prospectuses and circulars --job-printing. and held in place by massive iron cross bars. till it looked like some venerable tree trunk set down at the entrance of the alley. One day early in May. lighted at either end. The decrepit casements were fitted with the heavy. and borne the brunt of the weather. David waited until the apprentice had shut the street door with the bell fastened to it. so that David himself was scarcely making twelve hundred francs per annum. nothing but sheer tenacity of mortar kept it together. and the four or five men were going out to dinner. on the contrary. the rows of cases. David and Lucien were standing together by the window that looked into the yard. it was to their interest indeed to maintain it in a small way. with no pretensions to symmetry. The house front. the condition of the Sechard printing establishment bore testimony to the sordid avarice of the old "bear. all unwittingly. but master and foreman. the walls covered with handbills and begrimed by friction of all the workmen who had rubbed past them for thirty years. David owed his existence. 1821.

and women love to kiss. like his bright curling hair. his restless mind was apt to take its stand on the lower ground of those diplomatists who hold that success justifies the use of any means however base.presses and old woodwork had grown intolerable to him. The strong shoulders. rising above the broad chest. and sees clearly to the end of winding ways. not to say. men. were in keeping with the full development of his whole frame. turning the clear light of analysis upon the joys of fruition. And by the side of the poor printer. Lucien's hands denoted race. supported by a thick neck. With his thick crop of black hair. It is one of the misfortunes attendant upon great intellects that perforce they comprehend all things. stood Lucien. beneath eyebrows that might have been traced by a Chinese pencil. This is a trait which seldom misleads. the Greek profile. or with the eyes of all men turned upon him. joyless. they were shapely hands. The silken down on his cheeks. and quick to turn from them in disgust. hands that men obey at a sign. and this so much the more easily from the feminine contour of the hips. eyes so blue that they looked dark against a pearly setting. making. David's physique was of the kind that Nature gives to the fighter. and eyes full of love. with the steady light of an all-absorbing love that burned in them. an aureole about their heads. and. For in Lucien's face there was the distinction of line which stamps the beauty of the antique. You might look for the flash of genius from such a face. a characteristic of keen-witted. astute. and in Lucien it was a true indication of character. and dewy and fresh as those of a child. which revealed the real character of the man--the wisdom of the thinker. Lucien was slender and of middle height. drinking deep draughts from the cup of knowledge and of poetry that he might forget the cares of his narrow lot in the intoxication of soul and brain. but not abruptly. From a glance at his feet. shone golden in the sunlight. he looked at first sight like one of Boileau's canons: but on a second glance there was that in the lines about the thick lips. he might have been taken for a girl in disguise. both good and evil. Those beautiful eyes looked out from under their long chestnut lashes. in the turn of the square nostrils. was the smile of some sorrowing angel. yet redder as they seemed by force of contrast with the even teeth. in the dimple of the chin. A divine graciousness transfused the white temples that caught that golden gleam. hopes extinguished beneath a profound sense of the social annihilation to which lowly birth and lack of fortune condemns so many a loftier mind. above all. swarthy face. bringing the contrast between their faces and their characters into a vigorous relief that would have tempted the brush of some great painter. high-colored. graceful as some sculptured Indian Bacchus. you could not miss the ashes of the volcano. his fleshy. The two young men judged society by the more lofty standard because their social position was at the lowest end of the scale. known as yet in idea alone. The sunbeams. for when he analyzed the society of to-day. a matchless nobleness had set its seal in the short chin raised. keeping the office and the door in view. playing among the trellised vine-shoots. close to this Silenus. for . the strenuous melancholy of a spirit that discerns the horizon on either side. with the velvet whiteness of women's faces. as it were. with the broad irregular line of central cleavage. the man born to struggle in obscurity. and together they sat down under the vines. hovered over the two poets. The smile that hovered about the coral lips. in the eyes. self-sustained. who loathed a handicraft so closely allied to intellectual work.

In the friendship grown old already. their world by right. with his well-balanced mind and timid nature at variance with a strong constitution." So for three years these friends had mingled the destinies bright with such glorious promise. and adventurous." he thought to himself. one was the worshiper. They warmed themselves beside these great hearthfires. while he kept him out of the scrapes into which he was led by the _furie francaise_. they tried their powers in abortive creations. "The ox for patient labor in the fields. another elegy in the classic taste. was by no means wanting in the persistence of the Northern temper. for their minds were wholly bent on laying the foundations of future fame. which every man in love with glory tries first of all. "Listen!" And David read. prone to make the most of the bright side. In spite of the young printer's look of robust. "I will be the ox. partly by the enthusiasm which led him to prefer the nobler methods. partly by the fair illusions of youth. comrades in the consuming love of art and science. Just now these tendencies of ambition were held in check. but Lucien. till they forgot the hard life of the present. the prose writings of Scott. Lucien possessed the Gascon temperament to the highest degree--rash. Lamartine. at strife with his own power. "So that is Andre de Chenier!" Lucien exclaimed again and again. with a boldness little to be expected from his feminine. following on with the Elegy on a Suicide. almost effeminate. and laughs at the vice which serves as a stepping-stone. and not with the baseness of other men. and the last two _Iambes_. "It . and not with the difficulties of life. and David loved to give way. Yet it is. Incessantly they worked with the unwearied vitality of youth. Cuvier. the free life for the bird. first Andre de Chenier's Idyll _Neere_. and Byron. David. Jean-Paul.unrecognized power is apt to avenge itself for lowly station by viewing the world from a lofty standpoint. graceful though it was. "do you know what I have just received from Paris?" He drew a tiny volume from his pocket. then _Le Malade_. looking upon himself as one made of coarser and commoner human clay. and Lucien shall be the eagle. as a poet can read. Lucien was struggling as yet with himself and his own desires. David had thought much and deeply. his was the nature that sticks at no crime if there is anything to be gained by it. comrades in poverty. The brilliancy of his intellect had a keen attraction for David. on the other hand. Davy. and as little as possible of the dark. Berzelius. that fatal exemplar for impressionable minds. country-bred health. brave. and if he saw all the difficulties before him. David admired his friend. true that they grew but the more bitter and hopeless after these swift soaring flights to the upper regions of thought. Lucien ruled him like a woman sure of love. and that one was David. nevertheless. and many more." said David. He felt that his friend's physical beauty implied a real superiority. "Lucien. Goethe. his turn of mind was melancholy and somewhat morbid--he lacked confidence in himself. in work laid aside and taken up again with new glow of enthusiasm. In him the unswerving virtue of an apostle was softened by pity that sprang from inexhaustible indulgence. Lucien had read much and compared. figure. Together they read the great works that appeared above the horizon of literature and science since the Peace --the poems of Schiller. which he accepted. none the less he vowed to himself to conquer. never to give way.

sir. and all the treasures of the world lay at their feet. is there happiness on earth? He pressed the book to his lips. when he came upon the line-If they know not bliss." added David. an apprentice (David had brought the urchin from Paris). and out came Cerizet.fills one with despair!" he cried for the third time. and a siren voice sounded in their ears. and Chenier's _Camille_ became for David the Eve whom he worshiped." "Still we have a very pretty type which might suit it. Poetry had shaken out her starry robe above the workshop where the "monkeys" and "bears" were grotesquely busy among types and presses. and spoke to David. for Lucien a great lady to whom he paid his homage. "You had better see the Messieurs Cointet about it." ." "Have I the pleasure of addressing M. spread your wings. is a monograph which I am desirous of printing. without looking at the manuscript. This youth introduced a stranger." said the foreman. life had turned to a golden dream. with fluted columns and knots and bas-reliefs and uncounted masterpieces of I know not what order of architecture. till. battered walls of the old house where squalid cracks were spreading in every direction. "After Chenier had written those poems. but the friends felt neither hunger nor thirst. for the two friends were lovers and fellow-worshipers. taking up the roll. Fancy had scattered flowers and crimson gems over the gloomy little yard. "We must ask you to be kind enough. sir. Then Lucien in his turn read aloud the fragment of an epic called _L'Aveugle_ and two or three of the Elegies. sir. Far away on the horizon lay the blue streak to which Hope points a finger in storm and stress. covering the rifted. "Come. "Mme. The vine-stems were changing color with the spring. through that streak of gold or silver or azure lies the sure way of escape from evil fortune!" Just at that moment the low glass door of the workshop was opened. unable to read further for emotion." put in Lucien. Five o'clock struck. de Bargeton sent me here. and tears came to the eyes of either." David answered. "I am fortunate in this opportunity of meeting with a young poet destined to such greatness. to leave your commission with us and call again to-morrow. sir." said he. and we will give you an estimate. when David surrendered the book to him. reading the signature of the preface." returned the author. who saluted the friends politely. Lucien Chardon?" "Yes. calling.--"A poet rediscovered by a poet!" said Lucien. "Will you oblige me with an estimate?" "We do not undertake work on such a scale. erected by fairy hands. "This. he thought that he had written nothing worth publishing. drawing a huge package of manuscript from his pocket.

"What do you mean?" "In spite of my love. the author of a monograph on silkwork cultivation. the Rue du Minage. David noticed his friend's embarrassed flush. though she knew nothing of his presence. as his eyes followed Lucien across the workshop." "But social prejudices set you as far apart as if she were living at Pekin and you in Greenland. Lucien went down to L'Houmeau along the broad Promenade de Beaulieu. When the author had gone." "The will of two lovers can rise victorious over all things. "Lucien." said Lucien. a man whose gifts are greater than mine. David stood overcome by the emotion that is only felt to the full at his age. I have told her that I will never go thither again unless another is made welcome too. good-bye. as Eve's fair face rose before his mind." cried Lucien. lowering his eyes." David brushed the tears from his eyes. in spite of the different motives which bid me obtain a secure footing in her house. I have perhaps sacrificed my love to you. de Bargeton took in him. and stammered out something about gratitude for the interest which Mme. a man destined for a brilliant future --David Sechard. so you may be sure that Mme. and Saint-Peter's Gate. are you in love with Mme. Under the trees of Beaulieu he saw how far the suburb lay from the . my friend. de Bargeton's house again. and left him in conversation with the country gentleman. He hurried away." Lucien added abruptly. David spoke. prompted by vanity to print the effort for the benefit of fellow-members of the local agricultural society. that for the past two months he had gone round daily by the Palet Gate into L'Houmeau. and I will never set foot in Mme. de Bargeton?" "Passionately. I shall find an answer waiting when I go home. It was the longest way round. de Bargeton's house lay on the way. "You will forget us. So delicious it was to pass under her windows. The clock struck six.Lucien flushed red at the name. "Eve must be anxious." returned the alarmed lover. and wrung Lucien's hand. but I shall not go if the answer is negative. "Heart of gold!" David exclaimed to himself. my brother. "On the contrary. All the aristocrats may have been asked to hear me read my verses this evening. and more especially in such a position as his --the friends were like two young swans with wings unclipped as yet by the experiences of provincial life.

building a Prefecture. The old city of Angouleme is perched aloft on a crag like a sugar-loaf. The crag is an outlying spur on the Perigord side of a long. Under the Empire the machinery worked fairly smoothly. yet Lucien was as uneasy in his mind over his lady's answer as any king's favorite who has tried to climb yet higher. every agency for public conveyance. which terminates abruptly just above the road from Paris to Bordeaux. Everybody has heard of the great paper-mills of Angouleme. the lords spiritual and temporal of Angouleme. Naturally. to avoid the difficulty of the ascent of the hill. The ramparts and great gateways and ruined fortress on the summit of the crag still remain to bear witness to the importance of this stronghold during the Religious Wars. where the direct road runs from Paris to Bordeaux. The _noblesse_ and officialdom dwelt on the crag. the residence of the powers that be. The largest State factory of marine ordnance in France was established at Ruelle. wheelwrights. and along the banks of the river lay the stores of brandy and great warehouses full of the water-borne raw material. and this so much the more if the reader is to comprehend the position of one of the principal characters in the story--Mme. when Angouleme was a military position coveted alike of Catholics and Calvinists. was still a mere appendage of the city above. overlooking the plain where the Charente winds away through the meadows. This must seem a dark saying to those who have never studied the manners and customs of cities divided into the upper and lower town. So the Faubourg of L'Houmeau grew into a busy and prosperous city. and inns. . de Bargeton. in short. had raised other barriers harder to surmount than the mere physical difficulty of the steep flights of steps which Lucien was descending. a second Angouleme rivaling the upper town. had lined the quays with buildings. a mushroom growth at the foot of the crag and along the river-side. and shut in between its ramparts and the steep sides of the crag. and in Angouleme it would have been hard to say which of the two camps detested the other the more cordially. a Naval School. The custom of the country. posthouses. trade and wealth remained below. and barracks along the hillside. and opening up roads. some six miles away. Angouleme could not spread down to the Charente. with all its business and increasing greatness. moreover. so that the Rock of Angouleme is a sort of promontory marking out the line of three picturesque valleys. every industry that lives by road or river. laundries. For some time past the suburb of L'Houmeau had sprung up. though L'Houmeau. and fears that being over-bold he is like to fall. No love was lost between these two sections of the community all the world over. but the Restoration wrought both sides to the highest pitch of exasperation. wherefore it is necessary to enter here upon some topographical details. Youth and ambition had thrown the flying-bridge of glory across the gulf between the city and the suburb. The Government made an attempt about this very time to extend the town towards Perigord. but its old-world strength is a source of weakness in modern days. tanneries. where there was a sufficient fall of water. too. established perforce three hundred years ago on the Charente and its branch streams. was crowded together in Lower Angouleme. But private enterprise had been beforehand elsewhere. the old town is condemned to stagnation of the most fatal kind. all the carrying trade of the Charente. and all such waterside trades stood within reach of the Charente. low ridge of hill.

throwing an accent into the speech which no words can describe. a craze deeply deplored in Angouleme. As the overweening haughtiness of the Court nobles detached the provincial _noblesse_ from the throne. a family from some neighboring district may be adopted. all stagnating together. The merchant classes are rich. Who was responsible for it? Lamartine and Victor Hugo. receivers-general. all devoted as one man to the Government. so did these last alienate the _bourgeoisie_ from the royal cause by behavior that galled their vanity in every possible way. Cousin and Michaud. or at any rate by old burgher. families. Of modern luxury they had no notion. The better families. Hence the deep. and various administrations that have come and gone during the last forty years. Beranger and Chateaubriand. It is easy to imagine the influence of the class sentiment which held Angouleme aloof from L'Houmeau. Possibly. "He is a man of L'Houmeau!" a shopkeeper of the upper town will tell you. "The man of L'Houmeau" became little better than a pariah. a woman whose influence decided Lucien's career. eccentric taste on her part. de Bargeton's house was nothing less than a little revolution. the families formed a serried phalanx to keep out intruders. it is necessary to give a sketch of the previous history of a woman born to shine. jealous and niggardly. de Bargeton loved art and letters. alike must divide the blame among them. the distance between Angouleme and L'Houmeau. have tried to tame the ancient families perched aloft like wary ravens on their crag. and as for sending a boy to Paris. The tradespeople in Angouleme espouse the quarrel. marrying only among themselves. speaking of a merchant in the lower suburb. and it may be an intermarriage or two with one of the primordial houses. Davrigny. already more strongly marked than the distance between the hill and plain. Yet Angouleme enjoyed a great reputation in the provinces round about for its educational advantages. was widened yet further. When the Restoration defined the position of the French _noblesse_. in Mme. grew more exclusive here than in any other part of France. the _noblesse_ are usually poor. after two hundred years of unbroken residence. de Bargeton was the great-grandson of an alderman of Bordeaux named . they thought to certain ruin. they were inexorable. Benjamin Constant and Lamennais. suffering from thick-headed Royalism. So "a man of L'Houmeau. it was sending him. who live independently on their incomes--a sort of autochthonous nation who suffer no aliens to come among them. but as to admitting the strangers to their own houses. Casimir Delavigne and Canalis. Mme. infected with bigotry rather than zeal.--all the old and young illustrious names in literature in short. M. smothered hatred which broke out everywhere with such ugly unanimity in the insurrection of 1830 and destroyed the elements of a durable social system in France.Nearly every house in the upper town of Angouleme is inhabited by noble. Liberals and Royalists." a druggist's son. but in the eyes of the aboriginal race they are still newcomers of yesterday. Such sagacity will give a sufficient idea of the old-world manners and customs of this society. holding out hopes to them which could only be realized by a complete and general topsy-turvydom. Prefects. and neighboring towns sent their daughters to its boarding schools and convents. motionless as their town founded upon a rock. and left by unlucky circumstances in the shade. In justice to the lady. Each side takes its revenge in scorn of the other. Ready to scoff and disparage. the said families were always willing to accept invitations to dinners and dances.

Marie-Louise-Anais de Negrepelisse. and deciphered with her the music of the great composers. to some coarse-minded servant-maid. scion though he was of the younger branch of one of the oldest families in the south of France. great-uncles of the present Bargeton. Finally. however. the daughter of a noble long relegated to the obscurity of his manor-house. de Bargeton with a taste for music and reading.. and distilling his own brandy. There had been a Negrepelisse among the hostages of St. he taught his pupil Latin and Greek and some smatterings of natural science. de Negrepelisse. During the Revolution one Abbe Niollant. de Bargeton. had borne the illustrious name of d'Espard since the reign of Henri Quatre. and knew both Italian and German. being entailed. laughing at those who ridiculed him. called the Hotel Bargeton. The Abbe Niollant. for long tenure of office. whose independent spirit had been fostered in the first place by a country life. Bargeton V. de Bargeton the Waster came in for these hereditaments. so long as he could pile up silver crowns. Two of his brothers indeed. a temperament compatible with many estimable qualities. found a hiding-place in the old manor-house of Escarbas. he lived upon his wife's property. when the Negrepelisse of that day married an heiress of the d'Espard family. the younger son of a younger son. a small estate in the neighborhood of Barbezieux. This M. He explained the great masterpieces of the French. and Bargeton II. as she was called must otherwise have been left to herself. the grandson of M. and Italian literatures. as well as in counterpoint. (who may be dubbed Bargeton the Mute by way of distinction) should by rights have been born to the title of Marquis of Bargeton. in Angoumois in the barony of Rochefoucauld. as time hung heavy on his hands in the seclusion enforced by political storms. an enthusiast and a poet. bearing the name of Mirault de Bargeton. and the house in Angouleme. or. As for M. for which reason you will find the name of Mirault among Bordeaux merchants at this day. like many another. and married so great a fortune that in the reign of Louis XV. the Abbe Roze's best pupil. German. His son. and brought with him his baggage of musical compositions. The head of the elder branch. he thought himself uncommonly lucky when he married Mlle. The Abbe was not only a musician. for the Abbe undertook his daughter's education.. and now and again round out his estate with another bit of land. Circumstances unusual enough in out-of-the-way places in the country had inspired Mme. lived up to his quality so strenuously that he ran through the family property and checked the course of its fortunes. The lands of Bargeton. If his grandsire had but walked in the ways of his illustrious progenitors. worse still. he would have been connected with some great family or other. The old country gentleman's hospitality was handsomely repaid. and in due time he would have been a duke and a peer of France. so Mlle. likewise. possessed the artistic temperament in a peculiarly high degree. In society an intellect of this order wins pardon for its boldness by its depth and originality. or Nais. Bargeton I. became an officer in the household troops of Louis XIV. his son dropped the Mirault and was called simply M. but prone to raise itself above _bourgeois_ prejudices by the liberty of its judgments and breadth of view. farming the land to admiration. though the year 1789 deprived him of all seignorial rights save to the rents paid by his tenants. A mother might have modified the effects of a man's education upon a young girl. he was well and widely read. went into business again. de Negrepelise received instruction in those tongues. whereas. but in private life it . the alderman's grandson. Louis. ennobled under Louis XIII. de Bargeton. selling his corn in the market himself. Anais. in 1805. which amounted to some ten thousand francs per annum.Mirault.

not so much on her account as for his own peace of mind. stupid enough and easy enough to allow Nais to have her own way. The instincts of vanity were flattered by the pride that the poor Abbe took in his pupil. and between obedience to coarse caprices and a mind without indulgence for her tastes. A noble or a country gentleman was the man for him. with none of the charming blandness and urbanity of a great lady. and disinterested enough to take her without a dowry. was sure to break into rebellion against his niggardliness. before the marriage of his dear child. Isolation is one of the greatest drawbacks of a country life. even if it had been a question of some indispensable trifle for her education. With no social intercourse to compel self-repression. he resolved to marry his daughter. There was a cavalier air about her.would seem to do positive mischief. and for her misfortune she met no one with whom she could measure herself. and the consequent asperities of character. de Negrepelisse maintained sufficient of the tradition of birth to dread a _mesalliance_. In 1802 the Abbe died. a marriage which he. but only suited to women of adventurous life. She wished to rule. the pride of an author who sees himself in his work. a something that seems at first original. and had no great inclination thereto. undignified specimens of mankind whom she had chanced to meet. M. Mlle. to the feeble. could only serve to make her ridiculous at Angouleme so soon as her adorers should cease to worship eccentricities that charm only in youth. she would not have hesitated for a moment. and he felt quite unequal to the struggle. and flight with a lover who should please her. body and soul. he would have given all his daughter's books to save the life of a sick bullock. Like many another parent. or persons who hastened to do her bidding. She shrank from submitting herself. incapable of haggling over the account of the trust. The high-spirited girl. But where to look . The Abbe Niollant's pupil learned to be fearless in criticism and ready in judgement. We lose the habit of putting ourselves to any inconvenience for the sake of others when there is no one for whom to make the trifling sacrifices of personal effort required by dress and manner. marriage meant obedience. And though the Abbe constantly impressed it upon his pupil that it behoved her to be the more modest and gracious with the extent of her attainments. that he would not have given her two farthings over and above the allowance to which she had a right. de Negrepelisse. doubtless. by suggesting wanderings from the beaten track. de Negrepelisse's bold ideas passed into her manner and the expression of her face. somebody not too clever. would never have advised. So this education. And everything in us shares in the change for the worse. Like all young women who leave the appointed track of woman's life. and his ideas were therefore the more contagious for this high-spirited girl. de Negrepelisse conceived an excellent opinion of herself and a robust contempt for ordinary humanity. All those about her were her inferiors. The Abbe was by no means wanting in goodness of heart. till she grew to be as haughty as a great lady. it never occurred to her tutor that qualities so necessary in a man are disadvantages in a woman destined for the homely life of a house-mother. which would have been softened down in a higher social sphere. Nais had her own opinions about marriage. in whom they were confirmed by a lonely life. with nothing else to do. and so miserly was he. As for M. The old father found his daughter a great care now that the Abbe was gone. Mlle. the form and the spirit deteriorate together.

untempered by intercourse with the great world becomes stiff and starched by contact with petty things. and with the help of such connections as her wit and beauty would obtain for her in Paris. was generally held to be a man of remarkably feeble intellect. men born to be great. whereas his wife looked scarcely half her age. and in such ways as these. profited her nothing. from the good in us. Although their income did not exceed twelve thousand francs. but to an unprejudiced spectator it certainly seemed as though the duty of writing the bridegroom's epitaph might devolve upon his father-in-law. aged forty. are balked of their lives. and her hair hanging loose upon her shoulders. two hundred years old already. merchants and officials excepted. de Bargeton looked like a man of seventy. three attires gules. Enthusiasm. inspiring the devotion hidden from all eyes and glowing out upon the world in verse. from some faculty or quality abnormally developed. in fact. where the air is quick with thought. turns to exaggeration. de Bargeton was thirty-six years old and her husband fifty-eight. To M. frittered away upon the infinitely small objects which it strives to exalt.for a son-in-law to suit father and daughter equally well. Herein lies the secret of the avarice and tittle-tattle that poison provincial life. M. The contagion of narrow-mindedness and meanness affects the noblest natures. for the Bargeton arms are blazoned thus: _the first or. for he expected that in no long while M. was the problem. M. de Negrepelisse would leave him the estates which he was rounding out so lovingly. and Nais' brilliant intellectual gifts. Far away from the centres of light shed by great minds. taste is corrupted like stagnant water. that virtue within a virtue. but he had just the exact amount of commonsense required for the management of his fortune. in a loftier moral atmosphere it would have grown to noble magnanimity. de Bargeton were obliged to live in Angouleme until such time as Mme. Meanwhile they were bound to be attentive to old M. So Nais married the bearer of arms. Nais was enchanted by the prospect of such liberty. the third. Pride. and passion dwindles. and Mme. She could still wear rose-color. and made her see the way to manage him so as to secure her own happiness. they ranked among the half-dozen largest fortunes in the old city. Provided with a chaperon. and one_. three ox's heads cabossed. de Negrepelisse (who kept them waiting so long that his son-in-law in fact predeceased him). knowledge stands still. and breeding sufficient to enable him to avoid blunders or blatant follies in society in Angouleme. sable. two. Such a man would be the phoenix of sons-in-law. with the trifles of a narrow existence for its object. six shells or. In the bluntest manner M. M. de Bargeton was of the opinion that he was making a brilliant marriage. and women who would have been charming if they had fallen under the forming influence of greater minds. and the wealth that lay like undiscovered ore in her nature. The disparity in age was the more startling since M. azure and argent. for the most part. three. two and one. de Negrepelisse pointed out the negative virtues of the model husband designed for his daughter. forming the saint. for M. in the first. By this time Mme. Nais could steer her fortunes as she chose under the style of the firm. de Negrepelisse pondering over the eligible bachelors of the province with these double requirements in his mind. For our absurdities spring. the second. de Bargeton seemed to be the only one who answered to this description. underwent the transforming operation of Time and changed to absurdities. considerably shattered by the amorous dissipations of his youth. barry of six. de Bargeton. . de Bargeton's inheritance should fall in and they could go to Paris.

and publishing her emotions indiscriminately to her circle. and went into ecstasies over anything and everything. de Bargeton. she thirsted for any draught but the clear spring water of her own life. heart and heart. As a matter of fact. She adored Byron and Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Everything was heroic. but if a woman describes it. she sang paeans for every victory. or depression. and divine. neologize. prosify. or anybody else with a picturesque or dramatic career. Her tears were ready to flow for every misfortune. 'twas a high. for instance. and with Mehemet Ali. is she not ridiculous? There are pleasures which can only be felt to the full when two souls meet. Lewis' _Anaconda_. It was at this period of her career that she began to type-ize. or the presence of mind of a lady friend who put burglars to flight by imitating a man's voice. without a lover. She squandered superlatives recklessly in her talk. she longed to be a sister of Saint Camilla and tend the sick and die of yellow fever in a hospital at Barcelona. A sunset certainly is a glorious poem. flowing hidden among green pastures. tragedify. For a long while she lived upon herself and distant hopes. The heat of her language communicated itself to the brain. interlarded with exaggerated expressions. A good many people looked upon her as a harmless lunatic. poetize. And this was indeed the fact. Her mind ran on the Pasha of Janina. for the benefit of matter-of-fact people. extraordinary. any kind of genius was accommodated with an aureole. Then. gazed at the sky. wonderful. and wasted her strength on curious dislikes. strange. massacring the foreign usurpers of Egypt. when sensations appeal to an audience of one. the kind of stuff ingeniously nicknamed _tartines_ by the French journalist. She would work herself into a state of excitement.Here was Mme. analyze. and the dithyrambs on her lips were spoken out of the abundance of her heart. poet and poet. she would have liked to try conclusions with him in his seraglio. Lady Hester Stanhope. She envied that blue-stocking of the desert. de Bargeton's married life can be summed up in a few words. a noble destiny! In short. over the devotion of a sister of Charity. She wore herself out with chronic admiration. individualize. angelize. in short. There was not a single man who could inspire the madness to which women are prone when they despair of a life become stale and unprofitable in the present. she looked about her at the people with whom her life must be spent. swooned. and the smallest things took giant proportions. but in these extravagances of hers a keener observer surely would have seen the broken fragments of a magnificent edifice that had crumbled into ruin before it was completed. over M. and . The story of the first eighteen years of Mme. who furnishes a daily supply of the commodity for a public that daily performs the difficult feat of swallowing it. She had a trick of using high-sounding phrases. her eyes were always filled with tears. superiorize. or looked to earth. it is better to keep them to ourselves. She sympathized with the fallen Napoleon. or the escape of La Valette. indignation. In short. when she began to see that their narrow income put the longed-for life in Paris quite out of the question. in high-sounding words. and sank again. dramatize. and had a great notion of being sewn in a sack and thrown into the water. the stones of a heavenly Jerusalem--love. smiting the lyre for every trifle. and shuddered at her loneliness. She palpitated. synthesize. and colossify--you must violate the laws of language to find words to express the new-fangled whimsies in which even women here and there indulge. she soared to heaven. d'Arlincourt's _Ipsiboe_. and she was fully persuaded that gifted immortals lived on incense and light. and the execution of the brothers Fauchet.

M. A woman so much above the level of those about her. She had nothing to look for. but not flexibility of mind or body. when she sees her roses wither. the colonel in his second campaign. de Maistre (those two eagles of thought)--all the lighter French literature. the great essayists. a shadow that only vanished at the terrible age when a woman first discovers with dismay that the best years of her life are over. nothing to expect from chance. her social supremacy led her into affectation and sentimental over-refinements. lightning-blasted but still erect. de Bargeton went to a _ridotto_ given to the town by a regiment. a dreary chronicle which must be given if Lucien's position with regard to the lady is to be comprehensible. the heroes of a modern time who outdid the mythical feats of paladins of old. She would have died of grief like the ermine if by chance she had been sullied by contact with those men whose thoughts are bent on winning a few sous nightly at cards after a good dinner. de Bonald and M. For long afterwards she wept for the young soldier. marriage and society became a cloister for Anais. de Bargeton's past life. Lucien's introduction came about oddly enough. The cities of France. On the battlefield of Wagram a shell shattered the only record of Mme. that appeared during that sudden outburst of first vigorous growth might bring delight into her solitary life. for there are lives in which chance plays no part. but since 1806 had the wit to adopt the particle--M. a portrait worn on the heart of the Marquis of Cante-Croix.with no outlook for the future. The place of controller of excise fell vacant. she queened it with her foibles. Mme. M. greater and nobler than the ties that were made and unmade so easily in those days. and the longing for love is revived again with the desire to linger yet for a little on the last smiles of youth. This was Mme. and she has had no joy of them. must perforce do honor to the Imperial Guard. de Bargeton's monotonous life. can make but one choice. her disappointed hopes revived. for the heart hot with love and glory that set a letter from Nais above Imperial favor. pride saved her from the shabby love intrigues of the provinces. in short. however avaricious or refractory. forced to decide between the emptiness of the men whom she meets and the emptiness of her own life. The pain of those days cast a veil of sadness over her face. du Chatelet was one of the agreeable young men who escaped conscription after conscription by keeping very close to the Imperial sun. de Barante appointed a man whose adventurous life was a sufficient passport to the house of the sovereign lady who had her share of feminine curiosity. and fell in love with an officer of a good family. de Chatelet--he began life as plain Sixte Chatelet. and M. Her dignity became a stilted manner. restrained. de Bargeton's young beauty. and Napoleon was sending the flower of his troops to the Peninsula. Natural curiosity prompted her to make an effort to see the heroes who were conquering Europe in obedience to a word from the Emperor in the order of the day. But when the Empire was in the full noonday of glory. a sub-lieutenant. was consecrated coldly by the hands of death. In the previous winter a newcomer had brought some interest into Mme. Her nobler qualities dealt so many wounds to her soul at the moment when the cold of the provinces seized upon her. and mayors and prefects went out to meet them with set speeches as if the conquerors had been crowned kings. Love. She stood strong and straight like some forest tree. All the famous foreign books published in France for the first time between 1815 and 1821. after the usual fashion of those who allow their courtiers to adore them. to whom the crafty Napoleon had given a glimpse of the baton of a Marshal of France. She lived by poetry as the Carmelite lives by religion. He had begun his career as .

about the time that Montriveau reached Tangier. and return with a quatrain. and certain connections of long standing. . Supple. flat as a pancake. sketch a head in profile. not that he would not have made a delightful Master of Requests. recommended him to the President of the Council. he would boldly ask permission to retire for ten minutes to compose an impromptu. He knew nothing. in short. the cleverest practitioner is he who can swim with the current and keep his head well above the stream of events which he appears to control. moreover. envious. together with services rendered to great persons now in power. his reputation for success with women. his recent misfortunes. for it can only be displayed in the conduct of the affairs of the great. had the luck to find an English vessel just about to set sail. Chatelet found himself in the territory of the Imam of Muscat. the strange story of his travels and sufferings. he went off in despair to Egypt with General de Montriveau. for instance. wherein rhyme did duty for reason. he danced well. At length. a clever billiard-player. Diplomacy he claimed to be his strong point. and balked of his _ambassade de famille_ as he called it. he held her skeins of silk with infinite grace.private secretary to an Imperial Highness. and. du Chatelet had besides a very pretty talent for filling in the ground of the Princess' worsted work after the flowers had been begun. So the part that M. a man who knows nothing can safely say nothing. de Barante's department until such time as a controllership should fall vacant. but the Princess was of the opinion that her secretary was better placed with her than anywhere else in the world. all the little talents that a man could turn to such useful account in times when women exercised more influence in public life than most people imagine. ordinary and extraordinary. there was nothing that he did not know--nothing that he really knew. Her Imperial Highness could not procure a seat in the Privy Council for her private secretary. however. never at a loss. but he could sit down to the piano and accompany. who sold and resold their captive--his talents being not of the slightest use to the nomad tribes. or design a costume and color it. and went to Cassel as envoy-extraordinary. a man's fitness for this business varying inversely as his specific gravity. Just as he had been promised the post of minister to Jerome in Westphalia. of music. indeed. and take refuge in a mysterious shake of the head. He had. for he cut a very extraordinary figure there--Napoleon used him as a diplomatic courier in the thick of a European crisis. Personable and of a good figure. Incapable though he was of any feeling for poetry. in fact. you shall find a thousand mediocrities for one man of genius. Once in Paris. and so came back to Paris a year sooner than his sometime companion. a post for which he possessed every qualification. no empty form of words. and excelled in most physical exercises. it usually is with those who have no knowledge. entertained her with dubious nothings more or less transparently veiled. sing a ballad and applaud a witticism. and for two long years Sixte du Chatelet led a wandering life among the Arab tribes of the desert. the Empire fell to pieces. who put him in M. all awakened the interest of the ladies of Angouleme. He was ignorant of painting. and in spite of Chatelet's services. a passable amateur actor. this kind of skill possesses one signal advantage. du Chatelet once had played in the history of the Imperial Princess. like many another. He was made a Baron. a woman who consented after much pressing to sing a ballad learned by heart in a month of hard practice. after a fashion. A strange chapter of accidents separated him from his traveling companion. and are profound by reason of their emptiness. as in all others. he could. M. but he could copy a landscape. But in this particular art or craft. and when discretion is the quality required.

like a man out of his proper place awaiting the favors of power. the prefect was admitted twice or thrice in a year. shining at a solar distance. nor did they lose anything in reputation on that account. and a political career in Paris. the prefect. which he could not have obtained if he had asked for it. learned it upon the piano. He was on visiting terms with the authorities--the general in command. will realize the awe with which the _bourgeoisie_ of Angouleme regarded the Hotel de Bargeton. High-born Angouleme shrieked against the introduction of a Giaour into the sanctuary. as if pain never gave him a moment's respite. she who had declined to open her doors to the receiver-general. Those who by dint of mental effort can understand a kind of pettiness which. and curiosity was still lively. . the receiver-general was never received at all. And now. Music. As he came out after mass. a habit that recalled his travels and made him interesting. the glory of the Angoumoisin Hotel de Rambouillet. de Bargeton's salon was a kind of holy of holies in a society that kept itself unspotted from the world. and prune it. he received the passport.M. de Bargeton would go to concerts and "at homes" at his house. all the decayed gentility from twenty leagues round about. and weary in spirit. le Baron Sixte du Chatelet informed himself as to the manners and customs of the upper town. then when people began to talk about him and wish to know him. and took his cue accordingly. and stimulated the interest felt in him by allowing his name to slip out through the attendants. polite. He would raise his hand to his forehead at all seasons. Mme. The inhabitant of L'Houmeau beheld the grandeur of that miniature Louvre. but she never accepted invitations to dinner. Surreptitiously he procured one of Miroir's Masses. sent those who knew no better into ecstasies over the performance. So the adroit Baron was admitted to the circle of the queen of Angouleme. de. broken in health. the receiver-general. and the bishop but in every house he was frigid. regretting that she had no opportunity of playing duets with such a musician. The only outsider intimate there was the bishop. such a thing it had never entered their minds to conceive. he saw that Mme. The elderly beau--he was forty-five years old--saw that all her youth lay dormant and ready to revive. He appeared on the scene as a jaded man of the world. he would hang his fortunes upon it. and one fine Sunday when all Angouleme went to the cathedral. it would be a marriage into the family of Negrepelisse. and yet. for that matter. Here was a fair tree to cultivate in spite of the ill-omened. during an interview of her own seeking. and paid her marked attention. within it there was gathered together all the direst intellectual poverty. and studied the women with the eyes of experience in the cathedral for several Sundays. and slightly supercilious. and wait till he could gather its golden fruit. Bargeton was the person with whom it would be best to be on intimate terms. can be found on any and every social level. should open the doors of a house where strangers were never received. unsightly mistletoe that grew thick upon it. to say nothing of expectations. His social talents he left to conjecture. and possibly a rich widow to wed. he thought. he played the organ. Mme. welcomed a mere controller of excise! Here was a novel order of precedence for snubbed authority. saw treasures to be turned to account. and naturally. for Mme. and for him this meant a family connection with the Marquise d'Espard. when he had reconnoitred the men and found them nought. de Bargeton complimented him.

She must see this poet. talked of him for whole hours together. and Louis XVIII. and the other was president of a local agricultural society. for the most part. Each noble represented a certain price for the townsmen. this angel! She raved about him. de Chateaubriand for calling Victor Hugo "a sublime child. we are told.--these things covered a multitude of deficiencies. with none of the political baseness and ferocious hatred of the great ones of earth that led his English prototype to turn pamphleteer and revile his benefactors." a young poet. their very exclusiveness. with sepia. Nobility of feeling was far more real here than in the lofty world of Paris. she in all sincerity. there was always something amiss that spoiled the whole. though he knew it not. he with suppressed yawns. toilette or talk. but not elsewhere. The very fixity of their political opinions was a sort of faithfulness. He encouraged the queen of Angouleme in foibles bred of the soil. For these reasons M. gave them a certain elevation. were awkward. but weighty. No words. he read aloud the poetry that appeared. who were supposed to share her tastes for art and letters. as Bambara Negroes. she waxed enthusiastic over the renaissance. flesh or spirit. de Bargeton. can describe her joy at these tidings. a Jacobin. went into raptures. de Bargeton in her little circle of five or six persons. attach a money value to cowrie shells. du Chatelet thought he had done a wonderfully clever thing when he told the lady that at that moment in Angouleme there was "another sublime child. Mme. but he held his ground by cultivating the clergy. antiquated and tarnished. A great man of the future had been born in L'Houmeau! The headmaster of the school had shown the Baron some admirable verses. their attachment to the House of Bourbon as the House of Bourbon did them honor. Purists were of the opinion that you might see the intruder in Mme. the _Quotidienne_ was comparatively Laodicean in its loyalty. But for his designs on Mme." It depressed her that she could only know genius from afar. more or less. And yet the manners and spirit of the noble in his ruined manor-house. Together they went into ecstasies over these poets. de Bargeton's house. The poor and humble lad was a second Chatterton. or was gifted with a bass voice that rendered _Se fiato in corpo_ like a war whoop --Mme. he brought her all the newest books. due to the return of the Bourbon Lilies. who scarcely could make out what the young writers meant. discerned in him the superior qualities lacking in the men of their own sect. The women.Political opinion expanded itself in wordy commonplaces vociferated with emphasis. therefore. and ill dressed. Chatelet could not have endured the society. insipid. if the metaphor may be allowed. flattered by M. de Bargeton. Before two days were out the sometime diplomatic courier had negotiated (through the headmaster) for Lucien's appearance in the Hotel de Bargeton. nothing in them was complete. These ladies all hoped to succeed to the Imperial Highness. du Chatelet. the knowledge of the traditions of good breeding. The distance that they set between themselves and the _bourgeoisie_. Some of the women. and that splashed sheets of white paper. de Bargeton amid these grotesque figures was like a famished actor set down to a stage dinner of pasteboard. a rising star whose glory surpassed the whole Parisian galaxy. and enhanced their value. and the insurrection of self-love was pacified. where great men live. silly. she sighed for Paris. because this one scraped a fiddle. she loved M. Du Chatelet was fain to put up with a good deal of insolence. Not so Mme. You might compare these country Royalists. but he bore with the Romantics with a patience hardly to be expected of a man of the Imperial school. . to old-fashioned silver plate.

The carved woodwork. The old-fashioned furniture shrank piteously from sight under covers of a red-and-white check pattern. her manner was distinguished. but in good repair. prim. and now he (Lucien) was to be made welcome there! No one except his sister was in the secret. that loomed so large in his imagination. and when they were almost opposite the cathedral she stopped. the poet beheld her by the light of two wax candles on a sconce with a screen fitted to it. de Bargeton's house!--for Eve it meant the dawn of success. de Bargeton. and wondered whether their names would ever so much as reach ears inexorably deaf to knowledge that came from a lowly origin.Poor helots of the provinces. mellowed by time. almost convent-like. where M. Lucien had a habit of resting his elbows on the table when he was in deep thought. conjured up a few louis d'or from her savings to buy thin shoes for Lucien of the best shoemaker in Angouleme. beyond a dimly-lit salon. will fully comprehend the ferment in Lucien's heart and brain. souls so grievously oppressed by the social barriers behind which all sorts and conditions of men sit crying _Raca_! with mutual anathemas--you. ingenuous feeling ends. There were monochrome paintings on the frieze panels. and inside it was extremely plain. smiling on the poet. she was impressed with Lucien's extreme beauty. that stood before her on a round table with a green cloth. walking together of an evening in the Promenade de Beaulieu. It looked dismal enough from the street. he thought. poor girl! in a great tremor of emotion. Externals in the Rue du Minage gave Lucien no sense of surprise. covered with thin mattressed cushions. And after he was out of sight. and what quantities of advice she gave him! Her intuition foresaw countless foolish fears. crossed a shabby antechamber. and washed and pleated it with her own hands. For Mme. had looked up at the house with the old-fashioned gables. there was the usual provincial courtyard--chilly. indeed. du Chatelet was waiting for him. She made a frill for his best shirt. And how pleased she was to see him so dressed! How proud she felt of her brother. and the walls were adorned with crimson damask with a meagre border. This palace. de Bargeton. Eve. when his awe-inspiring headmaster told him that the great gates of the Hotel de Bargeton would shortly open and turn upon their hinges at his fame! Lucien and David. as though some great thing had happened to them. these distances visibly lessen day by day). Lucien in Mme. and the house itself was sober. The innocent creature did not suspect that where ambition begins. she still stood there. and an entirely new suit of clothes from the most renowned tailor. Lucien went up the old staircase with the balustrade of chestnut wood (the stone steps ceased after the second floor). Peter's Gate. he would even go so far as to draw a table nearer to lean upon it. On the sofa. who was not a little fluttered by the serpentine quiverings. with . like the thrifty housekeeper and divine magician that she was. Eve told him that he must not forget himself in those aristocratic precincts. and watched him pass down the Rue de Beaulieu to the Promenade. The queen did not attempt to rise. She went with him as far as St. and came into the presence in a little wainscoted drawing-room. in the taste of the eighteenth century. but she twisted very gracefully on her seat. was a house built of the soft stone of the country. and neat. sat Mme. for whom the distances between class and class are so far greater than for the Parisian (for whom. had been painted gray. and you alone.

Mme. She was not thin. de Bargeton did not ask for them. escaping from under her cap. took his fancy. a head-dress that recalls memories of mediaeval legend to a young imagination. He did not so much as see that her cheeks were faded. and hovered about those bright points as the moth hovers about the candle flame. and Mme. "Heaven send that Lucien might meet with better treatment than he had done. on the dainty curls rippling with light. and proceeding in this character to give him (Lucien) the benefit of his advice. exaggerated by her manner. with everything about him. to amplify. For her spirit made such appeal to his that he could no longer see the woman as she was. but nothing was said of them. du Chatelet's discourse. Beneath a massive white brow. de Bargeton's words intoxicated the young poet from L'Houmeau. shone a pair of bright gray eyes encircled by a margin of mother-of-pearl. He went with him as far as the first flight of steps below Beaulieu to try the effect of a little diplomacy. and Lucien then became aware that there was no one else in the room. clean cut and strongly outlined. For Lucien those three hours spent in her presence went by like a dream that we would fain have last forever." such was the matter of M. de Bargeton amiably pointed to a seat by her side. With fingers tapering and well-kept. You were . in love with love. Her feminine exaltation had carried him away. as it were. The careless cross-folds of the bodice left a white throat bare. Mme. Lucien scrutinized his hostess with discreet side glances. Was not this a beginning of an understanding? As for M. His imagination fastened at once on the glowing eyes. and Lucien was not a little astonished when he heard the controller of excise pluming himself on having effected the introduction. well placed contours beneath. two blue veins on each side of the nose bringing out the whiteness of that delicate setting. he was not over well pleased with all this. that the patches of color on the cheek-bone were faded and hardened to a brick-red by listless days and a certain amount of ailing health. du Chatelet ensconced himself in an easy-chair. "The Court was less insolent that this pack of dolts in Angouleme. He had brought none of his own verses to read. Mme. and half revealed the outlines of a still youthful figure and shapely. following a new fashion. she was slender. but new to Lucien. bright golden color in the light. The Bourbon curve of the nose added to the ardent expression of an oval face. hung loose. he had purposely left them behind because he meant to return.his diffidence. on the dazzling fairness of her skin. she disappointed none of his expectations of a great lady. wore a coif of slashed black velvet. a little staled in truth by pretty hard and constant wear. red in the rounded shadow of the curls that only partially hid her neck. de Bargeton. Sixte du Chatelet. the energy of her expressions. it was as if the royal temper of the House of Conde shone conspicuous in this feature. Her red-gold hair. fascinated him so much the more easily because he was determined to be pleased. he thought. that infirmity of noble souls. the dignity of womanhood. for her the poet already was poetry incarnate. and delicate in spite of her strength. and loverless. though somewhat too thin. because she meant that he should come back some future day to read them to her. M. for youth sets out with a love of hyperbole. Her foibles. He perceived rather too late in the day that he had a rival in this handsome young fellow.

Lucien experienced the extremes of dread. If this kind of folk did not alter their behavior. The elderly butterfly of the Empire came down with his whole weight on the poor poet. as became a man of L'Houmeau. de Bargeton began to address . as it had seemed to him at the outset. Lucien loved Nais as a young man loves the first woman who flatters him." Chatelet talked of his passion in the tone of a man who would have a rival's life if he crossed his path. de Bargeton was for him a benefactress who would take a mother's interest in him. it was because he had found Mme. these folk. and despair. For two months Mme. She was very cruel to herself in those days. Lucien thought them very kind for a time. He grew taller as he gave an embellished account of his perilous wanderings. she treated him like a child. but she represented him to himself as a child without fortune whom she meant to start in life. not merely did she exalt him beyond measure. sometimes she was tender and flattered him. She was sometimes a lofty patroness. and tried to frighten and crush him by his self-importance. She would be his before very long. everything pointed that way. a phase of opinion through which many a would-be patrician passes by way of prelude to his introduction to polite society. if he continued to go to the house. and regardless of his threats and airs of a _bourgeois_ bravo. found Lucien in the room. In spite of the elderly coxcomb. her secretary. and came more and more frequently. there would be another Revolution of '89. telling herself that it would be folly to love a young man of twenty. de Bargeton to his taste. But was there anything that he would not have endured for Nais?--for so he heard her named by the clan. The conquest of this haughty queen of the society would be his one revenge on the whole houseful of booby clodpates. and cared more for him than she would have thought possible after the dreadful calamity that had befallen her. and now he was desperately in love with her. the lover was by no means afraid of him.expected to endure deadly insults. a final shade of distinction in the inmost ring of Angoumoisin aristocracy. and later found out the real reason for their specious amiability. As for himself. she made him her reader. She used all her skill to secure her hold upon her poet. they met him with the overwhelming graciousness that well-bred people use towards their inferiors. The druggist's son was a completely insignificant being. she was the only woman worth troubling about in Angouleme. while he was overawed by her rank. the torture of a first love. Like Spanish grandees and the old Austrian nobility at Vienna. he had been paying court to her for want of anything better to do. for Nais prophesied great things and boundless fame for Lucien. but while he impressed the poet's imagination. If any of the _noblesse_. the superciliousness you had to put up with was something abominable. men and women alike. At first. she loved him. men or women. hope. but confidences came next. calling upon Nais. and her behavior to him was a bewildering mixture of familiarity and capricious fits of pride arising from her fears and scruples. Lucien went back again and again to the house--not too often at first. Mme. called each other by their Christian names. but before very long he grew accustomed to the vast condescension. It was not long before he detected a patronizing tone that stirred his gall and confirmed him in his bitter Republicanism. so far apart from her socially in the first place. to keep him near her. that is beaten deep into the heart with the hammer strokes of alternate bliss and anguish.

she considered finer than the finest work of Canalis. Seek count of me. the objections she raises are so many redoubts which she loves to have carried by storm. The hidden care. he found Mme." without more ado. he gave way to unfeigned despair when she opened the campaign by entrenching herself behind the more or less skilfully devised scruples which women raise to have them battered down. The haughty and high-born Negrepelisse offered the fair angel youth that one of her appellations which was unsoiled by use. When a woman begins to talk about her duty. May they bring visions fair as cloudless skies Of happy voyage o'er a summer sea! "Was it really I who inspired those lines?" she asked. slowlier at the last. and addressed the great lady as Nais. the poet of the aristocracy?-The magic brush. and told with tears the piteous story of a love so stainless. playing grand . The poet grew bolder. "_I_ shall not die for you. and gave Louise a glance which told plainly that a crisis was at hand. my mistress' pencil steals To tell the secret gladness that she feels. He wished to see it. Startled at the progress of this new love in herself and her poet. light flying flights of song-To these. she reproached him for calling her by a name in everybody's mouth." he cried audaciously one evening. naturally. but her first kiss upon his forehead calmed the storm. But what became of her when she read the following stanzas. What an interest in her life! She took up music again for her poet's sake. The doubt suggested by coquetry to a woman who amused herself by playing with fire brought tears to Lucien's eyes. for him she would be "Louise. he meant to have no more of M. I pray of Thee. looking for a pretext for a quarrel in his tardiness." Lucien was in the third heaven. thick-coming memories rise. and to quiet the despair of a first fit of jealousy Louise showed him Cante-Croix's picture. so cruelly cut short. and there followed a flash of anger that captivates a boy. but not to these alone. which she promptly put away.her poet as "dear Lucien. when swift. regard for appearances or religion. de Bargeton looking at a portrait. And when her fingers. Louise demanded some verses promised for the first page of her album." and then as "dear. and revealed the world of sound to him. That would be pretext sufficient for having him constantly with her under the very eyes of her tiresome courtiers. Decidedly Lucien was a great man. now become the Past. Was she experimenting with herself? Was she trying a first unfaithfulness to the memory of the dead? Or had she taken it into her head to raise up a rival to Lucien in the portrait? Lucien was too much of a boy to analyze his lady-love. One evening when Lucien came in. de Cante-Croix. belong My pages fair. he would have advanced of his own accord. and she meant to form him. But on the guileless Lucien these coquetries were thrown away. she thought of teaching him Italian and German and perfecting his manners. Of a rich Future. I will live for you. Oh Love. Often to me. which.

She brought her most caustic wit into play. There was a rumor of insurrection. a Voltaire. is she not? A poor fate for a Rubempre. or a Diderot. and there is something irresistibly attractive about well-doing when persisted in through evil report. "She is a druggist's widow. Chatelet. She addressed the controller of excise as "M. The remark passed muster as a joke. Chardon. innocence has the piquancy of the forbidden. but she had lost her supremacy of empire. de Bargeton with her most regal air. that Louise had judged it expedient to ask Lucien to dine with M. my dear?" asked Mme. the whole town knew the state of affairs. a Rousseau. "the mother of the Chateaubriand of L'Houmeau. turned to the half-swooning poet. people must make up their minds to it. "Is not such happiness as this enough?" she asked hypocritically. "Yes." In the previous week things had reached such a point. but left her audience agape at her eccentricity. appeared for the first time in the faded great drawing-room. The outcry was terrific. de Bargeton's presence of mind put an end to the jeremiads of the _noblesse_. otherwise Mme. Amelie." as he put it. that no one would believe the truth. In short. Then it was that the jealous du Chatelet discovered that Madame Charlotte. de Bargeton as a third. dear." "What is there extraordinary in that." she said. Lucien was forced upon her circle. Great natures are prone to make a virtue of misfortune. "Nais. But in spite of this precaution. what should either of us do for a living? How would you support your children?" Mme. where the whist-tables were set out. happy in his delight. Some were of the opinion that society was on the eve of cataclysm. Suppose that you and I had not a penny in the world. And in these ways she conjured away the storm with her heavy artillery. and brought him forward. When Lucien. she welcomed him graciously. "See what comes of Liberal doctrines!" cried others. de Chandour. and accept the fact that great men had upholsterers and clockmakers and cutlers for their fathers. de Bargeton. a Beaumarchais. a Massillon.fragments of Beethoven till she sent him into ecstasy. She said that genius was always noble. she talked a good deal of nonsense. Mme. obedient to her request. Nais had won a victory. like a queen who means to be obeyed. which would have let the light into heads less dense. was no other than Mme. and. "do you know what everybody is talking about in Angouleme? This little rhymster's mother is the Madame Charlotte who nursed my sister-in-law through her confinement two months ago. de Bargeton's rooms were crowded that evening with friends who came to remonstrate with her." and left that gentleman thunderstruck by the discovery that she knew about the illegal superfetation of the particle. and was received as a poisonous element. Mme. a Racine. the monthly nurse. She railed at boorish squires for understanding their real interests so imperfectly. . de Chandour was the first to hurry to Mme. and so extraordinary did it appear. She said that as noble families could not produce a Moliere. which every person in it vowed to expel with the antidote of insolence. and poor Lucien was stupid enough to answer.

and Chatelet was conscious that he was attacked. overlooked by the shortsighted Emperor. came to the support of the young poet. with ices. determined to erect a rival altar by receiving on Wednesdays. Now Mme. de Bargeton's salon was open every evening. She announced a soiree. and asked all the authorities to meet him--the prefect. When Mme. a great innovation in a city where tea. the president of the agricultural society put an end to the sedition by remarking judicially that "before the Revolution the greatest nobles admitted men like Dulcos and Grimm and Crebillon to their society--men who were nobodies. Mme. nor of the obstacles insurmountable to weaklings. The poet. applauded with both hands. that anybody but a young man of two-and-twenty would have shrewdly suspected a hoax. Chatelet appeared to offer up his hopes as a sacrifice at Mme. and declared himself Lucien's friend. The great diplomatist. he gave a dinner. and cakes. the colonel in command of the garrison. de Bargeton was praised on all sides for the interest which she took in this young eagle. and put on overshoes and hats in the old corridor. The flower of Angoumoisin aristocracy was summoned to hear Lucien read his great work. thought in his heart that this slip of a rhymster would wither incontinently in a hothouse of adulation. he would indulge in some impertinence that would promptly consign him to the obscurity from which he had emerged. Chatelet. as yet. and the headmaster of the school. Every one turned the cold shoulder upon him.harkening to "M. and vowed that Jean-Baptiste Rousseau had done nothing finer. Pending the decease of genius. and waiting for the opportunity of ruining Lucien. and now he entered into the views of the mistress of the house. she spoke of stakes and flaming pyres. was sold only by druggists as a remedy for indigestion. and declared himself his friend! To launch the poet into society. was feted so magnificently." Du Chatelet suffered for Chardon. Her white hands pointed him to glory that lay beyond a prolonged martyrdom. Sixte. and. Chatelet's" counsels. that they were quite as much attached to the steps of the staircase as to the mistress of the house. vague rumors reported the existence of a great man in Angoumois. From this time forward. watching the lovers' movements with keenly critical eyes. After dinner. the receiver-general. the masterpiece of the hour. so accustomed to meet about the same tables. to see the same faces and the same candle sconces night after night. a man of a phlegmatic temperament. and so forth. She drew a lesson from the recent victory. but she let fall a few words touching the social cabal formed against him. but with the ingenuity of a rake. Chatelet is only a tax-collector. No sooner was her conduct approved than she tried to win a general sanction." said Alexandre de Brebian. de Bargeton called him "M. Baron du Chatelet. "All resigned themselves to endure the songster" (_chardonneret_) "of the sacred grove. they never received tax-collectors. Finally. Louise had hidden all the difficulties from her friend. the president of the Court. to play the familiar game of backgammon." he swore to himself that he would possess her. and those who frequented it were so wedded to their ways. like this little poet of L'Houmeau. and afterwards to cloak and shawl. which was witticism number two. after all. made much of Lucien. Chatelet drew his rival on to recite _The Dying Sardanapalus_. tea. the head of the Naval School. he kept his own plan in abeyance. she spread the adjectives thickly on her . poor fellow. de Bargeton's feet. and so belauded. but one thing they never did. perhaps he hoped that when the poet's head was turned with brilliant dreams. she would not have him ignorant of the perils besetting his career as a man of genius.

and a young man loves to have the real quality of his nature discerned through the incognito. Mme.--all these world-famous gamblers had begun life hampered with debt. and a _persona grata_ at Court. and kissed it with the frenzy of a lover and a poet in his youth. In the course of that evening. who was a Blamont-Chauvry before her marriage. Genius alone could judge of the means used to an end which no one else could know. The words "King. She counseled him to take a bold step and renounce his patronymic for the noble name of Rubempre.. for that matter. Napoleon. He described that life. and the necessity of the baptism was plain to him. his days of work for David. Seizing the moment. he need not mind the little tittle-tattle over a change which the King." and "the Court" dazzled Lucien like a blaze of fireworks. "Oh. he told her of his present way of life. his nights of study. The rabid Liberal became a Monarchist _in petto_. Fox. He would conquer at any cost. for all is his." She went through social strata and showed the poet that this step would raise him many rungs higher in the ladder. quivering lips upon her forehead. the shackles of poverty borne with pride." said Louise. She quoted instances. with tender mockery in her tones. and Lucien. and fame.finest _tartines_. had neither brothers nor sisters nor father nor mother. the man who is master of his age may take all that he needs." she said. for there is an indefinable pudency inseparable from strong feeling in youth. according to her doctrine. de Bargeton undertook to procure this favor. child! child! if any one should see us. It was the duty of a man of genius. that she loved the Benjamin who inspired her eloquence the more for it. _quibuscumque viis_. it was his mission to reconstruct law. the great tasks laid upon them required that they should sacrifice everything that they might grow to their full stature. would authorize. seized a hand that she had abandoned to him. de Bargeton's eyes grew soft. His young ardor recalled memories of the colonel of six-and-twenty. I should look very ridiculous. Genius was answerable to no man. Bernard Palissy. de Bargeton's wit made havoc of Lucien's prejudices. Perhaps their families might suffer at first from the all-absorbing exactions of a giant brain. seeing this weakness in his awe-inspiring mistress. Men of genius. a delicacy which shrinks from a display of great qualities. Louise even allowed him to set his eager." "Marquise d'Espard. run any risks. Louis XI. the sooner it will be sanctioned. taken for . and Julius Caesar. Mme. they shared the spoils of victory. Louise had known nothing of its hardships. she pointed out fashionable society as the goal and the only stage for such a talent as his. shaking off the ecstatic torpor. "Dear child. to set himself above law. luxury. she persuaded Lucien to forswear the chimerical notions of '89 as to equality. all of them had been misunderstood. or as poor men. she was related to the Marquise d'Espard. "the sooner it is done. Christopher Columbus. even if there should be blood-stains on the bays. as she styled them. Lucien set his teeth in the apple of desire of rank. Mme. and decorated them with a variety of her most pompous epithets. she roused a thirst for social distinction allayed by David's cool commonsense. To prove his courage. therefore. but Louise grew so much the greater in her own eyes as she talked. but at a later day they were repaid a hundredfold for self-denial of every kind during the early struggles of the kingly intellect with adverse fate. He swore to win a crown to lay at his lady's feet. It was an infringement of the copyright of the passages of declamation that disfigure _Corinne_.

and brother to him in the present. The idealist would fain have it otherwise. and a father. too. finding Marius seated among the ruins. copied out three several times. a delicious tissue of words embroidered here and there by the naive utterances that women love so well--unconscious revelations of the writer's heart. superintending the execution of orders.madmen. on high upon the Sinai of the prophets. Youth is robbed of its charm. So well did Louise loosen the swaddling-bands of provincial life that confined the heart and brain of her poet that the said poet determined to try an experiment upon her. small wonder that society. and David as another Cuvier. he told her of his father's genius and blighted hopes and of his grinding poverty. arouses ambition in the very morning of life. He wrote a long letter to his Louise. and spent the day in reading proofs. He wished to feel certain that this proud conquest was his without laying himself open to the mortification of a rebuff. and spread corruption in his heart. of his country. All unconsciously Lucien stood with the palm of genius on the one hand and a shameful ending in the hulks upon the other. Ambition blended with his love. Lucien imagined that his scheming was entirely prompted by good feeling. of the civilized world. it is capable of sublime reticence. He said not a word to David. his secret rose from his heart to his lips at the sting of a reproach that he felt as the patient feels the probing of a wound. Lucien began to dread the Phocion's axe which David could wield when he chose. While youth bears a child's heart. a double desire not unnatural in young men with a heart to satisfy and the battle of life to fight. It was one of those wild letters in which a young man points a pistol at a refusal. and persuaded himself that it was done solely for his friend David's sake. Perhaps. He would give up everything rather than desert David Sechard. making it impossible to paint the young man of the nineteenth century other than he is. and he meant to rise. Lucien left the letter with the housemaid. for him. than face to face. The forthcoming soiree gave him his opportunity. and. David must witness his success. But--failure is high treason against society. In a dozen sheets. summoning all her children to one banquet. and pulled down the pillars of society. bad fathers. And now try to understand the thoughts that troubled Lucien's mind as . and yet in after life each one had come to be the pride of his family. He should feel himself unworthy of his Louise's love (his proudest distinction) if he did not ask her to do for David all that she had done for him. Society. Her arguments fell upon fertile soil in the worst of Lucien's nature. But when he read Chenier's poems with David. when his desires were hot. and looking after the affairs of the printing-house. perhaps he was afraid to meet those clear-sighted eyes that read the depths of his soul. reviled for bad sons. should drive him forth in abhorrence. and when the fallen conqueror has run amuck through _bourgeois_ virtues. He described his beloved sister as an angel. but intrusive fact too often gives the lie to the fiction which we should like to believe. friend. and generous thoughts are corrupted by mercenary scheming. all means were admissible. he felt bolder. went to the office. pen in hand. He loved. letters full of boyish casuistry and the incoherent reasoning of an idealist. bad brothers. a great man of the future. beheld no Dead Sea covering the cities of the plain--the hideous winding-sheet of Gomorrah.

and they shall pay the penalty. Lucien was a Frank. mistook him for a gardener. and he did not tell himself that David could cross over the same ground in a moment. de Bargeton's repressed smile. he had had time to measure the distance between a queen and her favorite. so important trifles. carrying a rake over his shoulder. so far had he come in five months. There was David. in his ambition. Of gentle blood on the mother's side. Lucien could hear the shower of jokes at David's expense. when it is not sucked in with mother's milk and part of the inheritance of descent. he thought of his mother. The sins of those in power are always overlooked--once let them abdicate. even down to the high-arched instep. Louise would be driven from the place. A fine manner is not the invariable outcome of noble feeling. without being exactly ashamed of his brother. And what was it but abdication to receive David? But if Lucien did not see these aspects of the question. David had inherited the physique of his father the pressman and the flat foot of the Gael. what a genius David had--David who had helped him so generously. the clergy and the flower of the aristocracy. of budding hopes undespoiled by rough winds. and while no man at court had a nobler air than Racine. and at length. and at these thoughts the past broke into flowers once more for his memory. Nais might have broken the moral law. he could see Mme. his aristocratic instinct discerned plenty of difficulties of another kind. supplemented by certain gifts of chance--a graceful figure. of how great a lady she was in her lowly lot. meeting Montesquieu in a cotton nightcap. pictures fair with the brightest colors of blossoming love. David lacked. then of his sister so gracious in submission to her fate. flung himself headlong back into the depths of L'Houmeau? Before he set that kiss on Louise's forehead. he made up his mind to disregard his first impulse and to think twice before yielding to it in future. distinction of feature. Yet he did not know how completely the lower orders were excluded from this upper world. while Nature had bestowed them upon his friend. Pictures of his quiet and simple life rose before him. Lucien. her caste would shun her as men shunned a leper in the Middle Ages. and visitors to La Brede. All these. is only acquired by education. but a breach of another law. de Bargeton. and it cost him something to step down from the first rung of the scaling ladder by which he meant to reach and storm the heights above. Corneille looked very much like a cattle-dealer. for down the vista of the future he caught a glimpse of the inexorable laws of the world. and Descartes might have been taken for an honest Dutch merchant. . and how she thought that he was as good as he was clever. after the hour of poetry and self-sacrifice. the offence of admitting all sorts of people to her house --this was sin without remission. of his own innocent childhood and conscience as yet unstained. he wished he could have it back again. So. he did not so much as suspect that a second experiment of this kind meant ruin for Mme. and her whole circle. and would die for him at need. a certain ring in the voice. and he took alarm. would have defended her against the world through thick and then.he went down from Angouleme. A knowledge of the world. Once accused and fairly convicted of a liking for _canaille_. after the reading of verse that opened out before the friends the fields of literature in the light of a newly-risen sun. Down once more in L'Houmeau he wished that he had not written that letter. the hour of worldly wisdom and of scheming struck for Lucien. He guessed that nothing succeeds like success. Was the great lady angry with him? Would she receive David? Had he.

For Lucien was so made that he went from evil to good. Sooner or later his genius should shine out. unluckily for this nineteenth century of ours. de Bargeton. he chafed beyond all reason at the disparity between his lodging and his fortune. where you could read-POSTEL (LATE CHARDON). Postel. or if the eye happened to be engaged. it had been so with the others. which you reached by a short ladder. He flung his schemes to the winds and blamed himself for thinking of them. Ah! he was a famous chemist. perhaps in a few days she will be mine. sonny. provincial tradesman. he was! If I had only known his gout specific.--the example of Napoleon occurred to Lucien's mind. for the past month indeed he had felt something like shame at the sight of the shop front. This evening bundles of boiled herbs were spread out along the wall. . than to reach the goal through a woman's favor. PHARMACEUTICAL CHEMIST. you and I should be rolling along in our carriage this day. for honest Postel had helped his master's widow and children more than once. words that Lucien felt like a stab." The little druggist. He was beginning to think his father's apprentice prodigiously vulgar. Women would love him when that day came! The example of Napoleon. Lucien's room was an attic just under the roof. A strong scent of camomile and peppermint pervaded the yard and the poor little dwelling at the side. "I love Mme. Lucien had none of the scholar's love for his retreat. has filled a great many ordinary persons with aspirations after extraordinary destinies. whose head was as thick as his heart was kind. "It is a great pity. with the same facility. they had tamed society. or from good to evil. his predecessors. Every evening. and M." Lucien answered curtly. that typical. when he closed the ugly iron gate and went up to Beaulieu to give his arm to Mme. de Bargeton among the dandies of the upper town. the apprentice was scouring a caldron. with a rope on either side by way of hand-rail. but it would take a man like your father to find what I am looking for. was standing with a retort in his hand. "Are you pretty middling? I have just been experimenting on treacle." said M. as he went down the narrow passage into the little yard behind the shop.Then he told himself that it was a far finer thing to hew his own way through serried hostile mobs of aristocrats or philistines by repeated successful strokes. girded about with his laboratory apron. which. he had at any rate an ear for the bell. inspecting some chemical product while keeping an eye upon the shop door. never let a week pass without some allusion to Chardon senior's unlucky secretiveness as to that discovery. in yellow letters on a green ground. Postel himself. "Good-day. yet here I live in this rat-hole!" he said to himself this evening. though he had blessed the man for his kindness. It was an offence to him that his father's name should be thus posted up in a place where every carriage passed.

and could not believe that Eve could care for him. but notwithstanding these signs of virile character. David was a student leading a solitary life. for old Sechard had savings--he was lucky with his vintages. The old bachelor looked rather like a miniature brandy cask. with a fat. a letter that smells like balm! it is lying on the corner near my desk. to say nothing of the traditional bits of land which old Sechard used to buy as they came into the market. with no fervid protestations. gently bred. and the love that gained even greater force in solitude. and would not make a single advance towards the son of a father said to be rich. which said plainly that he had thoughts of espousing the daughter of his predecessor. In David's eyes Marsac was a hovel bought in 1810 for fifteen or sixteen thousand francs. and you are not so bad looking neither! Your father did everything well. putting down his test tube on the laboratory table. lifting his face. and blue-eyed. and looked for encouragement. mademoiselle. her simplicity. but Lucien did not hear. and hid their feelings from Lucien as though their love in some way did him a wrong. said that the vineyard at Marsac was worth more than eighty thousand francs. So." Eve was tall. "Be quick. In their secret souls they thought of each other as if there were a bar between that kept them apart." said Postel. as if the thought were an offence against some jealous husband. de Bargeton's letter lying among the physic bottles in a druggist's shop! Lucien sprang in to rescue it. since the first time that these two had met. and therefore shy. Lucien! your dinner has been waiting an hour for you. Her frank innocence. was timid. David. with a smile. ruddy countenance much pitted with the smallpox. embellished by a painter's fancy. Diffident as she seemed. A real work-girl would have been bolder. "That brother of yours has gone crazy. her quiet acceptance of a hard-working life." Mme. what is the matter with you?" M. and devoted to those she loved. quietly. and a clever salesman. a repressed and single-hearted love had grown up between them in the German fashion. moreover. tender-hearted."Why. she was in reality proud. dark-haired. but could not put an end to the strife between love and interest in his heart. had no confidence in himself. He often said to Lucien. "Is there a letter for me?" "Yes. as he dwelt upon the difficulties in the way. it will be cold!" a sweet voice called gently through a half-opened window. and fallen into poverty. her character--for her life was above reproach--could not fail to win David Sechard's heart. for David stood more . Perhaps David was the only man in Angouleme who knew nothing of his father's wealth. and he cared nothing about it. People who knew the value of a growing property. Eve was a penniless girl. at the sight of Eve his face took a ceremonious and amiable expression. dark of complexion. but Eve. a place that he saw once a year at vintage time when his father walked him up and down among the vines and boasted of an output of wine which the young printer never saw. Postel inquired. "Your sister is uncommonly pretty. she was gentle. resigned herself to her dreary lot.

but it was the young printer's enthusiastic belief in Lucien that drew her to him most of all. Eve read it clearly. and was silent. she would be in bed by this time no doubt. I have had strawberries for you. springing up out of a rich and fruitful soil on foundations of rock. a look in either face. with warmth that surprised her. and Lucien sat down without a word at the little table on an X-shaped trestle. swallowing great spoonfuls of soup. he would leave the Place du Murier and go down through the Palet Gate as far as L'Houmeau. when she had set a dish on the awe of Eve than a simple clerk of some high-born lady. then--she loves me. and as eager to hurry away as he had been to come. He had divined the way to win Eve. for in a sister's love for a brother it is an element of great pleasure to be treated without ceremony. of the deep reverence in David's looks and words and manner towards her. daintily garnished with vine-leaves. she was proud. He was awkward and ill at ease in the presence of his idol." "Well. Eve took up a little plate. but at the sight of the green iron railings his heart failed. and so he turned back. But though his great love had only appeared in trifles. Often of an evening. Perhaps he had come too late. melancholy. "What have you there?" she asked. and put the extinguisher on the portable stove. "Nothing. the poor little household boasted but three silver spoons and forks. He repressed his passion. her hair." cried Lucien." But Lucien was so absorbed in his letter that he did not hear a word. on some pretext of consulting Lucien. that the slightest word now might bring about a closer union of soul and soul. "You are keeping something from me. vanishing as swiftly as the scent of briar-rose. where it had been kept hot for him. "We shall all be happy. The mute delights of this love of theirs differed from the transports of stormy passion." he said. flushing red. and Eve had laid them all for the dearly loved brother. Interchange of glances. as wildflowers in the fields from the brilliant flowers in garden beds. he drew her towards him and kissed her forehead. "Oh! what is it?" she cried as she saw tears shining in her brother's eyes." the poor sister pouted. delicate and sweet as blue water-flowers on the surface of the stream." "I knew very well that you kissed me for somebody else. nothing. Eve came to sit beside him without a murmur. and putting his arm about her waist. and set it on the table with a jug full of cream. Lucien. tender as the velvet of moss--these were the blossoms of two rare natures. Eve. "There. her throat. Eve might think him a nuisance. There was no tablecloth. Lucien did not answer. without a touch of vanity in her pride. Eve opened the door. and made such full allowance for all that David left undone. Many a time Eve had seen revelations of the strength that lay below the appearance of weakness. .

and a strip of cheap green carpet at the foot. she could wait. and Eve. I am quite willing to sacrifice the worthless creatures to you. A chest of drawers with a wooden top." "How can you think that. But instead of eating his dinner. Eve slept in the . that his sister could not help telling him that he looked handsome. if he did not. if you know me?" Eve put out her hand and grasped his tightly. "If that woman has any sense. she must love you! And if so. If I have not sufficient influence to compel them to accept M. and a few walnut wood chairs completed the furniture. On the little round table in the middle of the room stood a red tray with a pattern of gilt roses." The mother's room bore witness to self-respecting poverty." He took this note for a victory. of course." and a "No" that leads to a "Yes. to-night she will be vexed."_We_?" echoed Eve. ask me to leave them all in exchange for the society of a person whose character and manner might not please me. Lucien read his letter over again. We shall never make an aristocracy of ignorance understand that intellect ennobles. David should go to Mme. Here is the letter:-"MY FRIEND. How handsome you will look when you read your _Saint John in Patmos_! If only I were a mouse. If he wished to tell her about it. I know from your flatteries how easily friendship can be blinded. David Sechard. which I am in duty bound to take? "LOUISE DE NEGREPELISSE. dear friend. discreet maiden. I have put your clothes out in mother's room. colored and waxed by Eve herself.--Why should I refuse to your brother in science the help that I have lent you? All merits have equal rights in my eyes. and could just slip in and see it! Come. There were white curtains to the walnut wood bedstead. shone with cleanliness. but you do not know the prejudices of those among whom I live. The same presentiment that had crossed David's mind prompted her to add. But. and the tiled floor. a looking-glass. It would be a perfect hecatomb in the antique manner. a gray flowered paper covered the walls. What is this but the mother's anxious care of my dear poet. and know and decide for myself whether you are not mistaken. you would not. did not ask another question." Lucien had no suspicion of the art with which polite society puts forward a "Yes" on the way to a "No. The clock on the chimney-piece told of the old vanished days of prosperity. how could she ask him to tell her? She waited. Will you think the worse of me if I attach a condition to my consent? In the interests of your future I should like to see your friend. his face was so radiant with the brightness of many hopes. White curtains hung in the windows. de Bargeton's house! David would shine there in all the majesty of his genius! He raised his head so proudly in the intoxication of a victory which increased his belief in himself and his ascendency over others. for all the ladies will try all sorts of coquetries on you. "You will not care so much about us now. and brought the dish that she had made for him. then she carried off the empty plate and the brown earthen soup-tureen. and three cups and a sugar-basin of Limoges porcelain. respecting her brother's silence.

But if all these things spoke of great poverty. two sorts of power that the nobles still try to ignore. she saw all that lay below the surface. that in itself would bind me to you forever if we were not brothers already. you will be like a second self for me. nor the name of a Desplein. but I have been thinking things over seriously. so great as it was--ah. For people of that class. and a work-table by the window. an old-fashioned low chair. you can explain your present work by your future. Lucien was tying his cravat when David's step sounded outside in the little yard. And. A foreman is not committed to anything. You are busy gaining knowledge that will be indispensable by and by. your position is different. I will dedicate my life to yours. her eyes were full of tears. "If you totter. you shall have my arm to steady you. I shall enjoy your success. we should stand in each other's way. I am an artisan.little adjoining closet. in the glare of the world and among the swift working springs of intrigue. and for those who knew the mother and children. no concern over seeming to take the larger share. The thing that you have just done for me. that little thing. the tradesman's life of sober toil." "No. there was about as much space as there is in a ship's cabin. printer to His Majesty in Angouleme. I am David Sechard. you can tow me after you if it comes to that. Lucien. well. but I am a craftsman who lives over a shop in the Rue de Beaulieu at the corner of the Place du Murier. Have no remorse. looking at Eve as he spoke. and in another moment the young printer appeared. This one-sided bargain is exactly to my taste. suppose that you should give me a pang now and again. Lucien. How am I to prove my claim to this sudden elevation? I should only make myself a laughing-stock for nobles and _bourgeoisie_ to boot. "You shall be our aristocracy. And influence and favor and the goodwill of others might fail us if we were two. You shall have the holiday life. rather than forsake or disown me. who knows that I shall not still be your debtor all my life long?" He looked timidly towards Eve as he spoke. go forward. in fact. you might study law or diplomacy. "Well. Nobody had docketed and pigeon-holed _you_. Yes." he went on. I wish you luck. even frivolous pleasures. or I am in business. I will lead the work-a-day life. "I came down to thank you for this proof of friendship. . Take advantage of your social maiden fame to walk alone and grasp honors. in my own thoughts I shall live your life. As for you." David said with some confusion. or go into civil service. after all. and --I am so far agreed with them--this power is nothing without a knowledge of the world and the manners of a gentleman. with my name at the bottom of the bills posted on every wall. you will find a refuge in our hearts. if you like it better. My own life is cut out for me. when you risked the loss of your benefactress. and the door always stood open for the sake of air. in any case. If you have reason to complain of the treachery of others. So far from envying you. I have not the wealth of a Keller just yet. And. your love it may be. there was something touchingly appropriate in their surroundings. and the patient labor of scientific research. Lucien. Enjoy all pleasures gladly. David!" cried the ambitious poet. where there was just room for a narrow bed. you can leave your place to-morrow and begin something else. the atmosphere was sedate and studious. "we have gained the day! She loves me! You shall come too. From his manner and looks he seemed to have come down in a hurry. the love there will never change.

And yet. had reached through ambition? The aspirant for love and honors felt that the way had been made smooth for him. _esprit_ soon dries up the source of the sacred tears of ecstasy. or say nothing at all. who by the way of friendship had come to think the very thoughts that he. David had a suggestion to make. seemed to be nervous. who stood amazed at this. making his first appearance before the most exacting public in the Charente. and every chord vibrating gives out full resonance. Do not all of us say more or less. and mother. it is ready. David was his devoted friend. I should be awkward and out of my element. In this society that you frequent. the pair were endowing the rest of the world with their own intelligence and virtues. Like most young people. everything would tell against me. his whole thought perforce would be how he might maintain himself in it? When emotion had subsided. He thought that Lucien's poem. Lucien was about to have his first experience of the ignorance and indifference of . Women will worship that angel face of yours. c'est moi!_" with Louis Quatorze? Lucien's mother and sister had concentrated all their tenderness on him. you have a graceful figure. I should say foolish things. but as for you. Lucien. He was far from doing so as yet. "you are well made. you can call yourself Lucien de Rubempre." The power of appreciating poetry is rare. The noble is eaten up with the egoism which their unselfishness was fostering in Lucien. you look like a gentleman in that blue coat of yours with the yellow buttons and the plain nankeen trousers. now I should look like a workingman among those people. when all the forces in us are sweetly strung. David advised him to take Andre de Chenier and substitute certain pleasure for a dubious delight. for if youth that has not yet gone astray is pitiless for the sins of others. was possibly too biblical to be read before an audience but little familiar with apocalyptic poetry. It is only. de Bargeton was doing her best to develop the same fault by inciting him to forget all that he owed to his sister. and Mme. It was one of those moments that come very seldom in our lives. the young man and the comrade felt all his heart go out towards his friend. turning to Lucien. you can overcome any prejudice as to names by taking your mother's. to put a magnificent faith in them. nobody cares to be at the trouble of deciphering the sublime. Was it possible not to feel twice tenderly towards this friend. _Saint John in Patmos_."In fact. on the other hand. and consequently he had all the faults of a spoiled eldest son. won't they. generally speaking. Eve?" Lucien sprang up and flung his arms about David. David's humility had made short work of many doubts and plenty of difficulties. and his modesty would doubtless serve him well. the listeners would enjoy listening to him. he was accustomed to see the three making every effort for him in secret. after a good deal of experience of life that we recognize the truth of Raphael's great saying--"To comprehend is to equal. in fact. but was there not ground for the fear that as his sphere of ambition widened. I am and always shall be David Sechard." he went on. You were born to shine in it. you wear your clothes with an air. in France. of plumbing the depths to discover the infinite. "_L'Etat. this goodness of a noble nature increased Lucien's human tendency to take himself as the centre of things. Lucien. and David. everything tells for you. Lucien was a perfect reader.

for then he was obliged to look for something to say in the vast blank of his vacant interior. de Bargeton was there. He went round by way of the printing office for David's volume of poetry. The most trifling things that happened that evening made a great impression on Lucien. was humming to himself. but so far Lucien had not met the lady's husband face to face. but he never vouchsafed a word until driven to the last extremity. and David had never felt more embarrassed in his life. his . Countless terrors seized upon him. alone. so he held his tongue and looked guilty. he half wished. a complacent laugh reinforced the smile. He smiled at good news and evil tidings. exactly poised on the border line between harmless vacancy.worldlings. half feared that Eve would praise him. moreover. with some glimmerings of sense. it was the first grace given by love. dissatisfied. as David made as if to go at once. with slight modifications the smile did duty on all occasions. took you into his confidence concerning the smallest details of his existence. and the excessive stupidity that can neither take in nor give out any idea. he smiled. de Bargeton's. conceived a vehement suspicion of Eve's feelings towards the printer. was enjoying the pause. he who all his life long had not known one tune from another. honest Postel hearing him with surprise. It is fine. "But give me time to dress!" she said. Eve had rewarded him beyond his hopes by that tone in her voice. M. David went out. but when David twisted his hat as if he meant to go. Like all inexperienced lovers he arrived so early that Louise was not in the drawing-room. de Bargeton's intellect was of the limited kind. she learns the extent of her power. had adopted the smile of an opera dancer as his sole method of expression. she looked at him and smiled. The two lovers were left alone. guessing the agony of modesty. and his character was peculiarly susceptible to first impressions. shall we take a walk along the Charente? We will have a talk about Lucien. and. he longed to run away. everything that he could think of put him in some false position. If he was positively obliged to express his personal approval. David was afraid to utter a word that might seem to beg for thanks. for even modesty is not exempt from coquetry. Lucien had already begun to serve his apprenticeship in the practice of the small deceits with which the lover of a married woman pays for his happiness--deceits through which. He was thoroughly impressed with the idea of doing his duty in society. her suggestion was something better than praise." she said. the kindness of her accent had solved the difficulties of the position. doing his utmost to be agreeable. He usually got out of the difficulty by a return to the artless ways of childhood. A _tete-a-tete_ put him in the one embarrassment of his vegetative existence. "if you are not going to pass the evening at Mme. Eve. but M. he smiled again." David longed to fling himself at the feet of this delicious girl. "Monsieur David. he thought aloud. we can spend the time together. Satisfied.

and generally her husband felt quite at ease. and went with them to the door. he watched those who came in and bowed and smiled. moreover. and humored. knowing that her husband had no pleasure . and. I am going over to see my father-in-law. generous and clever woman as she was. or what not. and as it was often a good while before he succeeded. very likely-"I am just about to ring for a glass of _eau sucree_. who is very fond of veal. de Bargeton. When conversation grew lively. and humored him.physical wants. and were of the opinion that he was underrated. and my stomach has been very uneasy since. she made it unspeakably pleasant for him. taking leave of them with that eternal smile. for she talked for him. argument. Stretched out at full length in his armchair. he plunged you into the most intimate and personal topics. "I knew how it would be. M. Then M. is there not happiness enough in life? Anais' husband was as docile as a child who asks nothing better than to be told what to do. It is so easy to give happiness that costs nothing! Mme. His respect for his wife. he listened to them with an unfeigned and delicate interest which so endeared him to the species that all the twaddlers of Angouleme credited M. like the explosion of a shell which has entered the earth and worked up again. or he walked about and took snuff to promote digestion. and he saw that every one was interested in one thing or another. How do you explain it?" Or. brushed. So it happened that when these persons could find nobody else to listen to them. to a political discussion. and cared for. And so long as we can adore." These short observations did not permit of discussion. he lay in wait for departing visitors." he would tell you. happy and mute. Turning westward his old asthmatic pug-dog countenance. in a way that said. He never talked about the weather. "I took veal this morning to please Mme. Madame de Bargeton's rooms were always crowded. de Bargeton had come to feel an almost dog-like affection for his wife. to all appearance. planted like a swan on both feet. too. they went off to give M. "You were saying?" The people whom he loved best were bores anxious to talk about themselves. it never suits me. will you have some at the same time?" Or. he stood. "I am going to take a ride to-morrow. she had taken no undue advantage of his weaknesses. for he could not play at any game. she kept him brushed. he watched admiringly while she did her part as hostess. He interested himself in the smallest details. de Bargeton mutely implored his visitor to come to his assistance. looked after. lustreless eyes. and brought the new arrivals to his wife. de Bargeton with more understanding than he chose to show. looked closely after him. his smiles appeared after a delay. listening. kept tidy. and tidy. the conversation dropped dead. Anais was the bright side of his life. She had taken care of him as you take care of a cloak. It was a pleasure." extracted from his interlocutor. nor did he indulge in the ordinary commonplaces of conversation--the way of escape provided for weak intellects. a "Yes" or "No. almost amounted to adoration. neat. sure beforehand of his eulogistic smile. de Bargeton. to him to try to see the point in her remarks. the small sensations which did duty for ideas with him. de Bargeton the benefit of the rest of the story. he gazed at you with big. or he looked over the card-players' hands without a notion of what it was all about.

there were people who could not understand that a woman might keep silence through pride. Lucien looked up at the ceiling and vainly tried to think of something else to say. "Yes. indeed. he had scarcely frequented the house long enough. he yielded a passive obedience to his wife. "That is natural enough. The poet looked at his boots. "and people who live a long way off always come earlier than those who live near by. bowing with more respect than people usually showed the worthy man. Mme. de Bargeton. M. shuddering at the silliness of the question. . saw that he had good dinners." "What is the reason of that?" asked Lucien politely. "Go and call on Monsieur So-and-So or Madame Such-an-One. he reddened under it. Lucien took the remark for an epigram. and his figure inspired Lucien with a prodigious awe." answered M. the lady's husband was jealous." he began. and misgivings about his costume arose in his mind. It is the wont of imaginative natures to magnify everything. appeared to see and understand all that was going on. de Bargeton is dressing." Lucien began again. "You live in L'Houmeau. There was some talk about this time of nominating the mute gentleman for a deputy. but for a formidable sphinx." he said. he turned and fixed his eyes on ." "Ah!" said M. de Bargeton." said M. Grown stupid with dismay. she had never uttered a word of complaint. As his eyes wandered over the gray painted joists and the spaces of plaster between. and he went forthwith. "I don't know. and argued that M. All the covers had been removed from the furniture. like a soldier at the word of command. de Bargeton. "You have not cared to find out. relapsing into immobility. she is dressing. not for a granite guard-post. his silence added to his dignity. he saw. de Bargeton must possess good qualities hidden from public view. he thought. de Bargeton.but in good cheer. "I am the first comer. that the little chandelier with the old-fashioned cut-glass pendants had been stripped of its gauze covering and filled with wax candles. no doubt. not without qualms." said M. or to find a soul to inhabit every shape. and the faded flowered silk damask had come to light. "any one who could make an observation could discover the cause. . looked in the glass and tried to give himself a countenance. Lucien racked his brains to resuscitate it. de Bargeton. These preparations meant something extraordinary. Lucien as yet had not lifted the veil which hid such an unimaginable character. "final causes! Eh! eh! . and waited motionless for his orders. and Lucien took this gentleman. indeed. He stood at attention in her presence. and thought it necessary to conciliate him. she had pity upon him. spread at full length in his great chair." her husband naturally answered." The conversation came to a dead stop." she would say. de Bargeton had drilled him into military subordination. "Mme.

"Ask him.a Japanese jar standing on a begarlanded console table of the time of Louis Quinze. the young man's presence disturbed him." Lucien was not a little embarrassed by the uneasy glances that the other gave him as he went to and fro. "Can he feel suspicious of my attentions?" thought Lucien. the old man-servant (who wore livery for the occasion) announced "M. de Bargeton's husband. you could still discern traces of the Imperial Highness' charming private secretary in du Chatelet's general appearance. which the poet in his mind called purse-proud impertinence. Have you brought some charming poet for us?" inquired the vivacious Baron. He had dyed the hair and whiskers grizzled by his sufferings during his travels. when luckily for him. he looked him over from head to foot. de Bargeton's imagined hostility. but this prospect did not prevent him from feeling the sharp pang that succeeded to the uncomfortable sense of M. de Bargeton had counted on having no more to say. Now was the proper time to bring it out. when he should turn a face lighted up with poetry upon the assembly. the better to humiliate him in his poverty. He put up his eyeglass and stared at his rival's nankeen trousers. Sixte du Chatelet appeared in a pair of dazzling white trousers with invisible straps that kept them in shape. Chardon. "is there anything fresh? anything that people are talking about?" "Why." The Baron came in. and his soul was dismayed by the pause spent by the rivals in mutual survey. he had a question which he kept for desperate emergencies. "You seldom leave the city. and this gave a hard look to his face." Chatelet said maliciously. de Bargeton. "Well." he said. thought that it would be his turn by and by. laid up in his mind. at his boots. The Baron seemed to bring all the weight of his fortune to bear upon him. de Bargeton watched Lucien's slightest movements like a suspicious cat. he tried to find out if the good gentleman had a hobby of any sort in which he might be humored. monsieur?" he began. He wore pumps and thread stockings. and the fashion and elegance of Paris was strikingly apparent in his black coat. M. He was indeed just the faded beau who might be expected from his antecedents. monsieur. M. "I am satisfied. but in spite of his absurd pretensions to youth. and favored Lucien with the little nod then in vogue. looking at Chatelet with an important air. though advancing years had already endowed him with a certain waist-girth which somewhat exceeded the limits of elegance. adjusting the side curl that had gone astray on his ." And Lucien. very much at ease. greeted his friend Bargeton. "Very seldom. then he coolly returned his eyeglass to his waistcoat pocket with a gesture that said. in short. the black ribbon of his eyeglass meandered over a white waistcoat. du Chatelet. returning to M. against a rainy day. The skin which had once been so delicate had been tanned to the copper-red color of Europeans from India. "he seems to be anything but friendly. the latest thing is M. at the blue coat made by the Angouleme tailor. then. at his waistcoat. recollecting that he must conciliate Mme. as it were. eclipsed at this moment by the elegance of the inland revenue department. Each was afraid of the other." Silence again.

and my long Epistle to a Sister of Bonaparte (ungrateful that he was). Both churchmen's eyes were bright. de Chandour. But she scarcely gave her dear poet a glance. slim still at five-and-forty." At this moment Mme. The cameos on her neck gleamed through the gauze scarf gracefully wound about her shoulders. a song now and again to suit some occasion. he verified the number of his waistcoat buttons. written to oblige. then. Amelie de Chandour posed as the rival queen of Angouleme. dignified and reverend figures both. both appeared to be prudent men. His coat-tails were violently at strife. was a _ci-devant_ young man. M. de Bargeton appeared in all the glory of an elaborate toilette. du Chatelet gallantly plied the queen with fulsome compliments. no good without the music. though no two men could well be more unlike. airs which were prodigiously admired by the aristocratic circle of which he was the beau. known in the circle as Stanislas. till he looked almost like a living caricature. his lordship being tall and attenuated. as a rule. flinging his head back in three-quarters profile with all the airs of a king of the poultry-yard. By this time the guests began to arrive. First and foremost appeared the Bishop and his Vicar-General. with a countenance like a sieve. "you have been before me in the field of verse. Close upon the two ecclesiastics followed Mme. His dress. but while the Bishop was pallid. lines for music." Lucien answered. and met Chatelet with a mortifying civility that kept him at a distance. M. his Vicar-General's countenance glowed with high health. well enough in their way. he looked about him at the women with happy eyes. and his acolyte short and fat. the other pointed downwards to the red ribbon of his cross. M. She wore a Jewess' turban. A cut-away waistcoat displayed the ample. de Chandour and her husband. the sleeves of her printed muslin dress were short so as to display a series of bracelets on her shapely white arms. that made her smile with pleasure. she was so glad to be praised in Lucien's hearing. in his talk. His cravat was always tied so as to present two menacing points--one spike reached the height of his right ear. and their silence and reserve were supposed to hide great intellectual powers. Both were impassive. When he ceased to contemplate himself in this way. a detestable kind of conversation which procured him some success with women--he made them laugh. du Chatelet was . and gesticulated but little." "Pshaw!" said the other. Lucien was charmed with this theatrical style of dress. There was a strain of eighteenth century grossness. he looked towards the nearest mirror to see if his hair still kept in curl. Stanislas looked himself over from top to toe with a kind of satisfaction. a couple so extraordinary that those who are unfamiliar with provincial life might be tempted to think that such persons are purely imaginary. her husband. will not hand down my name to posterity.temple. sticking a finger in his waistcoat pocket. "I should have asked you whether I had succeeded. was exaggerated. which no one could behold for the first time with gravity. "a few vaudevilles. in fact. swelling curves of a stiffly-starched shirt fastened by massive gold studs. and followed the curving outlines of his tight-fitting trousers with fond glances that came to a standstill at last on the pointed tips of his shoes. enriched with an Eastern clasp.

de Saintot's abilities. If anybody called to see him. he was miserable all evening until somebody begged him to sing. It was believed all over the department that M. and drag his quotation by the heels into the conversation that evening saying." The interesting fact circulated all over the town. but he had compiled the articles on Sugar and Brandy for a Dictionary of Agriculture by wholesale plunder of newspaper articles and pillage of previous writers. he had not written a couple of pages in a dozen years. Astolphe was supposed to be a scientific man of the first rank. Elisa. M." and out came his phrase. reading the newspaper through from end to end. de Saintot. high-colored personage. but he spent the whole time in his study on puerilities. was a poor actress. It was M. and a very trying partner at a game of cards. as a matter of fact. He would turn over the leaves of his Cicero to see if anything applicable to the events of the day might catch his eye. and dark-haired. but though he locked himself into his study every morning. plump. her voice was loud. to the astonishment of his audience. to which she would not confess. he grew animated only on the one subject of music. the lively interest taken by the women in the Byron of Angouleme was distinctly on the increase. de Saintot was a solemn and extremely pious woman. a lady with a countenance like a withered fern. was never still for a moment. . and sustained the general belief in M. M. de Bargeton had taken him up. and drawing patterns on his blotting-paper. "Really. raised himself on his heels. and made prodigious claims to musical knowledge. "Astolphe is a well of learning. His self-conceit had taken a stand upon solfeggi. known as Adrien among the circle. and. His musical tastes had become a monomania. stout. hunting for a stray note or mending a pen. "There is a passage in Cicero which might have been written to suit modern times. Amelie de Chandour. Alexandre de Brebian performed heroic exploits in sepia. cutting figures out of corks with his penknife." they said among themselves. After this pair came M. and spoiled all the albums in the department. he revived again. otherwise Astolphe. her head. he posed as the man whom nothing can arouse from his apathy. President of the Agricultural Society. and finally to talking of nothing else. Saintot was engaged upon a treatise on modern husbandry. strutted about.beginning to give this gentleman some uneasiness. with its load of feathers in winter and flowers in summer. short. She had a fine flow of conversation. M. and when there was no more to be said about the singer. he disfigured the walls of his friends' rooms with a swarm of crude productions. called Lili by her friends--a baby name singularly at variance with its owner's character and demeanor. like everything else about her. de Bartas who boomed out his song in a bass voice. he began by admiring his appearance while he sang. When he had bellowed one of his airs. He was as ignorant as a carp. fair-complexioned. de Bartas. Mme. a tall. since Mme. discussing its difficulties or extolling the composer. he always contrived to be discovered rummaging among his papers. usually appeared in the wake of his wife. and his jaded Sultan airs were like a challenge. though she could never bring a sentence to an end without a wheezing accompaniment from an asthma. passed thence to talking about music. but modesty did not prevent him from going from group to group for his meed of praise. His coxcomb superciliousness tickled their curiosity. and received compliments with a deprecating air. he returned to the subject of the song.

But if they dressed like dolls in tightly-fitting gowns of home manufacture. Francis. Mme. taught them foreign languages. as suspicious as a Venetian. the house friend. or the trimming of a dress. his digestion. that Francoise de la Haye bore a striking likeness to Francis du Hautoy. the friend of the house. she crammed him with delicate fare. and neglected their homes. and sacrificed his diplomatic prospects to live near Zephirine (also known as Zizine) in Angouleme. a cross-cornered arrangement which gossip declared to be carried out to the fullest extent. and exhibited outrageous combinations of crude colors upon their persons. people used to inquire after Francis. that if M. however. as if he had been a fine lady's lap-dog. When "Jacques" was shooting in the neighborhood. du Hautoy. he would have been thought monstrously immoral. she embroidered waistcoats for him. a haughty gentleman. but finally the mysterious conjugal trinity appeared to them so rare and pleasing a spectacle. or the reconciliation of several irreconcilable colors. in spite of some impossible discrepancies in dates. had a lady companion. Madame de Senonches (Zephirine) was a tall. both were eaten up with a desire to look like Parisiennes. He had taken the household in charge. though her complexion was spoiled already by pimples due to liver complaint. du Hautoy had shown any intention of marrying. it was thought. each with his friend's wife on his arm. and pocket-handkerchiefs . a mighty hunter. Mesdames Charlotte de Brebian and Josephine de Bartas. who lived on terms of the friendliest and most perfect intimacy with M. He took an interest in his cough. He had given up his consulship in Valence. administrative Angouleme. that his greatest friends used to draw him out on the topic for the amusement of others who did not know of the mystery. le Comte de Senonches. M. de la Haye was beginning to raise surmises of disquieting mysteries. One of the queerest figures in the rooms was M. savoring somewhat of affectation. where everything went wrong.Alexandre de Brebian and M. was rather distinguished-looking. his appetite. lean and sunburned. and talk of his wife in the second place. and her excessive attachment to this Mlle. and curious it was to see the provincial dowdiness of the pair. de Senonches. as they were called. As for the two women. de Bartas came together. he superintended the children's education. on which grounds she was said to be exacting. and Jacques would discourse on his steward's little ailments. or Lolotte and Fifine. but revealing passion and the consciousness that every least caprice will be gratified by love. a goddaughter. So curious did this blindness seem in a man of jealous temper. du Hautoy was a finical dandy whose minute care of himself had degenerated into mincing affectation and childishness. and _bourgeois_ Angouleme alike had looked askance for a long while at this phenomenon of the perfect union of three persons. their husbands availed themselves of the artist's privilege and dressed as they pleased. about as amiable as a wild boar. and jealous as a Moor. otherwise Francis. Noble Angouleme. de Senonches with the most complete devotion. both took an equal interest in a scarf. In their threadbare clothes they looked like the supernumeraries that represent rank and fashion at stage weddings in third-rate theatres. Zephirine had succeeded in making a valetudinarian of her factotum. she could afford to indulge in languid manners. his night's rest. and looked after the fortunes of M. With a slender figure and delicate proportions. fine-looking woman. known by the aristocratic name of Jacques. and Mme. she coddled him and doctored him.

and Mlle. and with them came the country gentleman who had brought the treatise on silkworms to David that very morning. No eligible man had any taste which Camille did not share on her mother's authoritative statement. he shifted about from one foot to another as he spoke. and half rose and sat down again when anybody spoke to him. and next on M. and not until the evening was half over did the mayor meet with sympathetic listeners in Mme. He seemed ready to do some menial service. de Saintot. The Prefect and the General in command of the garrison were the last comers. du Brossard. again and again he tried to talk about silkworms. He looked uneasy in his clothes. and had brought their neighbors. and occasionally. nervous. live quietly in retirement. was capable of saying that her dear Camille liked nothing so much as a roving life from one garrison to another. belong to no clique. the Baroness' aunt and daughters. penniless girls who had been carefully brought up. met with a reception of chilling silence. and before the evening was out. he was obsequious. but from his appearance. M. Their understanding was perfect. for instance. was supposed to be a good performer on the piano. de Pimentel and M. and Francis seemed to take his ideas from Zizine's eyes. the respect paid to them was full of jealousy. In season and out of season Zizine consulted Francis with a look. especially as everybody saw that Mme. between them. de Rastignac.and cravats until he became so used to wearing finery that she transformed him into a kind of Japanese idol. They frowned and smiled together. who quoted Cicero to him. de Bartas. two charming young ladies. listening with servility. he and his wife. laughing eagerly at every joke. a big. and grave by turns. du Brossard were not the least interesting persons in the clique. This evening they had driven into Angouleme in their caleche. The two families belonged to the very small minority who hold themselves aloof from provincial gossip. had an income of forty thousand livres. a widowed gentlewoman and her daughter. but the luckless wight happened first upon M. who talked music in reply. both families were too nearly connected with the Court to compromise themselves through provincial follies. and maintain a dignified reserve. and no length of acquaintance had brought their wives and daughters into the select coterie of Angouleme. a man whom every one envied. de Bargeton paid marked attention to the guests. beyond question the first in the company. heavy young woman of seven-and-twenty. and spent their winters in Paris. The largest landowner in the neighborhood. that she was sure her dear Camille liked a quiet country farmhouse existence of all things. imagining that people were laughing at him. Mother and daughter had the pinched sub-acid dignity . and her mother praised her in season and out of season in the clumsiest way. it was plain that he was quite unused to polite society. du Brossard. he was at a loss to know what to do with his hands. and seemingly took counsel of each other before making the simplest commonplace remark. and a fine estate was his sufficient title to gentility. was the Marquis de Pimentel. were addressed by their names in full. he assumed a knowing air. Mme. Mme. His treatise weighed upon his mind. and were dressed in the simple way that sets off natural loveliness. These personages. the Baron and Baroness de Rastignac and their party. In their dress there was just that tinge of pretension which betrayed carefully hidden penury. and Mlle. The daughter. but their story may be told in a single phrase--they were as poor as they were noble. in her anxiety to establish her child. Evidently he was the mayor of some canton or other.

they had been the objects of the benevolent interest of egoism. it put him still more out of humor with himself. My Camille is so intelligent. "beauty. who welcomed the most illustrious personages of Angouleme with ostentatious courtesy and elaborate graciousness. and Astolphe. "And as women are especially interested in the silk which the little creatures produce. de Bargeton. shy." "poetry. all eyes and ears. de Severac to a glorious close after Lucien's reading that night. His assurance bore the ordeal with some difficulty in spite of the encouraging example of Mme. who had got by heart a newspaper paragraph on a patent plow. but Jacques was giving Mme. did not know that there was scarce a soul in the room besides Mme. was giving the Baron the benefit of the description. and the men stood behind them. Mother and daughter listened. provincial fashion that too often borders on rudeness. Lucien's courage sank under their inquisitive eyes. spoke of him as M. A few habitues slipped in familiarly among the rest. de Pimentel the history of his last day's sport. though it was bound to come as an unpleasant shock to a young man with so little experience of the world. I shall ask permission to go over to Severac. know what they had come out for to see. therefore." "glory. de Rubempre. the Bishop. It was a quaint assemblage of wrinkled countenances and heterogeneous costumes. luckless poet that he was. He could read his plebeian name in the mere movements of their lips. de Severac was fifty-nine years old. the trumpet. de Bargeton." are words that bewitch the . so that my Camille may see how the silk is spun. de Bargeton who could understand poetry. she will grasp anything that you tell her in a moment. Chardon. Did she not understand one day the inverse ratio of the squares of distances!" This was the remark that brought the conversation between Mme. nor did they. Laure de Rastignac on Rossini. The women solemnly arranged themselves in a circle. M. noticed that no one except Louise. the newly-risen music star. so did one or two eldest sons. they belonged to a class which the world delights to pity." said the mother. "My daughter has always been fond of animals. for his formidable audience he was M. The whole matter-of-fact assembly was there by a misapprehension. and hear the anticipatory criticisms made in the blunt. the boldest men among them so far shook off the weight of awe as to chatter a good deal with Mlle. There are some words that draw a public as unfailingly as the clash of cymbals. for the most part. du Brossard and M. for then he could assume an attitude which should put an end to his mental torments. they had sounded the empty void beneath the consoling formulas with which the world ministers to the necessities of the unfortunate. and the uncomfortable feeling that oppressed him was aggravated by a trifling matter which any one might have foreseen. Lucien. mute young men tricked out in gorgeous jewelry. Lucien. with devout admiration to all that he told them about his silkworm nurseries. and highly honored by an invitation to this literary solemnity. Adrien was holding forth to Mlle. He had not expected this prolonged ordeal of pin-pricks. and his heart beat fast when he felt that every one was looking at him. and a childless widower. He grew impatient to begin the reading. and some few who wished to please the mistress of the house. M. or the mountebank's big drum.characteristic of those who have learned by experience the exact value of expressions of sympathy. de la Haye. but none the less it seemed very alarming to Lucien.

meant to save the poet's self-love and to put the audience at ease. and see all that is going on around him. and if the listener is to grasp all that it means. gave him courage to persevere to the end. no one in Angouleme had so much as heard of him). like the dove in the deluge. he saw nothing but rows of impatient faces. was at last secured. they had come together to discuss questions of practical interest. but he followed it with _L'Aveugle_. when silence. and feels it as the plant that revives or droops under favorable or unfavorable conditions. but this glacial audience. when the buzz of talk ceased after repeated efforts on the part of M. When. he was about to read the masterpieces of a great poet. de Bargeton's. discovered only recently (for although Andre de Chenier's poems appeared in 1819. but this poet's heart was bleeding from countless wounds. and the poem was received with a murmur of applause. he looked round for any spot on which his eyes might rest. If poetry is to be rendered by the voice.coarsest intellect. he saw all the gaps caused by the spasmodic workings of jaws sympathetically affected. and two or three of the young men. de Bargeton. to prevent disappointment. As a matter of fact. the most devout attention is essential. I cannot keep my eyes open when any one begins to read aloud. A fierce thrill of excitement ran through him as he did so. the Bishop. None but artists or those endowed with the artistic temperament can understand and sympathize with him in the diabolical torture of that reading. "Do you find this very amusing. and feel. An intelligent man in the sphere most stimulating to his faculties can see in every direction. obedient to his wife. in fact. to whom he turned. The men who had come with their wives had fallen to discussing their own affairs. who. which proved too great a strain upon the average intellect. he was damp with chilly perspiration. A musician or a poet knows at once whether his audience is listening in admiration or fails to follow him. or swift and subtle communication of the poet's thought and feeling becomes impossible. Everybody interpreted this announcement in one way--it was a shift of Mme. dear. He announced in an uncertain voice that. so far from attaining to the spirit of the poet. those who understand poetry strive to develop the germs of another poetry. Here this close sympathy was lacking. the teeth that seemed to grin defiance at him. Fifine?" inquired the wizened Lili. de Bargeton. who perhaps had expected some kind of gymnastics. every murmur rang in Lucien's ear. Lucien went to the round table near Mme. Lucien began with _Le Malade_. and Lucien in consequence was in the position of an angel who should endeavor to sing of heaven amid the chucklings of hell. "Don't ask me what I think. by the acoustic law before mentioned. did not even listen to the letter. Lucien felt profoundly discouraged. there should be an intimate alliance between the reader and his audience. Their owners clearly were waiting for him to make an end. When every one had arrived. tapping the pavement with his wand. a glowing glance from Louise. he has the keen scent of a dog. they one and all looked bored. the ears of a mole. went round the room much as the beadle makes the circle of the church." . like a snail. quickened within them by the poet's poetry. he can hear. With the exceptions of Laure de Rastignac.

"If I am obliged to attend while somebody reads aloud after dinner. who had really felt the grandeur of the poetry. he ought to lay his name aside. "He printed his poetry himself!" said the women among themselves." After this dictum. but a statement of fact. alone in her drawing-room." said Astolphe. carried away by his impassioned delivery. and pretty Laure de Rastignac besought Lucien to continue. "Why. heedless of the havoc she wrought among them." she added. were mystified. "but his name was plebeian. he was far away from the hateful world. de Bargeton sat with one hand buried in her curls. striving to render in speech the music that filled his soul. seeing the faces about him through a cloudy haze. "Thy songs are sweet. looking at Lolotte." whispered Zephirine. why does he call himself M. until Sixte du Chatelet condescended to inform these unlettered folk that the prefatory announcement was no oratorical flourish. Mme. Several persons. lost in delicious dreaming. and informed her neighbor Amelie that the poetry was in print. applauded the reading without understanding the sense. we can read them for ourselves. de Rubempre?" inquired Jacques. This piece of stupidity complicated the question." said Alexandre. and he took his mother's name. it upsets my digestion. if his verses are printed. de Rubempre works for a printer. Zephirine despatched Francis to examine the volume."I hope that Nais will not give us poetry often in the evenings." several card-players were of the opinion that the reader's voice needed a rest. "but I like whist better myself. pervaded by sublime melancholy. but Lucien did not heed it. that is easily explained. Amelie brightened visibly. The intoxication of the poetry was upon him. gazing before her with unseeing eyes. People of this sort are impressed by vociferation." said Zizine. and added that the poems had been written by a Royalist brother of Marie-Joseph Chenier. and on this pretext one or two couples slipped away into the card-room. the Revolutionary leader. There was a smothered murmur. "M." "Well. and the Bishop." "It was very well declaimed. I love to say them over. which is noble. lines in the taste of a by-gone day. "Then. All Angouleme. During the interval." said she. except Mme." "So he did as a matter of fact. which passed muster as a joke from the play on the word "whist. He read the sombre Elegy on the Suicide." said Francis. then he turned to the page where the line occurs. and this time he caught the attention of his audience with Chenier's spirited reactionary _Iambes_. as a coarse palate is ticked by strong spirits. "take a glass of eau _sucree_. But Louise. for the . "If a noble takes a handicraft. as they partook of ices. de Rastignac and her two daughters and the Bishop. and took offence at the hoax. It is as if a pretty woman should make her own dresses." and ended with the delicate idyll _Neere_." "Poor dearie.

dedicated to her under a title in favor with all lads who write verse after leaving school." "You have been in the diplomatic service. seemed to him to be the one piece of his own work that could hold its own with Chenier's verse. being accustomed to petty manoeuvres of this kind. who took it upon herself to express the general wish. lyric verse. This ode. the Baron is a very clever man. And at the selfsame moment Mme. de Bargeton's petticoat. Nais had no choice but to ask Lucien to recite his own verses for them. "we came to hear M. "Which proves that our language is eminently adapted for music. But Amelie's previous acidulous remark about women who made their own dresses rankled in Lolotte's mind. and the Baron received a languishing smile from Amelie as the reward of his prompt success. "The little fellow's genius is his sole justification. how unpleasantly she was disturbed by Amelie. they would rather have it. "but after receiving Amelie's request in such a way." Chatelet answered. du Chatelet. "Cicero's prose is a thousand times more poetical to my way of thinking." "The true poetry of France is song." said Francis." said the Baron." "Nothing easier. At the Bishop's entreaty." she observed to Lolotte. "Nais." said Amelie to M." said Zephirine. "Decidedly. "Since when have you begun to recognize the Emperor's barons?" she asked. Chardon's poetry. Judge. so beautiful--since it was the outpouring of all the love in his heart. Lucien had essayed to deify his beloved in an ode. it is not very likely that she will give us a specimen. Although she had always looked down upon this audience from her own loftier intellectual heights. went to the Bishop and contrived to bring him to the fore. de Bargeton betrayed her own secret to the women's curious eyes. smiling. so fondly cherished. she could not help trembling for Lucien. for his author's self-love felt safe and at ease behind Mme. "go and manage it somehow. . The Princess' private secretary. Her face was troubled. therefore. there was a sort of mute appeal for indulgence in her glances. de Bargeton. The extracts are very nice." said Adrien. he announced "TO HER!" He struck an attitude proudly for the delivery of the ambitious piece. but the ladies feel a patriotic preference for the wine of the country.first time in her life she had been transported to the sphere which was hers by right of nature. and with a tolerably fatuous glance at Mme." this voice broke in. "I should like very much to hear the poetry that has cost Nais her reputation. and you are giving us poetry out of a book." "She ought to have them recited in justice to herself." "The French language does not lend itself very readily to poetry. does it?" Astolphe remarked to Chatelet. and while the verses were recited she was obliged to lower her eyes and dissemble her pleasure as stanza followed stanza.

A gleam as of dawn that spread across the starry floor. and the Angel. Not by the radiant eyes. One there is.TO HER. Leaving the courts of heaven to sink upon silver wings Down to our world below. Then you shall see afar. du Chatelet a coquettish glance. At the foot of Jehovah's throne where the angels stand afar. take heed. weeping. Given with alms of a sigh. bright messenger sent from the skies Whom earth like a lover fain would hold from the hea'nward flight. Out of the glowing heart of the torrent of glory and light. . did I know the secret sign. Ah! be wary. to reckon Earth's pitying tears. Put up for each by his star. Glad as angels are glad. rifting the darkness of night. Too soon the Angel on Earth will learn the magical word Sung at the close of the day. Reverent bent o'er the maid. giving M. Came down to lull the pain of the mighty spirit at strife. seistrons. Striving and striving in vain to mingle Earth and Heaven. it was Love grown blind and dazed with excess of light. Nor read the token sent on a white and dazzling brow Of an origin divine. Veiling the glory of God that dwells on a dazzling brow. not by the kindling glow Of virtue sent from God. Out from the cherubim choir a bright-haired Angel springs. Bringing a dream of hope to solace the mother's fears. Malvinas and Fingals and cloudy shapes. "Do you read the riddle?" said Amelie. turns and gazes with sad. Nay." said the Baron with a bored expression--he was acting his part of arbiter of taste who has seen everything. God looked in pity on earth. and warriors who got out of their tombs with stars above their heads. Nowadays this poetical frippery has been replaced by Jehovah. lest aught should be seen or heard Of the shining seraph band. Hearkening unto the voice of the tardy repentant cry. "We used to deal in Ossianic mists. and all the paraphernalia of paradise freshened up with a few new words such as 'immense. But the angel. "It is the sort of stuff that we all of us wrote more or less after we left school. the plumes of seraphim. as they take the heavenward way. Helpless and powerless against the invincible armor bright By the dread archangel given. sweet eyes Up to the heaven of light. angels. reading His thought. A luminous pathway in Heaven and a beacon for evermore. and but one. And the seaman that watch for a sign shall mark the track of their flight. Each on a seistron of gold repeating the prayers of the night. infinite. and for age left desolate brought Flowers of the springtime of life.

" said Stanislas. a kind of Christianized Pantheism. Him he proceeded to mystify. "Nais sets up to be an archangel. it seems to me. Zizine. He therefore followed the example set by Chatelet the astute. his father was an apothecary. "he ought to have made his son take them. Francis the diplomatist undertook the direction of the silly conspiracy. and the women. it would be something to talk about to-morrow." Every one apparently combined to humiliate Lucien by various aristocrats' sarcasms. to see Nais' pride brought down a bit. I would rather have something else. "And the archangel's armor is a tolerably thin gauze robe. and Adrien was fain to obey. striking one of his most killing attitudes." said Francis. you have lakes." said Zephirine. "If you love me. and went to the Bishop. He told the Bishop that Lucien's mother was a woman of uncommon powers and great modesty." Lolotte laid her commands on her dear Adrien in imperious tones. and mixes us up with low people. rose. "Drug for drug. and the words of the Almighty. his sister works in a laundry. "Empty words. murmuring. Politeness demanded that the audience should profess to be enchanted with the poem. Lili the religious thought it a charitable deed to use any means of enlightening Nais. intelligence'." "If the ode is obscure. looked bored by the reading." said Amelie. and Nais was on the brink of a piece of folly. scanning himself from top to toe with loving attention. furious because they had no poets in their train to extol them as angels. do not congratulate the poet or his angel. after all. being far from anxious to engage in a duel with a young poet who would fly into a rage at the first hint of insult under his lady's eyes. Nothing pleased Lucien so much." Zephirine remarked to Francis." said Stanislas. but I should not have put it so neatly. for the stuff that he has just been reading to us is a drug in the market. but the darkness is just as thick as before. and that it was she who found the subjects for her son's verses. as if she were better than the rest of us. and his mother is a nurse. we have left the North for the East. every one was interested in the progress of the drama. We are in quite another latitude." "If his father sold biscuits for worms" (_vers_). The ex-consul. and he himself is a printer's foreman. said Jacques.solitude. I don't know how much." "You have just expressed the very thing that I was thinking. "I would give. in fact. it seems." "He is continuing in his father's line of business. "Very nice!" "Charming!" "Perfect!" with frigid coldness. was wise enough to see that the only way of dealing Lucien his deathblow was by the spiritual arm which was safe from vengeance. addressing Chatelet. the declaration is very clear. according to the . "and love is a poem that we live. enriched with the most extraordinary and unheard-of rhymes.

and not M. de Senonches as M. but God doubtless reserves a place in heaven . could only look at Mme. "you should never find time heavy on your hands." "Do you work quickly?" asked Lolotte. being a total stranger." said the Marquis de Pimentel. de Bargeton and give embarrassed answers to embarrassing questions. "The likeness is ideal. "A woman must be blind indeed to bring this little fellow among us!" muttered Senonches. Chardon. Chardon and M. poetry is something holy. de Bargeton. and he was at his wits' end for a reply. his life here is almost always a life of sorrow. "Glory has a power of attraction to which we can confess." she added. addressing Lucien for the purpose of calling him M. de Rubempre's head like grass in our courtyards. Lili and Fifine." said the Bishop. and unaware of the manners and customs of the house. de Rubempre. sometimes as M. she thought her consul a very great man. addressing the Marquise. in the course of conversation." "Madame. Zephirine turned to speak to the Marquise de Pimentel--"Do you not see a strong likeness between M. madame?" she asked in a low but quite audible voice. addressing Lolotte. de Cante-Croix. His confusion rose to a height when. the circle who gave him the cup of hemlock to drain by little sips watched him with redoubled interest. that Nimrod broke in upon him with a "_MONSIEUR LULU?_" and Mme. Chardon.guileful Francis. His lordship was sure to bring out the insulting allusion. and her laughter ranged her on Nais' side. de Bargeton flushed red to the eyes. Adrien. luckless young man. as any recognition of her talents--he worshiped his mother. the women's silly speeches made him blush for them. for which he had been so carefully prepared. The was beyond Zephirine's comprehension. Astolphe. looking at Francis. "Yes. we cannot feel too reverently towards the noble spirits in whom God has set some ray of this light. He felt. "You are very fortunate. but the Marquise laughed. monsieur. he left the rest to time. much in the way that she would have asked a joiner "if it took long to make a box. de Bargeton's reply-"My dear." The bludgeon stroke stunned Lucien. as before." said Mme." smiled Mme. de Rubempre. When Francis and the Bishop joined the little group where Lucien stood. taking Lili for a man's surname. Lili. He knew neither the names nor condition of the people about him. but he raised his head at Mme. How many silent nights those verses that you admire have cost! We should bow in love and reverence before the poet. poetry does not grow in M. de Pimentel. Then. moreover. Poetry implies suffering. how very far removed he was from these divinities of Angouleme when he heard himself addressed sometimes as M. having inculcated these notions. The poet. "Some women are as much attracted by greatness as others by littleness. he addressed the coarse M. while they addressed each other as Lolotte.

No one heeds our sorrows. so that he can satisfy the demands of all. I should give myself out for a man of genius. kindled a gleam of delight in all eyes." suggested the Bishop. his songs are like seeds that must break into blossom in other hearts wherever they find the soil prepared by personal experience. Mme. and drew astonished eyes upon her. he must give the results of whole systems of philosophy in a few picturesque lines." said Mme. How can you express unless you first have felt? And is not passion suffering. "And besides. "do you not see the sign of Fate set on that high forehead of his?" Glad to be so generously championed.--do we not owe these deathless creations to immortal throes?" "And what are you going to create for us?" asked Chatelet. Beaumarchais' Figaro. "the time of gestation is long----" "Then it will be a case of difficult labor. beneath the most vivid color.for him among His prophets." cried Lucien. with bitterness in his tone. Moliere's Alceste. "A poet who looks to the Bible for his inspiration has a mother indeed in the . such sublime creations demand a long experience of the world and a study of human passion and interests which I could not possibly have made. but I have made a beginning. Ariosto's Angelica. some moments later. "Your excellent mother might assist you. and left them twice as furious as before. de Bargeton's imbecility. Dante's Francesca. If this is poetry--to give ideas such definite and clear expressions that all the world can see and understand--the poet must continually range through the entire scale of human intellects. he must conceal hard thinking and emotion. Lucien made his acknowledgments in a grateful look. du Hautoy. as usual." he added. who seem more really alive to us than men and women who have lived and died--Richardson's Clarissa. "If I were to announce such conceptions. The gold-digger working in the mine does not labor as we to wrest metaphors from the heart of the most ungrateful of all languages. Scott's Rebecca the Jewess. two antagonistic powers. "Monseigneur. There are men and women in books. our toil is unrecognized. This young man is a poet. not knowing that the worthy prelate was to deal his deathblow. the Delia of Tibullus. the Don Quixote of Cervantes. de Bargeton's eyes traveled round the hostile circle. indeed. monseigneur. innocently made by the good prelate. he must know how to make one word cover a whole world of thought. de Bargeton. The smile of satisfied caste that traveled from mouth to mouth was aggravated by M." he added laying a hand on Lucien's head. as he took a vengeful glance round the circle. and the words paralyzed the laughter. should I not?" answered Lucien. the long-looked-for revenge. these ladies do not understand your meaning." interrupted M. Chenier's Camille. you are talking a little above our heads. "but ordinary people have neither your intellect nor your charity. "Ah. The epigram. he burst into a laugh. Poetry is only brought forth after painful wanderings in the vast regions of thought and life. Her glances went like arrows to the depths of her rivals' hearts. hoping to break thick heads with his golden sceptre.

who meant to make a brilliant display of her dear Camille's talents for M. will you recite _Saint John in Patmos_ for us. and the Bishop wished to make amends. "and besides. it is not bad for provincial poetry. or _Belshazzar's Feast_.'" And Lucien took comfort from the pretty speech. the audience. as in duty bound listened while Chatelet in turn sang one of Chateaubriand's ballads. gaining malignance by the way. Every one appeared to be absorbed in his own affairs. of the kind usually left to boarding-school misses.Church. such a beautiful poet cannot do anything amiss. she murmured in his ear. another proposed to vary the pleasures of the evening with a little music. Lucien had sunk to the depths at the blow. She was followed by the prelate. de Rastignac. vowing to subjugate this little world. also slipped into the boudoir without her mother's knowledge. Then Chatelet was called upon to accompany M. 'Thy songs are sweet. and formed a little group about them. so they showed their tacit disdain for the native product by leaving Lucien and Mme." she said. "Dear angel. Louise drew Lucien to her mattress-cushioned sofa. de Severac's benefit. de Bargeton to themselves. fascinated by the poetry. but by this time the card-tables had claimed their complement of players. but. to hear the verdict of the Pimentels and the Rastignacs. so that his lordship may see that Rome is still the _Magna Parens_ of Virgil?" The women exchanged smiles at the Latin words. . and prepared to obey Louise by declaiming _Saint John in Patmos_. who returned to the accustomed groove to find amusement there which poetry had not afforded them. du Brossard. I love to say them over. in the first place. feeling that it was no judge of poetry. and with no one to see or hear. it traveled from lip to lip.--M. one chattered with the prefect about a new crossroad. foreseeing that they might some day need that influence. and forgot his woes for a little. Duets followed. and the way being opened to music. a chivalrous ditty made in the time of the Empire. The great influence wielded in the department by these two families was always felt on every important occasion. smiling. "Why. and rose to the surface again. du Bargeton." Every one thought the decision admirable. Mlle. He rose like a bull. Mme. was very anxious. paid back scorn for scorn by going to her boudoir during these performances. they did not understand you. The great world of Angouleme. every one was jealous of them. but he struck the bottom with his feet. His Vicar-General had just been explaining the profound irony of the epigram into which he had been entrapped. and rescued from the schoolroom by Mme. "What do you think of our poet and his poetry?" Jacques asked of the Marquise. They felt besides that the revenge of so many outraged vanities would be incomplete unless it were followed up by contemptuous indifference. Jacques used to shoot over the lands belonging to the Pimentel family. hurt by the contempt which every one showed her poet. stung to fury by a shower of darts. de Rubempre. du Bartas on the piano while he mangled the great solo from _Figaro_. every one paid court to them. The bravest and highest spirits know times of prostration at the outset of life.

I envy you. You will put out your strength. never having put forth a blossom. taking his hand and holding it tightly in her own. de Bargeton continued. dying of a grief that none can understand. and Francis appeared in the doorway with Mme. "Nais. in his eyes?" "Nais is treating us very badly. taking the word back with them as food for laughter. both delighted to break in upon the quiet chat in the boudoir. my friend. who came to look for her daughter. "Do you not see the first beginnings of the vision of the poem." said Laure de Rastignac. "She is flourishing away. for if you suffer. calling for her beloved sun. It would be a terribly gloomy poem. If only I had a hard struggle before me! God preserve you from the enervating life without battles. knowing all the while what life might be. you will be great one day." Mme." "That task will be his." "My dear child. then remember the poor creatures disinherited by fate. a magnificent biblical poem. "some one surely must have written such a poem in the days of old. your pain is the price of your immortality. glory and success await the man of talent who shall work for religion. like the flame of dawn." "You would picture the spirit which remembers Heaven. in which the eagle's wings have no room to spread themselves." said Fifine. Fifine. "what can she be doing?" "Don't you hear?" said Stanislas." Amelie." "Biblical!" echoed Fifine in amazement." "Take that as your subject. expressing her artless belief in Lucien's powers. "The great sacred poem of France is still unwritten. "Endure your woes. It would be an allegory." said Mme. choked by twining growths and rank. And when you shall come to your kingdom. you will feel the hope of victory. using big words that you cannot make head or tail of. and reach the imperial sphere where great minds are enthroned. de Rastignac. Then tell in your song of plants that wither in the depths of the forest. greedy vegetation. whose intellects pine in an oppressive moral atmosphere. at least you live. I like to think that I see a fragment of it in the Song of Songs." remarked the Bishop. western clime." said the Bishop. "it would be very nice of you to come and play something for us. and die. plants that have never been kissed by the sunlight. your strife will be glorious. "Believe me. Lucien pleaded a defective memory and . many lives are like that. the delicate senses that have only known the scent of poison flowers. de Bargeton rhetorically. M. a fanciful subject? What a sublime poem might be made of the story of some daughter of the desert transported to some cold. de Rubempre is just about to recite his _Saint John in Patmos_. Adrien."Glory is not to be had cheaply. who die and have never lived. think of the piercing eyes that have seen nothing. would it not. Amelie and Fifine went back to the drawing-room. overcome with cold and longing." cried the two ladies.

to use the Vicar-General's phrase. de Bargeton's rooms. his sister had changed her dress for a gown of pink cambric covered with narrow stripes. a joyous shaft of sunset had turned the water between the bridge and the new powder mills into a sheet of gold. "What a beautiful evening it is!" she said. Eve felt embarrassed by the pause. too. in the thin. Nature speaks for them. that I could not say anything. he thought that he could see Eve and David sitting on a baulk of timber by the river in the moonlight. "So this is society!" Lucien said to himself as he went down to L'Houmeau by the steps of Beaulieu." said David. I felt quite uncomfortable----" "You looked so beautiful. the poet's aureole had been plucked away. trying to proceed to love by way of analogy. and went down the footpath towards them. he could find nothing to say to her. Love delights in such reverent awe as redeemed souls know on beholding the glory of God. in the scent of the earth. and there is a wonderful sky. the Beatrice of this modern Dante. When he reappeared. "Those who love find infinite delight in discovering the poetry of their own inmost souls in every chance effect of the landscape. in silence. The simple costume seemed like a rich toilette on Eve. While Lucien was hastening to the torture in Mme. the two lovers went across the Bridge of Saint Anne. the fury of repulsed ambition gave Lucien new strength. and David felt prodigiously shy of her now that she had changed her working dress. nobody took the slightest notice of him. talking aloud to himself. scoffing at the fools with whom he had to do. inventing neat answers to their idiotic questions. the more pretentious sort looked upon him as an enemy to their ignorance. but now as he gave his arm to this beautiful girl. clear air. ." "And loosens their tongues. and they walked through L'Houmeau together. and followed the left bank of the Charente. Lucien vowed to make any sacrifice to the end that he might remain on that higher social level. So. and stopped to look along the river. and looked at him with cold." "Everything speaks to our heart. "You were very silent as we came through L'Houmeau. Like all those whose instincts bring them to a higher social sphere which they reach before they can hold their own in it. By the time that he reached the Bordeaux road. the landowners had no use for him. and full of the scent of flowers.excused himself. for the sake of saying something. de Bargeton." Eve said merrily. Do you know. scornful eyes. One by one he drew out the poisoned shafts on his way home. that the physical exercise of walking may promote the flow of ideas. He had made up his mind that he would speak of himself. "the air is warm and fresh. while the women were jealous of Mme. for she was one of those women whose great nature lends stateliness to the least personal detail. for there are times when we choose to take the longest way. between the river and the foot of the hill. a straw hat. So far from being disheartened. every one was chatting or busy at the card-tables. desperately vexed that the witty responses occurred to him so late in the day." David answered candidly. and a little silk shawl.

"But so long as mother is strong enough for her tiring life. he will forget everything else for her. "Dear Eve. de Bargeton's. but not before she has spoiled him for hard work. we shall earn enough." said Eve. "If the walk is any pleasure to you. You and your mother have done all that you could to put him above his social position. I am delighted. the savor of banquets. After all that I have just said. that----" he stopped short in confusion. she will make him unhappy. for him. If she cares for him sincerely. brightening. I hope that you will look on my fears as a refinement of friendship. "It is not that. it is not drudgery. There lies his road to success. but the world at large declines to believe in any man's superior intellect until he has achieved some signal success. it makes me tremble to think that this great lady may make a plaything of Lucien. we will earn money enough to send Lucien into the great world. time is capital."Then. to cultivate her society. My courage will never fail." said Eve. with no listeners except the bushes and the reeds by the edge of the Charente. A man needs an independent fortune. perhaps. He likes to shine. so long as I live. You have accustomed him to believe in his great powers. in fact. Social claims will take up the whole of his time. for he is wild about her. stopping as they reached the weir." "You have sent a chill of dread through my heart. listen to me. that he will do anything desperate sooner than fall back. and you will never earn enough for his requirements. de Bargeton give your brother in return for so many days spent at her feet? Lucien has too much spirit to accept help from her. for the slow execution of great work. It makes me happy to think that I toil so much. and for a man who has nothing but his brains. and looked at the hillside and the road to Saintes. did you not unthinkingly condemn him to a hard struggle? How can he maintain himself in the society to which his tastes incline him? I know Lucien. instead of earning money. as we know. he will spend it. or if she does not love him. not generous. only wise. Sooner or later that woman will throw over this dear brother of ours." returned David. I think. and he cannot afford." said David. de Bargeton's boudoir. but when you stimulated his ambition. that debauches a poetic soul. he likes to reap. twice ruinous as it is for him. When you refused to go to Mme. Believe me. "And now that we are quite alone under the sky. it is his nature. Now success in literature is only won in solitude and by dogged work." "No. let me tell you about my anxiety as to Lucien's present step. Lucien's horror of privation is so great. What will Mme. his inclination for idleness. or the sublime cynicism of poverty. between us to keep Lucien until success comes." "And there lies his road to ruin. Oh. you were quite as generous as Lucien when he made the demand at the risk of vexing her. do not be in the least afraid. just now I am not so beautiful?" inquired she. if indeed it is toil. his self-love has grown so much in Mme. and given him a taste for luxury and a contempt for our humdrum life. "but I was so happy to have this walk alone with you. he does not like toil. "There is no hardship in work when we work for one we love. for I owe you an evening. the incense of success is so sweet in his nostrils." he said. She will develop his love of enjoyment. when you have given up yours for me. Yes. society will stimulate his desires until no money will satisfy them. dear Eve. .

If you would consent to be my wife." said David. will it not? If you only knew all my thoughts about Lucien's position! If he means to go to Mme. "you make me quite ashamed. "or you would not discourage us in this way. that is enough. and where his talents will be appreciated and rewarded. poor fellow! He ought not to live in L'Houmeau. you will be my wife. Only tell me that you care for me a little. de Bargeton's. he will go to Paris. the only place that can bring out all that is in him. Lucien's welfare shall be the great object of our lives. equally simple in our tastes. I will tell you this. her voice expressing for the first time a woman's sweet anxiety for one who belongs to her.). One must love indeed to overcome such a difficulty. Some day." "Eve! Eve!" cried David. I did not know how to speak of them. both of us. and your mother must give up her employment as well. and the earnings of all three of us will be needed for his support. we will lay up all our fortune. We are. and my heart has been very heavy with thoughts that I could not utter. perhaps." said Eve. but it rests with you to give me the right to devote myself to him." "Indeed. we have few wants. that is. "if asking my father is all that is necessary. will not you and your mother need some one to lean upon then? Dear Eve. I should claim the right of devoting my life to him with the love that hallows your self-sacrifice. Eve. "But perhaps your father would object----" "Never mind. and I will take courage to tell you the rest. And in that way we would arrange a free and independent life for him. that I have never thought of any one but you in my life."Then you are only a false friend to him!" Eve cried in despair. and think and feel and hope in him. "You are rich and I am poor. and I did not dare to hope so great a thing for myself. I looked upon you as one of those men to whom a woman might be proud to belong." he answered. Lucien might live on the second floor in the Place du Murier until I can build rooms for him over the shed at the back of the yard (if my father will allow it. you ought not to be a working girl. perhaps afterwards you will love me when you see how I shall strive to help him and to make you happy. "What is the matter?" she asked." she said. but confidence for confidence. a penniless working girl with no prospects. His heart shall be our treasure-house. "if only I could be a brother to Lucien! You alone can give me that title. sitting down on the bar by the weir. my dear Eve. moved by this love that tried to explain away its greatness." "Worldly considerations keep us apart. . he must not be my foreman any longer. marry me for love of Lucien. my darling. he could accept anything from me then. but with some worldly wisdom too. how you have lightened life for me in a moment. The wish to support Lucien will give me a better will to work than I ever should have had for myself alone." "That is enough. And besides. Eve." "Then you do not care enough for me?" cried the stricken David. Living in Paris is expensive. give Lucien a store from which he need not blush to draw! His brother's purse will be like his own. for they had gone to and fro like mad creatures over the same length of pathway. the difficulties will all be smoothed away.

That is not a lover's speech. who saw a symbol of ." "Then you love me! Ah! say so without fear to me. who must have a woman to take care of them. we shall have a large fortune. if I have some faculty for the discovery of gold-mines. he made a speculation of me. Your sweet and dear companionship will be consolation in itself during the long time of experiment. it is overwhelming. I know something of chemistry. I have said nothing to Lucien. it pleased my father to ruin me. I am a poor man. My character and habits and favorite occupations all unfit me for business and money-getting. doubtful eyes that asked an explanation. for your brother's sake. with a touch of sadness."Nothing but good. for they are exceedingly bad ones in a man who has his way to make. The present state of things. like my poor father. to try not to add anything to your burdens. smiling. have you known that I loved you since the first day I saw you?" "Where is the woman who does not feel that she is loved?" "Now let me get rid of your scruples as to my imaginary riches. Others are busy making the same researches. it will not be quite easy at first. I am taking more than I give. I am singularly ill-adapted for getting the gold out of them. So I shall always love you more than you love me. weighs so heavily upon me. "It is the sight of a whole lifetime of happiness that dazzles me. serious earnest. and a knowledge of commercial requirements has put me on the scent of a discovery that is likely to pay. and the patient watchfulness of the born man of business. because I have more reason to love. Why am I happier than you?" he asked. "I knew that you were one of those inventors. his enthusiastic nature would spoil everything. and perhaps get into debt. If I make a fortune." Eve said." "I am not so learned. for I have been like one of the family for a long time. enough to devote myself to you. You are an angel. I am a man. but sober. he would convert my hopes into realities. and yet we can only make money by some kind of industry." he answered. So keep my secret for me." Eve said. "For I know that I am happier. for we shall have some struggles. that I have spent days and nights in search of some way of making a fortune. and begin to live like a lord. I ought to tell you about my faults. with a talent for thrift. "I love you----" "As much as you love Lucien?" he broke in. as it were. as a good many so-called benefactors do. you will reap the harvest that I shall sow. interrupting him." Eve looked at David with mischievous. there will be a long while to wait. it will be entirely through you. I can say nothing as yet about it." "Dear Eve. Yes. perhaps for some years we may have a hard time of it. went into the smallest details. "Dear Eve. "Enough to be your wife. but I shall find out how to make a commercial article at last. dear. and the desire to gain wealth for you and Lucien will give me persistence and tenacity----" "I had guessed this too. But you who. and if I am first in the field.

because it is so much cheaper than linen. doubtless. The Angouleme paper-makers. This deduction is based on facts that came under my knowledge here. according to others. or at Padua. in 1301. which will not be out of place in a volume which owes its existence in book form to the paper industry no less than to the printing-press. he went to a great baulk of timber lying below the wheels of a paper-mill. who did not know what "pulp" meant. and hear the frogs croak." said she. that so early as the reign of Charles VI. Parchment had become so extremely dear that a cheap substitute was discovered in an imitation of the cotton paper known in the East as _charta bombycina_. was known in ancient times in China. trade. it is true again in the inner world of my heart for me. Now you cannot increase the output of linen rags. in 1170. lengthening out the word as if to make it cover the extent of feeling expressed by a single syllable. made from rags. let us sit here. At the present moment. calico has come more and more into use. according to some authorities." he said. and taking Eve's hand. "May I not know the secret?" she pleaded coaxingly. but the long digression. by a colony of Greek refugees. "Well. Since the downfall of the Empire. this is the first moment of pure and unmixed joy that fate has given to me! I do not think that Lucien can be as happy as I am. grown fair through you. I am seeing it for the first time in all its splendor. paper pulp for playing-cards was made in Paris. Eve. and agriculture. love for you in your name. and for this reason. damp and quivering in his own.. and the expense naturally retards the great advance which the French press is bound to make. . To make any perceptible difference in the population for this purpose. was first made at Basel. paper is made of a mixture of hemp and linen rags. let me take all this world about us into my soul. David gave an account of paper-making. for your father was interested in the matter." In answer to a question from Eve. Eve was the one woman in the world. say that the proportion of cotton in the pulp has increased to a frightful extent of late years. The imitation. where paper was made of cotton reduced to pulp and boiled. it would take a quarter of a century and a great revolution in habits of life. an invention not less marvelous than the other dependent invention of printing. if it was true in the outward world for Adam. "Let me breathe the evening air. by an Italian named Pax. and to-day it is a pressing question. And if the supply of linen rags is not enough to meet one-half nor one-third of the demand. the last to use pure linen rags. Thence by the unrecognized channels of commerce the art reached Asia Minor. a given population gives a pretty constant result. had best be condensed at first. but the raw material is dear. for it seems to me that my happiness is written large over it all. and it only increases with the birth-rate. "You have a right to know it. and a tear fell upon it. but this much is certain. My God! do you love me?" "Yes. some cheaper material than linen rags must be found for cheap paper. lighted up by love. dearest." David felt Eve's hand. and watch the moonlight quivering upon the river. In these ways the manufacture of paper was perfected slowly and in obscurity.

and Didot-Saint-Leger had since tried to perfect it. The rags are sorted and warehoused by the wholesale rag merchants. And in the same way the types were called Cicero. the poor would rather make the smaller outlay in the first instance. Faust. by virtue of the law of _Vae victis!_ pay enormously more before they have done. This bird's eye view of the history of the invention shows incontestably that great industrial and intellectual advances are made exceedingly slowly. although. The cotton paper is very soft and easily creased to begin with. "When I was with the Messieurs Didot. and they are still interested. Denis Robert d'Essonne had invented a machine for turning out a ribbon of paper. through an iron frame with a fine wire bottom where the mark which give its name to the size of the paper is woven. Saint-Augustine. as it is called. owner of the pulping troughs of Bruges and Langlee (where Leorier de l'Isle endeavored in 1776 to solve the very problem that occupied your father). Before the invention of machine-made paper. So there is a scarcity of linen. which is strained.When those immortals. even as Nature herself proceeds. To give you some idea of the extent of the trade. where four-fifths of the population use cotton to the exclusion of linen. just as at a later day. the shield. Perhaps articulate speech and the art of writing were gradually developed in the same groping way as typography and paper-making. names were given to the various formats as well as to the different sizes of type. or the flower-pot. the grapes. In England. that naive and vigorous age. regulates the size of the sheet. mademoiselle. and Gutenberg. that in 1814 Cardon the banker. exactly as a cook strains sauce through a tamis. The vellum paper invented by Ambroise Didot only dates back as far as 1780. And for this reason: although linen lasts so much longer than cotton. worth about four million francs! The manufacturer washes the rags and reduces them to a thin pulp. and Canon type. Italics are so called because they were invented in Italy by Aldus of Venice. The size of this _mould_. and one of the crying needs of the time. about 1799. When David explained these things to Eve. you must know. web-paper was almost undreamed of in France. that it is in reality cheaper in the end." the printer concluded. because they were first used to print the treatises of Cicero and theological and liturgical works. "they were very much interested in this question. and it has a further defect: it is so . "Rag-pickers collect all the rags and old linen of Europe. craftsmen as obscure as many a great artist of those times appropriated paper to the uses of typography. and the various sheets came to be known by the different watermarks on their centres. Coster. and little by little. names that bear the impress of the naivete of the times. In the fifteenth century. The middle classes do the same. and the size of paper for printers' use was determined by the dimensions of the impression-stone." David continued. Cardon brought an action against one Proust for an error in weights of two millions in a total of ten million pounds' weight of rags. which can be woven in any length. "and buy any kind of tissue. they make nothing but cotton paper. the eagle of Napoleon's time gave the name to the "double-eagle" size. who supply the paper-mills. and. invented the Book. the crown. the figure of our Saviour. the largest sized sheets were the _grand jesus_ and the double columbier (this last being scarcely used now except for atlases or engravings). for the improvement which your father endeavored to make is a great commercial requirement.

the texture is close. Well. and the pages. to wit. an iconographical and technological work. science. that is all. and have begun to study the question. They made a bet about it in my presence. it is the same on all sides. there was a hot discussion going on about the material that the Chinese use for making paper. the pulp proved to be the triturated fibre of some kind of bamboo. illustrating all the different processes of paper-making. not previously manufactured. naturally I began to think of the reeds that grow here in France. and a good deal was said about this thin. Their paper is far better than ours. as the Chinese use vegetable fibre at first hand. with a great many pictures in it. it is a vegetable substance (like linen or cotton for that matter). it turns to a pulp. In Paris there are learned men among the printers' readers. had a glimmering of a notion of some way of replacing linen rags with an exceedingly common vegetable product. we shall want our linen and our books to be cheap.soluble that if you seep a book made of cotton paper in water for fifteen minutes. solidity is drying out. Fourier and Pierre Leroux are Lachevardiere's readers at this moment. "One day. "There is a time coming when legislation will equalize our fortunes. Librarian at the Arsenal. just as people are beginning to prefer small pictures because they have not wall space enough for large ones. it was extremely well drawn. the weight and thickness of printed books would be reduced by more than one-half. You could dry the old book. would still be legible. The Abbe Grozier had a Chinese book. where a workman earns three halfpence a day. They take it out of the mould. light Chinese paper. So this problem is one of the first importance for literature. the _Broussonetia_ furnishes the substance of the Chinese paper. in my office. The Messieurs Didot are printers to the Institute. and we shall all be poor together. while an old book left in water for a couple of hours is not spoilt. The paper was not made of silk nor yet from the _Broussonetia_. He told us at once that. the shirts and the books will not last. l'Abbe Grozier. The bamboo is a kind of reed. for if it is light and thin. though yellow and faded. because the raw material is better. and he sent the two readers to M. the lightness and satin smoothness of the best paper in the world. By the Abbe's decision they both lost their wages. If we could but succeed in making a cheap paper of as good a quality. A set of Voltaire. and politics. and the Comte de Saint-Simon. according to Kempfer and du Halde. who happened to be correcting proofs for us. here in Europe the work must be done by machinery. was umpire. Well. "Labor is very cheap in China. the silk that is abundant there. Another reader maintained that Chinese paper was principally made of an animal substance. there are no transparent spots in it. Marcel. machinery must take the place of cheap Chinese labor. "Lucien told me that your father. who used to be superintendent of the Royal Printing Establishment. M. and press it between heated tablets of white porcelain. and he showed us a picture of the workshop with the bamboo stalks lying in a heap in the corner. came in in the middle of the discussion. I have classified the guesses made by those who came before me. and this cheapness of labor enables the Chinese to manipulate each sheet of paper separately. so naturally they referred the question to that learned body. the work would not be destroyed. with the intuition of a man of talent. that is the secret of the surface and consistence. printed on our woven paper and . but taken direct from the soil.

for the housing of many books has come to be a difficulty. so eager that Lucien should approve their happiness." said he. she is as great and noble as she is gracious and beautiful. de Bargeton. men have shrunk. She will never give me up. de Rubempre. "A man with a career before him is never understood by his family. your brother told me of this idea of your father's. Eve and David listening in pained silence to a torrent of woes that exhibited such greatness and such pettiness. "Louise is right!" he thought bitterly. and house-room into the bargain. this is not an age of giants. and began at once to tell Lucien about his own plans. de Bargeton consents to be Mme. I read to-night in her eyes a love as great as mine for her. and here was one more obstacle in his way to success! His hopes were dashed to the ground. the lovers were quite as full of themselves. this plan for using vegetable fibre in paper-making. Great mansions and great suites of rooms will be abolished sooner or later in Paris. so you see that if I succeed. and for answer Eve pressed his arm without speaking. as she saw her brother's excited face. she would never care to have David Sechard for a brother-in-law!" This stated clearly and precisely was the thought that tortured Lucien's inmost mind. But he was living just now in a golden dream." If the marriage had not been announced immediately after Lucien's fancy had put M. he would have been radiant with heartfelt delight at the news. What a disgrace for our age if none of its books should last! Dutch paper--that is. he would reach a high position first. Well. paper made from flax--will be quite unobtainable in ten years' time. weighs about two hundred and fifty pounds. "I do not know whether you have found the evening pleasant. If he had thought soberly over the probable future of a beautiful and penniless girl like Eve Chardon. So absorbed were they. no doubt." "It is time that life was made smooth for him. he would have seen that this marriage was a piece of unhoped-for good fortune. I will marry Mme. everything has grown smaller of late. "it has been a cruel time for me. you have a right to----" Lucien came up at that moment and interrupted David's generous assertion.bound. "If Mme. she comforted me. she felt all that I felt. is it not?" murmured David. de Bargeton is an old dotard." "Poor Lucien! what can have happened?" cried Eve. as he made an end. "and then I will look down on these proud people. "M. Yes. and then secure himself by an alliance with some family of influence. If Lucien was full of his troubles. Mme. David guessed her thoughts. for no one will afford to live in the great houses built by our forefathers. he had soared . de Bargeton's lover had been dreaming of a great match for his sister. The indigestion will carry him off before long. it would only weigh fifty if we used Chinese paper." Lucien said. that neither Eve nor David so much as noticed his start of surprise at the news. That surely would be a triumph. pouring out a flood of clamorous thoughts into those friendly hearts. everything about them shrinks. The poet told the history of his agony. de Bargeton to death.

Chardon's consent to his marriage with the eagerness of a man who would fain have no delay. he made the whole family so happy and his brother-in-law so independent. and the family party gave themselves up to the pleasure of chatting and weaving a romance. sonny? Do you want me to do anything?" . The buzz of the aristocratic world grew more and more remote. "To begin with." said David.above all barriers on the wings of an _if_. David began to describe with kindly and cordial eloquence the happy fortunes in store for them all. the silent consent was a sign of true friendship. Eve's mother took her daughter's hand. he opened the window." the mother said. he called out to him-"What is the matter. "What can be happening at the Chardons'?" thought he. looking at David. the old man lives for himself. he saw a light in Eve's room. Unchecked by protests put in by Eve. and looking through the Venetian shutters." The three began at once to tell the astonished mother all their charming plans. my boy." David went back to the house with the brother and sister. His facile character returned almost at once to the innocent. and to store the unsown harvest. "But I will go over to Marsac to-morrow and see him. and seeing Lucien come in. and I am afraid lest our bad luck should be infectious. and as they went through the shadows beside the still Charente. "M." he said. built a second floor with boyish good faith for Lucien. in fact. that Lucien fell under the spell of David's voice and Eve's caresses. and it was one o'clock in the morning when Lucien and his future brother-in-law reached the Palet Gate. "but we have fallen on evil fortune." David said earnestly. and it was painful to drop so suddenly down to hard fact. and rooms above the shed for Mme. hard-working burgher life that he knew. rising above society. and asked Mme. The unwonted movement made honest Postel uneasy. raising her eyes as if to pray for heaven's blessing upon them. kissed his fair betrothed on the forehead. with their noble natures." she added. In short. and she flushed red. to them. star-lit night. and smiled at him. he had seen a vision of himself. you must not go out nursing any more. he saw it transfigured and free from care. and the lover. if it is only to ask leave to build. he forgot the sharp crown of thorns that had been pressed upon his head. he furnished his first floor with a lover's lavishness." "We shall be rich and happy. and gladly laid it in David's. Eve and David both thought that their brother was overcome with the sense of such generosity. he could have wished the evening to last for ever. Chardon--he meant to be a son to her.--"You are brave. "If only your father makes no objection to the marriage. and when at length they came upon the paved road of L'Houmeau. in which it is so pleasant to enjoy future happiness. a gleam in the warm. "The betrothal of the poor. and made a third in the joy of the happy lovers. de Rubempre" discovered David's real nature. the ambitious poet grasped his brother's hand. grown bolder on this. "You know how much he troubles himself about me. They had to put David out at the door. and you must come and live with your daughter and Lucien in Angouleme.

M. I make twenty puncheons. He went along by the side of the croft just as the sun rose. that is what it means. but I am not very well off just now. these Lord Marquises. You were saying?----" "I am going to be married. Postel shut the window with a bang." he added." replied his father. that is M. in despair that he had not asked for Mlle." called David. and. and expenses of all kinds. Now. "My vines have flowered and not a shoot has been frosted. I haven't a penny to bless myself with. did not go back into Angouleme. Chardon earlier. and I have come to ask for----" "Ask me for what? Nothing of the sort. how are your presses doing? You must be making heaps of money as big as yourself. and they sell them for sixty francs apiece. This year things don't look so bad. are you going to marry before the vintage?----" "I only came to ask for your consent. Why. and walked through the night the whole way to his father's house. father. What is the good of book-learning except to muddle your wits? Just you listen: these gentlemen get seven. however. Dressing the soil is the ruin of me. my boy. Government eats up everything. and caught sight of the old "bear's" face under an almond-tree that grew out of the hedge. le Comte. David." For all answer. father. is it you. We work to put money into the coopers' pockets." "They all tell me that I ought not to put on so much manure. "but as you are our friend. There will be twenty puncheons or more to the acre this year. nearly all the profit goes to the Government. "Good day. and Monsieur What-do-you-call-'em." returned the poet. say that I am letting down the quality of the wine. the fools? Quality." "I shall some day. father. and get thirty francs apiece for them--that is six hundred francs! And where are they. "The gentry." . Eve Chardon. or sometimes eight puncheons of wine to the acre. and taxes." "Oh! that is another thing. quality. le Marquis. I can tell you about it. Quality means hard cash for me. of course. These two years I have been paying money out of pocket for top-dressing. if one may ask?" "I am going to marry Mlle. sir. that means four hundred francs per acre at most in a good year. I have come on important business. I give you my consent. my mother has just given her consent to my sister's engagement to David Sechard. my boy? How come you to be out on the road at this time of day? There is your way in. he took the road to Marsac instead. pointing to a little wicket gate." "Very well. but as for giving you anything else. the beggarly puncheons have gone up to eleven francs already. father. what is quality to me? They can keep their quality for themselves. And who is the victim. "Why. The poor growers have made nothing these last two seasons."No. Marry. but then look at all the dung that has been put on the land!" "Father.

business is business. the druggist in L'Houmeau. my boy. with a hundred thousand francs in land. I shall square accounts and summons you for the rent. There is your chance! You can add her property to Marsac." "David. and some rooms above the shed?" "Deuce a bit of it. it must be because she has lots of cash. you might marry a burgess' daughter. but you are the better man of the two. I should have a right to ask for interest." put in his parent. Will you build a second floor to your house. how much has she?" "Just as much as my mother had. when I married. thirty-two years old. and your education. you know nothing of business. you know. and printer to His Majesty! This is what comes of book-learning! Send a boy to school. father. Ah! what a fine property we should have. and how I would look after it! They say she is going to marry her foreman Courtois. and a pair of arms. and she should live like a lady up in Angouleme. "if you are marrying a girl out of L'Houmeau. that is two thousand seven hundred francs altogether. with your industry. if you marry this girl out of L'Houmeau. for I see that no good will come of this."Who may she be? What kind of victual does she eat?" "She is the daughter of the late M. then she is very rich." "It seems to me. . If it was anybody else. Well. Nothing but a good year can comfort me after this." "I am engaged. my boy?" and the old vinegrower came up closer with a cajoling manner. but I will let you off the interest. "She has nothing!" "My mother's fortune was her beauty and intelligence. I would look after the mill. a miller's widow. There is some one about three miles away." "You are going to marry a girl out of L'Houmeau! _you_! a burgess of Angouleme. I had a paper cap on my head for my whole fortune. the money will come just in the nick of time to pay the cooper. that until now I have given you very little trouble----" "And paid mighty little rent. and exclaimed. and I will find you a wife myself." The old vinegrower very nearly said. David. Chardon. I see. There are two years and one-quarter owing. is she. forsooth! Oh! well. "Then she has only ten thousand francs!" but he recollected just in time that he had declined to give an account of her fortune to her son. Give up your fancy. I was a poor pressman. eh? Good! you will pay me my rent now." said David. after all. "You just go into the market and see what you can get for it! Bless my buttons! what bad luck parents have with their children. for. Yes. father. my poor presses! it took some money to grease you and keep you going. a woman with thirty or forty thousand francs. you will ruin yourself. but with the fine printing-house that I gave you. "I came to ask you something else besides. I have not the cash. and that you know right well. for they touch. Oh! my presses.

a few drops fell among the _bourgeoisie_. de Bargeton . . I sent you to school. for the old man was only too delighted to seize an opportunity of posing as a good father without disbursing a penny. Every least thing that happened that evening was so much exaggerated and embellished and twisted out of all knowledge. young men looked enviously after Lucien as he passed on his way through Beaulieu. I will build the second floor myself. the son will improve his father's property. In Angouleme that day people talked of nothing but the Bishop's epigram and Mme. can you." answered one of the young men who had been present on the occasion of the reading. While this storm in a teacup raged on high. Mme. I spent any amount of money to make a scholar of you. Perhaps after yesterday's soiree. the old "bear. to come round your father. kindly consenting not to demand the rent and drain the savings to which David imprudently owned. . interrupting himself to point out a shoot. Oh! your cleverness leads you to imagine that I am going to reward this fine sentiment by building palaces for you." "Very well. patronizing airs. anybody might think that the house that has been a house these two hundred years was nothing but a pigsty. but I have not got Solomon's treasury. and he overheard chance phrases that filled him with conceit." that pattern of a thrifty parent. "Offspring of this sort don't disappoint their parents. and you would be marrying a miller's widow this day with a hundred thousand francs in hand. father. you dung the vines. but it happens so sometimes. de Bargeton's reply. you are mad! or they changed my child at nurse. eh! You sly dog. and treated him with small. and Mme. and he was not mistaken. my lad! you can find money for building. named Petit-Claud. that the poet became the hero of the hour." he said. Why. I suppose. he has some brains. and they repay you for it.Besides. do you? Your name may be David. a plain-featured youth who had been at school with Lucien. does it? ." Lucien had waited impatiently until he could be sure of finding Louise alone. He had to break the tidings of his sister's marriage to the arbitress of his destinies. "Yes. "There is a lucky young fellow!" said an attorney's clerk." "What. and all that David could obtain was his bare consent to the marriage and free leave to do what he liked in the house--at his own expense. de Bargeton is quite wild about him. David went back again in low spirits. he certainly is. So he thought. and all this fancy education ends in a daughter-in-law out of L'Houmeau without a penny to her name." The question thus raised was hard to lay. "he is a good-looking fellow. to say nothing of the mill. Really. you would have done as I pleased. and her kindness might lead to a moment of happiness. for what would it bring in? Oh! you get up early of a morning to come and ask me to build you a place that would ruin a king. if I had kept you under my eye. I sent you to the Didots to learn your business. If you had not studied books. though you can't find money to pay the rent. It is not the usual way. it would be money thrown clean away. He saw that he could not reckon on his father's help in misfortune. not fit for the girl out of L'Houmeau to sleep in! What next! She is the Queen of France. Louise would be kinder than usual. There is one for you that will have grapes on it.

with an angelic smile which belied her words. the world is avenged on all happiness in which it has no share. sometimes languid. You shall not be unhappy any longer. as if it was he himself that was going to be married! Why. there fell the golden chains that suspend the hearts of men upon the poet's mouth. It is so long since all my heartstrings vibrated. A young imagination readily falls in with the flattering estimates of others. "Child!" she exclaimed. have you not? You came in absorbed in thought. as I watched them." Lucien. a handsome young fellow so full of promise finds others eager to help him on every side. with a lover's pout of vexation. and musing by turns.met him with a vehemence of sentiment that seemed like a touching progress of passion to the novice in love. His friends's kindness and the fury of his enemies combined to establish him more firmly in an ureal world. to speak freely at all times. "What is your family to me when you are an exception? Suppose that my father were to marry his cook. and for all answer Lucien took Louise's hand and gave it a lingering kiss. "There were sparks of fire in those beautiful eyes! From your lips. while her white hands wiped the pearls of sweat from the brows on which she set a poet's crown. where is the harm?" she continued." he answered. he is the lover's poet. my Lucien. his mother and his sister and David and Louise now did the same. let that thought be my noble guerdon for the sufferings which I must endure. indolent. the caress of speech. I will not have it. "he was afraid he should be beaten and scolded. But I was happy. confided to his beloved that David was in love with his sister Eve. "My beautiful Louise. and that the two were to be married shortly. lovers are for each other their whole family. hitherto down-dropped. You shall read Chenier through to me from beginning to end. laughing at him. She abandoned her hands. is not this happiness?" "Yes. do you mean in very truth to be my Beatrice. Yes. "Come. full of work. "Are you not happy? To be the sole possessor of a heart. since yesterday. Poor love! the world will not spare me any more than it has spared you. "If you show yourself worthy--some day!" she said. and that his sister Eve was in love with David. to the burning kisses of the poet who had passed through such an ordeal. in fear and trembling. and only after one or two sharp and bitter lessons does he begin to see himself as an ordinary mortal. would that trouble you much? Dear boy. I will make an oasis for you. sometimes busy. Have I a . "Poor Lucien!" said Louise. there you shall live your poet's life. with the certainty of being understood. Yes. Every one about him soothed and caressed the poet's vanity." The tears flowed fast. using the familiar _tu_. her fingers toying with Lucien's hair. I lived. dear angel. I shall always be a mark for envy--did you not see that last night? The bloodthirsty insects are quick enough to drain every wound that they pierce. a Beatrice who condescends to be loved?" Louise raised the fine eyes. you have something to tell me. her beautiful golden hair. but never forget that you owe your laurels to me." cried Louise. "If only you could have seen your face whilst you were reading. Every one helped to raise the imaginary pedestal on which he had set himself.

which that fair lady encouraged. they must do everything well. and it is who shall be first to justify their conduct. de Bargeton. Amelie. Among the various eccentricities of society. "and me also." said Chatelet. waited upon with the respect which servants show to a favored guest of the house. that is our affair!" This selfish answer made Lucien the happiest of mortals. A few of those who marked these airs drew their own conclusions from them. and began to think of the luxuries which he enjoyed for the time being as the rightful accessories of Lucien de Rubempre." said M. who is as proud as he can be because he has got into society. Just look! Think of a druggist's son giving himself a conqueror's airs with Mme. "Do not think of calling Nais to account for the vanity of a youngster. de Bargeton paid the penalty of her sovereignty." hummed Adrien. he had come to the last term with the lady. Lucien frowned and seemed to be taken aback. with which Louise convinced him that they two were alone in the world. she is a girl. was sure of the deplorable fact. find the way to win fame. that evening he tried to act up to the part of the lion of the little town. He tasted the delights of despotic sway which Nais had acquired by right of conquest." echoed the perfidious Amelie. de Bargeton was not discussed. he assumed a lordly air. But in the middle of the fantastic reasonings. and does not dream that she is ridiculous. and. that as the rooms filled. who had come with M. _He_ certainly is in love with her. Chardon (alias de Rubempre) and Mme. Mme. where he never expected to set foot. according to the old expression. where the jealous and envious gathered together. and though the utmost extent of their guilt amounted to two or three kisses. they may behave totally irrationally. the world already chose to believe the worst of both. It would be too bad if women were blamed for all the desires which they inspire. A young man's love has so many attractions--at her age. there are those on whom the world is unaccountably severe. "Don't you see that this Chardon takes the civility of a woman of the world for an advance? He does not know the difference between the silence of real passion and the patronizing graciousness due to his good looks and youth and talent. du Chatelet. A woman grows young again in his company. He felt his position so strong through Louise's love and M." "Love knows nought of high or low degree. "You will give her pleasure. There was not a single house in Angouleme next day where the degree of intimacy between M. cajoled by Louise. on the other hand." Cajoled by M. . de Bargeton.greater interest than my Lucien in the world? Be great. and asked him to stay to dinner and to read Andre de Chenier aloud to them until people arrived for their evening game at cards. de Bargeton. and thought that. de Bargeton's weakness. de Bargeton. have you never noticed its erratic judgments and the unaccountable differences in the standard it requires of this or that man or woman? There are some persons who may do anything. but as for Nais----" "Oh! Nais. Nothing suits me better than listening to reading aloud after dinner. anything becomes them. "Nais is well enough pleased. then. but Louise made him a sign. and acts a girl's hesitation and manners. Lucien remained in the Hotel de Bargeton. in came M. and liked to share with him. in a corner of the drawing-room. in short.

and weary of the sordid frugality that looked on a five-franc piece as a fortune. but he bore the hardships and the pinching thrift without grumbling. the pretty sitting-room. he had dreams of a great time to come. His occupations put him upon a level with the highest rank. he lived in the heights of Angouleme. and it was this sum that he set aside for the expenses of his marriage and for the building of the second floor in his father's house. and the tastefully furnished study. Eve and David had set Lucien's happiness before their own. They are not permitted to be human. M. de Bargeton. troubled with indigestion from time to time. but. he might console himself for the thought that he drew thirty francs every month out of his mother's and sister's hard earnings.they are not allowed to fail nor to make mistakes. de Rubempre. So. and Lucien's affairs had been settled first. and dined four times a week with Mme. they are required to be for ever divine and for ever impeccable. and he went to the palace. his mother and sister and David. cherished the happy delusion that indigestion after dinner was a complaint to be cured by a hearty supper. grown great in his own eyes. de Bargeton's tomb. A friendship had grown up between M. de Bargeton. No one who knew Lucien could wonder at their devotion. By the beginning of September. de Bargeton and Lucien outweighed twelve years of Zizine's connection with Francis in the social balance. at their peril they do anything foolish. It was a time of blithe and unmixed happiness for the friends. and a volume of verse entitled _Marguerites_. should spread his fame through the world of literature. Lucien was so engaging. he was not even a "man of L'Houmeau". for he saw the day approaching when _An Archer of Charles IX. he had such winning ways. he was M. His moody looks had been succeeded by an expression of radiant hope. was he not working for himself? It would all be his again some day. and a squeeze of the hand drew down all the thunders of the Charente upon the lovers. after all. his impatience and his desires were so graciously expressed. and built the fabric of his good fortune on M. They had put off their wedding. in truth. that his cause was always won before he opened his mouth to speak. he relished the sense of these last days of penury. you might compare these last to the much-admired statues which must come down at once from their pedestal if the frost chips off a nose or a finger. Lucien was tired of the shabbiness of provincial life. the charming bedroom. he smiled at his poverty. He saw the star shining above his head. So one glance exchanged between Mme. This unlucky gift of fortune. and his father was sixty-eight years old._. and bring in money enough to repay them all. and. His father's house it was. as he went to and fro in his apartments. and giving ear to the echoes of his name in the future. so as not to put too great a strain on the old rifted house-walls. the historical romance on which he had been at work for two years. his name would be one day among the great names of France. housed sumptuously in comparison with his late quarters in the tumbledown attic with the dormer-window. he could accept present sacrifices with noble assurance. Lucien had ceased to be a printer's foreman. where "young Chardon" had lived in L'Houmeau. if . David had brought a little secret hoard back with him from Paris. de Rubempre and the Bishop. and to buy the furniture. So David build a timbered second story for Lucien. for it took some time to paper and paint their rooms. He took pleasure in making the rooms where the fair Eve was to spend her life as brave as might be.

when they dined at a _restaurat_. And so they grow tired of one another. and David had gone over to Marsac to persuade his father to come to the wedding. With mistaken notions as to the significance and the motive of social relations they imagine that they shall always meet with deceptive smiles. On great occasion. and so at last the moment comes for them when the world leaves them bald. "How I wish I could sew!" The sober. admired Lucien in the Rue du Minage. and yet. love affairs which start with a good or a bad beginning. so he posed as Mme. and dinner out on the grass. and the whole party made much of the great man of Angouleme. but what could two lovers refuse to a brother who watched his sister at her work. and give something towards the heavy expenses of the alterations. Matters had gone so far. and. de Bargeton's humble confidant. and to buy only strict necessaries. and saw that Lucien gave up the delights of vanity for them. expend their longings in empty space. for an opportunity of making a scandal. without fortune or worth. observant David had shared in the devotion. tired somewhat. he was afraid that Lucien would change towards them. and pulled him to pieces everywhere else. David's apprentice bringing the basket of provisions to some place appointed before-hand. but Chatelet had taken too much for granted--love was still in the Platonic stage. and in this favor many a grown child is content to bask instead of putting it to a profitable use. they talk when they should be acting. and at night they would come back. Sixte meant that Mme. David had made him choose between home pleasures and the great world. to try his brother. David gave his brother infinite credit for forsaking Mme. a compromise between a provincial wineshop and a Parisian _guinguette_. is the ruin of many more. with the persistence of a hate in which avarice and passion are blended. de Bargeton should compromise herself with Lucien in such a way that she should be "lost. a spy who watched. they would spend as much as five francs. when there befell one of those events which entirely change the face of things in a small town. There are. Lucien and his like find a world predisposed in favor of youth and good looks. not far from Angouleme. David had watched him with misgivings. Eve herself had wished for the delay. like an elderly coquette by the door of a salon. for that matter. if he appeals to the feelings and awakens emotion. Lucien and Louise had a spy in Chatelet. Once or is the salvation of some. to the great despair of Louise and Lucien. and skirmish in the open instead of settling down to a siege. a sort of a country inn. afraid that he would look down upon their homely ways. or a stray rag in the gutter. Chardon arranged picnic parties in provincial fashion--a walk in the woods along the Charente. "They will not spoil him for us!" Now and again the three friends and Mme. for the lady no longer mistrusted her elderly admirer. and said in tones that came from the heart. stripped bare. She meant to establish the little household on the most economical footing. that the new home was very nearly ready. Two creatures launch into the tactics of sentiment. and ready to protect those who give it pleasure with the selfish good-nature that flings alms to a beggar." as the saying goes. not without a hope that the old man might relent at the sight of his daughter-in-law. as you prefer to take it. as it is called. Nais had gradually given him _les petites entrees_. in the language of the court. but the whole excursion had not cost three francs. and exclaimed to himself. divided between David and the Chardons. . de Bargeton and grand dinners for these days in the country. since Lucien's triumph.

for old players at this game seldom end in a fiasco of this kind. is in reality a prime agent in bringing such scandals about. will regret that she has never known to the full the forbidden felicity for which she is suffering. de Bargeton could not set foot outside her house but the whole town knew whither she was going. she might as well have run away with him at once. Such mishaps are sometimes due to the diffidence of youth. The obstacles at the outset of a passion of this kind are alarming to inexperience. a multiplicity of nothings. sometimes to the demurs of an inexperienced woman. If he had been the only person in the way. de Bargeton was now on the verge of this anomalous position. every house is transparent. . hurry ardent souls on towards extreme measures. but the doors stood scrupulously open. and such outrageously scandalous constructions are put upon the most innocent human intercourse. and baffle the most vehement desires. It is true that they sat in the boudoir. The world. and Mme. which blames and criticises with a superficial knowledge of the patent facts in which a long inward struggle ends. and everything was arranged with the utmost propriety. The servants came and went about the house promiscuously and without a summons. and so much the more as curiosity increased.having time for reflection. Mme. Mme. Within as without her house. and those whose voices are loudest in condemnation of the alleged misconduct of some slandered woman never give a thought to the immediate provocation of the overt step. That step many a woman only takes after she has been unjustly accused and condemned. but he was not the only one. they had formed the habits with a mistress who had nothing to conceal. One here and there. weighed down by her unmerited punishment. now grown so familiar to Lucien that he felt as if he had a right to be there. and Angouleme still hung in doubt. moreover. the very obstacles placed in the way of the sweet intercourse which binds lovers so closely each to each. and delights to thwart a growing passion. A system of espionage of the most minute and intricate kind underlies provincial life. at the same time. has turned home again without a victory. that many a woman's character is taken away without cause. it would have been less dangerous to shut herself up with him in the house. which made all movement impossible. de Bargeton. Nais could have got rid of him. come to their own conclusions about each other. If she had denied herself to visitors when Lucien was with her. de Bargeton pervaded the house like a cockchafer. M. Provincial life. is singularly well calculated to keep desire unsatisfied and maintain a lover's arguments on the intellectual plane. any change now made in her household ways was tantamount to a confession. There would have been comments the next day if Lucien had stayed on till midnight after the rooms were emptied. sent him out of the house. and those in the way of the two lovers were very like the bonds by which the population of Lilliput throttled Gulliver. inglorious and crestfallen. the solace of close friendships which break no moral law is scarcely allowed. cutting but a foolish figure after these vain alarums and excursions. Many a passion that has taken the field in gorgeous array. To take a walk alone with Lucien out of Angouleme would have been a decided measure. must always be visible. it would have been all over with her. while. with colors flying and an ardor fit to turn the world upside down. it never entered his head that his wife could wish to be alone with Lucien. indeed. or given him something to do. for your provincial has a natural bent for teasing. for instance. visitors flocked in upon her.

In order to spy upon the pair. he had contrived of late to open up a stock controversy on the point with M. It was hardly to be expected that the champions should not seek to enlist partisans. and its success was the more doubtful because he was bound to appear neutral if he was to prompt the other actors who were to play in his drama. too high-born.Mme. At length one day Chatelet called attention to the fact that whenever he went with M. and. and watched Lucien into the house. and now he would fain be her lord and master. Mme. Stanislas de Chandour held that Mme. These details describe life in the provinces. de Bargeton was simply amusing herself with Lucien. to give himself a countenance. she was too proud. vowed that he would cross the room on tiptoe the next day. de Bargeton had not been cruel to her lover. who did not lack a certain spice of stupidity in his composition. de Bargeton had no country house whither she could take her beloved poet. and inwardly vows that he will give up the foolish business of sighing. and so forth and so forth. weary of living in public. for she longed to know the truth. putting that gentleman first. after the manner of some women who will forge ingenious pretexts for burying themselves in the wilderness. but. He lay in wait. there was not a sign nor a trace of anything suspicious. So. and of going to see her aged father--so much irritated was she by these paltry obstacles. Chatelet did not believe in such innocence. who had seated himself so bashfully in the boudoir-sanctuary of the queen of Angouleme. Louise discovered the difficulties of her position one by one. de Chandour to Mme. For Lucien that morrow was the day on which a young man tugs out some of the hairs of his head. the servants came and went. and followed a few minutes later. each of his neighbor. the most indiscreet person in the clique. The poet. de Bargeton's and found Lucien there. They frightened her. always taking M. she even thought of Escarbas. He was accustomed to his situation. and her terror reacted upon the fond talk that fills the fairest hours which lovers spend alone together. de Bargeton's champion. to stoop to the apothecary's son. for he wished to appear as Mme. had been transformed into an urgent lover. Stanislas and Chatelet vied with each other in backing up their opinions by observations extremely pertinent. and (as not unfrequently happens in small country towns) some intimate friends of the house dropped in in the middle of the argument. "What do you yourself think?" they asked. de Chandour. de Bargeton. along with him. the better to lull suspicion in Lucien and in Mme. These polemics kept Mme. an intrigue is either openly avoided or impossible anywhere. hoped to find a surprise by such perseverance in pursuit of the chance. de Chandour. de Bargeton lived in public. Stanislas. who was not without perspicacity. Chatelet said that Mme. and the perfidious Amelie held him to his bargain. and pushed to extremities by a tyranny which afforded no pleasures sweet enough to compensate for the heaviness of the yoke. de Bargeton and Lucien well in sight. His own part was a very difficult one to play. The role of incredulity was in accordance with the plan which he had laid down. Each stated his case. He left home with a settled . the boudoir door stood open. there was nothing mysterious to betray the sweet crime of love. and Amelie goaded them to argument. he had attached himself to the jealous Amelie. Six months had been enough to bring him on a level with Louise. Like all women carried away for the first time by passion.

like some dame of the Middle Ages. as she made an end. they would rather surrender upon the impulse of passion. Lucien?" she said. de Bargeton read fixed purpose in Lucien's eyes and forehead. and meant that Lucien. she set an exaggerated value upon her person. Lucien began the strife by a piece of vehement petulence. he would cry that he had lost his head. it exalts and reverences love. interlarded with high-sounding words. Being given to exaggeration. She looked upon herself as a sovereign lady. he would say that it was a matter of life or death to him." and Lamartine. that he could not think. to give herself as the reward of prolonged service. and Sir Walter Scott. The horror that some women feel for premeditation does honor to their delicacy. he must eclipse "the sublime child. "Do not sow regrets in the present time. partly also by an exalted conception of love. de Bargeton having made up her mind to play the part of Dulcinea in Lucien's life for seven or eight years to come. upon a dais. so sweet as it is. and proposed to herself to baffle him. Mme. prescribed happiness is not the kind that any of us desire. She enthroned herself. Mme. desired. and in the agitation in his face and manner. a Laura. urged thereto partly by a spirit of contradiction. to poison . a trial of constancy which should give her time to judge her lover. than in fulfilment of a contract. like many other provincials. at which a woman laughs so long as she is heart-free. "Was that your promise to me. whereupon Louise took a lofty tone. should win her by his prowess in the field. as in duty bound. looking down upon the tourney of literature. could not write a line. and Byron. the desire which she had kindled in Lucien should give him the energy to win glory for himself. This feminine Quixotry is a sentiment which hallows love and turns it to worthy uses. a Beatrice. and saddens only when she loves. In general. he would bring all the resources of torrid eloquence into play. and began one of her long orations. The noble creature regarded her love as a stimulating power.determination to be extravagant in his behavior.

Just at that moment Stanislas came up unheard by either of the pair. He beheld Lucien in tears. thinking himself very witty. went first to tell the great news at the club. he turned sharply round upon Chatelet. he drew him on to add fresh details. added a little to the tale every time that he told it. "Who came just now?" she asked the servants. and Stanislas. Women and men were alike impatient to . M. half reclining on the floor. "You have never loved me!" he cried." "That is just what you might say to a man if you cared nothing at all for him. "Then give me proof that you are mine. but the spies beat a precipate retreat like intruders. when it is the noblest privilege of the beloved to silence them? For whom do you take me? Am I not your Beatrice? If I am not something more than a woman for you. with his head on Louise's knee. I am less than a woman." said Gentil. who stood at the door of the salon. and thence from house to house. Chatelet hastening to say that _he_ had seen nothing. frantic with passion. de Bargeton sprang up in a moment. "You do not believe what you say. The attitude was suspicious enough to satisfy Stanislas. Everybody knew in a moment that Lucien had been detected at Nais feet. every narrator having followed Stanislas' example. du Chatelet." cried Lucien. A story of this kind is aggravated in the provinces by the way in which it is told." "You are throwing doubts on my love to dispense yourself from responding to it. but by putting himself out of court. who feels that he is humbled through his strength. de Chandour. I say it with after life. and she smiled to hear the cry. and." cried Lucien. "If you cannot feel all the sincere love underlying my ideas." she answered. Do not spoil the future. for by that time the most exaggerated versions of the story were in circulation among the Angouleme nobility. and she was not quick enough for them. elated by the important part he played in the affair. do not spoil the present! Is not my whole heart yours? What more must you have? Can it be that your love is influenced by the clamor of the senses. so full of selfish love. her old footman. and he flung himself weeping at her feet. "M. "So much the better!" exclaimed the poet. were mingled with childish crying for a plaything. you will never be worthy of me. Mme. to her boudoir. I am lost. "If they saw you just now. he egged Stanislas on to talk. Every one flocked to Amelie's house that evening." she told Lucien. The poor boy cried in earnest at the prospect of remaining so long at the gate of paradise. de Chandour and M. Mme." said the disheveled poet. The tears of the poet. de Bargeton went back. flattered by his violence. pale and trembling.

no doubt. When the delighted Chatelet was convinced that the whole town was agog. and diplomatically asked Nais for a little talk in the boudoir. Lili." they besought Stanislas. du Chatelet. The little poet it twenty-two at most.know the truth. in the long length. she is far too proud to be anything but a patroness to M. There were variations in every key upon the painful theme. all with more or less heavy indictments of illicit love laid to their charge. I am bound to put you in a position to silence slanders. and accompanied it with pantomime. to carry the news to the palace." said M. invented. and Chatelet began in an undertone-"You know what Angouleme is talking about. between ourselves. he was a few paces ahead of me. with levity that brought Zephirine's disapproving glance down on him. Stanislas. well. de Bargeton's part. secret committee in a corner of the salon. Fifine. A man does not go down on his knees to ask for what he has had already. I pity her with all my heart." "Very well. Still. by Amelie. which made the thing prodigiously worse. disconsolate over the fall of the fairest angel in the Angoumoisin hierarchy. and he came so far" (pointing to the door of the boudoir). of course?" "No." "For my own part. Lulu's mother. if it is true. Zephirine. "Do just tell us how it really was." "That is as may be!" said Francis. but he defended her so ill. is quite forty. I am too much your friend to leave you in ignorance. "It is incredible!" "At midday?" "Nais was the last person whom I should have suspected!" "What will she do now?" Then followed more comments. that he stirred the fire of gossip instead of putting it out. where. "I think that M. de Rubempre's position in itself proves Nais' innocence. she has a whole blameless record behind her. Chardon. dissolved in tears. Chatelet took Mme. he went off to Mme. and suppositions without end." said one of the ladies. and Nais. who has the overweening audacity to regard herself as your rival. as Jacques called him." "She is all the more to be pitied because she is making herself frightfully ridiculous. went. she is old enough to be M. and the women who put their hands before their faces and shrieked the loudest were none other than Mesdames Amelie. "Well. de Bargeton's. and Lolotte. and formed a small. alas! there was but one game of whist that night. They sat down on the sofa. I came to call on you this morning with that monkey of a Stanislas. had put together a little story full of facetious suggestions. "poor Nais! have you heard about it? I do not believe it myself. "he says that he _saw_ you and .

with a certain solemnity. This morning I have said everywhere that I was at the door of the salon." Nais bowed in acknowledgment." she said." answered the lady. but. she folded her arms. If I had known. "Now. M. de Rubempre. your honor. Later in the evening. when Lucien had taken his leave. and hurried me away before I had time to think. and fixed her gaze on the curtains. You know my position here. or whether he is right. "Dispose of me. "Come here. I repeat. "Perhaps I have done wrongly. Dispose of a life that belongs to you. I am ready to prove my love for you at any time and in any way. a woman's character ought not to be at the mercy of the first hare-brained boy who flings himself at her feet. She was weary to disgust of provincial life. without troubling themselves about ill-founded tittle-tattle. I will watch over you like a faithful servant. "What do you think of doing?" "I shall see. Chatelet went out. If you are asked to give the name of the person who told you about this gossip." she said. as well as the stupid people here in the . Dear Nais. I should be very proud to be your acknowledged champion. I would not have stirred out of the house till I had cleared up the matter and exonerated you. . we were out in Beaulieu before he told me why he had beaten a retreat. even if you do not know of it. he turned round upon me. . de Bargeton followed her into the boudoir." A prolonged pause. but still I am entirely yours. . de Rubempre in such a position that he could not enter. when she stopped him. and looked thoughtful. de Bargeton's adorer found the silence somewhat awkward. "Are you so fond of that young Rubempre?" A proud smile stole over her lips. he could not read that high heart. and had seen nothing. I have need of all these people. whether Stanislas' eyes deceived him. for no reward. and had opened his mouth to bid his wife good-night. "to show a warm interest in M. de Bargeton was preparing to go to bed. dear. and likewise the four old gentlemen who came for their whist. but it would have proved nothing to go back again then.M. stop his mouth at once." he added. do not let that dolt trifle with your life. "Thank you. between ourselves. pray make use of me. which he. M. You have rejected my prayers. but simply for the sake of the pleasure that it is to me to do anything for you. but my heart is always yours. Meanwhile Mme. de Bargeton is the proper person to ask Stanislas for an explanation. Suppose that young Rubempre had behaved foolishly. Chatelet had scarcely begun before her mind turned to Paris. M. your future. That is what I have been saying. quite bewildered as I was. _he must have made a mistake_. Yes. I have something to say to you.

This morning Lucien threw himself here at my feet with a declaration. that is how I like a man to behave. and made the old man very happy and proud by putting up her forehead for a kiss. In this way you will win back the respect of all right-minded people. She felt touched by his conduct. who live perforce in silence because their capacity is limited and their outlook circumscribed. Go at once to Stanislas and ask him to give you satisfaction for his insulting language. you are an admirable shot. my father must be your second." said his wife. he would go. and. has claims which courtesy prescribes to a gentleman. their extreme lack of confidence leads them to think a good deal over the remarks that they are obliged to make. de Bargeton bore himself like a man of uncommon sense and spirit. you must not accept any explanation short of a full and public retraction in the presence of witnesses of credit. If the young scatterbrain knew of the scandal caused by his folly. no. it naturally follows that they say little that is foolish. I need not tell you that your wife is pure. the tears came into her eyes in spite of herself. choose pistols. like Balaam's ass. you will behave like a man of spirit and a gentleman. often behave at great crises with a ready-made solemnity. and look coolly into the muzzle of a pistol pointed straight at him." "I am going. and mind. He reached Stanislas' house at nine o'clock. "Nais really ought to have told me what to say. and justified the opinion of those who held that he was a philosopher of the school of Pythagoras." and the good gentleman racked his brains to compose a speech that should not be ridiculous. I am convinced. old as he is. I was treating the boy as he deserved. dear. That would simply be a public proclamation of his love. bowed silently to Amelie before a whole room full of people. and Stanislas happened to come in just as I told the boy to get up again. but if you think. and when the carriage gateway had shut with a clang behind him. they speak marvelously to the point if a miracle loosens their tongues. poor. You have the choice of weapons. like the pause . has misinterpreted. which under the present circumstances seemed profoundly ironical." said M. you will see that it is something dishonoring for both you and me if M. But people of M. you are a gentleman. "He clings to life." It did not trouble M. dear man. "How he loves me!" she thought. only one thing in the business made him feel uncomfortable. If they say little. and yet he would give his life for me. She felt something like a maternal affection for the great child. but in contempt of these. de Bargeton's stamp. under any circumstances. de Bargeton that he must stand up and face his man on the morrow. A woman. de Rubempre defends her. to insult Stanislas. de Chandour's house he quaked inwardly. "Good. I shall send Gentil on horseback to the Escarbas. and greeted others in turn with that simple smile of his. and on the way to M. So de Bargeton. "What shall I say?" he thought within himself. and you will have a right to my esteem. I know that he is the man to trample this puppet under foot that has smirched the reputation of a Negrepelisse. and he took his hat and his walking cane. There followed a great silence. Stanislas has been saying that he came unexpectedly and found us in an equivocal position. and compel him to fight.

"do you say that you discovered Mme. Then Chatelet went to M. when old M. Stanislas chose the more remote peril. well pleased to find a go-between who perhaps might say his say for him. M. Chardon. de Bargeton aside. confronted by this mute personage. He rose to his feet and took M. Chatelet was on such a footing in that house that he had some right to interfere in family concerns. de Bargeton looked exactly as if he were in his own house. "All right. whom the injured gentleman accosted politely. and behave. the cause of the quarrel. he did not take Bargeton seriously. while it put a bar between her and Lucien. de Bargeton to Stanislas. M.before a storm." answered the other. it was the longest that he had ever made in life. in the simplest way in the world. that caught him by the throat with burning fingers. Chatelet knew what a visit meant at this time of night." In another minute Stanislas and Chatelet went to Bargeton. "Stanislas. Both of us may as well make our final arrangements. behave with phlegmatic British dignity. "Do you wish to speak to Stanislas?" "Yes. de Bargeton and M. de Negrepelisse. de Chandour. and now looked in a very significant fashion from M. de Bargeton had ruminated on the way. My father-in-law. go into Amelie's bedroom. To-morrow morning. Chatelet had made his way back again. The three went back to the room. de Bargeton a widow. some of the women here and there guessed the nature of . like gentlemen. who seemed in no humor to stand nonsense. in short. for the things you have been saying about Nais. Keep the thing quiet. what did I see?" said he to himself." said the injured husband. Put between the shame of eating his words before the whole town. "Sir. He brought it out without excitement or vehemence. Stanislas turned pale. I must ask you to look for a second." he said. "Very well. both of you. Chatelet was smiling. de Rubempre in an equivocal position?" "M. Everybody scanned their faces as they came in." This was the speech that M. will wait upon you at four o'clock to-morrow morning. no doubt. "If you do not withdraw your assertions at once before the company now in your house. for the only way out of the affair is the one that I have indicated. and make a great show of politeness. Go into your wife's room. de Bargeton was invariably in his bed. but Stanislas looked ghastly pale. "So be it. "here comes Bargeton to call you to account. "After all." said the old gentleman. and fear." corrected Stanislas. At the sight of his face. thinking that the matter might be arranged somehow or other. It was evidently Nais who had set the feeble arm in motion. I choose pistols." said the controller of excise. with ironical stress. likewise well pleased at the prospect of a duel which possibly might make Mme. saying." he said. as the insulted party.

the conference, and the whisper, "They are going to fight!" circulated from ear to ear. One-half of the room was of the opinion that Stanislas was in the wrong, his white face and his demeanor convicted him of a lie; the other half admired M. de Bargeton's attitude. Chatelet was solemn and mysterious. M. de Bargeton stayed a few minutes, scrutinized people's faces, and retired. "Have you pistols?" Chatelet asked in a whisper of Stanislas, who shook from head to foot. Amelie knew what it all meant. She felt ill, and the women flocked about her to take her into her bedroom. There was a terrific sensation; everybody talked at once. The men stopped in the drawing-room, and declared, with one voice, that M. de Bargeton was within his right. "Would you have thought the old fogy capable of acting like this?" asked M. de Saintot. "But he was a crack shot when he was young," said the pitiless Jacques. "My father often used to tell me of Bargeton's exploits." "Pooh! Put them at twenty paces, and they will miss each other if you give them cavalry pistols," said Francis, addressing Chatelet. Chatelet stayed after the rest had gone to reassure Stanislas and his wife, and to explain that all would go off well. In a duel between a man of sixty and a man of thirty-five, all the advantage lay with the latter. Early next morning, as Lucien sat at breakfast with David, who had come back alone from Marsac, in came Mme. Chardon with a scared face. "Well, Lucien," she said, "have you heard the news? Everyone is talking of it, even the people in the market. M. de Bargeton all but killed M. de Chandour this morning in M. Tulloy's meadow; people are making puns on the name. (Tue Poie.) It seems that M. de Chandour said that he found you with Mme. de Bargeton yesterday." "It is a lie! Mme. de Bargeton is innocent," cried Lucien. "I heard about the duel from a countryman, who saw it all from his cart. M. de Negrepelisse came over at three o'clock in the morning to be M. de Bargeton's second; he told M. de Chandour that if anything happened to his son-in-law, he should avenge him. A cavalry officer lent the pistols. M. de Negrepelisse tried them over and over again. M. du Chatelet tried to prevent them from practising with the pistols, but they referred the question to the officer; and he said that, unless they meant to behave like children, they ought to have pistols in working order. The seconds put them at twenty-five paces. M. de Bargeton looked as if he had just come out for a walk. He was the first to fire; the ball lodged in M. de Chandour's neck, and he dropped before he could return the shot. The house-surgeon at the hospital has just said that M. de Chandour will have a wry neck for the rest of his days. I came to tell you how it ended, lest you should go to Mme. de Bargeton's or show yourself in Angouleme, for some of M. de Chandour's friends might call you out." As she spoke, the apprentice brought in Gentil, M. de Bargeton's footman. The man had come with a note for Lucien; it was from Louise.

"You have doubtless heard the news," she wrote, "of the duel between Chandour and my husband. We shall not be at home to any one to-day. Be careful; do not show yourself. I ask this in the name of the affection you bear me. Do you not think that it would be best to spend this melancholy day in listening to your Beatrice, whose whole life has been changed by this event, who has a thousand things to say to you?" "Luckily, my marriage is fixed for the day after to-morrow," said David, "and you will have an excuse for not going to see Mme. de Bargeton quite so often." "Dear David," returned Lucien, "she asks me to go to her to-day; and I ought to do as she wishes, I think; she knows better than we do how I should act in the present state of things." "Then is everything ready here?" asked Mme. Chardon. "Come and see," cried David, delighted to exhibit the transformation of the first floor. Everything there was new and fresh; everything was pervaded by the sweet influences of early married days, still crowned by the wreath of orange blossoms and the bridal veil; days when the springtide of love finds its reflection in material things, and everything is white and spotless and has not lost its bloom. "Eve's home will be fit for a princess," said the mother, "but you have spent too much, you have been reckless." David smiled by way of answer. But Mme. Chardon had touched the sore spot in a hidden wound which caused the poor lover cruel pangs. The cost of carrying out his ideas had far exceeded his estimates; he could not afford to build above the shed. His mother-in-law must wait awhile for the home he had meant to make for her. There is nothing more keenly painful to a generous nature than a failure to keep such promises as these; it is like mortification to the little vanities of affection, as they may be styled. David sedulously hid his embarrassment to spare Lucien; he was afraid that Lucien might be overwhelmed by the sacrifices made for his sake. "Eve and her girl friends have been working very hard, too," said Mme. Chardon. "The wedding clothes and the house linen are all ready. The girls are so fond of her, that, without letting her know about it, they have covered the mattresses with white twill and a rose-colored piping at the edges. So pretty! It makes one wish one were going to be married." Mother and daughter had spent all their little savings to furnish David's home with the things of which a young bachelor never thinks. They knew that he was furnishing with great splendor, for something had been said about ordering a dinner-service from Limoges, and the two women had striven to make Eve's contributions to the housekeeping worthy of David's. This little emulation in love and generosity could but bring the husband and wife into difficulties at the very outset of their married life, with every sign of homely comfort about them, comfort that might be regarded as positive luxury in a place so behind the times as the Angouleme of those days. As soon as Lucien saw his mother and David enter the bedroom with the blue-and-white draperies and neat furniture that he knew, he slipped away to Mme. de Bargeton. He found Nais at table with her husband; M.

de Bargeton's early morning walk had sharpened his appetite, and he was breakfasting quite unconcernedly after all that had passed. Lucien saw the dignified face of M. de Negrepelisse, the old provincial noble, a relic of the old French _noblesse_, sitting beside Nais. When Gentil announced M. de Rubempre, the white-headed old man gave him a keen, curious glance; the father was anxious to form his own opinions of this man whom his daughter had singled out for notice. Lucien's extreme beauty made such a vivid impression upon him, that he could not repress an approving glance; but at the same time he seemed to regard the affair as a flirtation, a mere passing fancy on his daughter's part. Breakfast over, Louise could leave her father and M. de Bargeton together; she beckoned Lucien to follow her as she withdrew. "Dear," she said, and the tones of her voice were half glad, half melancholy, "I am going to Paris, and my father is taking Bargeton back with him to the Escarbas, where he will stay during my absence. Mme. d'Espard (she was a Blamont-Chauvry before her marriage) has great influence herself, and influential relations. The d'Espards are connections of ours; they are the older branch of the Negrepelisses; and if she vouchsafes to acknowledge the relationship, I intend to cultivate her a good deal; she may perhaps procure a place for Bargeton. At my solicitation, it might be desired at Court that he should represent the Charente, and that would be a step towards his election here. If he were a deputy, it would further other steps that I wish to take in Paris. You, my darling, have brought about this change in my life. After this morning's duel, I am obliged to shut up my house for some time; for there will be people who will side with the Chandours against us. In our position, and in a small town, absence is the only way of softening down bad feeling. But I shall either succeed, and never see Angouleme again, or I shall not succeed, and then I mean to wait in Paris until the time comes when I can spend my summers at the Escarbas and the winters in Paris. It is the only life for a woman of quality, and I have waited too long before entering upon it. The one day will be enough for our preparations; to-morrow night I shall set out, and you are coming with me, are you not? You shall start first. I will overtake you between Mansle and Ruffec, and we shall soon be in Paris. There, beloved, is the life for a man who has anything in him. We are only at our ease among our equals; we are uncomfortable in any other society. Paris, besides, is the capital of the intellectual world, the stage on which you will succeed; overleap the gulf that separates us quickly. You must not allow your ideas to grow rancid in the provinces; put yourself into communication at once with the great men who represent the nineteenth century. Try to stand well with the Court and with those in power. No honor, no distinction, comes to seek out the talent that perishes for lack of light in a little town; tell me, if you can, the name of any great work of art executed in the provinces! On the contrary, see how Jean-Jacques, himself sublime in his poverty, felt the irresistible attraction of that sun of the intellectual world, which produces ever-new glories and stimulates the intellect--Paris, where men rub against one another. What is it but your duty to hasten to take your place in the succession of pleiades that rise from generation to generation? You have no idea how it contributes to the success of a clever young man to be brought into a high light, socially speaking. I will introduce you to Mme. d'Espard; it is not easy to get into her set; but you meet all the greatest people at her house, Cabinet ministers and ambassadors, and great orators from the Chamber of Deputies, and peers and men of influence, and wealthy or famous people.

A young man with good looks and more than sufficient genius could fail to excite interest only by very bad management. "There is no pettiness about those who are truly great; they will lend you their support; and when you yourself have a high position, your work will rise immensely in public opinion. The great problem for the artist is the problem of putting himself in evidence. In these ways there will be hundreds of chances of making your way, of sinecures, of a pension from the civil list. The Bourbons are so fond of encouraging letters and the arts, and you therefore must be a religious poet and a Royalist poet at the same time. Not only is it the right course, but it is the way to get on in life. Do the Liberals and the Opposition give places and rewards, and make the fortunes of men of letters? Take the right road and reach the goal of genius. You have my secret, do not breathe a syllable of it, and prepare to follow me.--Would you rather not go?" she added, surprised that her lover made no answer. To Lucien, listening to the alluring words, and bewildered by the rapid bird's-eye view of Paris which they brought before him, it seemed as if hitherto he had been using only half his brain and suddenly had found the other half, so swiftly his ideas widened. He saw himself stagnating in Angouleme like a frog under a stone in a marsh. Paris and her splendors rose before him; Paris, the Eldorado of provincial imaginings, with golden robes and the royal diadem about her brows, and arms outstretched to talent of every kind. Great men would greet him there as one of their order. Everything smiled upon genius. There, there were no jealous booby-squires to invent stinging gibes and humiliate a man of letters; there was no stupid indifference to poetry in Paris. Paris was the fountain-head of poetry; there the poet was brought into the light and paid for his work. Publishers should no sooner read the opening pages of _An Archer of Charles IX._ than they should open their cash-boxes with "How much do you want?" And besides all this, he understood that this journey with Mme. de Bargeton would virtually give her to him; that they should live together. So at the words, "Would you rather not go?" tears came into his eyes, he flung his arms about Louise, held her tightly to his heart, and marbled her throat with impassioned kisses. Suddenly he checked himself, as if memory had dealt him a blow. "Great heavens!" he cried, "my sister is to be married on the day after to-morrow!"

That exclamation was the last expiring cry of noble and single-hearted boyhood. The so-powerful ties that bind young hearts to home, and a first friendship, and all early affections, were to be severed at one ruthless blow. "Well," cried the haughty Negrepelisse, "and what has your sister's marriage to do with the progress of our love? Have you set your mind so much on being best man at a wedding party of tradespeople and workingmen, that you cannot give up these exalted joys for my sake? A great sacrifice, indeed!" she went on, scornfully. "This morning I sent my husband out to fight in your quarrel. There, sir, go; I am mistaken in you." She sank fainting upon the sofa. Lucien went to her, entreating her

pardon, calling execrations upon his family, his sister, and David. "I had such faith in mother; but to win a he fell in the thick journey with me, you sake." you!" she said. "M. de Cante-Croix had an adored letter from me, and the words, 'I am satisfied,' of the fight. And now, when I ask you to take a cannot think of giving up a wedding dinner for my

Lucien was ready to kill himself; his desperation was so unfeigned, that Louise forgave him, though at the same time she made him feel that he must redeem his mistake. "Come, come," she said, "be discreet, and to-morrow at midnight be upon the road, a hundred paces out of Mansle." Lucien felt the globe shrink under his feet; he went back to David's house, hopes pursuing him as the Furies followed Orestes, for he had glimmerings of endless difficulties, all summed up in the appalling words, "Where is the money to come from?" He stood in such terror of David's perspicacity, that he locked himself into his pretty new study until he could recover himself, his head was swimming in this new position. So he must leave the rooms just furnished for him at such a cost, and all the sacrifices that had been made for him had been made in vain. Then it occurred to Lucien that his mother might take the rooms and save David the heavy expense of building at the end of the yard, as he had meant to do; his departure would be, in fact, a convenience to the family. He discovered any quantity of urgent reasons for his sudden flight; for there is no such Jesuit as the desire of your heart. He hurried down at once to tell the news to his sister in L'Houmeau and to take counsel with her. As he reached Postel's shop, he bethought himself that if all other means failed, he could borrow enough to live upon for a year from his father's successor. "Three francs per day will be abundance for me if I live with Louise," he thought; "it is only a thousand francs for a whole year. And in six months' time I shall have plenty of money." Then, under seal and promise of secrecy, Eve and her mother heard Lucien's confidences. Both the women began to cry as they heard of the ambitious plans; and when he asked the reason of their trouble, they told him that every penny they possessed had been spent on table-linen, house-linen, Eve's wedding clothes, and on a host of things that David had overlooked. They had been so glad to do this, for David had made a marriage-settlement of ten thousand francs on Eve. Lucien then spoke of his idea of a loan, and Mme. Chardon undertook to ask M. Postel to lend them a thousand francs for a twelve-month. "But, Lucien," said Eve, as a thought clutched at her heart, "you will not be here at my wedding! Oh! come back, I will put it off for a few days. Surely she will give you leave to come back in a fortnight, if only you go with her now? Surely, she would spare you to us for a week, Lucien, when we brought you up for her? We shall have no luck if you are not at the wedding. . . . But will a thousand francs be enough for you?" she asked, suddenly interrupting herself. "Your coat suits you divinely, but you have only that one! You have only two fine shirts, the other six are coarse linen; and three of your white ties are just common muslin, there are only two lawn cravats, and your pocket-handkerchiefs are not good ones. Where will you find a sister

in Paris who will get up your linen in one day as you want it? You will want ever so much more. Then you have just the one pair of new nankeen trousers, last year's trousers are tight for you; you will be obliged to have clothes made in Paris, and Paris prices are not like Angouleme prices. You have only two presentable white waistcoats; I have mended the others already. Come, I advise you to take two thousand francs." David came in as she spoke, and apparently heard the last two words, for he looked at the brother and sister and said nothing. "Do not keep anything from me," he said at last. "Well," exclaimed Eve, "he is going away with _her_." Mme. Chardon came in again, and, not seeing David, began at once: "Postel is willing to lend you the thousand francs, Lucien," she said, "but only for six months; and even then he wants you to let him have a bill endorsed by your brother-in-law, for he says that you are giving him no security." She turned and saw David, and there was a deep silence in the room. The Chardons thought how they had abused David's goodness, and felt ashamed. Tears stood in the young printer's eyes. "Then you will not be here at our wedding," he began. "You are not going to live with us! And here have I been squandering all that I had! Oh! Lucien, as I came along, bringing Eve her little bits of wedding jewelry, I did not think that I should be sorry I spent the money on them." He brushed his hand over his eyes as he drew the little cases from his pocket. He set down the tiny morocco-covered boxes on the table in front of his mother-in-law. "Oh! why do you think so much for me?" protested Eve, giving him a divinely sweet smile that belied her words. "Mamma, dear," said David, "just tell M. Postel that I will put my name to the bill, for I can tell from your face, Lucien, that you have quite made up your mind to go." Lucien's head sank dejectedly; there was a little pause, then he said, "Do not think hardly of me, my dear, good angels." He put his arms about Eve and David, and drew them close, and held them tightly to him as he added, "Wait and see what comes of it, and you shall know how much I love you. What is the good of our high thinking, David, if it does not enable us to disregard the petty ceremonial in which the law entangles our affections? Shall I not be with you in spirit, in spite of the distance between us? Shall we not be united in thought? Have I not a destiny to fulfil? Will publishers come here to seek my _Archer of Charles IX._ and the _Marguerites_? A little sooner or a little later I shall be obliged in any case to do as I am doing to-day, should I not? And shall I ever find a better opportunity than this? Does not my success entirely depend upon my entrance on life in Paris through the Marquise d'Espard's salon?" "He is right," said Eve; "you yourself were saying, were you not, that

he ought to go to Paris at once?" David took Eve's hand in his, and drew her into the narrow little room where she had slept for seven years. "Love, you were saying just now that he would want two thousand francs?" he said in her ear. "Postel is only lending one thousand." Eve gave her betrothed a look, and he read all her anguish in her eyes. "Listen, my adored Eve, we are making a bad start in life. Yes, my expenses have taken all my capital; I have just two thousand francs left, and half of it will be wanted to carry on the business. If we give your brother the thousand francs, it will mean that we are giving away our bread, that we shall live in anxiety. If I were alone, I know what I should do; but we are two. Decide for us." Eve, distracted, sprang to her lover's arms, and kissed him tenderly, as she answered through her tears: "Do as you would do if you were alone; I will work to earn the money." In spite of the most impassioned kiss ever given and taken by betrothed lovers, David left Eve overcome with trouble, and went out to Lucien. "Do not worry yourself," he said; "you shall have your two thousand francs." "Go in to see Postel," said Mme. Chardon, "for you must both give your signatures to the bill." When Lucien and David came back again unexpectedly, they found Eve and her mother on their knees in prayer. The women felt sure that Lucien's return would bring the realization of many hopes; but at the moment they could only feel how much they were losing in the parting, and the happiness to come seemed too dearly bought by an absence that broke up their life together, and would fill the coming days with innumerable fears for Lucien. "If you could ever forget this sight," David said in Lucien's ear, "you would be the basest of men." David, no doubt, thought that these brave words were needed; Mme. de Bargeton's influence seemed to him less to be feared than his friend's unlucky instability of character, Lucien was so easily led for good or evil. Eve soon packed Lucien's clothes; the Fernando Cortez of literature carried but little baggage. He was wearing his best overcoat, his best waistcoat, and one of the two fine shirts. The whole of his linen, the celebrated coat, and his manuscript made up so small a package that to hide it from Mme. de Bargeton, David proposed to send it by coach to a paper merchant with whom he had dealings, and wrote and advised him to that effect, and asked him to keep the parcel until Lucien sent for it. In spite of Mme. de Bargeton's precautions, Chatelet found out that she was leaving Angouleme; and with a view to discovering whether she was traveling alone or with Lucien, he sent his man to Ruffec with instructions to watch every carriage that changed horses at that

stage. "If she is taking her poet with her," thought he, "I have her now." Lucien set out before daybreak the next morning. David went with him. David had hired a cabriolet, pretending that he was going to Marsac on business, a little piece of deception which seemed probable under the circumstances. The two friends went to Marsac, and spent part of the day with the old "bear." As evening came on they set out again, and in the beginning of the dawn they waited in the road, on the further side of Mansle, for Mme. de Bargeton. When the seventy-year old traveling carriage, which he had many a time seen in the coach-house, appeared in sight, Lucien felt more deeply moved than he had ever been in his life before; he sprang into David's arms. "God grant that this may be for your good!" said David, and he climbed into the shabby cabriolet and drove away with a feeling of dread clutching at his heart; he had terrible presentiments of the fate awaiting Lucien in Paris.

ADDENDUM The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. Bargeton, Madame de (see Chatelet, Baronne du) Cerizet Eve and David A Man of Business Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Middle Classes Chardon, Madame (nee Rubempre) Eve and David Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Chatelet, Sixte, Baron du A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Thirteen Chatelet, Marie-Louise-Anais de Negrepelisse, Baronne du A Distinguished Provincial at Paris The Government Clerks Cointet, Boniface Eve and David The Firm of Nucingen The Member for Arcis Cointet, Jean Eve and David Courtois Eve and David Courtois, Madame

Eve and David Desplein The Atheist's Mass Cousin Pons The Thirteen The Government Clerks Pierrette A Bachelor's Establishment The Seamy Side of History Modeste Mignon Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Honorine Gentil A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Grozier, Abbe The Commission in Lunacy Hautoy, Francis du Eve and David Maucombe, Comte de Letters of Two Brides Montriveau, General Marquis Armand de The Thirteen Father Goriot A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Another Study of Woman Pierrette The Member for Arcis Negrepelisse, De The Commission in Lunacy A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Petit-Claud Eve and David Pimentel, Marquis and Marquise de Eve and David Postel Eve and David Prieur, Madame Eve and David Rastignac, Baron and Baronne de (Eugene's parents) Father Goriot Rastignac, Laure-Rose and Agathe de Father Goriot The Member for Arcis Rubempre, Lucien-Chardon de Eve and David

was horrified to see pretty nearly the whole sum on which he meant to live in Paris for a twelvemonth dropped along the road. he openly expressed his surprise at the new and wonderful things which . Madame Jacques de Eve and David Stanhope. Jacques de Eve and David Senonches. and Albertine. Madame David Eve and David A Distinguished Provincial At Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Senonches. not a little irksome on the way. but it may be believed that an infatuated youth who had looked forward to the delights of an elopement. Lady Esther The Lily of the Valley II A DISTINGUISHED PROVINCIAL AT PARIS (Lost Illusions Part II) BY HONORE DE BALZAC Translated By Ellen Marriage PART I Mme. de Bargeton and Lucien de Rubempre had left Angouleme behind. must have found the continual presence of Gentil. Jerome-Nicolas Eve and David Sechard.A Distinguished Provincial at Paris The Government Clerks Ursule Mirouet Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Sechard. Like other men who combine great intellectual powers with the charming simplicity of childhood. the maid. David Eve and David A Distinguished Provincial At Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Sechard. traveling post for the first time in his life. Not one of the party who made that journey alluded to it afterwards. Lucien. the man-servant. and were traveling together upon the road to Paris.

de Bargeton's servant. And a change had. in fact. and Mme. they seem to lose something of their intrinsic worth. with the shabby window-curtains. both in quantity and quality. the essential goodness of country fare was wanting. The travelers were set down before daybreak at the sign of the Gaillard-Bois in the Rue de l'Echelle. indeed. but he could not explain it. taken place. A woman. This is especially true of provincials. sunless room. Louise was hardly recognizable in this cheerless.he saw. To Lucien's just-awakened. he thought. 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. and adore his failings with his greater qualities. and thereby made a mistake. the hideous furniture bought second-hand. made a hasty toilet and hurried downstairs. or much the worse for wear. and surroundings which serve as a setting. Gentil and Albertine waited upon them. de Bargeton. looked more thoughtful and dignified than was necessary now. when no barriers stood between her and happiness. Mme. Some people no longer look the same when detached from the background of faces. de Bargeton's love was grafted on pride. first bidding Lucien to engage the room immediately overhead. Lucien slept on till four o'clock in the afternoon. Louise was sitting in the shabby inn sitting-room. for with all its pretensions to elegance. The dinner. moreover. Events had occurred while he slept. whose nature is large as her heart is tender. Lucien waited till the meal was over. sleep-dimmed eyes. or vanity in her lover. sent in from a neighboring restaurant. In such small matters Paris does not show its best side to travelers of moderate fortune. Some change had come over Louise. de Bargeton had been reflecting. both so tired out with the journey that Louise went straight to bed and slept. 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. he indulged in the playfulness of the young rat emerging from his hole for the first time. 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 she cannot forgive childishness. and in point of quantity the portions were cut with so strict an eye to business that they savored of short commons. but let her have ever so small a spice of vanity herself. objects. About two o'clock that afternoon. for reflection is an event in our inner history. fell far below the provincial average. A man should study a woman very carefully before he allows her to see his thoughts and emotions as they arise in him. but there are yet others who love a man for his sake and not for their own. when he was awakened by Mme. and make allowances. or littleness. Personality demands its appropriate atmosphere to bring out its values. Sixte du Chatelet made his appearance in the Rue de l'Echelle and asked for Albertine. and instead of keeping himself to himself. Hotel accommodation is a blot on the civilization of Paris. Lucien had not guessed as yet that Mme. can smile upon childishness. the comfortless polished floor. without which. and learning the hour. and while they were present Lucien could not complain. Many a woman is so extravagant a worshiper that she must always see the god in her idol. The .

nobody knows why. de Bargeton had scarcely time to dress before he came back again. The unaccountable apparition of M. de Chandour? The fact that your husband has gone to the Escarbas looks like a separation." he said. has been put to no proof. "I foresaw coming events. You will meet Angouleme at every turn. where you are. they will not fail to discover who you are. better able. Dear adored Nais. and to her he expressed his wish to speak with her mistress. I mean no harm to the man you love. the whole world that you have a mind to see would point the finger at you. do just as you please. the most strait-laced women are seen at her house. but you must not live in the same house. the Lenoncourts. the Blamont-Chauvrys. he. YOU. de Rubempre your love and your countenance. But if I lose my post for it. There are the deputies from the Charente coming up for the opening of the session. or any other salon in Paris. there is the Commandant in Paris on leave. he may forsake you for some Parisienne. to be fully aware of the serious nature of this step that you are taking.sleeping damsel was roused. and all that you are doing. d'Espard's salon. 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. women far more astute and shrewd than Amelie. where you come from. And. By all means. shall not be lost. on his side. "I have risked a reprimand from headquarters to follow you. Why. "I can see plainly that you love Lucien. du Chatelet roused the lady's curiosity. and the Marquis d'Espard has been put in the wrong. for she had kept her journey a profound secret. give M. knowing Paris as I do. de Rubempre. though he may wish to be called M." he continued. The Navarreins. and receive her with respect. The first call that you pay will make it clear to you that I am right. At three o'clock the visitor was admitted." "What do you mean?" exclaimed Mme. If anybody here in Paris knew that you had traveled together. "You will have rivals here. as he may fancy. then. make sure at least that you will feel no regret for all that you have renounced for him. as he greeted her. "You must love indeed if _you_ can act thus recklessly. but you are one of those women for whom an incognito is out of the question. 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. with an air of tender resignation. I see. "Mme. especially after the duel between M. and the rest of the relations have all rallied round her. de Bargeton. the first man or woman from Angouleme who happens to see you would cut your career short in a strange fashion. indeed. Under such circumstances a gentleman fights first and afterwards leaves his wife at liberty. with a young man. if you find all doors closed against you. de Bargeton and M. to further his ambitions. as it were. and to beg you to study him. at any rate. Nais. do not make these sacrifices for a young man whom you have as yet compared with no one else." continued Chatelet. You have counted upon your incognito. "Just now. Mme. You would simply be . d'Espard is the more prudish and particular because she herself is separated from her husband. as she thought. and that none of the women call upon you. "And. and disregard the conventions which you know so well. but you will permit me to put your own interests before his. will not be closed to you as soon as it is known that you have fled from Angouleme. can you really imagine that Mme.

every one will be longing to make your acquaintance. to-night. two steps away from Mme. a neat cab was waiting for him at the door. Mme. besides. Your career depends so much upon my position that I ought to do nothing to spoil it." said she. I was following you. I am staying with the Receiver-General in the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore. de Bargeton. covered with a flowered chintz--a yellow pattern on a red ground. "Lucien mine." suggested Chatelet. when dinner was over. and nobody can say a word against us. So. Mme. you will sleep in your new rooms this very night. You will have a home of your own. He was handsome. 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. in fact. but his clothes. my dear friend. So far from wishing to gain admittance to this set or that.Lucien's mistress. it would only be common sense to set matters right? We ought not to live together in Paris. "but what am I to do?" "Allow me to find suitable furnished lodgings for you." And Louise explained conventions to Lucien. "that way of living is less expensive than an inn. Put Antinous or the Apollo Belvedere himself into a water-carrier's blouse. "don't you think that if we have both of us done a foolish thing. She was struck with his perspicacity. I am sufficiently acquainted with the Marechale de Carigliano. and Mme. de Serizy. But you will stay on here. He . do so." she said at length." "Very well. de Bargeton beckoned Lucien to sit beside her on the shabby sofa. all was said." she said. At Sevres your postilion told mine that he had brought you here. half awake and hastily dressed." Chatelet talked on. The queen of Angouleme had. d'Espard's. The Baron du Chatelet had spoken the language of worldly wisdom to a woman of the world. his last year's nankeen trousers. standing by the window thinking over the position. "Your traveling carriage is easily recognized. who opened wide eyes. but you will meet so many people at Mme. and the President of the Council to introduce you to those houses. it is true. I am going to remove into lodgings near by. Towards six o'clock that evening. and. And in those seemingly insignificant words. and we must not allow anyone to suspect that we traveled together. A few moments later Lucien appeared. de Bargeton made no interruption. suicidal for both our interests. chanced to see the elderly dandy drive away. dear boy. we can see each other every day. and the contrast between Lucien and Chatelet was so abrupt that it could not fail to strike Louise. Will you permit me to act as your harbinger? I will write as soon as I have found lodgings. He had made his appearance before her in faultless dress. that you are not likely to require me. "You are right. Mme. counted upon preserving her incognito. and his shabby tight jacket were ridiculous. if you will take my advice. d'Espard's. "If you need me at any time. and." "But how did you know my address?" queried she.

Louise talked of herself. to veil her egoism. she said: "Darling. parting means that desertion is at hand. All day long you will be with me. she thinks better of her love. we shall have no one to come to our aid. An hour later Gentil brought in a note from Chatelet. that is all. He could not keep back the tears that filled his eyes. It was eleven o'clock when Lucien returned to his inn. but if I can reach the goal sooner through your aid." said she. my whole future rests with you. and here we are going to part already. and could not help comparing it in his own mind with Louise's sumptuous apartments. "If I am your glory. I thought that if you meant to make my successes yours. that I foresaw the end." "Louise. We shall both be ruined. Two hours afterwards Louise stepped into the hired carriage sent by Chatelet for the removal to the new rooms. and. when failure (for we must look all possibilities in the face). 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. "you do not love me. Mme. that in spite of herself. He had no claim upon Louise thus suddenly transformed into Mme. de Bargeton. "You must sleep here. gorgeously arrayed in evening dress. more serious still." "But. Forgive me! You mean so much to me that I cannot help fearing all kinds of things. she tried to make him believe that this was all on his account. of _her_ interests. with his arms around her. de Bargeton informed herself of the exact place. when failure drives us back to the Escarbas. I shall be very glad to owe all my success to you. love." Lucien looked at her with such a dolorous expression." returned she. to inquire whether Mme. and. I myself should have preferred to overcome obstacles and win my way among men by the power that is in me. de Bargeton that he had found lodgings for her in the Rue Nueve-de-Luxembourg. and of the world. Just as he came away the Baron du Chatelet came in. for me. 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. but one thing he understood--he saw that he was no longer the Lucien of Angouleme." cried the poet. and no one can say a word. and found that it was not very far from the Rue de l'Echelle. He told Mme." "You are judging my conduct. He lay down in his miserable little room." he cried. I will stay if you like. But when we are both equally wretched. "you are wise. you frighten me! Remember that I am a child.had still to learn that when a woman thinks better of her folly. "We shall be neighbors. _her_ reputation. my dear boy. "you are yet more to me--you are my one hope. and that at the first I proposed that we should make your way by conforming to established rules. de Bargeton was satisfied with all that he had . you would surely make my adversity yours also. that I have given myself up entirely to your dear will." A few kisses set Lucien's mind completely at rest. and desertion is death. he had no power over her." she told Lucien. and every one shuts their door upon us both. then remember. and. fresh from the Minister for Foreign Affairs. the world's demands are soon satisfied.

they only give to the rich. for you must allow me to do the honors of Paris." Mme. Mme. de d'Espard's. de Bargeton possessed the self-confidence born of a long habit of rule. She had tact enough to know how greatly the relations of women among themselves depend upon first impressions. Before very long the Baron also gave advice as to shopping. she was painfully conscientious over her accounts. The splendor was alarming to her mind. In the month of June ministers are often puzzled to know what to do with boxes at the theatre. for she had written to tell the Marquise d'Espard of her arrival. under penalty of being a nobody." "There is more generosity in his character than I thought. Nais was uneasy. so it comes to pass that the best seats are filled at this season with heterogeneous theatre-goers. You need only think of your dress. Chatelet gave her all the news of the day. the myriad nothings that you are bound to know. "I expect I shall have a box at one of the theatres to-morrow. she felt also that she stood in need of goodwill at her first entrance . de Rubempre. never seen at any other time of year. The next morning. and economical to a degree that is looked upon as miserly in Paris.done on her behalf. seeing that Nais was startled. the very first morning in Paris. you ought not to look poverty-stricken. She had gone to make some indispensable purchases. Here. A woman moving in good society could not well do less. fifty louis in all. and should run into debt. "A mere trifle. ministerialist deputies and their constituents are busy in their vineyards or harvest fields. and though she felt that she was equal to taking her place at once in such a distinguished set as Mme. Lucien went to the Rue Nueve-de-Luxembourg and found that Louise had gone out. Then he took his leave after a final flash of happy inspiration. he made the lady see the necessity of rubbing off Angouleme. and that with very little expense. In short. or a post in the Household. Chatelet had thought already that this was his opportunity of giving Nais the amusements which provincials crave most eagerly. and now Chatelet told her that her rooms would only cost six hundred francs per month. to take counsel of the mighty and illustrious authorities in the matter of the feminine toilette. de Bargeton and the Baron de Chatelet chatted about Paris." he remarked carelessly. But with your introductions you will seldom be home to a meal. de Bargeton to herself when Lucien was included in the invitation. de Bargeton. recommending Herbault for toques and Juliette for hats and bonnets. and the house is apt to look as if it were tapestried with very shabby material. "I will call for you and M. in Paris. Provincial life had reacted upon her. pointed out to her by Chatelet. considering that the sum would more than cover the expenses of four years in Paris. and Albertine for your own woman. and their more exacting acquaintances are in the country or traveling about. but she was exceedingly afraid of appearing to be provincial. for servants are enough to ruin you here. She had brought with her twenty thousand francs in the shape of a draft on the Receiver-General. he added the address of a fashionable dressmaker to supersede Victorine." added he. she was afraid already lest she should not have enough. It is most fortunate that you brought Gentil to go out with you. and if you mean to obtain a Receiver-General's appointment for M." said Mme. "For five hundred francs a month you can have a carriage from a livery stable.

the contrast everywhere between the last extremes of luxury and want struck him more than anything else. to say no worse. "She was delighted that circumstances had brought a relative. who carried them both off to dinner at the _Rocher de Cancale_. So she felt boundlessly thankful to Chatelet for pointing out these ways of putting herself in harmony with the fashionable world. was not over well pleased to see Chatelet again. in Paris you are nobody. A man of any consequence in his native place. and painfully conscious of the shabbiness. felt the need of the support of public opinion. de Bargeton. one of the prettily worded compositions of which time alone can discover the emptiness. In his astonishment at the crowds of strange faces. feeling that she must have returned. "Mme. was much more interested in the things that he saw than in the people he met. and was resolved. he could say nothing to Louise. and that very day she wrote. She put herself entirely at her cousin's disposal. that she would leave nothing undone to secure success. but he squeezed her hand. the man of imaginative temper felt as if he himself had shrunk. of whom she had heard. Lucien. who looked for an echo for all his sentiments. The Marquis d'Espard had withdrawn himself without apparent reason from society. and she felt that she lay already under obligations to the cousin who had thought of her. thus left mistress of her actions. She meant to be ostentatiously gracious. and she gave a warm response to the mute confidence. He found the Baron du Chatelet. as it were. immensely." Lucien. whose acquaintance she had desired to make. Paris could not fail to be an appalling wilderness for a young poet. a soul to share his least sensations. and if this might not be. The general effect of Paris is wholly engrossing at first. The wealth in the shop windows. the streams of traffic. of his clothes. She would have called upon her if indisposition had not kept her to the house. in his heart. he went to Mme. de Bargeton _nee_ Negrepelisse" a charming billet. where he cannot go out but he meets with some recognition of his importance at every step. political or domestic. the high houses. there would only be one more illusion to bury with the rest. Lucien's head was dizzy with the whirl of Paris. Friendships in Paris were not so solid but that she longed to find one more to love on earth. and was glad to take the Marquis' place and give her countenance to one of her husband's relations. His wife. taking his first ramble along the Rue de la Paix and through the Boulevards. the Baron was in the carriage. in the first place. does not readily accustom himself to the sudden and total extinction of his consequence. The transition between the first state and the last should be made gradually. meanwhile. You are somebody in your own country. and cursed . like all newcomers. After dinner Chatelet took his guests to the Vaudeville.into society. a confidant for all his thoughts. for the too abrupt fall is something like annihilation. so as to put her husband more evidently in the wrong. Lucien had not gone in search of his luggage and his best blue coat. and ceased to take any active interest in affairs. 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. into closer connection with her family.

Lucien dimly began to recognize in this elderly beau the superiority of the man of the world who knows Paris. de Bargeton. he looked prodigiously ridiculous. Life had widened out before the poet's eyes. so bewitching in Angouleme. Nothing but an accident now was needed to sever finally the bond that united them. and. so terrible for Lucien. he would rather be nothing at all. looked frightfully ugly here among the daintily devised coiffures which he saw in every direction. or re-enter diplomacy. nor was that blow. for a man of his stamp could not be expected to remain a comptroller all his life. He smiled at his rival's hesitations. when a face has grown familiar it comes to possess a certain beauty that is taken for granted. in two days had recovered all the ground lost in the past six months. But transport the pretty woman of the provinces to Paris. the material. at the little mistakes which the latter ignorantly made. Lucien's eyes were now busy comparing Mme. de Bargeton. was out of date. her prettiness is of the comparative degree illustrated by the saying that among the blind the one-eyed are kings. at his astonishment. Paris was the cause. And Mme. "Will she always look like that?" said he to himself. Chatelet grew visibly taller. Ordinary people will not admit that our sentiments towards each other can totally change in a moment. taking care of her in a manner that revealed a profound passion. Mme. ignorant that the morning had been spent in preparing a transformation. His horizon widened. as society came to wear a new aspect for Louise. The poet cut a poor figure notwithstanding his singular beauty. very long delayed. society assumed different proportions. tolerably ambitious though it was. and as much at home as an actor treading the familiar boards of his theatre. looked dowdy by comparison. Chatelet. and offer himself for election as deputy. He had come to Paris to ask for fulfilment of the promises that had been given him. most of all." thought Mme. de Bargeton and in Lucien a process of disenchantment was at work. just as she herself had contrasted him with Chatelet on the previous day. In Mme. permitted herself some strange reflections upon her lover. he put away a good many of his ideas as to provincial life in the course of it. And while the poet looked ill at ease and awkward Her Royal Highness' ex-secretary was quite in his element. In the provinces comparison and choice are out of the question. elegant. at the questions he put. de Bargeton's costume. The sleeves of his jacket were too short. That way of arranging her hair. de Bargeton with other women. 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.the chance that had brought the Baron to Paris. he felt ashamed to owe his evening's amusement to his rival. Chatelet. and meant to take a seat in the Council of State as Master of Requests. on her part. The Baron said that ambition had brought him to town. and yet certain it is. with his ill-cut country gloves and a waistcoat too scanty for him. . compared with the young men in the balcony--"positively pitiable. That evening marked an epoch in Lucien's career. that two lovers not seldom fly apart even more quickly than they drew together. he had hopes of an appointment as secretary-general to a government department. like the fashion and the color. and no one takes the slightest notice of her. There were fair Parisiennes in fresh and elegant toilettes all about him. interested in her without presumption.

dear and fair siren. felt that he must go at once for his celebrated blue best coat. She was going to the Opera in the evening. men who have distinguished themselves in good earnest. d'Espard." "Good-bye. Chardon's poetry put together. but less for Lucien's sake than for her own. Her .Mme. I shall go to Mme. when the door was closed. sir. How if you have made a mistake? Suppose that in a few days' time. volumes of verse come out every week here. and learned that Mme. "That poor fellow is uncommonly dull. but a little ape. that it is no lyre-bearer that you have borne into port on your dazzling shoulders. trimmed fantastically enough. she found nothing better than a certain green velvet gown. and accustomed to homely provincial ways. he felt aghast at the thought of his tight jacket. Having dressed himself in his best. Lucien tore open the note." returned the haughty Negrepelisse. madame gave me a line for you. there is nothing between you yet. d'Espard has the box of the First Gentlemen of the Chamber. for his part. is Opera night. Mme. he went to the Rue Nueve-de-Luxembourg. and determined to be well dressed." said she. let it not be this so-called genius. ignorant of Parisian forms of respect." said Gentil. to the intense vexation of the luckless lover. a commerce in which the intellect spends itself in small change. de Serizy's box to behold you in your glory. and on the doorstep encountered Gentil in company with a gorgeously be-feathered chasseur. but turns out a very ordinary specimen of a young man in Paris? And. no doubt. a presumptuous fool who may be a wit in L'Houmeau. matter for much subsequent reflection on the scale of the cost of living in Paris. "I grant it you willingly. with a smile." he continued as the carriage turned into the Rue Nueve-de-Luxembourg. "That is the way with those who have a world of thoughts in their heart and brain. de Bargeton set Lucien down at his inn. and I am delighted that it is so. There. Lucien. Next morning Mme. "What will they say about me?" he wondered. but she told Lucien to be there to meet her. after all. "Mme. The weather was rather chilly. I implore you. de Bargeton had gone to spend the day with the Marquise d'Espard. suppose that you should discover. with no manners and no capacity. Men who have so much in them to give out in great works long dreamed of. "but we live with human beings and not with books. dear Nais! I see how it is. The chasseur took the poet for a servant. lest he should meet the Marquise d'Espard or receive a sudden summons to her house. the worst of them better than all M. so he took a cab." said Chatelet. and in two hours' time spent three or four francs. and drove home with Chatelet. They are giving _Les Danaides_." replied the Baron. de Bargeton tried to arrange a suitable toilette in which to call on her cousin. Looking through the dowdy wardrobe from Angouleme. For pity's sake. such as it was. If you decide to bring an interest of a kind hitherto lacking into your life. She still had courage to defend Lucien. men of real ability. Friday. profess a certain contempt for conversation. when you have compared him with men whom you will meet. He must have his luggage at once. "I was just going round to you. wait and compare! To-morrow. as he climbed the stairs to his dismal room. and will take you.

suppose that we change the terms and for a suit of clothes. could be ruled out on the score of age. the cut was old-fashioned. du Hautoy and M. the sons of men carry their hands in any excess of joy or anguish. Lucien noticed a grocer's boy walking along the Rue de Rivoli with a basket on his head. not a single one of these gilded youths wore a swallow-tail coat. and he sat in judgment upon himself. and. couples greet each other with a glance as they pass. and austere public functionaries. or a . Do not accuse this chronicle of puerility. an annuitant from the Marais. in the street on the other side of the railings. the seat of our sensibility. And. The Marquise d'Espard was delighted to procure the young poet that pleasure. no man of any pretension to fashion wore nankeen trousers. In the first place. finally. de Chandour wore such things. dreaming of walking there until it was time to dine at Very's. to be sure. And now. The sight was a stab to Lucien's breast. a clerk here and there. and hard upon the discovery of a distinction between morning and evening dress. with both ends adorned by the handiwork of some adored shop-girl. He dashed out in the direction of the Tuileries. more or less fine. after all. 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. behold Lucien frisking and skipping. "Then she loves me! my fears were all nonsense!" said Lucien to himself. put instead a ribbon. 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. instead of the sober European families. the coat tails. "She is going to present me to her cousin this very evening. may think them incredibly petty and small. their adorers. Here. elderly capitalists. since sentiment has had any existence. on his way to the Terrasse des Feuillants to take a look at the people of quality on promenade there. the buttons were reddened. the collar outrageously ungainly. Well-dressed men wore charming fancy materials or immaculate white. and every one had straps to his trousers.cousin permitted her to give him a seat in her box. penetrating straight to that organ as yet undefined. the defects in his coat branded that garment as ridiculous. light of foot because light of heart. by dint of long wear. the region whither. The few exceptions. Pretty women walk arm-in-arm with men of fashion. and so grotesquely provincial. until. and hastened to make similar ones for her brother. Those were two wretched hours that Lucien spent in the Garden of the Tuileries. He would spend the day that separated him from the happy evening as joyously as might be. never having experienced sufferings of this kind. one or two poor wretches. or a star. Lucien wore a white cravat with embroidered ends. and there were fatal white lines along the seams. Is not the pain equally great for either? Suffering exalts all things. the poet's quick sensibility and keen eyes saw likewise that his shabby old clothes were not fit to be seen." He jumped for joy. the color was the wrong shade of blue. that he hastily buttoned his coat over it. Then his waistcoat was too short. no one appeared to wear white cravats of a morning except a few grave seniors. him the man of Angouleme detected in the act of sporting a cravat. his sister had seen that M. while the shrunken hems of Lucien's nether garments manifested a violent antipathy for the heels of boots which they wedded with obvious reluctance. A violent revulsion swept through him. The rich. overlapped each other.

he wore clanking spurs and a tight-fitting jacket." Lucien saw a great gulf fixed between him and this new world. who tells him. slim youths of Paris. became aware of a whole world of indispensable superfluities. there were specks of mud on the ample folds of his white trousers. a woman whose house was frequented by the most illustrious among illustrious men in every field. but the metal was still in the ore. evidently he was about to mount one of the two horses held by a hop-o'-my-thumb of a tiger. seeing these petty trifles. Louise's face rose up somewhere in the shadowy background of memory--compared with these queens. a regular shop-drudge. the more conscious he grew of his own outlandishness. and shuddered to think of the enormous capital needed by a professional pretty fellow! The more he admired these gay and careless beings. the question of clothes is of enormous importance. graceful. and asked himself how he might cross over. 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. Young men in Paris understand the art of presenting themselves quite as well as women. hitherto unimagined. with a certain uniformity of air. fashionably dressed. His hair was badly cut. she looked like an old woman. Each one made the most of his personal advantages. Yet another was twisting a charming riding-whip while he talked with a woman. A young man who went past drew a watch no thicker than a five-franc piece from his pocket. and a certain dignity of carriage and expression. and how marvelously all these elegant persons were gloved. though. and looked at it with the air of a person who is either too early or too late for an appointment. his own looked dingy by comparison. moreover. for he meant to be one of these delicate. these young patricians who bowed before women divinely dressed and divinely fair. and not set free by the craftsman's hand. and not unfrequently the appearance of possession is the shortest road to possession at a later day. he knew that he looked like a man who has no idea of the direction of the streets. "I look like an apothecary's son. He saw women whose names will . Lucien was ready to be cut in pieces like Count Philip of Konigsmark. each one differed from the rest in the setting by which he had chosen to bring his personal characteristics into prominence. who stands close to the Palais Royal and cannot find it. another with dainty gold studs in his wristbands. at the same time. have not brilliant careers been tormented by reason of such apparent trifles as these? Add. spruce. there. that for those people who must seem to have that which they have not. Instead of holding himself upright with an elastic corset. and asks his way to the Louvre of a passer-by.title. his own gloves were only fit for a policeman! Yonder was a youth toying with a cane exquisitely mounted. he hung his dejected head without resistance on the part of a limp cravat. 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. a sameness due to a fineness of contour. 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. "Here you are. For one kiss from one of these. Lucien. watching the youth of the Faubourg Saint-Germain pass under his eyes. he felt that he was cooped up inside a hideous shirt-collar. Lucien had inherited from his mother the invaluable physical distinction of race." he raged inwardly.

one of the most charming women in Paris. Firmiani. great no less by her beauty. a pair of white trousers. took out a hundred crowns. finally. fleet as a stag. where his future elegance lay scattered over half a score of shops. but feeling a little awkward in this kind of sheath in which he found himself for the first time. Wherefore he closed the door of the palace with awe. The total of the bill drew him down from these dreams. and went down again to the Palais Royal. rushed up to his room. "Eve was right. and thought of the costumes in the Garden of the Tuileries. he asked for the box ." he said to himself. and the glowing light of the sun? She was laughing and chatting with Mme. "No. studying the while how to give the Marquise d'Espard proof of his wit. so well known as Camille Maupin. Then he went to Very's and ordered dinner by way of an initiation into the pleasures of Paris. and inquired for a hairdresser. their beauty. The first tailor whose door he entered tried as many coats upon him as he would consent to put on. a dish of fish. He enjoyed this little debauch. "Ah!" he thought to himself. with that sweet smile of hers. and a "fancy waistcoat. des Touches. At seven o'clock that evening he called a cab and drove away to the Opera. and was obliged to ask his way. he ordered the tradespeople to send them to his address. great by her intellect." He gazed in at the tailors' windows on the way. and left him the poorer by fifty of the francs which were to have gone such a long way in Paris. one who passed was the heroine Mlle. He did not know the topography of his quarter yet.--this was the _ne plus ultra_ of his desire. A voice indeed cried. "There is a difference between Paris prices and prices in L'Houmeau.appear in the history of the nineteenth century. as he went back under the stone arcading for some more money. and a solace for his discouragement." for which outfit he gave two hundred francs. thinking as he did so that he should never set foot in it again. d'Espard dressed out as I am. women no less famous than the queens of past times for their wit." he exclaimed. the great woman of letters. Lucien came out the owner of a green coat. a dish of macaroni and dessert. and promise of the future. curled like a Saint John of a Procession Day. de Bargeton's instructions. In obedience to Mme. "she is Poetry. oysters from Ostend. and hope. He could have lived in Angouleme for a month on the price of that dinner. elegantly waistcoated and gloved. when he had made all necessary purchases. and." He fled to his inn. "Intellect is the lever by which to move the world. or their lovers. and persuaded his customer that all were in the very latest fashion. He would not stay any longer on the scene of his collapse and defeat. Ere long he found a very elegant pair of ready-made shoes that fitted his foot. and went towards the Palais Royal. de Bargeton in comparison with this angel in all the glory of youth. He overheard the name pronounced by those who went by. a partridge. and the great dark eyes with all heaven in them." What was Mme. and redeem the shabbiness of his grotesque accoutrements by the display of intellectual riches. A bottle of Bordeaux." but another voice cried no less loudly that money was the fulcrum. "I will _not_ appear before Mme.

a Parisian Mme. that lady is the Marquise d'Espard. affected in her manner. we give you permission. A chasseur. The man at the box office looked at him. in her first surprise at the change in his appearance. with a pimpled face and faded complexion. sir. so that its occupants see and are seen all over the theatre. The box belonging to the First Gentleman of the Bedchamber is situated in one of the angles at the back of the house. "M." Louise said in his ear. take this seat. stiff.reserved for the First Gentleman of the Bedchamber. sit in front of the box. you can tell what the gown was meant for. On their way up the great staircase the lady introduced M." said the man at the box office drily. There was neither charm nor freshness about . the brilliancy of the Parisienne brought out all the defects in her country cousin so clearly by contrast. "Why. and. that Lucien. looking out over the fashionable audience in the superb building. withered woman. is it not? You must have a view of the house. "this is your first visit to the Opera. de Bargeton. de Bargeton. asked Lucien for his order. as Parisians saw her--a tall. Louise was still the same. who could not help exchanging a barely perceptible smile with his colleague. "I have no order. and then at the great lady. lean. As a matter of fact. de Rubempre. "You have made good use of your time. Lucien was so much the more confounded because Mme. A carriage stopped under the peristyle as he spoke. "But I belong to Mme. it is a thing to provoke laughter. was twice enlightened. and two women in evening dress came out of the brougham. and saw poor Anais de Negrepelisse as she really was. thankful to be in the shadow. and beholding Lucien in all the grandeur assumed for the occasion. let down the step." Lucien obeyed as the first act came to an end. the creases in an old dress from Paris still bear witness to good taste." said the man." said the Marquise with flattering graciousness. dowdily dressed. 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. Lucien took his seat on a chair behind Mme. de Bargeton did not seem to recognize him in his new plumage." "Then you cannot go in. angular. He stepped aside to let the two ladies pass. whom you say you know. but when he stepped up to her. and above all these things. Lucien had no mind to lay himself open to an insolent order to get out of the way from the official. in which he looked like a best man at a wedding. but an old dress made in the country is inexplicable. in a livery which Lucien did not recognize. The near presence of the Marquise d'Espard." said the man ironically. d'Espard's party. was so damaging to her. de Rubempre to her cousin." "It is not our business to know that. pompous and provincial in her speech. de Bargeton.

it is something that I cannot explain. If Mme." Mme. on the other hand she possessed the native haughtiness of good birth. seeing that. was more than clever enough to discover her shortcomings. wit. and Mme. they would suspend their banter and look twice before they condemned her. d'Espard's advice. while others will never grasp them. turning to the poet. As they came up the staircase even now. She had discerned the signs of the occult power exerted by the ambitious great lady. d'Espard knew the object of their sarcasms from those feminine smiles and gestures. In the first place. d'Espard politely endeavored to turn her cousin's mind from the truth. a pretty dress. "If any one comes to our box. and told herself that she could gain her end as the satellite of this star. a treasure even more scarce among Parisian women than a staunch and loyal critic among the literary tribe. so she had been outspoken in her admiration. and asked nothing better than to have a sort of lady-in-waiting in Mme. it . and Mme. the Marquise told her cousin not to hold her handkerchief unfolded in her hand. an affliction with which any Parisian family may be visited. and vowed that he would profit by Louise's next fit of virtue to leave her for good. The best-dressed women must certainly be scrutinizing Mme. she was perfectly insensible to them. The flutter of curiosity in the house was too marked to be ignored. the compact between the two women had been confirmed by self-interest on either side." So. and acquaintances. And." she added. de Bargeton answered. it is not you. anybody must see that her companion was a poor relation from the country.the dress or its wearer. a dependent who would sing her praises. enthralled. however. as she looked at him for the first time. laughing. the Marquise knew that as soon as people learned that the stranger was her cousin. besides. plentifully apt. Lucien did not foresee the change in Louise's appearance shortly to be worked by a scarf about her throat. and that indescribable something which may be called "pedigree. dazzled. de Bargeton. when once properly dressed. had suddenly declared herself a votary of the idol of the day. when her cousin had spoken to her of her dress with manifest misgivings. seeing that she was weak and poor. de Bargeton needed polish. Mme. and fascinated by her cousin's manner. for they smiled and talked among themselves. "No. d'Espard. "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. And. In short. an elegant coiffure. which a quick-witted woman discerns at once. her relative would very easily acquire the tone of Parisian society. and. moreover. like the complexion had seen wear. he could see the opera-glasses pointed at the aristocratic box par excellence. she was. she had reassured Anais. de Bargeton. If Mme. Having an excellent view of the house." she said. the velvet. did not decline to form her. Mme. de Bargeton. Mme. on Monday her turn would come. sure that her pupil would do her credit. Lucien felt ashamed to have fallen in love with this cuttle-fish bone. in the second. de Bargeton. Good or bad taste turns upon hundreds of such almost imperceptible shades. not indisposed to take a pupil with whom to found a school. The Marquise was not insensible to the artlessly admitted conquest. She took an interest in her cousin.

which the renovated beau had just entered." answered Mme. looking towards Chatelet. indicating another box. du Chatelet. d'Espard. and why? Nobody dares to fathom the mystery. M. a broker on a large scale. either through ignorance or carried away by some impulse. must comprehend that it is with social intercourse as with music. "she is the wife of a contractor." she continued. de Bargeton bit her lips with chagrin as she saw that gesture. "I never hear that name without thinking of the Duchesse de Langeais. d'Espard. de Serizy who has had so many adventures and yet goes everywhere?" "An unheard-of-thing.--That is M. he forced his way into society with his money. as she continued to gaze through her opera-glass. de Serizy's acquaintance already?" "Oh! is that the famous Mme. and saw besides the Marquise's ill-suppressed smile of contemptuous astonishment. poor thing. the all-absorbing spectacle of the . "He was M. Mme. and they say that he is not very scrupulous as to his methods of making it." exclaimed Lucien at that moment. de Langeais' box. She vanished like a falling star. she thought that she could take her charm. a banker. their income is under a thousand crowns?" asked Lucien. "Who is that gentleman?" asked Mme. and has tried already to gain admittance into my set. de Rastignac with Mme. one of the sharpest of all pangs for a Frenchwoman. moved by vanity to give her adorer the title which she herself had called in question. ironically enough." "Ah!" said the Marquise d'Espard. when. "There is M. and her success as well. When his wife took Mme. It is the old fable of the jay in the peacock's feathers!" "How do M. a single discordant note is a complete negation of the art itself. He is at endless pains to establish his credit as a staunch upholder of the Bourbons. Even those who break the laws of this science. and Mme. de Bargeton. It is the principal merit of fine manners and the highest breeding that they produce the effect of a harmonious whole. and Louise felt humbled through her love. as we know. de Montriveau's traveling companion. in his astonishment at Rastignac's elegant and expensive dress. her wit. a gesture or a word at the outset is enough to ruin a newcomer. and he pointed a finger towards Mme." said Mme. a mortification for which she cannot forgive her lover. de Rastignac manage to keep their son in Paris. my dear. le Baron du Chatelet has been a good deal talked about. de Nucingen. Her remark was lost upon Lucien. The most formidable men are her friends. Then is this person the lion of Angouleme?" "Well. "And have you made Mme. In these circles where trifles are of such importance. "Where does the young man come from?" her look said. de Serizy's box. explicable but unexplained. for the harmony exists only when all its conditions are observed down to the least particular.seemed to strike her that he was singularly dressed. "It is easy to see that you come from Angouleme. in which every element is so blended that nothing is startling or obtrusive. a city man.

Chatelet's air of distinction was not lost upon Mme. d'Espard by her cousin Mme. and brought him the applause of the Faubourg Saint-Germain and the gibes of the Liberal party." she said to herself. de Mortsauf. one after another. on the other hand. In spite of his graces and the affectation that spoiled them. though his choice of Mme. stiff. 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. Just at that moment four personages. Louise. The curtain fell. the cause of the scandal in which Lady Dudley was concerned. was prouder of his birth than of his genius. therefore. and dangled in Mme. was his girlish beauty. four Parisian celebrities. From Mme." Mme. Nothing. the kind of figure that Lucien. de Canalis. but Lucien's expression was so gentle. was exceedingly mortified by the evident slight esteem in which the Marquise held Lucien's beauty. and owed his success to diametrically opposed qualities. was likely to cut in de Marsay's vicinity. d'Espard's reception of this personage his importance was at once evident to Mme. eclipsed every rival by his presence. The second comer was a Vandenesse. so far had brought out the poet's merits. Nothing escapes a woman of the world. it was easy to discern the vast. de Bargeton. untamed. d'Espard's train by way of concealing his love for the Duchesse de Chaulieu. The fourth. He had been warmly recommended to Mme. one of the most famous poets of the day. while de Marsay. with his flow of spirits. moreover. that he scarcely seemed to possess the strength and the power which attract women so strongly. so . no longer wondered at the slight esteem in which the Marquise held Lucien's good looks. the author of the Duchesse de Langeais' ruin. He was loved and he was feared. and between "not so handsome" and "not so clever as I thought him" there was but one step. De Marsay with his wit and charm of manner was privileged to be insolent. lurking ambitions that plunged him at a later day into the storms of political life. Judge. starched. de Bargeton. his blue eyes so limpid. M. but its softness and effeminacy were counteracted by the expression of his eyes. "He cannot be so handsome as I thought him. intellectual. and as yet a newly risen celebrity. The third was General de Montriveau. his confidence in his power to please. d'Espard. Chatelet was now paying a visit to the Duchesse de Carigliano in an adjourning box. when intellects so keen. amiable. de Chaulieu (a woman past forty) made interest for him at Court.boxes prevented him from thinking of anything else. Mme. had none of the characteristics on which de Marsay prided himself. and hard as a tiger's. The most striking feature of the first comer. and appropriate style of dress. M. came into the box. Felix de Vandenesse. He guessed that he himself was an object of no small curiosity. with these remarkable figures before her. Lucien was no less handsome. and modest. de Bargeton acknowledged his bow by a slight inclination of the head. unbending in clothes as new and unfamiliar as his surroundings. unflinching. who dubbed him "the poet of the sacristy. And when conversation began. de Marsay. steady. famous for the passions which he had inspired.

. and watching Mme. "Madame. de Bargeton thanked her cousin by a grateful glance. la Marquise. madame." "Mme.subtle. The smile was like a stab to the distinguished provincial. and Mme. summing up a materialistic epoch. addressing Canalis. Every one cruelly ignored the unlucky stranger. turning to de Marsay. "Permit me to introduce M. he may be a poet--if he has a mind. At length he turned to the Marquise." "Very well. "I did not know that you were jealous of intellect. I am pledged to make no failures. M. 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." he said in those soft tones of his." Montriveau said. "good fortune is the death of a poet. and gilding it with poetry--then Anais felt all the truth of Chatelet's dictum of the previous evening. and then again at Lucien. only a couple of paces away." said de Marsay. So far. de Canalis answered with a bow. d'Espard. de Rubempre. de Chaulieu's niece. "You rank too high in the world of letters not to welcome a _debutant_. with the powers that bring genius to light. After that. he has no enemies to help him to success by their attacks upon him. De Marsay." "Is that why your lordship is thinking of marriage?" inquired the dandy. de Bargeton. She turned to Canalis. "After all your kindness. Canalis shrugged his shoulders. Lucien was nothing to her now. but you have accustomed us to miracles. put up an eyeglass and looked from Lucien to Mme. when Canalis uttered a sonorous phrase. he was ashamed that he had nothing to say for himself all this while. Lucien in his new clothes felt as if he were an Egyptian statue in its narrow sheath. he was so much like a foreigner listening to an unknown language. cruelly mortifying to both. de Rubempre is from Angouleme. Montriveau looked Lucien through and through. He scrutinized them as if they had been a pair of strange animals. I will give him advice which will put him in a fair way to be the luckiest dandy in Paris." she said. do me the pleasure of dining with me on Monday with M. "I will obey you. de Rubempre. no doubt. Mme. and one or two young poets with sound views." M. d'Espard to see if the words went home. that the Marquise d'Espard took pity upon him. I will support him for his good looks. Felix de Vandenesse assumed a charitable air." Mme. most of all. in spite of the selfish instinct which prompts us to show a rival no favor. and. "if you give your support to this gentleman for his intellect. and then he smiled. 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. I will try to enlist some of the tyrants of the world of letters and the great people who protect them. and will need your influence. began to laugh. and you can talk of matters literary at your ease. the author of _Ourika_. coupling them with some mocking thought.

Look at him in the Marquise de Listomere's box. no doubt. de Bargeton saw from the manner of the group that they accepted Chatelet as one of themselves without demur. that Mme. de Serizy knew none but unexceptionable people. This was not lost on those who saw it.Chatelet came in as he spoke. nothing looked new. and while apparently renewing his acquaintance. most of all. So potent was this last credential. and looking elsewhere. speaking to Lucien. 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. d'Espard to pardon him for the liberty he took in invading her box. nothing about them was conspicuous. those repartees which he could only have made after much pondering? And not only were they at ease in their speech. The fine gentleman of to-day was the same yesterday. 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 had seen Montriveau. he is putting up his eyeglass at us! He knows this gentleman. disparaging little nod. and. At length the Baron saw Lucien. and meet again in the opera-house!" said Lucien. Chatelet's sultan's airs in Angouleme were suddenly explained. he asked himself. did these people make such piquant reflections on the spur of the moment. de Bargeton. He bowed to Mme. "My dear fellow. and moreover he was Montriveau's traveling companion. Lucien guessed that he himself looked as if he were dressed for the first time in his life. "He can scarcely fail to have heard the name of a great man of whom we are proud. A sardonic expression accompanied the greeting. By what mysterious means. The material luxury of Paris had alarmed him that morning. at night he saw the same lavish expenditure of intellect. "that young Rastignac is soaring away like a paper-kite. he felt bewildered with epigram and repartee. "Quite a theatrical meeting!" said Canalis. no doubt cut his rival to pieces. de Rubempre read us some very fine poetry. he is making progress. for de Marsay leaned towards Montriveau. "Quite lately his sister was present when M. de Bargeton. they were at ease in their dress. addressing Felix de Vandenesse." said Mme. 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. nothing looked old. "How does _he_ come here?" he seemed to say. Mme. indicative to men of the world of the recipient's inferior station. Montriveau introduced the Baron du Chatelet to the Marquise. and favored him with a cool." said de Marsay. everything attracted the eyes. by their offhand way of talking and their ease of manner." . 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. and would be the same to-morrow. If Lucien was surprised at the apt wit and the subtlety with which these gentlemen formulated their replies." Chatelet spoke a few words in his traveling companion's ear. and begged Mme." added the dandy.

de Listomere. and then everything would be his. her delicate enunciation. went so far in his predecessor's footsteps that he was captivated by the great lady and smitten with Mme. "Dear me! Chatelet was right!" Then she saw that she had made a mistake. strange things come to pass in a brief space of time. why should he not succeed in Paris? Involuntarily. and any revolution within us is controlled by laws that work with great swiftness. Mme. but another glance--bolder. it seemed as if Lucien had set himself to fulfil the predictions one by one. de Bargeton and Lucien. while the others announced the arrival of a poet. and the surest way to secure such influence was to possess the woman who exerted it. When Lucien and Mme. All Mme. His fickle nature prompted him to desire influence in that lofty sphere at once. de Bargeton's misgivings with regard to Lucien were increased by the marked attention which the Marquise d'Espard had shown to Chatelet. Every phrase was a prophecy. d'Espard with her dainty ways. he had raised the laughter that needs fresh fuel every day in Paris. Young men and men who remember their young emotions can see that this was only what might have been looked for. she could have borne his desertion with equanimity. Canalis went back to the Duchesse de Chaulieu. d'Espard grew uneasy. and leaves it stale and threadbare in a moment. The curious women learned how Mme. of such high place and high degree.Felix de Vandenesse and de Marsay took leave of the Marquise d'Espard. de Bargeton came to be there from some of the party. Mme. d'Espard at first sight. and no more was seen of him. "He never gave me such a look. the laughter that seizes upon a topic and exhausts it. with a destiny not unlike Rousseau's. Every one . de Bargeton had appeared to him in Angouleme." she thought. and waited till the end of the act. and made fun of his costume. Chatelet's sage and politic words as to Lucien. and when a woman once begins to repent of her weaknesses. He had succeeded at Angouleme. her manner towards the Baron was very different from the patronizing affability with which she treated Lucien. de Bargeton had parted with their illusions concerning each other. and saw that he found the Marquise more interesting than the opera. the luckless youth. he glanced furtively at her every moment. Young Rastignac evidently was entertaining the party. de Bargeton caught the gleam in Lucien's eyes. and the three were left to themselves again. the fragile woman so envied. the more he desired to look at her. If Lucien had forsaken her for the fifty daughters of Danaus. She grew jealous. de Listomere's box was full during the second act. to all appearance. the talk turned upon Mme. The second act began. and despite the novel counter fascination of the stage. After a revulsion of feeling such as had taken place in Mme. the longer he looked. more ardent and unmistakable than any before--revealed the state of Lucien's feelings. Vandenesse's sister. but not so much for the future as for the past. de Bargeton and Lucien. his eyes turned to the Celimene in her splendor. spoken on the way home from the Vaudeville. Mme. Mme. she sponges out the whole past. were fresh in Louise's memory. She knew that an ill-natured speech is not long in coming to the ears of those whom it will wound. appeared before the poet as Mme. and the refined tones of her voice. and went off to Mme. and. Lucien was glad when the rising of the curtain produced a diversion.

and. we will leave it. and that his coat looked like a caricature of the fashion. which was likewise true. tell me if your protege's name is really M. had as much right to the appellation of Rubempre as a Jew to a baptismal name. and said. whom she had the bad luck to have in her box. Mme. had set several boxes laughing already at the mummy whom the Marquise styled her cousin. De Marsay came back in the interval. the Marquise spoke to her cousin in a tone of suppressed irritation. Chatelet was at the back of it all." "And what was this Chardon?" "A druggist. d'Espard's expression was insolent enough. M. Lucien's father was an apothecary named Chardon. and that serious person and the young coxcomb soon informed the Marquise that the wedding guest in his holiday suit. who knew all about Angouleme. "But who was his father?" "His father's name was Chardon. "My dear child. On Monday he would hold his own with the men in the Marquise's house. put up her fan." said Anais. When the carriage was rolling along the Rue de Richelieu on the way to the Faubourg Saint-Honore. he did not think long about it." "My dear friend." Mme. and at the Marquise's forethought in having an apothecary at hand to sustain an artificial life with drugs. de Marsay brought a selection from the thousand-and-one jokes made by Parisians on the spur of the moment. de Rastignac. He discerned. uneasily. but to all outward appearance she was calm. de Listomere with him. simply because it was inexplicable. that he must put himself in the hands of an expert tailor. which was true. undismayed by the immense difficulties in the way. Lucien was surprised to the last degree by the sudden desertion. and the real author of this Punic faith. bringing M. the door closed--Madame d'Espard had taken her cousin with her. it gave a strange check to the ardent reasoning through which he advanced upon this new love. turned his head. He roused himself from these deep musings to look once more at his new idol. and saw that he was alone.of Lucien's glances roused her indignation. with his eyes fixed on the gorgeous scene upon the stage. difficulties which he saw and resolved to conquer. and at once. Yet. what are you thinking about? Pray wait till an . If you will follow my advice. I felt quite sure that all Paris could not be laughing at any one whom I took up. however. and no sooner uttered than forgotten. in bitterness of soul. "My dear. Lucien was at a loss to account for her change of countenance. d'Espard turned to Mme. He thought that his waistcoat was in bad taste. He was in despair over her sudden coldness. lost in thought though he was. he had heard a faint rustling sound. de Bargeton. and vowed that he would go the very next morning to the most celebrated artist in Paris. I do not care to stay here when wags come in in high glee because there is an apothecary's son in my box. In short. dreamed out his dream of Mme. he saw the third act to an end. de Rubempre?" "He has assumed his mother's name. d'Espard.

Lucien betook himself to Staub. and." As he walked home through the streets he thought over all that had been said by Mme. he has no breeding. Chatelet. I suppose?" added the haughty dame. d'Espard's visitors recognized him nor paid any attention to him. Next day. evidently he is neither wealthy nor noble. This young fellow is neither your son nor your lover. and I shall leave orders that he is not to be admitted under either name. de Bargeton renounced Lucien as Lucien himself had renounced her." the Marquise said quickly. If she made a _mesalliance_. and he is famous and a man of good family. "Dear cousin. memory reproducing with strange faithfulness their demeanor." continued the Marquise. and stayed there till the end. that the King alone can confer. It is his mother's name. sometimes his own thoughts." "I shall be ill. not one of Mme. The young man looks like a shopman in his Sunday suit. sometimes the sight of the house absorbed him. "you can tell him so. inquisitive glance at her cousin. watching the eddying crowd of men. secondly. their manner of coming and going." "People do not compromise me. a ghastly fear lest her cousin should learn the manner of her journey shot through her mind. the great . How came you to take him up?" Mme. towards noon. I beg of you. "How fortunate for me that I kept the little scapegrace at a distance!" thought Madame de Bargeton. the title of de Rubempre on the son of a daughter of the house. and he went back to his box. "this is the world that I must conquer. He would do the same." Mme. and the sight had stirred him to the depths." he said to himself. ensconced himself in a corner. At times he thought of nothing but the magnificent spectacle of the ballet in the great Inferno scene in the fifth act. he has a fine head. their conduct seemed nothing less than extraordinary to the provincial poet." "But you have asked him to dine with you on Monday. "So this is my kingdom. it is a piece of impudence that will meet with its desserts in society. till he felt convinced that his costume was absurd. I dare say. and has nothing to say for himself. "I am only thinking of you. dear. but just remember. "drop him.apothecary's son has made a name for himself before you trouble yourself about him. on whom he tried to hang. The Duchesse de Chaulieu does not acknowledge Canalis even now. watched him out of the corner of his eye and fought shy of him. he had seen society in Paris. Taking an illustrious name in that way!--Why. In the first place. smiling. but he seems to me to be very silly. in fact. with a keen. only to be granted to vast wealth. taking the expression in her cousin's eyes for an answer. or very powerful influence." During the interval Lucien noticed that every one was walking up and down the lobby. Lucien walked to and fro. he has no idea what to do. d'Espard said. their gestures. "Very well. I am in despair that I have compromised you. by a special ordinance. the favor would be enormous. or conspicuous services. d'Espard's courtiers.

and read the following discouraging lines:-"Mme. Lucien beheld Louise transformed beyond recognition. in short. you will make your way without charlatanism. he saw Mme. he went to the Rue Neuve-de-Luxembourg. and a celebrated bootmaker measured him for shoes and boots. There was a block somewhere in the row. "and would not be back till late. With the gift of second-sight which accompanies genius. but I am about to dress and go to keep her company. I am not feeling very well myself." "Cannot see anybody yet?" repeated Lucien." Lucien dined for two francs at a restaurant in the Palais Royal. The next day was Sunday. Lucien succeeded in obtaining a promise that his clothes should be ready in time for the great day. d'Espard is not well. of a linen-draper. All the colors of her toilette had been carefully subordinated to her complexion. and partly by virtue of cash. He found himself in the Tuileries before he knew whither he was walking. I am in despair over this little disappointment. Staub went so far as to give his word that a perfectly elegant coat. "But I am not anybody----" "I do not know. When he had satisfied all his fancies. and the carriages waited. the toilettes. Lucien then ordered linen and pocket-handkerchiefs. At two o'clock he returned once more. de Bargeton. he walked on and on. with a chasseur behind it in waving plumes and that gold-embroidered green uniform which he knew only too well." her maid said. he went further and further. she will not be able to see you on Monday. a little outfit. he went to Mme. less surprised by Albertine's answer than by a note from Mme. and found that Louise had gone out. He went to Louise's lodging at eleven o'clock. her dress was delicious. Partly by dint of entreaties. but your talents reassure me. and liveries bewildered him. he began to suspect that the chilly note was but a warning of the catastrophe to come. What were his feelings when." reported Albertine.tailor of that day. he did his best to reach the climax of dandyism. The splendid horses. her hair gracefully and ." Albertine answered very impertinently. de Bargeton and Mme. and Lucien. Following the direction of the crowd of strollers. Louise had not yet risen. d'Espard coming towards him in a wonderfully appointed caleche. He bought a neat walking cane at Verdier's. "Madame cannot see anybody yet. and a pair of trousers should be forthcoming. a stream of fine carriages went past him on the way to the Champs Elysees. a waistcoat. took the billet. Irlande for gloves and shirt studs." "And no signature!" Lucien said to himself. then unfinished. Lost in thought. "but she gave me a line for you. and went to bed early. It was a sunny day. gazing at the monuments in the Place Louis Quinze. la Marquise d'Espard. "She was dining with Mme. until he reached the Arc de Triomphe. he saw the three or four thousand carriages that turn the Champs Elysees into an improvised Longchamp on Sunday afternoons in summer. as he returned. in short.

and deliberately cut him.becomingly arranged. de Bargeton had been in his power. he went to the Rue Neuve-de-Luxembourg . waited till he came in full sight of the two ladies. at nine o'clock. that leader of fashion. d'Espard. Mme. "not money. Tilted too far to the back of the head. Mme. Lucien could recognize de Marsay and Rastignac among them. his dress elegant. displayed a little well-gloved hand without seeming to do so. de Bargeton would not see him. it was a refusal of justice. Next morning. Rage and a craving for vengeance took possession of his slighted soul. Lucien was amazed at the number of greetings received by the cousins.") "Great heavens! what am I doing here? But I will triumph. for there had been no mention of another day! The wrathful poet went towards the caleche. d'Espard to the scaffold. de Bargeton upon her transformation. it imparts a bold expression to the face. as she sat by Mme. d'Espard he had positively no existence. was well aware already of the relationship between the ladies. bring it too far forward. A little group of young men on horseback accompanied the carriage in the Bois. for Mme. the Marquise had found a cousin worthy of her. he went to Hurbain's to dine for two francs. but to be disowned by society in Paris was another thing. So her indisposition was simply a pretext for ridding herself of him. as became the most dainty of poets. but the Marquise put up her eyeglass. he could have cut her throat at that moment. d'Espard without mimicking her. it dropped in so singular a fashion that Lucien thought of the knife-blade of the guillotine. I will drive along this avenue in a caleche with a chasseur behind me! I will possess a Marquise d'Espard. he walked slowly. bowing to the prettiest women. d'Espard's side. If only he could have put de Marsay to the torture with refinements of savage cruelty! Canalis went by on horseback. it gives you a sinister look. He had been disowned by the sovereign lords of Angouleme. it has a jaunty air. and seemed to be proud of her pupil. and made them a bow. Mme." which consists in some score of salons." And flinging out the wrathful words. "Great heavens!" exclaimed Lucien. The men and women on the footways all gazed at the splendid carriage." ("No!" cried conscience. Poor poet! a deadly cold seized on him when he saw de Marsay eying him through his glass. and exactly at the right angle. If Mme. and glory means work! Work! that was what David said. There is something in the art of wearing a hat that escapes definition. she played with a tiny scent bottle that dangled by a slender gold chain from one of her fingers. She had modeled herself on Mme. was remarkable even beside Mme. This was a sentence. de Bargeton had solved this curious problem at sight. a well-dressed woman wears her hat exactly as she means to wear it. he did not know that the "all Paris. and could see from their gestures that the pair of coxcombs were complimenting Mme. in exquisite taste. with the bearings of the d'Espards and Blamont-Chauvrys upon the panels. tipped to one side. but glory. The caleche went by. "Money. and when the Parisian lion let that optical instrument fall. her hat. and now. A dainty girdle outlined her slender waist. the booby-squires by doing their utmost to mortify Lucien admitted his power and acknowledged him as a man. She had adopted her cousin's gestures and tricks of manner. d'Espard was radiant with health and grace. money at all costs! money is the one power before which the world bends the knee. he was a Fouquier-Tinville gloating over the pleasure of sending Mme.

you will always find me ready to be of use. so the two ladies. that your mother was a monthly nurse. and there found the great Staub himself. and not de Rubempre." "M. send all her letters back to her. de Marsay came to Mme. Stung to the quick. when he was alive. a charming girl. d'Espard?--please explain. and avoided him. Lucien had traveled post. gets up shirts to admiration. and you will see the world at your feet. and if I can do anything here for you. and that your sister. write your masterpieces. she will not be hostile. and the young dandy simply said that your name was Chardon. with treacherous good-nature. not so much to try his customer's clothes as to make inquiries of the landlady with regard to that customer's financial status. de Bargeton will be the more distant now because she has been friendly. de Bargeton was not at home to him." and called his customer's attention to the artistic skill with which he had brought a charming . You have genius. was an apothecary in L'Houmeau. Then you can give back the bruises which you have received. The world looks down upon you. it was M. Mme. Lucien hurried after his rival. At twelve o'clock Chatelet came out. evidently intending to shake him off by this courtesy. He went back to his inn. de Rastignac who spoke against you from the beginning. "No. But the question now for you is not how to win back Anais' friendship. "Spare me just a moment for pity's sake. if you should need her. de Bargeton brought him back from Vaudeville last Thursday in her carriage. de Bargeton. upbraid Louise for her barbarity. I will tell you of a way. try to avenge yourself. woe-begone. and Chatelet. but the porter would not allow him to go up to her rooms. and in the very place where they were given. You have shown me friendship. I have so high an opinion of your future." The elderly beau seemed to have grown young again in the atmosphere of Paris. Do not attempt to go to either house." said Lucien. They asked him about you. went out at once. But Mme. finding himself closely pursued. de Bargeton continued to receive your visits. but Lucien. and undone. You have just come from Mme. so he stayed outside in the street. thinking that your presence put them in a false position. For my own part. That is the way with women. and is just about to be married to a local printer named Sechard. She has written letters to you. Such is the world! You no sooner show yourself than it pulls you to pieces. a suburb of Angouleme. but how to avoid making an enemy of her. "Well. Mme. "M. The report had been satisfactory. do you know why the ladies left you at the Opera that evening?" asked Chatelet. Take refuge in some garret. that I have taken your part everywhere. Chardon. her cousin would have nothing to do with her. "I want just a word or two with you. come in person. and at a later time. If Mme. turned and bowed. and not only so." said the poor poet. seize on power of any kind. Staub addressed Lucien as "Monsieur le Comte. d'Espard to laugh at you with her. she will be sensible that you are acting like a gentleman. look down in your turn upon the world. looked at Lucien out of the corner of his eye. how have I fallen into disgrace with her and Mme. haggard. that your father. watching the house till noon. I now ask the most trifling service of that friendship. He bowed with frigid politeness. forgot to return the salutation.

still under the charm of provincial habits. and took up his quarters in the Rue de Cluny that same day. but before he wrote he fell to thinking over that fatal week. and for the moment he believed in chance. That evening. Had he not a volume of poems and a magnificent romance entitled _The Archer of Charles IX. He saw none of his own shortcomings. he discovered a place where he could have a furnished room for such a price as he could afford to pay. He did not tell himself that he had been the first to be faithless. and he had been but one week in Paris! Nevertheless. that women looked at him. and sat down to write to her. an idea occurred to him which threw a light on the problem of his existence at the Gaillard-Bois. there remained but three hundred and sixty francs out of the two thousand which he had brought with him from Angouleme. that for a sudden fancy he had been ready to leave his Louise without knowing what would become of her in Paris. and the sight of a graceful figure which met his eyes in the looking-glass. all her most delicate ingenuity. The next day the bootmaker. which Lucien. He grew indignant. linen-draper. she leads . and discovered that he was indebted to his landlord to the extent of a hundred francs." he said. He settled with his hostess of the Gaillard-Bois. He had his day of triumph. de Bargeton for it." Lucien brightened a little under the influences of the German tailor's joke. He asked for his account. Lucien studied the gait and carriage of the young men on the Terrasse. he was so well dressed.' and using all the charms of woman's coquetry. he made a packet of Mme. He looked so handsome and so graceful. madame. alone in his chamber. and blamed Mme._ in manuscript? He had hope for the future. instead she had ruined him. two or three were so much struck with his beauty. de Bargeton's letters. She was to have lighted his way. Vaguely he told himself that Paris was the capital of chance. paid forthwith. His removal only cost him the cab fare. The next morning was spent in running around the Latin Quarter. the card-castles which raised his wonder. he grew proud. and tailor all returned armed each with his bill. the perfect fit of his new clothes. When he had taken possession of his poor room. he worked himself into a paroxysm of rage. "A young man in such a costume has only to walk in the Tuileries. Staub promised the overcoat and the rest of the clothes the next day. in the Rue de Cluny.figure into relief. close to the Sorbonne. For a long while he looked about till. and took a lesson in fine manners while he meditated on his three hundred and sixty francs. the fine cloth. finally. After he had paid. "and he will marry an English heiress within a fortnight. he dressed and went to take a stroll in the Terrassee des Feuillants. 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. where he lived on the plainest fare. that they turned their heads to look again. and set himself to compose the following epistle:-"What would you think. laid them on the table. thinking to economize in this way. not knowing how otherwise to rid himself of them. as if he meant to leave. but he saw his present position. cost her nothing. recommended for its cheapness by David. should feign a mother's love to lead that child astray? Her fondest promises.

'He is fighting his way in the world?' . for he felt very lonely in Paris. at the cost of part of his little store. He saw the pretty rooms which David had furnished for him. she laughs You are that woman. tightens her scolding him for his home and follows her she lures him into a helpless to face the and wishes him luck. You need only tremble lest I should go astray. 'Lucien is thinking of us. I awake to find reality in the squalid poverty of Paris. I have nothing left. Yes. sometimes coaxing. If so. Lucien's thoughts went back to them at home. for you will have no part in the future towards which I go. and others bow before you.' and David answer. You might have to blush if you saw him struggling for life.him on.--When a sister shares the life of a brother who devotes himself to art. Have I not abused your goodness already? have not all of you sacrificed yourselves to me? It is the memory of the past. 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. frail skiff. When you read these words the keepsake will be in your own safe keeping. "The child has a keepsake in his hands. Alas! I pity you. I am that child. shall be shivering in the wretched garret to which you consigned me. full of the sombre dignity which an artist of one-and-twenty is rather apt to overdo. "Once you pointed out fair hopes to me in the skies." After penning this rhetorical effusion. Nothing! was not the world created from nothing? Genius should follow the Divine example. and friendless and forlorn. on your brilliant path in the great world. you may think sometimes of the child whom you thrust into the depths. think of him without remorse. I begin with God-like forgiveness. and I am beginning to fear that I shall be a great trouble to you. and chanced to recollect that once you clasped him to your breast. madame. something which might betray the wrongs done by your beneficence. and sends him forth alone and storm. thanks to you. till the child leaves his blindly to the shores of a vast sea. he saw his mother and Eve and David. but as yet I know not whether I possess the God-like power. Two or three days later he wrote to his sister:-"MY DEAR EVE. and heard their sobs over his leave-taking. that helps me to bear up in my present loneliness. so full of family happiness. Standing safe on the rock. Smiling. I whom you deserted on the threshold. hold upon him. with work as my guide. simple pleasures in the past. so that I might be with true affection again. your kindness in deserting him. you are free to forget everything. and at that he began to cry himself. Yet some pang may perhaps trouble your mind amid festivals and pleasures. and a vision rose before him of quiet. Out of the depths of his misery the child offers you the one thing left to him--his forgiveness in a last look. it is her sad privilege to take more sorrow than joy into her life. I. how my thoughts have flown to you. Shadowy figures came about him. While you pass. for you would be answerable for my sins. madame. Now that I have tasted the first beginnings of poverty and the treachery of the world of Paris. sometimes want of confidence. swift as an eagle back to its eyrie.

I do not see that I am open to attack at any point. blushing for both. you pay a halfpenny to cross the kennel in the street when it rains. until the winter begins --at least I hope not. Machiavelli wrote _The Prince_ at night. and I study. and I will be rich. you cannot go the least little way in a cab for less than thirty-two sous. the great comic Latin poet. you can dine here for less than a franc. shut in between three churches and the old buildings of the Sorbonne. my poor sister. and gave me up nine days after we came to Paris. for good here is as rare as evil ought to be. 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."My Eve. it is very bare and very dirty. now that I have renounced a world where my vanity might suffer at any moment. simply to follow her into the society to which she meant to introduce me. in the Rue de Cluny. What are they but birds in the forest? They sing. all the same. who lost an arm at the battle of Lepanto. but now I am living at the Hotel de Cluny. good and bad. was once a miller's lad._ and the _Marguerites_ no doubt. one of the poorest and darkest slums. "I have been staying in one of the best parts of Paris. and by day was a common working-man like any one else. I spend half the day at the Bibliotheque Sainte-Genevieve. yet the simplest dinner at a fashionable restaurant costs fifty francs. nature falls under the spell of their song. and helped to win that famous day. everything included. as I write. disowned me. If the present is cold and bare and poverty-stricken. You pay for everything. and no one should see them. was called a 'base-born. Mortifications and want only fall to the lot of unknown writers. I should not go far unless I knew more than I do. Mme. The great men of every age are obliged to lead lives apart. but. I pay fifteen francs a month for it. the great Cervantes. I cannot tell any one else all that has happened to me. would not see me. as soon as a man's name is known. learning all that I want to learn. he grows rich. . the blue distant future is rich and splendid. the money so hardly scraped together. And besides. I live within myself. Paris is a strange bottomless gulf. handless dotard' by the scribblers of his day. de Bargeton was ashamed of me. I think a great deal. when. Do not be in the least uneasy on my account. You shall have a great piece of news in a very few words. I am writing this letter for your eyes only. So my two hundred and forty francs ought to last me for the first four months. I have a furnished room on the fourth floor. "Plautus. For breakfast I spend a penny on a roll and a halfpenny for milk. but a fashionable tailor never charges less than a hundred francs. 'How did you spend it?' you will ask. my subsistence is secure. most great men have known the vicissitudes which depress but cannot overwhelm me. Things are not so bad as that nowadays. So at this moment I am almost happy. She saw me in the street and looked another way. there are waistcoats and trousers to be had for four francs and two francs each. My expenses every month will not exceed sixty francs. I had spent seventeen hundred and sixty francs out of the two thousand I brought from Angouleme. In a few days I have fallen in with my life very gladly. Between now and then I shall have sold _The Archer of Charles IX. 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. I begin the work that I love with daylight. and more than all.

here in Paris there is a spirit which you breathe in the air. could be had for eighteen sous. I kiss the mother and you and David more tenderly than ever. a line which rival establishments are wont to print in capital letters. to which your modern restaurant almost always has recourse. On the contrary. She did wisely when she flung me into the sea of Paris to sink or swim. respected the old exterior. which. Do not expect letters from me regularly. there is always something to see. Nor am I sorry that I left Angouleme. A woman who could behave as she behaved does not deserve a thought. "Mme. every nature finds its own nourishment. and I know how fair the harvest is that we reap in these days. Here. always supposing that I can carry out my ambitious plans. wherever you go. should read "indiscretion. There a dinner of three courses. and my heart rejoices though it is saddened for the moment. and Flicoteaux III. every literary creation bears traces of its influence. and the Rue Neuve-de-Richelieu. old-established house. I expect to buy it this day week. I repent of nothing." The name of Flicoteaux is engraved on many memories. the works of art which quicken the imagination in the galleries and museums here. "LUCIEN. nowhere else will you find great reference libraries always open in which the intellect may find pasture. the heart of more than one great man ought to wax warm with innumerable recollections of inexpressible enjoyment at the sight of the small. Good-bye my dear sister. in one half hour. Nowhere else can a writer find the living works of the great dead. a fair future spreads out before me." Flicoteaux has been nursing-father to many an illustrious name. square window panes that look upon the Place de la Sorbonne. This is the place for men of letters and thinkers and poets. Flicoteaux II. de Bargeton I do not regret. with a quarter bottle of wine or a bottle of beer. or for twenty-two sous the quarter bottle becomes a bottle. in truth. though life is hard for me just now. 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. So. the kind of advertisement which feasts the eyes at the expense of the stomach. "I saw a fine carp to-day. than you would learn in ten years in the provinces. maintaining the dingy hue and general air of a respectable. Here you beheld no piles of straw-stuffed game never destined to make the acquaintance of the spit. here you cultivate glory. And lastly.That shall be my lot. would beyond a doubt have amassed a colossal fortune but for a line on his bill of fare. something to learn. Extreme cheapness and excessive dearness--there is Paris for you. it infuses the least details. showing thereby the depth of their contempt for the charlatanism of the shop-front. being interpreted. some comparison to make. there is honeycomb here for every bee. Verily." Instead of the prime vegetables more fittingly described by the word primeval. You learn more by talk in a cafe. Life is so alarmingly rapid. Flicoteaux. no fantastical fish to justify the mountebank's remark. or at a theatre. that friend of youth. it is one of the peculiarities of Paris that one really does not know how the time goes. thus--BREAD AT DISCRETION. 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. long. it is said. the potato enjoys a privilege that women might envy. Few Parisian restaurants are so well worth seeing." Such was the plenty of the establishment. cut in four quarters. The potato is a permanent institution. Flicoteaux's restaurant is no banqueting-hall. When the whiting and mackerel abound on our shores. Flicoteaux still subsists. Beef of the feminine gender there prevails. his whole establishment. they are likewise seen in large numbers at Flicoteaux's. and the kind of salad stuff that is plentiful. There is no dawdling among the waiters. indeed. they are all busy. The furniture must have come originally from the refectory of some abbey. narrow. so shall you find it in 1840. changed them twice a week. and must be ordered beforehand. you see nothing but youth." with which other handbills made too free. he is at once aware of the fact. that is. gloomy. it is a workshop where suitable tools are provided. the idle. The fare is not very varied. and you feed as you work. Flicoteaux I. neither more nor less. that Moliere would have celebrated it if it had been in existence in his day. you see hope . but Flicoteaux II. at right angles to each other. connected the appearance of beef-steaks with a mortality among horseflesh. At that time his well-known establishment consisted of two dining-halls. only changed the serviettes of a Sunday. according to the circumstances and the temperament. Not once in thirty years shall you miss its pale gold (the color beloved of Titian). there might not be a single tuber left in Ireland. was in this case no charter to hoodwink the public. By eating your dinners at Flicoteaux's you learn a host of things of which the wealthy. where the serviettes of regular customers. every one of them is wanted. old in circulation in Lucien's time. under pressure of competition which threatened his dynasty. Every one at Flicoteaux's is young. and the failure of the beetroot crop is brought home to his mind. anxious faces are not lacking. low-ceiled rooms. The coming and going within are swift. sprinkled with chopped verdure. for there was a monastic look about the lengthy tables. and everybody gets up and goes as soon as he has finished. or pyramids of stewed prunes to rejoice the sight of the customer. made good the promise of "bread at discretion. they are not on the regular bill of fare. with its refinements and luxuries. but you would still find potatoes at Flicoteaux's. Mutton cutlets and fillet of beef at Flicoteaux's represent black game and fillet of sturgeon at Very's. Loaves of six pounds' weight. You feed there. each thrust through a numbered ring of crystallized tin plate. were laid by their places. so long as students are minded to live. 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 prevailing dearth elsewhere. and folk indifferent to the phases of Nature have no suspicion. such as you see it in 1814. when the Great Market is glutted with cabbages. A slander. with morose or cheerful industry. Flicoteaux will make a living. the young of the bovine species appears in all kinds of ingenious disguises. is directly affected by the caprices of the season and the vicissitudes of French agriculture. and although earnest faces and grave. and assure him that the word "dessert. so comically appropriate is the name. looking respectively on the Rue Neuve-de-Richelieu and the Place de la Sorbonne.

On the very first day he had noticed a table near the counter. his handsome face was somewhat worn. and showed discrimination in his selection. Here. 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. Lucien used to drop in at Flicoteaux's about half-past four. he had taken a fancy to a particular seat. having remarked the advantages of an early arrival. pointed out the table near the counter as a spot whence he could parlay with the owners of the restaurant. it is said. Like all imaginative persons. After a week's exchange of small courtesies and remarks. friendships have been made among students who became famous men in after days. His lively gestures. Friendships struck up over Flicoteaux's dinners were sealed in neighboring cafes in the flames of heady punch. Lucien's opposite neighbor was a thin. as will be seen in the course of this narrative. already it told of hopes that had vanished. Perhaps this gravity is due to the catholicity of the wine.and confidence and poverty gaily endured. and the most inquisitive regular comer could throw no light on the disappearance of such goblins of Paris. like all neophytes. leaving lines upon his forehead and barren furrows in his soul. Lucien felt drawn to the stranger by these tokens. moreover. In time an acquaintance would grow up. Flicoteaux's frequenters may recollect certain sombre and mysterious figures enveloped in the gloom of the chilliest penury. the gravity of the diners is hardly relaxed. Dress. was modest and regular in his habits in those early days at the Hotel de Cluny. intended probably for casual comers. just as Lucien had come from Angouleme. Everybody knows at once that something extraordinary is afoot: a mistress to visit. Etienne had come from Sancerre with his tragedy in his pocket. pallid youth. or some excursion into higher spheres. 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. Two years ago he had left his native place. the bill-of-fare was more varied. and occasionally curt speech revealed a bitter apprenticeship to literature. is careless. . he thought. drawn to Paris by the same motives that impelled Lucien--hope of fame and power and money. a town in Berri. as a rule. the poet from Angouleme found the first person with whom he could chat. Lucien. and then in the day of distress he could no doubt obtain the necessary credit. which checks good fellowship of any kind. The stranger's name was Etienne Lousteau. which is frittered away so soon over the difficulties or in the by-paths of every life in Paris. and regular comers in decent clothes are marked exceptions. he threw himself into his work with the first earnest enthusiasm. After the first unlucky venture in fashionable life which absorbed his capital. to all appearance as poor as himself. A sort of instinct. and there was still some chance of obtaining the dish of your choice. and chance snatches of their talk. a theatre party. or by the generous warmth of a small cup of black coffee glorified by a dash of something hotter and stronger. his sympathies went out to him with irresistible fervor. and from the faces of those who sat about it. for the two clean serviettes were unadorned with rings. bright eyes. So he took his place at a small square table close to the desk. where seeds had been sown that had come to nothing. he recognized brothers of the craft. these beings would dine there daily for a couple of years and then vanish.

On inquiry of the damsel at the counter. working them over to such purpose. devoting himself wholly to his work. and strolls for recreation along the alleys of the Luxembourg. . But. after all. cups of coffee. the project of a friendship called for mature deliberation. so that when he had made a study of prices and weighed his purse. towards midnight. and suppers played a part. the Opera-Comique relieved him of some sixty francs. so as to keep himself informed of the movements of the day. The young man became a personage all at once in Lucien's eyes. but in a little while his visits became few and far between. His reading in those days made such an enormous change in his ideas. putting him in mind of all the hopes that were centered on him. as well as new books and magazines and poetry. So in the beginning Lucien led the honest. with thoughts of the future always before him. the Vaudeville. he would lead the conversation on rather more personal topics. but these continual interruptions obliged Lucien to break the ice afresh each time. with his poetic temperament and boundless longings. his two guardian angels. cutting out whole chapters and piecing it together anew. punch-bowls. he went back to his damp. that he revised the volume of flower-sonnets. he returned to his wretched lodgings. which Lucien met with gracious smiles and amiable remarks. the Varietes. could not withstand the temptations held out by the play-bills. who finds Flicoteaux's ordinary luxurious after the simple home-fare. This obscure journalist appeared to lead an expensive life in which _petits verres_. his beloved _Marguerites_. he lacked courage to make advances to Etienne. he thought. sight-seeing. Lucien. Lucien was told that his future friend was on the staff of a small newspaper. he had used neither fuel nor candle-light. His very first researches made him aware of frightful errors in the memoirs of _The Archer of Charles IX. And he was still under the yoke of provincial creeds. and wrote reviews of books and dramatic criticism of pieces played at the Ambigu-Comique. Now. and hence his gloomy air of disenchantment and the chilly manner.Sometimes Etienne Lousteau came for several days together. he behaved like a poor child bewildered by his first experience of Paris life. and he would stay away for five or six days in succession. innocent life of the country lad who never leaves the Latin Quarter. And after dining at Flicoteaux's. chilly room to correct his work. The Theatre-Francais. Eve and David._ When the library closed. although he always went to the pit. Then he would come back. and make some effort to gain a friend so likely to be useful to a beginner. Lucien did not know that Etienne only dined at Flicoteaux's when he was hard up. of all the promises of his genius. In the early days of Lucien's life in the Latin Quarter. But this could not last. and further checked an intimacy which made little progress during the first few weeks. He spent his mornings in studying history at the Bibliotheque Sainte-Genevieve. he went down to the Passage du Commerce to see the newspapers at Blosse's reading-room. and Lucien would hope to see his poet next day. he was afraid of beginning a fresh series of blunders of which he was still repenting. rose up before him at the least approach of an evil thought. and the Panorama-Dramatique. their talk harks back to their last conversation. of the happiness that he owed to the old mother. The journalist stayed away for a fortnight. the blood surging back to his heart as he gives timid side glances to the pretty women. the Gaite. that scarce a hundred lines of the original verses were allowed to stand. And when. only to find a stranger in his place. When two young men meet daily.

the cry of "All tickets are sold!" rang not unfrequently in the ears of disappointed students. Lucien went home with downcast eyes. Thick swarming thoughts like these. Lucien was waiting for a chance--which failed to present itself. and went along. and kept him in the narrow way of toil and frugality. with whom he had made a one-sided friendship. or melancholy. The young journalist. that place of perdition where he had spent fifty francs at Very's in a single day. he did not so much as dream of the possibility of crossing the footlights and meeting them on familiar terms. and had no mind to wait until only a last few coins remained to him. soft-hearted. therefore. his good genius might have counseled him to pitch himself into the water sooner than plunge into literature. cheerful. . in spite of the smothered grumblings of more than one frenzied desire. Goods were being despatched. he made it a rule never to enter the precincts of the Palais Royal. As he made his way to the Quai des Augustins. And after waiting for two hours. He resolved to face the publishers. in this sense also the chances are in favor of the big battalions. and nearly five hundred francs on his clothes. more or less encouraging. after a profound scrutiny of the various countenances.What student could deny himself the pleasure of seeing Talma in one of his famous roles? Lucien was fascinated by the theatre. or in the doorways of the booksellers' establishments. followed by despair gave Lucien no rest. 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 perhaps fell in with one of those commonplace adventures which loom so large in a young and timorous imagination. the two Baptistes. and took alarm at the melting of his funds. and saw Fleury. and moments of belief in himself. looking into the booksellers' windows on one side and into the Seine on the other. and try also to find work for which a publisher would pay him. with his two manuscripts under his arm. Lucien had sufficient provincial foresight still left. 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. that first love of all poetic temperaments. After heart-searching hesitations. So one tolerably chilly September morning Lucien went down the Rue de la Harpe. To be a dramatic author. he espied a house where the shopmen were busy packing books at a great rate. One day Lucien counted over his remaining stock of money. Carrying prudence to an extreme. The walls were plastered with bills: JUST OUT. The men and women who gave him so much pleasure were surely marvelous beings. churlish. and. In Paris there are no chances except for men with a very wide circle of acquaintance. whom the newspapers treated with as much gravity as matters of national interest. never came now to Flicoteaux's. or Michot. chances of success of every kind increase with the number of your connections. a cold perspiration broke out upon him when he thought that the time had come when he must find a publisher. through streets lined with living attractions. and when he yielded to temptation. Talma. to be seen through the window panes. When the play was over. and belated comers were compelled to pay ten sous for a place near the ticket-office. the actors and actresses were awe-inspiring creatures.

whichever it was. looking them. printed on fine paper. a new and original idea of the celebrated Ladvocat. "Credit your account?" inquired the purchaser. he heard voices. and reading a page or two here and there. that they are!" exclaimed Lucien." returned one of the firm of booksellers' agents. perhaps!" thought Lucien." Left to himself. with bills at a twelvemonth. _French and foreign booksellers' agents_. twelve months. Anxiety sent the blood surging to Lucien's heart." said the vendor. by Victor Ducange. and suspecting that green curtains hid either Vidal or Porchon. .LE SOLITAIRE. Third edition. "Yes. Porchon. Settled at once. and amused for a couple of hours by scanning the titles of books. The placard. five volumes 12mo. He had read the names on the sign-board--VIDAL & PORCHON (it ran). "Both gentlemen are engaged. "I want to speak with M. In no long space Paris was to wear motley. as he leaning against a window. he listened to the conversation. LEONIDE. slipped past the other houses." said the man. and at last entered the shop thronged with assistants. summoned up all his courage. "No. was just beginning to blossom out upon the walls. 12 francs. by M. who evidently was selling his book." "What does that bring them in at?" "Sixteen sous less." "No. le Vicomte d'Arlincourt. "Old humbug! you would settle with me in eighteen months' time. customers. Vidal or M. by Keratry." returned Vidal or Porchon. thanks to the exertions of his imitators. my dear fellow. "I will wait. as he who had been so great at Angouleme. and booksellers--"And authors too. INDUCTIONS MORALES." "Four francs four sous?" said Vidal or Porchon. and the Treasury was to discover a new source of revenue. and give fourteen to the dozen. addressing a shopman. the poet scrutinized the packages. so insignificant of late in Paris. At last. "They are lucky. There was a pause." he said. himself into stood the "Will you take five hundred copies of me? If you will. I will let you have them at five francs. "Bills at nine months?" asked the publisher or author.

He is giving Ducange four thousand francs for two thousand copies._. "Is it an offer?" Porchon inquired curtly."You are simply cutting my throat!" said the visitor. as you know. they go as the public pleases." he said. We will keep him waiting for his settlement. (A "nightingale. It is called _The Archer of Charles IX." as Lucien afterwards learned. Vidal stared rudely at the author. After he had gone." added Vidal. sir. we only deal in . perched out of sight in the loneliest nooks in the shop. There is some one now bringing out an edition of Scott's novels at eighteen sous per volume. and----" "And that will be fifteen hundred francs into our pockets. sell the _Leonides_ for five francs net." Lucien cut Vidal short by appearing in the entrance of the den. and you want me to give you more for your stale remainders? No. The booksellers nodded slightly." the publisher answered in a piteous voice.) "And besides. "Picard is bringing out some novels. you must make it worth my while. "Yes. at twelve months. we should be millionaires.--Vidal!" A stout man." he said. we are booksellers' agents. "Two hundred of _Le Petit Vieillard de Calais_. settlement in six months." "Very well. with a pen behind his ear. If you mean me to push this novel of yours. I saw quite well that he was in a fix. but to sell them I was obliged to cry down two books which pay in less commission. is a bookseller's name for books that linger on hand. "How many copies of Ducange did you place last journey?" asked Porchon of his partner. "When we bring out a book ourselves. I propose to offer it to you----" Porchon glanced at Lucien with lustreless eyes." The stranger went out. "We are not publishing booksellers. Lucien heard Porchon say to Vidal: "We have three hundred copies on order now. thunderstruck by Vidal's confidential remark. but they don't. three livres twelve sous per copy." said Vidal. and uncommonly fine 'nightingales' they are now. gentlemen. came down from his desk. and laid his pen down on the desk. "But in a year's time shall we have placed a hundred copies of _Leonide_?" said the other voice. "I have a French historical romance after the style of Scott. my good sir. We have been promised twenty per cent on the published price to make the thing a success. "Oh. "I have the honor of wishing you a good day. "If books went off as fast as the publishers would like. addressing both partners.

" "I have a volume of poetry----" "M. and the hollow countenance of the professor of rhetoric with the sharp eyes. not without the inward trepidation which a man of any imagination feels at the prospect of a battle." said Lucien to himself. painted above it in yellow letters on a green ground. And he dived into the regions of the back shop. and shoes with silver buckles completed is costume. the stockings. and vague uneasiness of the bookseller. that your book is not a masterpiece." "M. and the watch. Iron-gray ribbed stockings. near the Louvre. one of the queer characters of the trade in the days of the Empire. with a copper key attached to it. If you had only spoken sooner. Vidal!" shouted an assistant.well-known names. when fashion required swallow-tail coats. dogmatic air. He saw the inscription DOGUEREAU. suspicious mouth. half like a tradesman with respect to the variegated waistcoat. laughing in Lucien's face. "I have made a mistake. Lucien went back across the Pont Neuf absorbed in reflection. the Catholics were supporters of absolute monarchy. In he went. and the Protestants for a republic. with scanty civility. he is in the romance line. "_Poetry_!" Porchon exclaimed angrily. The old man's head was bare. "but we only deal in books that are ready printed. quite poetically scanty. It is an attempt to set the struggle between Catholics and Calvinists in its true light. Go and see somebody that buys manuscripts. but. a competitor of Doguereau and of the publisher in the Wooden Galleries. "I don't say. a checked pattern of many colors. this rough-and-ready practical aspect of literature made an impression upon him. . all the same. Inside the shop he discovered an odd-looking old man. His waistcoat was of some cheap material. The booksellers' watch must have been the size of an onion." replied Porchon. sir. Porchon!" somebody shouted. like cotton nightcaps. Vidal fled." "But my book is very serious. it appeared that books. Doguereau?" asked Lucien. and remembered that he had seen the name at the foot of the title-page of several novels at Blosse's reading-room. and ornamented with a fringe of grizzled locks." as Porchon styled him. you might have seen Pollet. were to be regarded as articles of merchandise to be sold dear and bought cheap. was dressed half like a professor of belles-lettres as to his trousers and shoes. BOOKSELLER. There is old Doguereau in the Rue du Coq. "Old Doguereau. Doguereau wore a black coat with vast square skirts. a steel chain. which he had passed before. "For what do you take me?" he added. "M. and we only take serious literature besides--history and epitomes. From all that he understood of this mercantile dialect. He united the magisterial. and the same odd mixture appeared in the man himself. hung from his fob and dangled down over a roomy pair of black nether garments. In the Rue du Coq he stopped in front of a modest-looking shop.

" said Doguereau. I have taken the Catholic side. "I have a volume of poetry as well." "Eh! but you have ideas." Lucien. Radcliffe's style. I promise you. sir. "The rhyming fellows come to grief when they try their hands at prose. In prose you can't use words that mean nothing. a good title. ideas. just tell me your subject in a word or two. sir. I will read your book. I would rather have had something more in Mrs. conceptions." "It is a historical work." said Doguereau. I shall have read your manuscript by that time. has nothing to do with the matter. That is the kind of man for me! It is just as I said to David--talent soon makes its way in Paris. and kept the manuscript. I am coming back that very way. "My age. all unsuspicious of the idea at the back of the old man's head. Let us see now. a survival of the eighteenth century. "Where do you live? I will come and see you. sir. sir. "Ah. "Good man!" thought Lucien." and the old man handed back the manuscript. we might come to terms that very day. if you have some notion of style." Seeing his acquaintance so easy. you absolutely must say something." and the old bookseller took up the manuscript." Lucien went home again happy and light of heart." "But Sir Walter Scott. I don't ask better than to be of use to you. as he took his leave. he did not see that he had to do with a bookseller of the old school. young man. wrote poetry as well as----" "That is true. but if you are industrious. What do we want but good manuscripts?" "When can I come back?" "I am going into the country this evening. in the style of Scott. when booksellers tried to keep Voltaires and Montesquieus starving in garrets under lock and key. a man of taste who knows something. he dreamed of glory. begad! _The Archer of Charles IX. The character of the struggle between the Protestants and Catholics is depicted as a struggle between two opposed systems of government. Lucien was inspired with the unlucky idea of bringing the _Marguerites_ upon the scene. relenting. He gave not another thought to the ominous words which fell on his ear . Very well. He guessed that the young fellow before him was poor. and the art of telling a story. I shall be back again the day after to-morrow. gave his address."That is my name. sir----" he began. when he had read the address. young man." "True. in which the throne is seriously endangered. "The Latin Quarter. "So I have met with a friend to young authors._. "Oh! you are a poet! Then I don't want your romance." "You are very young. and if it suits me." remarked the bookseller.

these modest requirements. whom you resemble in more ways than one. I need not give more than eight hundred francs. I know French history.--Aloud he said: "It is a pleasure to me to see you. but when he came to look at the house." He sat down. "A young fellow that lives here has none but simple tastes. this frugality. a whole year of preparation for the work that he meant to do. he would buy the copyright out and out. he beheld himself the richer by twelve hundred francs at least. "he is fond of study. What plans he built on that hope! What sweet dreams. and settled himself in them. I will buy your romance." answered the landlady. fond of work. We may do business together. and bind Lucien by an engagement for several books. "Your romance is not bad. In the interests of us both. when he asked for M. in fact. Two days later old Doguereau come to the lodgings of his budding Sir Walter Scott. If he were to make too much money. in coin though." "Fourth floor. and surprised at the spirited imagination which a young writer always displays in the scheming of a first plot--he had not been spoiled. not paper. young man. there are some capital things in it. The destitution of genius made an impression on Daddy Doguereau. He could only stave off impatience by constant reading at Blosse's. good work is done in such rooms as these. This is how men of letters should work." said he to himself. Thus. thought old Daddy Doguereau." "No. He was about to enter the world of literature." thought he. Lucien de Rubempre. I tell you so. Twelve hundred francs! It meant a year in Paris." "Oh! sir. The room was forlorn in its bareness. Lucien came to open it. Amid such surroundings the fire of genius shines brightly. I was a professor of rhetoric once. instead of living riotously in cafes and restaurants. He had made up his mind to give a thousand francs for _The Archer of Charles IX. peering up. delighted with the strong contrasts of character sanctioned by the epoch. sir. wasting their time and talent and our he stood by the counter in Vidal and Porchon's shop. A bowl of milk and a penny roll stood on the table. the old fox thought better of it. He was struck with the pains which Lucien had taken with the style of this his first work._. I shall only offer six hundred francs. "Let him preserve these simple habits of life. lived Jean-Jacques." Lucien's heart swelled and throbbed with gladness. he would only fall into dissipated ways." thought he. saw nothing but the sky above the fourth floor. "is a good-looking lad. it would not have taken much to set him making a purchase or two. he should see himself in print at last. . You have a future before you. what visions of a life established on a basis of work! Mentally he found new quarters. The old bookseller. and then he would not work." He climbed the stairs and gave three raps at the door. one might go so far as to say that he is very handsome. "This young fellow.

and a future before you. _Malgre_ is a preposition." said Lucien. as for you. It is easier to write a romance than to find all that money. while I am obliged to disburse two thousand francs." returned his senior. I give two hundred for translations of English books. Now that I have read it I can point out a good many slips in grammar." With that he rose and took his leave. . "You have a poet's head." continued Doguereau in honeyed accents." he added." he added." said Doguereau. "In ready money. a romance in a drawer is not eating its head off like a horse in a stable. Vidal and Porchon only take them of us on conditions that grow harder and harder day by day. "If you had not something in you. "So far from finding a publisher obliging enough to risk two thousand francs for an unknown writer." "Sir." Lucien appeared to be humiliated. and he looked at Lucien with an air which seemed to betoken an effort of generosity. So you don't make a fortune by printing romances. you will be well off. _habent sua fata libelli_. "The volume?" queried Lucien. I should not have made you such a handsome offer. in a cold chill. heedless of Lucien's surprise. Before an author's first book can appear." said the old bookseller. sir!" he exclaimed. If the first book is out of print in six months. if you write two books each year. you will have lost a hundred francs. Give me back my manuscript. When you have thought over this that I have the honor of telling you. "Here it is. If we fail. You have only your time to lose. There are some authors whom I only pay three hundred francs for a romance. "I shall only give a hundred crowns. if I did not take an interest in studious youth. I beg. I have a hundred romances in manuscript. I lose two thousand francs. I will give you six hundred francs for the others. "and you shall undertake to write two books for me every year for six years. a publisher is bound to sink sixteen hundred francs on the paper and the printing of it. sir. On the threshold he said. and I have not a hundred and sixty thousand francs in my cash box."I will give you four hundred francs. you will come back to me. Such prices would have been exorbitant in the old days. you simply hurl an ode at the thick-headed public. by way of reply to a scornful gesture made involuntarily by Lucien.--_You will come back to me_!" he asserted authoritatively. A hundred francs per month! Think of it! After all. "You know nothing of business. and that's a fact. alas! I have not made so much in all these twenty years that I have been a bookseller. You have put _observer_ for _faire observer_ and _malgre que_. and requires an object. you will not find a publisher's clerk that will trouble himself to look through your screed. you see. nor will it find you in victuals either. while. "When I see you again. you will be making a hundred francs a month. "I would rather burn it. you will have a sure income. we cannot possibly come to an understanding." Lucien snatched up his manuscript and dashed it on the floor. So. "For the romance.

the incarnation of this picture. 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. You could tell from the dark bright eyes. Perhaps they never would have been brought into communication if they had not come across each other that day of Lucien's disaster. his demeanor was grave. then he went downstairs. meditation dwelt on the fine nobly carved brow. usually wore footed trousers. a dignity which made him unapproachable. . Pale-faced and slight and thin. with a fine forehead hidden by masses of black. engraved from Robert Lefebvre's picture. In the stranger student he recognized a brother in penury and hope. you would gaze long at that face. and all the subtlety and greatness of the man. and drank water. a young man of five-and-twenty or thereabouts. shoes with thick soles to them. At the Bibliotheque Saint-Genevieve. he was turning round and round in it like a lion in a cage at the Jardin des Plantes. the librarian would even allow him to take away books. The silent young man went off to the further end of the library. of power working below the surface. there was a dignity in his manner. His room was not large enough for him. as they came to know afterwards. tolerably unkempt hair. the sign by which your genuine literary worker is known. "The library is closed. were unsophisticated and shy. and you will discover genius in it and discretion. Many times already the pair had looked at each other at the Bibliotheque or at Flicoteaux's. Evidently the young man had been reading there for some time. of suppressed ambition. they look out. Study the face carefully. He gesticulated very little. a waistcoat of some gray-and-white material buttoned to the chin. I don't know why. given to fears which cause a pleasurable emotion to solitary creatures. He had the expression of a thinker. Even if the name of Bonaparte were not written beneath it. although he felt drawn to a worker whom he knew by indescribable tokens for a character of no common order. a black cravat. working with the sustained industry which nothing can disturb nor distract. The portrait has speaking eyes like a woman's. on the side at right angles to the Place de la Sorbonne. Lucien's young student." said he. many times they had been on the point of speaking. monsieur. there was something about him that attracted indifferent eyes: it was a vague resemblance which he bore to portraits of the young Bonaparte. and a cheap hat. for as Lucien turned into the Rue des Gres. That engraving is a poem of melancholy intensity. that their owner was wont to probe to the bottom of things. springing doubtless from the consciousness of a purpose that filled his life. he had come to know a stranger by sight. Lucien felt an involuntary respect for him.Lucien devoured his bread and supped his bowl of milk. craving difficulties to vanquish. Wherever Lucien saw him. careless of the fare which appeared to be familiar to him. greedy of space. he ate to live. an overcoat of coarse cloth. at the library or at Flicoteaux's. whither Lucien was going. for the librarian and attendants all knew him and paid him special attention. so clear-sighted and quick to observe. with which Lucien saw him return in the morning. but neither of them had ventured so far as yet. he saw the student coming away from the Bibliotheque Sainte-Genevieve. Contempt for superfluity in dress was visible in his whole person. and Lucien had no opportunity of making his acquaintance. Both.

"When you have come out. monsieur. He felt sure of his success. he kissed his wife. but Nature concentrated?" By this time the young men Luxembourg. Do you see that theatre?" he continued. And patience after all is a man's nearest approach to Nature's processes of creation. as you will. and unlock hearts at once when two men meet in youth. and you owe no one a penny. The King allowed the author a pension. you have a hundred and twenty francs for emergencies in your pocket. one's ideas will not flow in the proper current." remarked the stranger. and the porter. the household owed fifty francs in the Quarter to the baker." to quote a poet's fine . to a wife whom he loved.' cried he. monsieur?" "I have just had a queer adventure. and gave an account of his subsequent dealings with the old bookseller. In one month or thereabouts he had spent sixty francs on his board. the actors learned their parts. and ten at Blosse's reading room--one hundred and twenty francs in all. The author had only the strictly necessary clothes--a coat. the Odeon is on fire!'--The Odeon was on fire. you have neither wife nor child. indicating the turrets of the Odeon. the stage manager urged on the rehearsals. you can see the place from here. There are others even worse off than we are. Daniel living men of letters. 'look. He was burdened with debt. They went together along the Rue des Gres towards the Rue de la Harpe. and the story of ten or twelve hundred young fellows besides who come from the country to Paris every year. 'At last! There is nothing against us now. a waistcoat. Five several bits of luck. thirty for lodging. "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." "No. "Something seems to have annoyed you. there is fire. it is not easy to settle down to work again. He took a comedy in five acts to the Odeon. were striding along the walks of the time Lucien learned the name of the best to administer comfort." said Lucien. but he put his faith in his pen. one "a noble gift with a noble thought. the piece went through a hundred and fifty representations at the Theatre Louvois. the management arranged to bring it out.' said his wife. he expressed his thanks by one of those gestures that speak more eloquently than words. the comedy was accepted.' as Buffon said. the milkwoman. and he told the history of his visit to the Quai. On the day of the final rehearsal." said Lucien. What is Art.Tears were standing in Lucien's eyes. So do not you complain. He was married. his wife pawned her clothes. and the poorer or the richer. a shirt. five dramas to be performed in real life. they all lived on dry bread. "Your story is mine.--'Yes.--Well. by two children. That name has d'Arthez is one of the most illustrious of of the rare few who show us an example of nature combined. monsieur. and a pair of boots. monsieur. 'Genius is patience. in addition to the misfortunes which we share with him. He gave his name and said a word or two of his position. The end of their troubles was at hand. I shall go to the Luxembourg for a walk. and now he had just a hundred and twenty francs in hand. and in no long stranger who was doing his since grown famous. trousers. "As that is so. and far harder tasks than the writing of a five-act play. He drained his last resources to live until the first representation. You have clothes. The poor author lodged in a garret. twenty more francs in going to the theatre.

and opposite the fireplace there was a cheap mahogany chest of drawers. A second-hand carpet covered the floor--a necessary luxury."There is no cheap route to greatness. the greatest surgeon that the world has known. painted wooden bedstead." said d'Arthez. Come in an hour's time. picked up cheaply somewhere. and wondered to see four wax candles in the sockets. that is all. and a couple of horsehair armchairs. once endured the martyrdom of early struggles with the first difficulties of a glorious career in the same house. filled the further end of the room. if only your work was good?" "Will you look at mine and give me your opinion?" asked Lucien. Lucien to fetch his manuscript. crimson once. with an adjustable screen attached. "What is a first loss. and found d'Arthez's room. and Society rejects an imperfectly developed talent. Desplein. A great writer is a martyr who does not die. Lucien noticed an old-fashioned candle-sconce for a card-table. passes through childhood and its maladies." The poets grasped each other's hands with a rush of melancholy and tender feeling inexpressible in words. a little trait denoting great delicacy of . like Rousseau. Any man who means to rise above the rest must make ready for a struggle and be undaunted by difficulties. slander and treachery. of the kind seen in school dormitories. I shall be in. he mounted to the fifth floor. a Highland plaid pattern. Between the window and the grate stood a long table littered with papers. Add half-a-dozen rickety chairs. A common office armchair." d'Arthez continued. and you have a complete list of the furniture. D'Arthez explained that he could not endure the smell of tallow. I think of that every night. no matter how far the freaks of Fate have set you from your destined goal. like an existence in the physical world. I am living in the very room where. was drawn up to the table. "So be it. Lucien was punctual. A gaunt. a night-table. stood between the two crazy windows. "I am living in the Rue des Quatre-Vents. and the keen competition of the literary market. he had no Theresa. but now hoary with wear. Nature sweeps away sickly or deformed creatures. A staircase gradually became visible at the further end of a dark passage. The gift that is in you. The wall-paper. one of the most illustrious men of genius in our time." Daniel went on in his kind voice. "but unless you have within you the will of genius.--There is the stamp of genius on your forehead." his companion said resignedly. He noticed at once that the house was of an even poorer class than the Hotel de Cluny. with rows of labeled cardboard cases on the shelves. cushioned with leather. and effrontery and cunning. was glazed over with the grime of years. and went their separate ways." "Then do you yourself expect these ordeals?" asked Lucien. unless you are gifted with angelic patience. A bookcase of dark-stained wood. "The works of Genius are watered with tears. unless. you can find the way to your Infinite as the turtles in the Indies find their way to the ocean. for it saved firing. enveloping Lucien by a glance. The weather was cold. and his new-found friend should find a fire in his room. "Trials of every kind. Daniel d'Arthez to pawn his watch and buy a couple of faggots. and the thought gives me the stock of courage that I need every morning. you had better give up at once. the rivals who act unfairly.

but colorless in your own. as he begins. to the same idea of woman. They are. he has drawn them all from the same model. you have one great resource open to you. contrasted with sombre Calvinistic figures on a background of the times when passions ran higher than at any other period of our history. In France you have the charming sinner. of Henry IV. Be bold enough in this first work of yours to rehabilitate the great magnificent figure of Catherine. paint Charles IX. as painters say. are all alike. for instance. 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. and not as Protestant writers have made him. how could he do otherwise than produce a single type. for us as he really was. sometimes retrospectively. Ten years of persistent work. of Francis I. Lead naturally up to your dialogue." By this time it was nine o'clock. Passion gives infinite possibilities. sometimes in a side-light. foregone by the great genius for the sake of providing family reading for prudish England. comes last. to diversify your work. or perhaps it was interdicted by the hypocritical manners of his country. "You have made a good start on the right way. with long conversations to introduce your characters.. And returning continually. and the exquisite sensibility which accompanies it. "This opposition. You begin. in fact. Just put the terms of the problem the other way round. Plunge straight into the action. necessary in all work of a dramatic kind. forbearing to interrupt by word or comment--one of the rarest proofs of good taste in a listener. magnificent in Scott's work.. You may be original while adapting the Scots novelist's form of dramatic dialogue to French history. every one of them. laying the manuscript on the chimney-piece. descended from Clarissa Harlowe. Some require four or five. Then there is further scope for originality. giving us the spirit of the time instead of a laborious narration of ascertained facts. Daniel listened conscientiously. During the dinner Daniel admitted Lucien into the secret of his hopes and studies. Lucien followed the example set in secret by his future friend by asking him to dine at Eldon's.sense perception. Therefore depict passion. You would give us in this way a picturesque history of France. the brightly-colored life of Catholicism. and domestic life. he ignores passion. the houses and their interiors. Woman for him is duty incarnate. instead of diffuse dialogue. "Every epoch which has left authentic records since the time of Charles the Great calls for at least one romance. and fame and fortune will be yours. There is no passion in Scott's novels. And finally. for instance. His heroines. to which our language lends itself so admirably." d'Arthez answered judicially. as he did. with possibly one or two exceptions. Daniel . "but you must go over your work again. varied only by degrees of vividness in the coloring? Woman brings confusion into Society through passion. Treat your subject from different points of view. The reading lasted for seven hours. Give descriptions. "Well?" queried Lucien. and only when they have said their say does description and action follow. with the costumes and furniture. You can remove some of the popular delusions which disfigure the memories of most of our kings. the periods of Louis XIV. whom you have sacrificed to the prejudices which still cloud her name. vary your methods. and spent twelve francs at that restaurant..

Each one of them. a number of earnest students full of promise. and followed it out to the letter. and went with his friend every evening as far as the door of his lodging-house after sitting next to him at Flicoteaux's. not without chagrin. undertaken solely for the sake of studying the resources of language. During those early days of his acquaintance. doing just enough to enable him to live while he followed his own bent. The burning coal had been laid on the lips of the poet of Angouleme. as all young creatures hungering for affection are wont to do. Henceforward he was to be one of a little group of young men who met almost every evening in d'Arthez's room. and neither more nor less. the newcomer was at length judged worthy to make one of the _cenacle_ of lofty thinkers. a profound philosopher first. D'Arthez's revelations of himself were made very simply. but to Lucien he seemed like an intellectual giant. He called for D'Arthez on his way to the Bibliotheque. D'Arthez earned a living by conscientious and ill-paid work. he wrote articles for encyclopaedias. and in the assimilation of it all. overcome by d'Arthez without Lucien's knowledge. warm friendship for this nature. a feeling of curiosity mingling with the sense of something like pain at the ostracism to which he was subjected by these strangers. a word uttered by a hard student in Paris had fallen upon ground prepared to receive it in the provincial. like d'Arthez. He was studying the world of books and the living world about him--thought and fact. The most magnificent palaces of fancy had been suddenly flung open to him by a nobly-gifted mind. this unostentatious worth. His friends were learned naturalists. Lucien took d'Arthez's advice unquestioningly. walked with him on fine days in the Luxembourg Gardens. At these times Lucien discreetly took his leave. bore the stamp of genius upon his forehead. he would be like Moliere. Lucien set about recasting his work. After some private opposition. and a writer of comedies afterwards. who all addressed each other by their Christian names. he fastened. the distinguished provincial did. but for the solitary thinker's own satisfaction. for d'Arthez took it up or laid it down as the humor took him. political writers and artists. He had a piece of imaginative work on hand. when they left the restaurant. 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. He was engaged in ransacking the spoils of ancient and modern philosophy. dictionaries of biography and natural science. and kept it for days of great distress. like a chronic disease. that his presence imposed a certain restraint on the circle of Daniel's intimates. he began to feel a sudden. matured already by thought and critical examinations undertaken for their own sake. an important psychological study in the form of a novel. and by eleven o'clock. not for publication. upon this one friend that he had found. unconscious of its loftiness. united by the keenest sympathies and by the earnestness of their . he noticed. He pressed close to his friend's side as a soldier might keep by a comrade on the frozen Russian plains. young doctors of medicine.d'Arthez would not allow that any writer could attain to a pre-eminent rank without a profound knowledge of metaphysics. unfinished as yet. In his gladness at finding in the wilderness of Paris a nature abounding in generous and sympathetic feeling.

in his eyes. who will fling his more commonplace productions to theatrical managers. a shining light at the Ecole de Paris. in which he gave his whole attention to the drawing. but Lucien often heard them speak of this absent friend as "Louis. with a nervous organization and all that it entails of torment and delight. A few details as to the circle will readily explain Lucien's strong feeling of interest and curiosity. Joseph will send into the Exhibition sketches where the drawing is clogged with color. the last word has not yet been said concerning him. criticising. he knows how to love. He is whimsical to the last degree. for that matter. turning all systems inside out. later. He combines Roman outline with Venetian color. and keep the most charming scenes in the seraglio . or pictures finished under the stress of some imaginary woe." Several of the group were destined to fall by the way. Art was represented by Joseph Bridau. Intellectually he is akin to Sterne. the craving for perfection becomes morbid." With his eccentric. like d'Arthez. and as praise is sweet to him. His friends have seen him destroy a finished picture because. and sets the victim describing the strangest zigzags. careless of fame. and formulating." he would say. they looked upon him as their chief since the loss of one of their number. Time alone can pronounce upon the merits of his theories.intellectual life. and left the color to take care of itself. No writer of our times possesses more of the exuberant spirit of pure comedy than this poet. a mystical genius. for his honesty ennobled his mistakes. though he is not a literary worker. An intrepid toiler. none the less he is still their faithful friend. They all foresaw a great writer in d'Arthez. "it is niggling work. He is a constant disappointment to his friends and the public. he might have continued the traditions of the great Italian masters. Last among the living comes Fulgence Ridal. But for a too impressionable nature. his disgust is great when one praises the failures in which he alone discovers all that is lacking in the eyes of the public. but if his convictions have drawn him into paths in which none of his old comrades tread. yet lofty nature. one of the most extraordinary intellects of the age. he became the acknowledged head of a school of moralists and politicians. but others. it looked too smooth. great even in his errors. then a house-student at the Hotel-Dieu. There is an indescribable piquancy about his epigrams and sallies of thought. Next came Leon Giraud. This former leader had gone back to his province for reasons on which it serves no purpose to enter. If the mistress of the moment is too kind or too cruel. "It is overdone. but the uncertainty that appears in his execution is a part of the very nature of the man. yet Hoffmann would have worshiped him for his daring experiments in the realms of art. One among those who still survive was Horace Bianchon. and now so well known that it is needless to give any description of his appearance. He is eloquent. dragging them all to the feet of his idol--Humanity. have since won all the fame that was their due. one of the best painters among the younger men. but love is fatal to his work. expressing. though. The brotherhood loved him for the very qualities which the philistine would style defects. that profound philosopher and bold theorist. but sends his arrow through the brain. love not merely transfixes his heart. When Bridau is wholly himself he is admirable. genius. deranges the course of his life. a conscientious scholar. which made havoc of Joseph's heart. or character.

a great obscure politician. like great poet-comedians. His friends dubbed him the "Dog of the Regiment. His belief in the Monarchy was quite as strong as Michel Chrestien's faith in European Federation.of his brain for himself and his friends. Meyraux died after stirring up the famous controversy between Cuvier and Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire. Fulgence Ridal is a great practical philosopher. for his singing of certain songs of Beranger's could intoxicate the heart in you with poetry. poor as Daniel d'Arthez. Michel Chrestien." as he calls it) have not seared a kind heart. stands a third. Meyraux was the first. Esteem and friendship kept the peace between the extremes of hostile opinion and conviction represented in the brotherhood. He indexed lengthy works. and kept his doctrines to himself. Three more of the band. his genius for observation. Of these. it is for a friend. while Giraud himself prophesied for d'Arthez's benefit the approaching end of Christianity and the extinction of the institution of the family. who dreamed of European Federation. or love--Michel Chrestien. his contempt for fame ("fuss. Living up to his Rabelaisian mask. All who knew the noble plebeian wept for him. With these two. at least as remarkable as the friends who have just been sketched in outline. Michel Chrestien. and Michel Chrestien died for other doctrines than his own. both marked by death. with these two men of equal genius as leaders. a great question which divided the whole scientific world into two opposite camps. gained a living with the haphazard indifference of a Diogenes. 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. Indolent and prolific as Rossini. like Moliere and Rabelais. and brimful of illusions and loving-kindness." You could have no better portrait of the man than his nickname. though he never goes out of his way to find it. 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. meek as a maid. poor as Lucien. the great Republican thinker. He is as energetic on behalf of another as he is careless where his own interests are concerned. Yet the gay bohemian of intellectual life. and then declines to do anything more. as all the rest of his friends. or Weber. he is a sceptic. as the grave keeps the secrets of the dead. and unknown to-day in spite of their wide knowledge and their genius. Meyraux was the friend of that "Louis" of whom death was so soon to rob the intellectual world. ready to laugh at all things. some shopkeeper's bullet struck down one of the noblest creatures that ever trod French soil. A politician of the calibre of Saint-Just and Danton. Fulgence Ridal scoffed at Leon Giraud's philosophical doctrines. he is no enemy to good cheer. Of the public he asks just sufficient to secure his independence. a believer in the religion of Christ. fell as a private soldier in the cloister of Saint-Merri. the divine . or Rossini into ecstasies. and often remembers. he drew up prospectuses for booksellers. compelled. His worldly wisdom. but simple. and if he bestirs himself. the owner of a singing voice which would have sent Mozart. Daniel d'Arthez came of a good family in Picardy. there is not one of them but remembers. and had no small share in bringing about the Saint-Simonian movement of 1830. or hope. he is melancholy and gay. to see both sides of everything. His Federation scheme was more dangerous to the aristocracy of Europe than the Republican propaganda. the great statesman who might have changed the face of the world. and all that is to be said both for and against. were destined to fall by the way.

envy. Lucien and others admitted to their society felt at their ease in it. as every member of the circle felt that he could afford to receive or to give. the opponent would leave his own position to enter into his friend's point of view. The poet's amplitude of brow was a striking characteristic common to them all. and finally. wore off. failure. the same idea had occurred to the five. Five of d'Arthez's friends appeared one day. 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. The cold weather happened to set in early that year. There was a strange contrast between the dire material poverty in which the young men lived and the splendor of their intellectual wealth. the enemy of one was the enemy of all. They looked upon the practical problems of existence simply as matter for friendly jokes. abortive talent. The hardships of penury. for Horace Bianchon was before all things an analyst. were going their separate ways. and no sort of pretension. it was unspeakably pleasant to make one of this elect company of youth. the wit that caresses the intellect and never is aimed at self-love. All of them. overlays a youthful face with a shade of divine gold. full of charm. There is an element in friendship which doubles its charm and renders it indissoluble--a sense of certainty which is lacking in love. sparkling eyes told of cleanliness of life. and. you will find frank good fellowship and sincerity. caused by respect. With a like nobility of nature and strength of feeling. but no bickering. would prove the better helper. These young men were sure of themselves and of each other. were born so gaily and embraced with such enthusiasm. the hideous treasure of disappointment. There was plenty of discussion. All alike incapable of disloyalty. Wherever you find real talent. words light as arrows sped to the mark. When the first nervousness. All of them were gifted with the moral beauty which reacts upon the physical form. If the matter in hand was serious.lawgiver. moreover. no one made a difficulty of accepting. and mortified vanity. no less than work and vigils. 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. purity of life and the fire of thought had brought refinement and regularity into features somewhat pinched and rugged. would defend the immortality of the soul from Bianchon's scalpel. and ranging over the most varied topics. for the speakers were also the audience. was quite unknown among them. as it sometimes happens that all the guests at a picnic are inspired with the notion of bringing a pie as their contribution. they could oppose a formidable No to any accusation brought against the absent and defend them with perfect confidence. the most urgent personal considerations would have been shattered if they had clashed with the sacred solidarity of their fellowship. Familiarity did not exclude in each a consciousness of his own value. Vanity was not engaged. They would talk over their work among themselves and take counsel of each other with the delightful openness of youth. who taught the equality of men. who have not stooped to any of the base compromises wrung from impatience of poverty by the strong desire to succeed. it was possible to think and speak freely on . when they were felt at all. each concealing firewood under his cloak. Talk was unflagging. and being an impartial judge in a matter outside his own sphere. For these reasons. nor a profound esteem for his neighbor. the bright.

and reached the Rue du Coq. Joseph Bridau. and he was penniless. the gaiety of their talk. loyally helping each other. in the desert of Paris. men of vast acquirements. therefore. he was half-way through the task of recasting his work. Lucien had spent the last of his money on a little firewood. Lucien found an oasis in the Rue des Quatre-Vents. but Doguereau was out. This federation of interests and affection lasted for twenty years without a collision or disappointment. Lucien little knew how indulgent great natures can be to the weaknesses of others. natures tried in the crucible of poverty. the most strenuous of all toil. when the soul has been overwrought by the contemplation of that nature which it is the task of art to . they stood upon no ceremony with each other. This courage called out Lucien's courage. There is no other monument like it. taking first Louis Lambert. that their standard of requirements was not an easy one. too well aware of their happiness. and shrank with invincible repugnance from speaking of his straits. These men were brothers leading lives of intellectual effort.all matters of intellectual or scientific interest. and methodical as a miser. and with this intellectual freedom of the community there was no fear of being misunderstood. Daniel d'Arthez. burning blocks of spent tan. he was as sober as any elderly spinster. and facing poverty like a hero. manuscript in hand. Lucien represented beauty and poetry. he would sell _The Archer of Charles IX. and the name in large red letters--MICHEL CHRESTIEN. a grass-covered mound with a dark wooden cross above it. As you walk in the trim cemetery you will see a grave purchased in perpetuity. not even of their worst thoughts. later Meyraux and Michel Chrestien. was the rule of their daily life. making no reservations. in that chilly garret. One morning he went out. Every one of the friends had thought of the peculiar troubles besetting the poetic temperament. Death alone could thin the numbers of the noble Pleiades. So. At the beginning of October. The friends thought to pay a tribute to the sternly simple nature of the man by the simplicity of the record of his death. Leon Giraud. they were too conscious of their worth. The charming delicacy of feeling which makes the tale of _Deux Amis_ a treasury for great souls. 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. When Michel Chrestien fell in 1832 his friends went. to care to trouble their life with the admixture of a new and unknown element. and Horace Bianchon._ to Doguereau. he had only newly come into the circle. they shared their troubles and joys. and Fulgence Ridal performed the last duties to the dead. not a word of complaint came from him. And. The little group of friends present at the funeral with those five great men will never forget that touching scene. in spite of the perils of the step. Once admitted as an equal among such elect souls. Horace Bianchon. to find his body at Saint-Merri. undaunted by the difficulties. and gave thought and sympathy from full hearts. hence the honesty of their friendships. It may be imagined. the fairest dreams of friendship were realized. They admired the sonnets which he read to them. between two political fires. they would ask him for a sonnet as he would ask Michel Chrestien for a song. By night they buried their beloved in the cemetery of Pere-Lachaise. As for Daniel d'Arthez. of the prostration which follows upon the struggle.

" said Daniel. and I will contrive somehow to meet it when the time comes. You can draw on M. meanwhile.--Enclosed herewith is a bill at ninety days._ "MY DEAR LUCIEN. and works at her task with such devotion. our Paris correspondent in the Rue Serpente. "Lucien. . but he found a pamphlet to write instead for a man who has a mind to go into politics. and Fulgence's piece was given on Sunday. Keep on your way. and when we have scored ten we will----" "We have all of us found a bit of extra work. and after all the pleasant evenings spent in friendly talk and deep meditations. that I bless heaven for giving me such an angel for a wife. the confidences. dear fellow. we have absolutely nothing. 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. And strong as they were to endure their own ills. She herself says that it is impossible to send you the least help.reproduce." "Here are two hundred francs. Lucien. "for my own part. that you can hardly fail to reach the greatness to which you were born. each of whom bore the stamp of the art or science which he followed:-_David Sechard to Lucien. d'Arthez has written an article for the _Revue Encyclopedique_. yet another trait was to prove how little Lucien had understood these new friends of his. after the poetry. and counseled by Meyraux and Bianchon and Ridal. Joseph sold one or two sketches. whom we have come to know through your dear letter. and gave his employer six hundred francs worth of Machiavelli. I have been looking after a rich patient for Desplein. My good Lucien. with such great and noble hearts for your companions. had written to the home circle. they felt keenly for Lucien's distress. as well as a sharp cry wrung from him by distress. Leon Giraud borrowed fifty francs of his publisher." "Why. they guessed that his stock of money was failing. "and let us say no more about it. His letter was a masterpiece of sensibility and goodwill. if he is not going to hug us all as if we had done something extraordinary!" cried Chrestien. the bold flights over the fields of thought or into the far future of the nations. and industry." Lucien could not keep back the overflowing tears. patience. payable to your order. for two hundred francs. "You showed a want of confidence in us. "you did not dine at Flicoteaux's yesterday. "we shall chalk that up over the chimney." said Bianchon. and we know why. and there was a full house. Chrestien thought of going out to sing in the Champs Elysees of an evening with a pocket-handkerchief and four candles. paper merchant. my friend now that you are started in so promising a way. Lucien. So I have drawn this bill without Eve's knowledge." said Michel Chrestien. But I think. Metivier. Eve has undertaken the charge of the printing-house." said Daniel. aided as you are by intelligence almost divine in Daniel d'Arthez and Michel Chrestien and Leon Giraud.

sharp-beaked regret. and gives me as much help as his preoccupation allows. tell them that a mother and a poor young wife will pray for them night and morning. to thank them for their friendship for you. Our adored David is a Prometheus gnawed by a vulture. is heartbreaking to him. That should have been a crowning joy. Oh. dear. I will go to Paris. he begged me to take his place and look after the business. surely they will bring blessings upon you all. yours. Old Father Sechard will not give his son a farthing. Why. She is not worth a regret. He spends his whole time in experiments in paper-making. and our mother's. I guess. We are working like day laborers here.' David said. a haggard.--your letter made all of us cry. "DAVID. Only by the special blessing of Heaven could you have met with true friends there among those crowds of men and innumerable interests. Ah! some day I shall see your friends. she has found strength to go back to her tiring nursing. he is hoping to make a fortune for _us_. I can bear anything but the thought of you sinking into the sloughs of Paris. for we were in despair over your letter. mother will redeem them as soon as she has made a little money. leaves the printing-house more and more to me. and keep out of scrapes and bad company. Their names are engraved upon my heart. Poor mother! she has grown young again. I used to wish that there might be some devoted woman always with you. Be a worthy compeer of the divine spirits whom we have learned to love through you. she has no soul. wild young fellows and men of letters of a certain stamp. Farewell." _Eve Sechard to Lucien. the unknown great man whom I love more and more every day. of which I saw so much. noble fellow. 'My brother disappoint us in any way!' I told him.'--I gave him a good scolding. In this way we have managed to put together a hundred francs. I have been working like a man. he scarcely thinks of himself. dearest brother. it saddens me. 'I know Lucien. dear. This husband of mine. and ours. 'he will lose his head and do something rash. which I am sending you by the coach._ "DEAR.'--Mother and I have pawned a few things. even if she cared for you no longer. if I have to walk the whole way. you have sent transports of joy to my heart. David went over to see if he could borrow a little for you. I had no idea that I was so strong! "Mme. If I did not answer your last letter. As for himself. whom I learned to take at their just valuation when I lived in Paris. As for the noble hearts to whom your good angel surely led you. Have sufficient strength of mind to do as you are doing. do not remember it against me. Alas! I shall be a mother soon. 'Lucien knows that I should die of sorrow. We should be happy if it were not for these money cares. David does not know about it. de Bargeton is a heartless is rough. we were working all night just then. but it will be glorious. I did not expect such courage of you. and if the most fervent prayers can reach the Throne of God. 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. as I discover moment by moment the wealth of his nature. Your life will soon meet with its reward. but as things are. for to me the thought has been like balm to smarting wounds. but now I know that your . a second myself. Our poverty.

" said Leon Giraud." said Lucien. and assure you that you are more in my thoughts and in my prayers (alas!) than those whom I see daily." answered Joseph Bridau." said Joseph Bridau roughly." said d'Arthez." "Ah! I am afraid of that." "Oh! dear. There is a spice of vanity in Lucien." the mother wrote. "All vanity of that sort is a symptom of shocking egoism. is so great that it intrudes itself even into thy friendships!" cried Fulgence. you will be our pride as well as our beloved. "EVE." "My darling. Perhaps life had never seemed so bright to him as at that moment. "I can only add my blessing to all that your sister says. and egoism poisons friendship. for some hearts." So two days after the loan was offered so graciously. Instead of being a sophist in theory. "We should bear in mind that he did not hide it. Spread your wings. and take up a lofty position in theory. dear poet." "And why?" Lucien asked. the absent are always in the right." said Michel Chrestien. we give. and I am happy. but I am afraid that he may come to feel shy of us. and end by blameworthy actions. "We can read your thoughts." "What ground have you for these charges?" "Thy vanity. Lucien repaid it." said d'Arthez. "But do you grudge me such a very natural feeling?" asked Lucien. .friends will take my place. you will be a sophist in practice. "There is a diabolical spirit in you that will seek to justify courses which are utterly contrary to our principles. "he is still open with us. my dear great genius." "If you loved us as we love you." exclaimed Fulgence. "You will carry on admirable debates in your own mind. "Any one might think that you were afraid to owe us anything. and so it is with the heart of your mother. Lucien. but the touch of self-love in his joy did not escape the delicate sensibility and searching eyes of his friends. 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. "you cannot know how much I love you all. You will never be at one with yourself." "He is a poet. "It confirms some observations of my own. "Oh! the pleasure that he takes in returning the money is a very serious symptom to my mind.

and make up your mind to it. and as for Horace and Fulgence Ridal and Bridau. gracious Lucien whom we love . Again and again he talked of making the plunge into journalism. which he was careful to hide from such stern mentors as he imagined them to be. "this man will betray the cause of work for an idle life and the vices of Paris. His friends were right." said Michel Chrestien. and every one of us is just as poor as another. dear boy. with a charming glance at them." "We will stand by you. you don't find Rome half-way. as d'Arthez says. and the Southern temper that runs so easily through the whole gamut of mental dispositions. and they changed the subject. set him making the most contradictory resolutions." The conversation ended in a joke." he said."Don't think us unkind. Chrestien. but Lucien knew thenceforward that it was no easy matter to deceive them. and you know better than I that faults and virtues have their reverse side. tried to efface the memory of the little quarrel. Perhaps the world and its pleasures tempt you? Stay with us. "When you start out from Paris for Italy. "Bear up bravely. Very well. "You want your pease to grow ready buttered for you. can do nothing with the publishers. be Tasso without his folly. want will soon overtake me again. I cannot struggle bravely. laughing." "But what is hardship for you is death for me." "The help that I have just received is precarious. Bianchon is quite out of it. Lucien's friends. Transpose folly." said d'Arthez. We are afraid lest some day you may prefer a petty revenge to the joys of pure friendship. I confess. their work lies miles away from the booksellers. "I confess that you are stronger than I." said Bianchon. I am tired already." "Where has work brought you?" asked Lucien. Read Goethe's _Tasso_. and you will see how the poet-hero loved gorgeous stuffs and banquets and triumph and applause. "Before the cock crows thrice. "we are looking forward. the great master's greatest work. I must make up my mind one way or another. "it is just in these ways that a faithful friendship is of use. There is no help for it. instead of doing. and trust in hard work. "My back and shoulders are not made to bear the burden of Paris life. Carry all the cravings of vanity into the world of imagination." Lucien hung his head. thinking high thoughts and living beneath them. He soon fell into despair." said Joseph Bridau. at the service of the first that hires him. and let imagination run riot. We are born with different temperaments and faculties. Keep virtue for daily wear." Lucien put in quickly." "Stick by us. 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." smiled Leon Giraud. d'Arthez's booksellers only deal in scientific and technical books--they have no connection with publishers of new literature. with their perspicacity and delicacy of heart.

he would convince them of his strength of mind. like Dante. but if you were to turn spy. Why should he not do nobly that which journalists did ignobly and without principle? His friends insulted him with their doubts." But the more the set of friends opposed the idea of journalism. and opinions. you would no more think of us than the Opera girl in all her glory. no one can traverse it undefiled. The man who will say anything will end by sticking at nothing. Leon. "you have three hundred francs in hand. and then give up at once?" "Machiavelli might do so. "Very well. and could still respect you." he continued." "Oh!" cried Michel. "If you were a journalist." said d'Arthez. besides. "Not by that time. and felt but little tempted to begin a second. "We shrink from nothing. "I will show you that I can do as much as Machiavelli. You would be so delighted to exercise your power of life and death over the offspring of the brain." said Fulgence. There you have journalism summed up in a sentence. Some day. You could never resist the temptation to pen a witticism. it is bound to be inexorable when a man deliberately traffics in his own soul. 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. for a spy is systematically shameless and base. thinks of the village at home and her cows and her sabots. was he to live while he was writing another romance? One month of privation had exhausted his stock of patience." Michel Chrestien made reply. "If you were so unlucky as to kill your mistress. "You would not hold out for long between the two extremes of toil and pleasure which make up a journalist's life. you . would you not?" asked Lucien." said Leon Giraud. with her adorers and her silk-lined carriage. "you have done it. and it explains itself. I would help you to hide your crime. and intellect. --Lucien. though it should bring tears to a friend's eyes.and know. I should shun you with abhorrence. 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." "But you would be with me. Friendship can pardon error and the hasty impulse of passion. grasping Leon's hand. the more Lucien's desire to know its perils grew and tempted him. How. He began to debate within his own mind. but not Lucien de Rubempre. perhaps. and resistance is the very foundation of virtue. Journalism is an inferno. he would be of use to them. he is protected by Virgil's sacred laurel. Lucien and Leon Giraud were walking home with their friend. unless. That was Napoleon's maxim. it makes me shudder to see them." "Why cannot I turn journalist to sell my volume of poetry and the novel. I come across journalists in theatre lobbies. a bottomless pit of iniquity and treachery and lies. To be a journalist --that is to turn Herod in the republic of letters. that you would be an out-and-out journalist in two months' time." exclaimed Lucien.

consequent upon the presentiments to which men of imagination cling so fondly. "I did not come about a subscription." said the poet. half battling with their belief in them. upstairs he went. it is a child!" cried Michel Chrestien. He dressed in his best and crossed the bridges. owner of a yellow countenance covered with red excrescences. in private he tried some mental gymnastics of the kind. Before a house. in short. And I. He should meet with fellow-feeling. he arrived in the Rue Saint-Fiacre off the Boulevard Montmartre. 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. and still remain our Lucien. He was at least the equal. of the wittiest contributors. for three months I will be a journalist." "You must despise me very much. In this apartment Lucien discovered a one-armed pensioner supporting several reams of paper on his head with his remaining hand. This was an elderly officer with a medal on his chest and a silk skull-cap on his head. . corresponding to the one by which he had entered. Tormented by emotion. you will improve. thinking as he went that authors. work hard and write another romance.can live comfortably for three months. The first room was divided down the middle by a partition. forgive him. he stopped. 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. occupied by the offices of a small newspaper. he had made some study of the jokes and articles in the smaller newspapers. and below. I will sell your books to some bookseller or other by attacking his publications. and men of letters. if you think that I should perish while you escape. and read the words--EDITOR'S OFFICE. then. Looking about him. to which he owed his nickname of "Coloquinte. half believing. _No admittance except on business_. while between his teeth he held the passbook which the Inland Revenue Department requires every newspaper to produce with each issue. "O Lord. he felt. Nevertheless. and his person was hidden as completely in an ample blue overcoat as the body of the turtle in its carapace. the lower half of solid wood. you shall be a great man. the upper lattice work to the ceiling." indicated a personage behind the lattice as the Cerberus of the paper. will enter one of those _lupanars_ of thought." returned Lucien. This ill-favored individual. I will get others for you. D'Arthez and Fulgence will help you with the plot. "From what date do you wish your subscription to commence. would show him rather more kindness and disinterestedness than the two species of booksellers who had so dashed his hopes. and found the offices in the low _entresol_ between the ground floor and the first story. he saw a placard fastened on a door. you will be a novelist. very well. meanwhile. in smaller letters. and something of the kindly and grateful affection which he found in the _cenacle_ of the Rue des Quatre-Vents. sir?" inquired the Emperor's officer. his future comrades. We will organize a success. When Lucien's intellect had been stimulated by the evenings spent in d'Arthez's garret. his nose was almost hidden by a pair of grizzled moustaches. journalists. I will write the articles myself.

" he added. yes. "Now. "Ah! yes. and I have only been paid forty. and the owner." retorted he of the medal."A complaint. sir. I will go and see Etienne Lousteau. old chap." said the veteran. interspersed with caricatures at the expense of the Government. "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." said Lucien. "but you are counting the headings and white lines. I expect?" replied the veteran. the armory of the modern warrior. He saw upon the walls the portraits of Benjamin Constant. you will give a bowl of punch to your friends. and enjoyed the privilege of ridiculing kings and the most portentous events. and to divide them by the proper number for each column. my boy. an insignificant young man. General Foy. as I have been telling you. we have been hard on Mariette. mild blue in tint." "Look you here. "I will come in again at four. While the argument proceeded. "Yes. the Jew! He reckons them in though when he sends up the total of his work to his partner. I have come to speak to the editor. a sound between the mewing of a cat and the wheezy chokings of a hyena. Vernou----" "I cannot go beyond my orders. "That was still further from my intention. Giroudeau." "He doesn't pay for the blanks. but appallingly malignant in expression. and there's an end of it!" "Finot's savings will cost him very dear. two slits of eyes looked out of it. sir. and after I performed that concentrating operation on your copy. What would you have? I don't know the why and wherefore of it yet. "I make it eleven columns. would not anybody think that he was Rousseau and Voltaire rolled in one?" the cashier remarked to himself as he glanced at Lucien. and the seventeen illustrious orators of the Left. my little militiaman. that. and he gets paid for them too. was completely hidden by the veteran's opaque person. . I am ready for you." "Nobody is ever here before four o'clock. Then he sauntered along the boulevards. I have Finot's instructions to add up the totals of the lines." remarked a voice." said the contributor as he took his departure." These words proceeded from a little weasel-face. the witty paper that amused him daily. of calling anything and everything in question with a jest. pallid and semi-transparent as the half-boiled white of an egg. there were three columns less. glancing at a collection of small arms and foils stacked in a corner. looking at the turret clocks. It was an entirely novel amusement. Fifteen francs! why.--But if you want satisfaction. eleven columns at five francs apiece is fifty-five francs. or win an extra game of billiards. It was a blood-curdling voice. Lucien had been looking about him. so you owe me another fifteen francs. no doubt. he saw the hour hands were pointing to four. but he looked more particularly at the door of the sanctuary where. and only then remembered that he had not breakfasted. and so agreeable did he find it. the paper was elaborated.

--The Mont Sauvage. and a waste-paper basket on a strip of hearth-rug. with the most brilliant results." and a name. Rape of Elodie. seldom entered the room. music. Between the window and the chimney-piece stood a writing-table. and was waiting with the patience of a commissionaire. was munching a crust and acting as sentinel resignedly. and beneath it the words. but it was clean."--On a newspaper-wrapper Lucien noticed a sketch of a contributor holding out his hat.He went at once in the direction of the Rue Saint-Fiacre. The veteran officer was absent. Lucien was inspired with the bold idea of deceiving that formidable functionary. when. --The Solitary explained to savage tribes. and on the ledge below. and walked into the editor's office as if he were quite at home. sensation among the women. that journalists evidently were tired of it. Other works of art were pinned in the cheap sea-green wall-paper. for the man of . and made reflections of the most exhaustive kind upon it. a copy of the ninth edition of _Le Solitaire_ (the great joke of the moment). The work had attained to such an unheard-of European popularity. he returned to question the pensioner. A few antique newspapers lay on the table beside an inkstand containing some black lacquer-like substance. Sundry dirty scraps of paper. and a couple of candlesticks with tallow dips thrust into their sockets. The colored brick floor had not been waxed.)--"The Solitary under a canopy conducted in triumphal procession by the newspapers. evidently. together with prints. stood a shopkeeper's clock. but the old pensioner. About a score of new books lay on the writing-table. but he could not help laughing at it. the clock striking five. newly reseated with straw. the superior beauties of the Solitary produce a sensation at the Academie. snuff-boxes of the "Charter" pattern. and opened the door. he beheld a round table covered with a green cloth.--Effect of the Solitary on domestic animals. He admired a few rather clever caricatures. deposited there apparently during the day. There was a mirror above the chimney-piece. Lucien had taken stock of this strange furniture. covered with almost undecipherable hieroglyphs. Coloquinte had finished his crust. There were short curtains in the windows." --(Lucien though this caricature very shocking. since grown more notorious than famous. and a collection of quill pens twisted into stars. He settled his hat on his head. a mahogany armchair. sitting on a pile of stamped papers. the dust lay thick on all these objects.--"The Solitary makes his first appearance in the provinces. smothered with dust. "Finot! my hundred francs. amid a sprinkling of visiting-cards. Looking eagerly about him. and some ten unopened letters. These consisted of nine pen-and-ink illustrations for _Le Solitaire_. sketched on bits of brown paper by somebody who evidently had tried to kill time by killing something else to keep his hand in.--The Solitary breaks the press to splinters. so clean that the public.--The Solitary translated into Chinese and presented by the author to the Emperor at Pekin.--Read backwards. and wounds the printers.--The Solitary perused at a chateau. climbed the stair. proved to be manuscript articles torn across the top by the compositor to check off the sheets as they were set up. understanding as much or as little about it as the why and wherefore of forced marches made by the Emperor's orders. and half-a-dozen cherry-wood chairs. Coloquinte was as much accustomed to his work in the office as to the fatigue duty of former days.

sir. they would not have come over _him_ with their talk. Ribbons are in my department. is written in the street. civilly feigning concern. Ah! by the way. reappearing on the scene. and the veteran began to make up his books for the day. having caught the editor's name. just take him everything that has come in to-day when you go with the paper to the printers. Oh! he would have cleared them out with four men and a corporal. old chap. old chap. But that is enough of prattling. as he received the rest of the stamp money from Coloquinte." "Oh!" "A subscription dating from October?" inquired the pensioner. If my nephew finds it worth his while. and when Lucien. but tell me your conditions----" "I am not connected with the paper." Lucien heard a sound as of coins dropping into a cashbox. So it is all quite settled. he heard the conclusion of the matter.medals. beginning to lose patience. in the printing-office between eleven and twelve o'clock at night. and so long as they write for the son of the Other (broum! broum!) ----after all. Florentine can come to my shop and choose anything she likes. In the Emperor's time. Coloquinte. subscribers don't seem to me to be advancing in serried columns. that's where he lives. sir. I shall be delighted. sir. looking not a little annoyed." "Where is the newspaper put together?" Lucien said to himself. who perhaps was taking an airing on the boulevard. "I know why you cry up Mlle. to send off the porters. quite delighted. "I have been waiting here for an hour. "Why. you see. At this conjuncture the rustle of a dress sounded on the stair. came back to the first room. at the writers' houses. "Sir." she said. It is some time since I have seen 'them' here. while I have ideas of my own. You will say no more about Virginie.)--The newspaper. Mlle. Finot?" asked Lucien. "the newspaper?--broum! broum!--(Mind you are round at the printers' by six o'clock to-morrow. sir. Those fine fellows only turn up on pay days--the 29th or the 30th. The fair milliner and the retired military man were soon deep in converse. "I am not surprised at that." "And M. these shops for spoiled paper were not known. "And 'they' have not come yet!" exclaimed Napoleon's veteran. "The newspaper?" repeated the officer. Virginie's hats so much. and the light unmistakable footstep of a woman on the threshold. I shall leave my . It is the middle of the month. madame. "He is in the Rue Feydeau. She addressed herself to Lucien. there is no harm in that. I have. "What does the lady want to know?" asked the veteran." Lucien began. and I have come to put down my name for a year's subscription in the first place. The newcomer was passably pretty. a botcher that cannot design a new shape.

--Well. and descending the stairs. Are you going to do better? And. you can tell by the look of him that he has been in the army. for a captain of the Imperial Guard. making a lunge. clearing his throat. sir. did they talk about . that set out as a private in a cavalry regiment in the army of the Sambre-et-Meuse. the individual you saw this morning has made his forty francs a month. he is very well off. Mother Chollet. forty letters to a line.--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. What do you mean to be?" "The man that does good work and gets good pay. They all want to be marshals of France. which kind do you wish to be?" replied the trooper.--Fifty lines to a column. Take old Giroudeau's word for it. but it was only to light a cigar at the porter's box. "I am full of respect. had courage enough to make a stand. "Now writers. army of Italy! One. "From a business point of view. my little civilian. that retired with a major's rank after entering every European capital with Napoleon. you see them and take note of them. and made as if he would go out. At the foot of the flight he stopped. and turn right about. but Lucien. lastly. I vow and declare. my boy. he is on the paper. never know anything but subscribers. little youngsters whom I wouldn't take on for the commissariat. and. according to ability. my boy. "Finot is my nephew. for he makes no mistakes. and the man that had any complaints to make would be turned off into the dark. "If any subscribers come." "You are like the recruits." Lucien began. So when anybody comes to pick a quarrel with Finot. bearing down on Lucien." he said." he added. "I came to be a contributor of the paper." he added. in double-quick time. and was fencing-master for five years to the First Hussars." "You seem to know all about the newspaper. he finds old Giroudeau. he is the only one of my family that has done anything to relieve me in my position. according to Finot. he gives himself out for a literary man. there you are! As for the broum! broum!" coughed the soldier. they look down. "From three to five francs per column." "When you enlisted in the Sambre-et-Meuse." The soldier of Napoleon brushed his coat. are in different corps. he keeps an actress. he treats us to dinners. there is the writer who writes nothing. there is the writer who writes and draws his pay. swept to the door.--Simply subscribers. seeing that Lucien followed him. Captain of the Dragoons of the Guard. there are several kinds of contributors. and go and pick up nails in the gutter like that good fellow yonder. and because they make fly tracks on sheets of white paper. forsooth. two. and he is by no means the stupidest. those men of bronze----" "Well said. there is the writer who writes and gets nothing (a volunteer we call him). they are queer fish. he loafs about the theatres. he is the cleverest man on the staff. no blanks. on an old Captain of Dragoons of the Guard.

as much bewildered by this picture of the newspaper world as he had formerly been by the practical aspects of literature at Messrs. Go and see my nephew Finot. Lucien heard that Finot had just left the place. when he saw Etienne Lousteau turn the door-handle. they are. the best thing in the book. in answer to inquiries of the waitress. and throws so much light on the work of the young school of literature. one of the defenders of Germainicus. Lucien._ He reconstructed whole chapters. explain the mysteries that enveloped the paper for which he wrote. D'Arthez gave Lucien a glance of divine kindness. when Lucien made the acquaintance of Daniel d'Arthez. it seems. and walked off. which is. always on the move. Lucien was in his old place by the time that Lousteau reached the table." With that the cashier raised his formidable loaded cane.danger?" "Rather. it is setting others to write. One day it so happened that Daniel had been waiting for Lucien. He had obtained leave to lay his sonnets before the journalist. of suggested subjects. he had taken another seat at Flicoteaux's. he saw d'Arthez resting an elbow on the table in . At noon. Finot had gone out. if you can find him. In his way of business. doubtless. Ten several times did Lucien repair to the Rue Feydeau in search of Andoche Finot. as good a fellow as you will find. When Lucien came hurrying back again. That sort like gallivanting about with actresses better than scribbling on sheets of paper." "Very well?" "Very well. "It is an important question of business for me. leaving Lucien in the street. or a place on the paper. Finot had not come in. and mistook the civility of the latter for willingness to find him a publisher. and ten times he failed to find that gentleman. they soon struck up a conversation. a good fellow. Hope I may have the honor of seeing you again. Oh! they are queer customers. and told the waiter that he would dine at his old place by the counter. That youthful journalist would. and wrote the fine passages found therein. he took Daniel's hand and grasped it anew. who now sat with his friend's hand in his own. which grew so lively that Lucien went off in search of the manuscript of the _Marguerites_. as the first comer. and ways of presenting. while Lousteau finished his dinner. talking in lowered voices of the higher literature. and developing them. Vidal and Porchon's establishment. as well as the magnificent preface. it appeared simpler to waylay Etienne Lousteau at Flicoteaux's. that is. perhaps. I will tell you about it afterwards. a hundred times blessed. for he is like a fish. He went first thing in the morning. opening up. made after surmounting unspeakable repugnance. you see. At the present time Daniel d'Arthez was correcting the manuscript of _The Archer of Charles IX. at length tired out. he was breakfasting at such and such a cafe. Lucien instantly dropped Daniel's hand. began to regard Finot as a mythical and fabulous character. The glance cut the poet to the quick. At the cafe. there is no writing. Since the day. in which reproach was wrapped in forgiveness." said he. The two friends dined side by side. he greeted his acquaintance.

So it seemed to me that a volume of sonnets would be something quite new. Wherefore. the houses were all at the end nearest the Rue de Vaugirard. double-edged witticisms. and the walk through the gardens was so little frequented. being so infinitely more pliant than French. two lovers might fall out and exchange the earnest of reconciliation without fear of intruders. In the late afternoon the journalist and the neophyte went to the Luxembourg. for the language in which the Italian wrote. monsieur. "The sonnet. It has fallen almost entirely into disuse. bounded by planks and market-gardens. on a bench beneath the lime-trees. between the rising and the waning glory. he was an imposing personage in Lucien's eyes. and Lamartine the poetry of meditation. If you are eclectic. while the Liberal-Classics are for maintaining the unities. 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. that Lousteau thought it necessary to enlighten him." said he. and the result is a war with weapons of every sort. he reckoned some of the celebrities of the day among his friends. you must make your decision at once. he judged it necessary to make some sort of preface.' The divergence of taste in matters literary and divergence of political opinion coincide. my dear fellow. in the first place. The only possible spoil-sport was the pensioner on duty at the little iron gate on the Rue de l'Ouest.a corner of the restaurant. the goadings of ambition." "Are you a 'Classic' or a 'Romantic'?" inquired Lousteau. and the classical theme. Casimir Delavigne has taken tragedy. Canalis writes lighter verse. and knew that his friend was watching him with melancholy eyes. Literature is divided. "is one of the most difficult forms of poetry.' the Liberals are 'Classics. The Rue de l'Ouest at that time was a long morass. altogether. lends itself to play of thought which our positivism (pardon the use of the expression) rejects. he had his foot in the stirrup. after a two-years' apprenticeship. while Lucien untied the string about the _Marguerites_. The odd part of it is that the Royalist-Romantics are all for liberty in literature. he felt the sharp pangs of poverty. but our great men are ranged in two hostile camps. the Alexandrine. Beranger has monopolized songs. There. The Royalists are 'Romantics. was on the staff of a newspaper. you will have no one for you. and for repealing laws and conventions. subtle calumnies and nicknames _a outrance_. Victor Hugo has appropriated the old. that at the hour when Paris dines. and followed Lousteau. into several zones. So opinions in politics on either side are directly at variance with literary taste. Which side do you take?" "Which is the winning side?" "The Liberal newspapers have far more subscribers than the Royalist . No Frenchman can hope to rival Petrarch. Etienne Lousteau. Lucien's astonishment betrayed such complete ignorance of the state of affairs in the republic of letters. but he would not see d'Arthez just then. if that gray-headed veteran should take it into his head to lengthen his monotonous beat. Etienne Lousteau sat and listened to sample-sonnets from the _Marguerites_. "You have come up in the middle of a pitched battle. and ink is shed in torrents.

Lucien was accustomed to applause. the Romantics will gain the day. Have written an idyll for man's sympathies. though Canalis is for Church and King. To bring us back the flower of twenty years? Lucien felt piqued by Lousteau's complete indifference during the reading of the sonnet. THE MARGUERITE. The daisies in the meadows. still. that still as autumn reappears You bloom again to tell of dead delight. I am the Marguerite. Cast down and trodden under foot to die." he thought. and the Classics are pedants. fair and tall I grew In velvet meadows. And set his heart's desire in language plain. seeing Lucien's dismay at the prospect of choosing between two banners. He choked down his disappointment and read another. will draw a word from him. The Lover with two words my counsel prays. not in vain. Gold stamens set in silver filigrane Reveal the treasures which we idolize. My dawn. and plays. "This one. The Romantics are young men. I am the only flower neglected left. 'mid the flowers a star.and Ministerial journals. When all my silver petals scattered lie. wearied by much reading of poetry. perhaps. Lucien began to read. I thought.--Pshaw! sonnets date back to an epoch before Boileau's time. An end of silence and of quiet days. a favorite with Mme. And all the cost of struggle for the prize Is symboled by a secret blood-red stain. EASTER DAISIES. Was it because your petals once uncurled When Jesus rose upon a fairer world. prose. de Bargeton and with some of his friends in the Rue des Quatre-Vents. choosing first of all the title-sonnets. should be for ever new. For I must speak and give an answer true. And when my secret from my heart is reft. A fatal ray of knowledge shed to mar My radiant star-crown grown oracular. he was unfamiliar as yet with the disconcerting impassibility of the professional critic. But now an all unwished-for gift I rue. . In red and white and gold before our eyes." said Etienne. and patronized by the Court and the clergy. he reaches other readers." The word "pedant" was the latest epithet taken up by Romantic journalism to heap confusion on the Classical faction. They sought me for my beauty near and far. And from wings shaken for a heav'nward flight Shed grace. "Be a Romantic.

and red for beauty glows." "Have you had enough?" Lucien asked. but read us one more sonnet. "Well. the first sonnet. methought. am I not? That fact in itself is as good as praise in Paris. The rose means love. Lucien proceeded to read the following sonnet. Yet at the opera house the petals trace For modesty a fitting aureole. go on! I am listening to you. and so anxious to succeed that I can hear it without taking offence. if rightly understood. If he had come a little further upon the road. that you cannot give it up. my dear fellow. perhaps on account of its color. Lousteau's inscrutable composure froze his utterance. "Well?" asked Lucien. a scentless rose. is a betrayal of jealousy. A pure. it gave you so much trouble. THE CAMELLIA. A lily sceptreless. An alabaster wreath to lay. "What do you think of my poor sonnets?" Lucien asked. "Well. . by sun and wind unwooed. In Nature's book." the other answered abruptly enough. The second and third smack of Paris already. Seems to expand and blossom 'mid the snows. Lucien read with more confidence. coming straight to the point. with a gesture that seemed charming to the provincial." replied Lucien. "Go on. Encouraged by the request. was evidently written at Angouleme. he would have known that between writer and writer silence or abrupt speech. But this strange bloom. no doubt. For dainty listlessness of maidenhood. from its involved style. choosing a sonnet which d'Arthez and Bridau liked best. "Do you want the truth?" "I am young enough to like the truth. sweet spirit in the violet blows. Etienne Lousteau was gazing at the trees in the Pepiniere. my dear fellow. 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. under such circumstances." he added. the poet looked up at his Aristarchus. but not without despair. and outspoken admiration means a sense of relief over the discovery that the work is not above the average after all. And bright the lily gleams in lowlihood. but his heart was dead within him.At the end.

no fragrance shed Within my cup of Orient porcelain. And. with a plentiful stock of illusions. and was wearing them out). enlist if you happen to have a taste for military music. that is. You have the stuff of three poets in you. so your _Marguerites_ will remain demurely folded as you hold them now. poor boy. but they nearly all of them come down at last to the banks of the Seine. They will never open out to the sun of publicity in fair fields with broad margins enameled with the florets which Dauriat the illustrious. bespattered by every passing cab." Etienne said. "I say nothing as to your verses. the _Inspirations_. and straight. fretty. No flower so glorious in the garden bed. Get a situation of any sort or description.THE TULIP. a fess azure. be a shopman if your back is strong enough. and to take your pens for toothpicks. the hymns. and songs. purpure. I strongly recommend you to put your ink on your boots to save blacking. I am the Tulip from Batavia's shore. Elegant 'nightingales' of that sort cost a little more than the others. at the mercy of every profane hand that turns them over to look at the vignette on the title-page. or. But Nature. all the nestfuls hatched during the last seven years. And tall. the king of the Wooden Galleries. My long and amply folded skirts I wear. "My dear fellow. . it would seem to be your intention to coin money out of your inkstand. "My dear fellow. The fingers of the Gardener divine Have woven for me my vesture fair and fine. they are a good deal better than all the poetical wares that are cumbering the ground in booksellers' backshops just now. and odes. The thrifty Fleming for my beauty rare Pays a king's ransom. Run errands for a bailiff if you have the heart. if you intend to live on the proceeds of your poetry. woe is me. thick with dust. the lofty flights. There lie their muses. in fact. 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_. you have access to no newspaper. but before you can reach your public. as it seemed to him. gravely surveying the tips of Lucien's boots (he had brought the pair from Angouleme. and pure my petal's core. I came to Paris as you came. so that when you come away from Flicoteaux's you can swagger along this picturesque alley looking as if you had dined. "You know nobody. Of threads of sunlight and of purple stain. because they are printed on hand-made paper. and ballads. like some Yolande of the days of yore. you will have time to die of starvation six times over. scatters with a lavish hand for poets known to fame. And from your too unsophisticated discourse. when that I am fair. "Well?" asked Lucien after a pause. O'er-painted with the blazon that I bear --Gules. immeasurably long.

and all in pure waste. "Willy-nilly. party against party. or you will be abandoned by your own party. ugly as they always are. A piece of mine was accepted at the Theatre-Francais just as I came to an end of it. I did not see the social machinery at work. I will not tell you all the advances I made. you must take part in a terrible battle. I am allowed to write for and against various commercial articles. Then it grew plain to me that journalism alone could give me a living. Cephalic Oil. In short. for a paper belonging to Finot. make war you must. And where and how am I to gain my bread meanwhile? "I tried lots of things. Pass over the insults I put up with. the hard facts of poverty. struggles which leave you disenchanted. in spite of yourself. almost _gratis_. A facetious notice of a Carminative Toilet Lotion. The next thing was to find my way into those shops. even now. Finot once satisfied. the public does _not_ see the preparations. that some second-rate writer is a genius. there is still time. the painted supers. the leading lady a fistula where you please. and I traffic in tribute paid in kind by various tradesmen. for a livelihood. "Do you know how I make a living?" he continued passionately. and reviewers' copies of books. book against book. the practical difficulties of the trade. or Brazilian Mixture brings me in twenty or . In my enthusiasm (it is kept well under control now). The public in front sees unexpected or well-deserved success. and chains. _Pate des Sultanes_. I wrote a novel. anonymously.impelled by irrepressible longings for glory--and I found the realities of the craft. that stout young fellow who breakfasts two or three times a month. man against man. then your piece would be played to-morrow. and passions. and depraved. so I had to learn to see it by bumping against the wheels and bruising myself against the shafts. when as a fact I attracted them. and the soubrette has foul breath. I who speak to you now. At the Theatre-Francais the influence of a first gentleman of the bedchamber. the actors only make concessions to those who threaten their self-love. my first ebullition of youthful spirits. and applauds. would not be enough to secure a turn of favor. the stage carpenters. as I learned. at the Cafe Voltaire (but you don't go there)." Etienne's eyes filled with tears as he spoke. and he did not make very much out of it himself. and all that lies behind the scenes. If it is in your power to spread a report that the _jeune premier_ has the asthma. I live by selling tickets that managers give me to bribe a good word in the paper. At this moment I am doing the plays at the Boulevard theatres. Now you are about to learn. the _claqueurs_ hired to applaud. for it often happens that you put forth all your strength to win laurels for a man whom you despise. old Doguereau gave me two hundred francs for it. and maintain. as I do. that between you and all these fair dreamed-of things lies the strife of men. And they are mean contests. "There is a world behind the scenes in the theatre of literature. You need so many to back you. You are still among the audience. I will say nothing of the six months I spent as extra hand on a paper. and necessities. shall be in a position to exercise such power. before you set your foot on the lowest step of the throne for which so many ambitious spirits are contending. nor how often I begged in vain. I do not know whether in two years' time. and do not sell your honor. and wearied. Abdicate. or of a prince of the blood. "The little stock of money they gave me at home was soon eaten up. and was told that I scared subscribers away. and that systematically.

I shall be on the staff of a leading newspaper. directly with the prospectuses. I stand treat all round. And lastly. I will run down work which is good. The amount of my income varies. Finot.--every one who comes even thus far is the hero of a dreadful Odyssey. And I was a good fellow. and he grasped Etienne's hand in his. I can sell a novel for five hundred francs. that is to say. therefore. and the very best thing of all. my dear fellow. from their point of view. or fame. every man is corrupt or corrupts others. and I am beginning to be looked upon as a man to be feared. Do not imagine that things are any better in public life. and my heart was clean! I used to dream lofty dreams of love for great ladies. a minister or an honest man--all things are still possible. and on that day. money pours into my pockets. When prospectuses break out like a rash. commercial. "I am obliged to dun the publishers when they don't send in a sufficient number of reviewers' copies. Canalis and Nathan are two dissimilar cases. or comes into fashion. and the publisher is stingy with copies. "And I had a great tragedy accepted!" he went on. and it costs more in consequence. is criticism which draws down a reply. "Actresses will pay you likewise for praise. but the wiser among them pay for criticism. If a book of capital importance comes out. I ply my trade among ideas and reputations. When trade is dull. things never fall out in the same way twice. is based upon controversy. There is d'Arthez. "Outside the world of letters. "And among my papers there is a poem. The craft is vile. and the pair went up and down the broad Avenue de l'Observatoire. Brilliant portents rise above the mental horizon through a combination of a thousand accidents. There is corruption everywhere in both regions. Celebrity. I am not sure what I shall be when that time comes." Etienne Lousteau continued. if a bookseller declines to send a copy of a book to my paper. my dear fellow. Florine will become a great actress. I shall have a _feuilleton_. I shall be in a house of my own. and I must have two to sell. or renown. which will die. forgotten as soon as read.thirty francs. If there is any publishing enterprise somewhat larger than usual afoot. As for me. I dine at Flicoteaux's. "not a single creature suspects that every one who succeeds in that world --who has a certain vogue. as if their lungs craved ampler breathing space. but I live by it. the trade will pay me something to buy neutrality. or gains reputation. with an expression of despairing self-condemnation dreadful to see. To be passed over in silence is what they dread the most. as editor. and so do scores of others. instead of living with Florine at the expense of a druggist who gives himself the airs of a lord. I am a hired bravo. appropriates two and sells them. who . queens in the great world. and dramatic." He raised his humiliated head. and looked out at the green leaves. conditions change so swiftly that no two men have been known to reach success by the same road. Some day. his life is made a burden to him. it is far more effectual than bald praise. I make some fifty crowns a month. as I know. literary. 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). and--my mistress is an actress at the Panorama-Dramatique." Lucien was moved to tears. The journalist rose to his feet.

treating or ill-treating them as she pleases. despoiled. An angel. who has liveried servants and a carriage. for me not so very long ago. "This so much desired reputation is nearly always crowned prostitution. returning to heaven inviolate of body and soul. Some surmount the obstacles. he has not give me so much as a five-franc piece. rare as love in love-making." he added. what with biographical notices. penny-a-lining. It is always the same old story year after year. and to the poor and honest girl who lives a life of exile in the outskirts of the great city. The experience of the first man who told me all that I am telling you was thrown away upon me. pointing to the great city seething in the late afternoon light. or the _Debats_. rare as fortunes honestly made in business. she comes to lie at the last. there is lucky literature. and scraps of news for the papers. soiled. they are found but seldom in the country that lies at our feet. the same. and in the other a flaming sword. at the request of a jealous comrade. at a sign from a publisher. and I am her bully. indeed. ambitious boys.knocks himself to pieces with work--he will make a famous name by some other chance. the _Quotidienne_. and the heart that Princess Tourandocte of the _Mille et un Jours_--each one of them fain to be her Prince Calaf. some into the trench where failures lie. He has not taken me on as his collaborator. Ah! and for yet others. the same eager rush to Paris from the provinces. The life is crushed out of the grubs before they reach the butterfly stage. One by one they drop. polluted. the flaunting. 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_. rare as the journalist whose hands are clean. "They pick up a living. the poorest kind of literature is the hapless creature freezing at the street corner. and mine no doubt will be wasted upon you. whose hearts are still warm under the snows of experience. something akin to the mythological abstraction which lives at the bottom of a well. some again into the quagmires of the book-trade. for you to-day--she is a white-robed angel with many-colored wings. these beggars. A vision of d'Arthez and his friends flashed upon Lucien's sight. I . insolent courtesan who has a house of her own and pays taxes. but I hold out a hand to grasp his when we meet. on a pauper's bier. and these forget the misery of their early days. or (as not seldom happens) simply for a dinner. number of beardless. second-rate literature is the kept-mistress picked out of the brothels of journalism. who advance. Yes. but Lousteau's appalling lamentation carried him away. head erect. lastly. As for the men whose brains are encompassed with bronze. not to say a growing. unless. bearing a green palm branch in the one hand. who would sooner take the rubbish that goes off in a fortnight than a masterpiece which requires time to sell. I. But never a one of them reads the riddle. and made appeal to him for a moment. "They are very few and far between in that great fermenting vat. who receives great lords. They live by shame and dishonor. earning every penny with a noble fortitude and in the full light of virtue. They become booksellers' hacks for the clear-headed dealers in printed paper. and forgotten. who am telling you this. some into the mire of journalism. and can afford to keep greedy creditors waiting. 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.

You hear the groans of anguish from a man wounded to the heart. Corinne or Clarissa. your gold and purple for your characters." . instead of acting. Rene or Manon. I have seen an editor drop his hat and Merlin pick it up. he has been a 'nightingale. believe me." "And why?" Lucien. The more mediocre the man.' ironically so called. will relax when you see that a man holds your future in his two hands. and he is at work on our little paper as well. The fellow was careful never to give offence. in literature you will not make money by hard work.cannot help myself. put up with any treatment. to set it forth for the world in passion and sentiment and phrases. asked. How can you afford to wait until the day when your creation shall rise again. he is writing political articles already for a Right Centre daily. "if you have anything in you. The austerity of your conscience. and tenderness of your nature at every dip of the pen in the ink." Lousteau answered coolly.--You will think that there is some lurking jealousy or personal motive in this bitter counsel. crying like a second Job from the ashes. "I may want to put a dozen lines into his _feuilleton_ some day." returned Lousteau. from the very beginning: when will his Easter come? Who knows? Try. the better his chance of getting on among mediocrities. after all. the most brutal bookseller in the trade is not so insolent. "In short. you have authorized the existence of beings styled Adolphe. sold. and flatter all the little base passions of the sultans of literature. so hard-hearted to a newcomer as the celebrity of the day. when a word from such a man means life to you. he can play the toad-eater. we are the bricklayers. indignantly. betrayed. "Then." said Lucien. the second crushes the life out of you. To do really good work. raised from the dead--how? when? and by whom? Take a magnificent book. A newspaper proprietor is a contractor. I am sorry for you. the war will know no truce. and you will see some queer things. There is Hector Merlin. that is not the secret of success. and sure am I that in one or two years' time you will be what I am now. 'Behold my sores!'" "But whether I fight upon this field or elsewhere. rejoicing in that. you will love and hate and live in your books. sap. and slipped into the thick of the fight between rival ambitions. For. but it is prompted by the despair of a damned soul that can never leave hell. rivaling the State Register. my boy. my dear fellow. clear as yet. fight I must. means that you will draw out the energy. to find somebody bold enough to print the _Marguerites_. but simply to print them. It is as if I saw in you the self that I used to be. swept away into the back waters of oblivion by journalists. and buried out of sight by your best friends. the first shows you the door.--No one ventures to utter such things as these. when you shall have spoiled your life and your digestion to give life to that creation. and then. be sure of this. _Obermann_ is a solitary wanderer in the desert places of booksellers' warehouses. and you yourself are walking the streets of Paris in rags. then you shall see it slandered. and he will not say that word. while the writer of books dreads a possible rival. who came from Limoges a short time ago. the _pianto_ of unbelief. when you shall have reserved your riches for your style. The bookseller sees a possible loss of money. not to pay for them. you will sing songs instead of fighting. to begin with. the best chance of success lies in an empty head. the point is to exploit the work of somebody else. you will write. Yes.

"Bring your manuscript with you. We will sup with my mistress and several friends after the play. and to one or two journalists. I am living on the fourth floor above the Cafe Servel. and hoped to attach him to himself." "I shall remember this day as long as I live. editor and proprietor of my paper. and sure. a very elegant pair adorned with tassels. had cost him forty francs. Nor did he know that he was standing at the parting of two distinct ways. a perilous path. not on Florine's account.' Well. then. moved Lucien quite as deeply as d'Arthez's grave and earnest words on a former occasion. as he described the war of letters. his courage blazed up. so you can change your coat. The first way was long. he felt that he could wield it. He wore his best tightly-fitting. and call for me. Lucien went back gaily to his lodgings. fine. The bent of Lucien's character determined for the shorter way. following upon the poet's passionate outcry. "Good!" said the other. for the like of us. They looked as though they belonged to him. come properly dressed in fact. In his youth and inexperience he had no suspicion how real were the moral evils denounced by the journalist. his inconstant mind discerned a new weapon in journalism. but he had learned by this time how to wear his clothes with a better grace. You still mean to go on. 'Time is a great lean creature. For one moment he stood silent. His boots. fell upon Lucien's spirit like an avalanche.The fierce tirade. Chance is a great lean creature. enlisted him as a recruit. Finot will be there. so he wished to take it. He grasped Lousteau's hand. He was as careful over his toilet as on that former unlucky occasion when he occupied the Marquise d'Espard's box. We will go to Dauriat's first of all. and must be tempted. every leader needs men. As Minette says in the Vaudeville (do you remember?). At this moment he saw no difference between d'Arthez's noble friendship and Lousteau's easy comaraderie. His thick. Lousteau.--There is a first-night performance at the Panorama-Dramatique. and a dress-coat. light-colored trousers. "one more Christian given over to the wild beasts in the arena. represented by the brotherhood upon one hand. among muddy channels where conscience is inevitably bespattered. the second beset with hidden dangers. The relative positions of the two were similar--one hoped to become a corporal. He was dazzled by the offers of this new friend. How should he know that while every man in the army of the press needs friends. it doesn't begin till eight. my dear fellow. who had struck a hand in his in an easy way. and journalism upon the other." The comrade's good-nature. I will introduce you to one of the kings of the trade to-night. do you not? Very well. honorable. and left a sense of glacial cold. which charmed Lucien. but for the booksellers' benefit. and be careful of your dress. as he felt the terrible stimulating charm of difficulty beginning to work upon him. for you cannot count that dinner as a meal. and to snatch at the quickest and promptest means." said Lucien. and the apparently pleasanter way. "I will triumph!" he cried aloud. Rue de la Harpe. seeing that Lucien was resolute. golden hair was scented and . The prospect of entering at once upon the strife with men warmed him. the other to enter the ranks. between two systems. delivered in every tone of the passionate feeling which it expressed.

an open door at the end of a long. staying no longer than he could help. Never did a more beautiful youth come down from the hills of the Latin Quarter. A brace of pistols. scarcely fit for the shabbiest lodging-house in the street.crimped into bright. crossed under a wire mask. for his shirt collar was hidden by a velvet stock. completed the inventory. and the most curiously bare apartment imaginable. A young man's poverty follows him wherever he goes--into the Rue de la Harpe as into the Rue de Cluny. cheap carpet lay in wrinkles at the foot of a curtainless walnut-wood bedstead. a Carcel lamp. we hold the house-warming this evening. longing. rippling curls. There the portress gave him some tolerably complicated directions for the ascent of four pairs of stairs. and a stray razor lay upon the mantel-shelf. Glorious as a Greek god. The dirty. he discovered. coiled pocket-handkerchiefs. "This is my kennel. a box of cigars. the filbert nails were a spotless pink. into d'Arthez's room. Poverty in this case wore a sinister look. and a table littered with papers and disheveled quill pens. hung in the windows. 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. yet everywhere no less the poverty has its own peculiar characteristics. filled with odds and ends of no value. on the chimney-piece. he probably meant to change his linen at Florine's house. into Chrestien's lodging. for Etienne made a joking remark to cover the nakedness of a reckless life. not without difficulty. while he remained. some one came hither to sleep and work at high pressure. He paid careful attention to his almost feminine hands. while a sordid array of old boots stood gaping in another angle of the room among aged socks worn into lace. and cravats that had reached a third edition. dark passage. He was trying to renovate his hat by an application of the brush. Three chairs and a couple of armchairs. A scarlet tinder-box glowed among a pile of books on the nightstand. and in another moment made the acquaintance of the traditional room of the Latin Quarter. and the white contours of his chin were dazzling by contrast with a black satin stock. and reached the Cafe Servel at a quarter to seven. dingy curtains. I appear in state in the Rue de Bondy. but Lucien would not heed it. All the books had evidently arrived in the course of the last twenty-four hours. Lucien took a cab. . due to the idiosyncrasies of the sufferer. Provided with these instructions. hung against a panel. Florine's gift. Self-confidence and belief in his future lighted up his forehead. Add a forlorn-looking chest of drawers. and there was not a single object of any value in the room. had so far escaped the pawnbroker. The room. to be out and away. in the new apartments which our druggist has taken for Florine. a pair of foils. in short. was a journalist's bivouac. begrimed with cigar smoke and fumes from a smoky chimney. his coat was buttoned up to his chin. and the list of furniture was almost complete. cheerless room told a tale of a restless life and a want of self-respect. A shabby. In one corner you beheld a collection of crushed and flattened cigars. shirts which had been turned to do double duty." Etienne Lousteau wore black trousers and beautifully-varnished boots.

He will go a long way if he does not throw himself into the river. his collar . He is a poet. Poetry is not wanted on the Quais just now. a young man who eyed Lucien curiously. he is going to cut out Canalis."Let us go. by Victor Ducange." Barbet made a close survey of edges and binding. a beginner in the same style." remarked Barbet. Finot has been paid for two reviews that I am to write for him. the shape that Providence takes when he manifests himself to poets. and Beranger. "it would be to give up poetry and take to prose. you owe me fifty francs. "Here am I. the fashionable bookseller of the Quai des Augustins." As he spoke. a marvel. You are going to behold Dauriat." Barbet's shabby overcoat was fastened by a single button. "Not yet. a novelist highly thought of in the Marais. "There are two copies of _Travels in Egypt_ here." asked Lucien. the marine store dealer of the trade. "One can see that the gentleman has not the misfortune to be a literary man. there will be play. 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. just out. "Brought the money with you?" "Money? There is no money now in the trade." said a voice like a cracked bell. "Oh! they are in perfect condition. and even so he will get as far as the drag-nets at Saint-Cloud." retorted the other. Total. _Item_ a couple of copies of a second work by Paul de Kock. _Item_ two copies of _Yseult of Dole_." said Lousteau. my dear fellow. so is the Paul de Kock. so they say. "_Imprimis_. the Norman ex-greengrocer. and Delavigne. Barbet--no." Lousteau continued. and in any case I must have gloves. "No. _Item_ two works. stared at Lucien. perhaps. then he looked at Etienne and chuckled. so is the Ducange.--Come along. in profound astonishment." said Lucien." "But. a charming provincial work. my little Barbet." cried Lousteau. a great poet." said he. "The _Travels_ are uncut. so is that other thing on the chimney-piece. I have not a farthing. the two new friends heard a man's step in the passage outside. I am waiting for a bookseller to bring me some money. swarming with woodcuts. "how are you going to write your reviews?" Barbet. "Now you will see." "If I had any advice to give the gentleman. sure to sell. _Considerations on Symbolism_. old Tartar!" shouted Lousteau. one hundred francs. the pawnbroker. "There he is. I will throw that in.

and could not make up his mind to buy the manuscript. to all appearance. Barbet was the type of bookseller that goes in fear and trembling. Good-nature was not wanting in the round countenance. and issued thence on his rounds among journalists. Two or three times already he had allowed a good book to slip through his fingers." returned Barbet in a familiar tone. haggle over the price of some work in demand. and paper is not gold. such as the _Child's History of France_. never snuffed for fear it should burn too quickly. "you would see an oak counter from some bankrupt wine merchant's sale. heaven only knows where they go. He had a liking for small speculations. he never went back to him--he feared to be caught in his turn. Now. it cost him nothing. he had money saved. He had been an assistant until he took a wretched little shop on the Quai des Augustins two years since. but there was likewise the vague uneasiness habitual to those who have money to spend and hear constant applications for it. and shuffles his feet. he paid cash and took off the discount. and he could not help smiling as he drew it out of his pocket. he kept his hat on his head as he spoke.was greasy. "Well. Trade is dull. and hawks his books about himself. "shall we go on with our business?" "Eh! my boy. I thought that you would be wanting me. but he sells them somehow. and pay him with his own bills instead of cash. Yet. for books of a popular kind which might be bought outright for a thousand francs and exploited at pleasure. he nibbled at their invoices whenever he thought they were pressed for money. the authors had come and gone a score of times while he hesitated. turning to his friend. then the next day he would go to the publisher. When reproached for his pusillanimity. he would discount a bill given by a publisher at fifteen or twenty per cent. he wore low shoes. he had a keen eye for business. buying up free copies cheaply. authors. he knew instinctively where every man was pressed. and gets paid for them. with its two slits of covetous eyes. "I have six thousand volumes of stock on hand at my place. "I will take your old books off your hands. he had had just enough education to make him careful to steer clear of modern poetry and modern romances. for I am not fond . I had not a penny. and printers. By that anomalous light you descry rows of empty shelves with some difficulty." said Barbet. makes deductions. _Book-keeping in Twenty Lessons_. making in such ways some ten or twenty francs daily. Just look about you! there are no more books there than I have here. like a cabman on the box. an open waistcoat gave glimpses of a homely shirt of coarse linen. and had brought him in two or three thousand francs. he was plain-dealing and easy-natured. lives on bread and walnuts. and slaps his chest." "Here is a bill at three months for a hundred francs. Barbet was something of a scholar. who could not tell what to make of him. Nobody could guess what kind of shop he keeps. An urchin in a blue blouse mounts guard over the emptiness. and blows his fingers." said Lousteau. he was wont to produce the account of a notorious trial taken from the newspapers. and when he had fleeced a man once. and I made a bill simply to oblige you." "If you went into his shop. as the old bookseller said. I can't pay cash any longer. sales are too slow." said Etienne. you see. rarely puts his name to a bill. and _Botany for Young Ladies_. Barbet was the terror of printers. making darkness visible. his business shrewdness was so well wadded round with fat. my dear Lucien. If an author was in difficulties. filches little profits on invoices. and a tallow dip.

he should have written about art. I am going to put you in the way of a bit of very good business. all the same. now." "But I want gloves. as I will prove to him in a column and a half.of giving my signature. I shall say that the writer may have mastered the dicky-bird language on the flints that they call 'obelisks' out there in Egypt. take the lot and give me forty francs. we are weary of politics--politics . "Nothing." said Lousteau. "Stop. let us be off. Then the critic bewails himself." "So you want my thanks and esteem into the bargain. he ought to have interested himself in the future of Egypt. interlarded with diatribes on Marseilles. and the best method of strengthening the bond between Egypt and France." said Barbet." "But suppose that he had taken that view. and I found eleven slips in grammar. fumbling in his pockets. "but I will accept your esteem. "Twenty at the very most! And then I may never see the money again. proof before letters and after letterpress." he added. to teach you to rob me in this fashion"). what would you do?" "Oh well. worth eighty francs. and described the picturesque aspects of the country and the local color. There was something to lay hold of in _Hippocrates refusing the Presents of Artaxerxes_. Come. who are refusing the extravagant gifts of Parisian satraps. "But how about your reviews?" said Lucien. You are plundering me. and the perfumers will be base enough to decline your paper. in the progress of civilization. eh? Just the thing to suit all the doctors. "Here they are. As for the _Travels in Egypt_. you have an ascendency over me----" "Come. for I have written a pretty droll article upon it. but she may yet attach the country to her interests by gaining a moral ascendency over it. "Where are your twenty francs?" asked Lousteau." "_Forty francs_!" exclaimed the bookseller. I don't know that I have them. France has won and lost Egypt. A fine engraving. Politics are intruded everywhere. the Levant and our trade." said Lousteau. emitting a cry like the squall of a frightened fowl. and taking up Lucien's manuscript. Then some patriotic penny-a-lining. "My word. "Pooh! you do not know how reviews are knocked off. you young Shylock. he drew a line upon it in ink under the string. as they rolled away to the Palais Royal. I looked into the book here and there (without cutting the pages). do you?" "Bills are not met with sentiment. I shall say that instead of giving us the natural history and archaeology. I should say that instead of boring us with politics. there is a superb engraving in the top drawer of the chest there. "Have you anything else?" asked Barbet. he added for Lucien's ear." Etienne continued ("in which you shall lose a thousand crowns. but he cannot write in his own." responded Barbet. You will find two or three dozen novels underneath it.

she gives me a synopsis. So your book is sealed. as it is called. the space upon which it now stands was covered with booths. who dilate upon fishing. Then the two friends entered the Wooden Galleries. This is not useless to you for the experiment that you propose to make. When a novelist bores her with 'author's stuff. pervious to the weather. that is all that he wants. wooden dens. If Dauriat reads your manuscript. or. 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. is that perfectly unintelligible scientific information. and ask the publisher for another copy. used to reign in state. The great dreary. mysterious. The centre row. and derived a dubious daylight through the invariably dirty windows of the roof. "My dear fellow. The Galleries. with small. which he sends forthwith." said Lousteau. I treat the work respectfully. and I take her opinion and put a review together. the critic's sacred office?" cried Lucien. he certainly could not tie the string and leave it just as it was before. so to speak. pointing to the manuscript of the _Marguerites_. remembering the ideas instilled into him by the brotherhood. like the youngsters who make the round of half-a-score of publishers before they find one that will offer them a chair. giving him three francs--a piece of prodigality following upon such impecuniosity astonishing Lucien more than a little." Lucien's experience confirmed the truth of this particular. PART II The Wooden Galleries of the Palais Royal used to be one of the most famous sights of Paris. delighted to have a favorable review. and make transcripts from the log." "Goodness! and what of criticism. like all that is profound.on all sides. And another thing: please to observe that you are not arriving quite alone and without a sponsor in the place. That is enough of the craft. as yet was not. but so thronged were these hives. giving back and front upon the Galleries. the fascination of steering between two rocks. and all the things that those who never will travel ought to know. I should regret those charming books of travel that dwelt upon the difficulties of navigation. spacious Galerie d'Orleans. was filled with the fetid atmosphere of the place. "I have put ink on the string and paper. Mingle this approval with scoffing at the travelers who hail the appearance of a bird or a flying-fish as a great event. to be more precise. and dimly illuminated on the side of the court and the garden by borrowed lights styled windows by courtesy. and incomprehensible. Florine is the greatest novel reader alive. but more like the filthiest arrangements for obscuring daylight to be found in little wineshops in the suburbs. that rents were . Where. Lousteau paid the cabman.' as she calls it. where fashionable literature. now listen! Do you see that mark?" he continued. were formed by a triple row of shops. "criticism is a kind of brush which must not be used upon flimsy stuff. fascinating. you ask. Some description of the squalid bazar will not be out of place. or it carries it all away with it. As for novels. parallel passages about twelve feet in height. that flowerless hothouse. the delights of crossing the line. The reader laughs.

the fetid. upon either side. amid wild mirth and a babel of talk. you trod the natural soil of Paris. the booths of a country fair. called "The Glass Gallery" to distinguish it from the Wooden Galleries. disreputable approaches might have been there for the express purpose of warning away fastidious people. in the Palais. 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. and. You discovered a knot of ribbon adorning a green tuft. that Chevet laid the foundations of his fortunes. Public opinion was manufactured. heterogeneous placards. the window-panes incrusted with deposits of dust and rain. unblushing haunt. to protect the crazy plastered walls from continual friction with the passers-by. and reputations made and ruined here. the general air of a compromise between a gypsy camp. as at the present day. you entered them through the two peristyles begun before the Revolution. and left unfinished for lack of funds. the mean-looking hovels covered with ragged placards. here. but in place of the handsome modern arcade leading to the Theatre-Francais. of blistered paint. There was a passage through the centre of the Galleries then as now. ill-smelling garden. a grotesque combination of walls of plaster patchwork which had once been whitewashed. and only after some practice could you walk at your ease. 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. you passed along a narrow. augmented by importations brought in upon the boots of foot passengers. natural flowers competed unsuccessfully for an existence with odds and ends of millinery. you stumbled among hills and hollows of dried mud swept daily by the shopman's besom. All the roofs of the hovels indeed were in very bad repair. for here in this shameless. For twenty years the Bourse stood just opposite. on the ground floor of the Palais. 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. the green trellises were prodigiously the dingier for constant contact with a Parisian public. an immense amount of business was transacted between the Revolution of 1789 and the Revolution of 1830. and as much as a thousand crowns was paid for a space scarce six feet by eight. and the temporary structures that we in Paris build round about public monuments that remain unbuilt. Here. the dahlia admired afar proved on a nearer view to be a satin rosette. so ill-roofed that the rain came through on wet days. and gained the day and a considerable sum. strange freaks of vegetable life unknown to science grew amid the products of various no less flourishing industries. Handbills and ribbon streamers of every hue flaunted gaily among the leaves. In a few square feet of earth at the back of the shops. and were covered on that side by a slight trellis-work painted green. just as political and financial jobs were arranged. the grimy unfinished walls. People made appointments to meet in the Galleries before or after . The outer rows gave respectively upon the garden and the court. and all the most unaccountable freaks of Parisian squalor. the grotesque aspect of the mart as a whole was in keeping with the seething traffic of various kinds carried on within it. disproportionately lofty passage.excessively high. The Palais seen from the court or from the garden was a fantastic sight. at all seasons. So. It was in this last-named passage. The treacherous mud-heaps. and covered here and again with a double thickness of tarpaulin.

" The showman at the door never admitted one person alone. 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. laughter was multiplied. on showery days the Palais Royal was often crowded with weather-bound capitalists and men of business. so that from within you could look out upon either side through gaps among the goods displayed or through the glass doors. On what heads would those dusty bonnets end their careers?--for a score of years the problem had puzzled frequenters of the Palais. a little carelessness might have set the whole quarter blazing in fifteen minutes. for the plank-built republic. Saleswomen. and. Here were ventriloquists and charlatans of every sort.'Change. after the fashion of market-women. who made free use of her eyes and tongue. and remarks upon the passers-by. the whole place rang from one end to the other with the dispute. about this point was strangely resonant. until the day when the whole strange colony perished under the hammer of Fontaine the architect. As for the centre row. The galleries were decked out in all the colors of the rainbow. politics. you confronted a great looking-glass. waylaid the feminine foot passenger with cunning importunities. each on a separate iron spit with a knob at the top. and a voice. a shop-girl. 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. But it was in the passage known by the pompous title of the "Glass Gallery" that the oddest trades were carried on. displayed apparently for advertisement rather than for sale. Admittance. every shop was open back and front like a booth in a country fair. if two men quarreled. and haunted by too inflammable human material. and the inscription in red letters: "Here Man may see what God can never see. and ventilated at times by a thorough draught. but vivacious. Sometimes several thousand copies of such and such a pamphlet by Paul-Louis Courier would be sold in a single evening. and formed a sort of brigade for the prevention of fires among themselves. The milliners' windows were full of impossible hats and bonnets. suddenly spoke as if some spring had been touched. "You see . The structure which had grown up. with glances. and prose. the tradesmen were fain to use charcoal chafing-dishes. sat outside on a stool and harangued the public with "Buy a pretty bonnet. When Lucien made his first appearance in the Wooden Galleries. towards nightfall it was filled with women of the town. Once inside. nor more than two at a time. no one knew how. dried by the heat of the sun. 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. indeed. usually plain-featured. In the daytime milliners and booksellers enjoyed a monopoly of the place. some few of the shops boasted proper fronts and handsome windows. was bedizened with muslin and paper and gauze. two sous. and sights of every description. Here dwelt poetry. a revolving sun in a blackboard. but these in every case looked upon the court or the garden. As it was obviously impossible to kindle a fire. which might have terrified Hoffmann of Berlin. from the kind where there is nothing to see to panoramas of the globe. new books and classics. and using much the same language. madame?--Do let me sell you something!"--varying a rich and picturesque vocabulary with inflections of the voice. Booksellers and milliners lived on terms of mutual understanding.

Of a morning the galleries were empty. too. The murmur of voices. But the poetry of this terrible mart appeared in all its splendor at the close of the day. such as _Smarra_ or _Pierre Schlemihl_. took the opportunity of turning over the pages of the books exposed for sale on the stalls outside the booksellers' shops. There was something indescribably piquant about the anomalous assemblage. the hum of the crowd. you were obliged to buy it. as in a procession or at a masked ball. Impecunious youth. Women of the town. views of Constantinople. hungering after literature. It was an appalling. the fantastical head-dresses. men came in from the Bourse. and in this way a duodecimo volume of some two hundred pages. for which reason novels of the early part of the century were sold in numbers which now seem well-nigh fabulous to us. 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. the hair crimped and curled like a poodle's. your like. at three. there were fruit and flower shops." And out you went. and a famous tailor whose gold-laced uniforms shone like the sun when the shops were lighted at night. the most insensible of men . or smoothed down in bandeaux over the forehead. and performing dogs who would pick you out the prettiest woman in the company. and deserted. There was something very French in this alms given to the young. marionettes. The bodices cut extremely low both back and front. gay scene. designed to attract notice. the close-fitting white stockings and limbs. generally speaking. the public cynicism in keeping with the haunt. or _Jean Sbogar_ or _Jocko_. automatic chess-players. but always at the right moment--all this poetry of vice has fled. too shamefaced to confess to your stupidity. Circulating libraries were not as yet. hungry. the men in charge charitably allowed a poor student to pursue his course of free studies. Nobody objected to the slowness. crowded the place. or in the corresponding space of garden. The license of question and reply. gentlemen. it facilitated examination. that is to say. crying up the merits of The dazzling white flesh of the women's necks and shoulders stood out in magnificent contrast against the men's almost invariably sombre costumes. You saw gentlemen and celebrities cheek by jowl with gallows-birds. This was _the_ Palais. Here. God has not His like. could be heard even in the middle of the garden as a sort of droning bass. a word which used to signify the temple of prostitution. The women dressed in a way that is never seen nowadays. taking away her prey whithersoever seemed good to her. starved intellect. Towards two o'clock in the afternoon the Palais began to fill. which paid for the right of exposing women dressed like princesses under such and such an arch. if you wished to read a book. interspersed with _fioriture_ of shrill laughter or clamor of some rare dispute. the shopkeepers chatted among themselves. A woman might come and go. is now unknown even at masquerades or the famous public balls. So great was the crowd attracted thither at night by the women. might be devoured in a couple of afternoons. but the Wooden Galleries were the common ground of women of the streets. revealed it would not be easy to say how. Thither came prostitutes from every quarter of Paris to "do the Palais. Voices issued from every narrow doorway. and Paris. here a cap from the Pays de Caux. that it was impossible to move except at a slow pace. flocking in and out from the neighboring streets. something that God can never see through all eternity. were allowed to make a promenade of the Wooden Galleries." The Stone Galleries belonged to privileged houses. and there a Spanish mantilla. dark.

it is agreed that we are to push Paul de Kock. who opened up the paths in which his rival was to shine. Lousteau drew Lucien into the shop. that." said his friend. I would give you your money's worth. What do you want with Dauriat? Oh. You must rate Paul de Kock above Ducange. "If you were as good-looking as yonder young fellow. paper-dealers. that his poetry had proved too great a temptation to some author's honesty. what is it. and designers were catechizing Dauriat's assistants as to present or future business. "he is talking with Felicien Vernou." "But I have a piece on with Ducange at the Gaite. and immediately opposite another bookseller. Dauriat has taken two hundred copies. "Very well. tell him that I wrote the article. Dauriat's shop stood in the row which gave upon the garden." he said. and the second room was his private office. and when the squalid wooden erections were finally taken down. Dauriat's establishment was divided into two parts. and Victor Ducange is refusing to give him his next. and turning." said Lousteau. Importuned by glances and white-rounded contours." "Sold it to Braulard?" "Well. Dauriat. It can be supposed that . Ladvocat's. 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. a bold and youthful pioneer. now forgotten. He soon lost the guide who befriended him. Lucien slunk through the crowd like a blind man's dog. dazzled by the audacious display of bared throat and bosom. "There! that is Finot who edits my paper. old boy. his shop was simply a great trade warehouse. when some one caught him by the arm. Ladvocat the bookseller had opened a shop but a few days since in the angle formed by the central passage which crossed the galleries. following the stream in a state of stupefaction and excitement difficult to describe. who has abilities. "I have disposed of the box. but the little wretch is as dangerous as a hidden disease. on this first visit to the Wooden Galleries. so much so." "Well." a woman said. what then? You will get a seat. "I felt sure that you would find your way here at last. sir!" he exclaimed. great and unanimous regret was felt." said Finot. Lucien. there is a first night for you. Printers. on the opposite side. was bewildered by a sight which no novice can resist. he gripped his roll of manuscript tightly lest somebody should steal it--innocent that he was! "Well. thinking.felt its charm. he says. Dauriat wants to set up another man in the same line. he recognized Lousteau. looked out upon the court. coming up with Vernou. pointing out Lucien to an old man. until the very last moment. The poet was standing in the doorway of a shop crowded with persons waiting for an audience with the sultan of the publishing trade. and if I did.

we have sworn an eternal friendship. at Florine's. "You are very witty. "Come and have supper with us at midnight. a little old fogy named Cardot. old man. and you toned it down. "That is not all. "We are celebrating Florine's house-warming with a supper to-night. and his son-in-law Camusot. and nodded slightly to Vernou. "let me have ninety francs for this individual." "What is on foot?" asked Finot. lost not a syllable of the conversation." Blondet returned gravely." said the newcomer. Lousteau?" "Yes. and he will owe you thanks. Gabusson. you know. "and du Bruel. you are treating us all.I wrote a slashing review. my friend. "Oh!" said Finot." said Lucien. with an apparent effort of memory." Lucien had flushed red to the tips of his ears." said Lousteau." said Lousteau. ." "Then we shall have some fun. Florine and Matifat the druggist. and Lucien. with a shrug of the shoulders. "I don't thank you.--Fill in your name." Etienne continued. with articles revealing capacities of the very highest order." Lousteau signed his name while the cashier counted out the money. I have taken it upon myself to introduce this gentleman to Dauriat. all eyes and ears." said Lucien. "Is he coming. handing Barbet's bill to the cashier. who had made his first appearance in the _Journal des Debats_. gave a hand to Finot and Lousteau. Blondet tapped on the window above Dauriat's desk." remarked Vernou. or he would have hidden his manuscript in the loneliest spot in his dwelling. the author who gave Florine the part in which she is to make her first appearance. monsieur. "But who is going to be there?" "Oh. "A volume of poetry." "Ah! yes. Just at that moment a good-looking young man came into the shop." "Couldn't you get Dauriat's cashier to discount this bit of a bill for a hundred francs?" asked Etienne Lousteau." he added. "Very good. and----" "Does your druggist do things properly?" "He will not give us doctored wine. looking at Lucien as he spoke. and Finot. and you must incline his ear to listen to us." said Finot. "Your acquaintance cannot have had much to do with publishers. The newcomer was Emile Blondet. "Here.

" "That's right. my friend. addressing his protege. and in spite of his look of fierce pride he was almost humble to Blondet. and set up a rival to the _Minerve_ and the _Conservateur_.--Lousteau. made a deep impression on Lucien's mind. so unmistakably an artist. will you?" added Nathan. "What is he doing?" asked Blondet of the head-clerk. Dauriat was bringing out a second edition. neither did Finot. Nathan. Blondet did not remove his hat. and our turn would not have come." "Is he going to pay well?" "Only too much--as usual. old man. then in the prime of his youth. I am delighted to avail myself of an opportunity yielded by chance----" ("He is so nervous that he is committing a pleonasm. The appearance of this odd and extraordinary looking being. the deuce you have. "Monsieur. They are afraid of him.--"Ah. Just as he spoke another young man entered. you are on the way to a great future. . and I'm delighted to make your acquaintance. Dauriat will fawn upon him. who rose to bid him good-evening." he added. and Vernou. and he is on the _Debats_! He is one of the princes of criticism. monsieur. came up to the group of journalists. Will you do me the honor and the pleasure of dining with me to-morrow? Finot is coming. whom as yet he only knew by sight. and the _Conservateur_ is too blindly Romantic. "That young fellow is hardly any older than you are." said Blondet. and then we can put in a word about our business with the pasha of vignettes and type." said the cashier. hat in hand. you will not refuse me." Lucien and Lousteau followed Blondet. The crowd of people waiting to speak with Dauriat is growing bigger every moment. "He is buying a weekly newspaper. with an air of patronage scarcely masked by good-nature. Dauriat?" "I am at your service. "You have talent." said Felicien in an aside to Lousteau. "That is Nathan. turning again to Blondet." Lousteau said in his ear. and stood in a knot at the back of the shop. Eymery has rather too much of his own way in the _Minerve_. "you will carry on the line of Dussaults. I shall not seem to be courting power. no. Finot." "No. Half the success of my book is owing to you. this was the writer of a magnificent novel which had sold very rapidly and met with the greatest possible success." "Now that your review has appeared. we can feel at ease. my dear fellow. He wants to put new life into it.) "----to give expression to my gratitude for the splendid review which you were so good as to give me in the _Journal des Debats_."Is your business likely to keep you long." said Lousteau. shaking Etienne by the hand. Otherwise we might have waited till eleven o'clock.

painted to resemble marble. for preventing him from plunging into the arena. looked round the crowded shop despairingly." said Blondet. humiliating Art. poverty-stricken and shy. and mine. you have written a great book. asked to speak with Dauriat. whose name and importance were both unknown to him. de Canalis. Nathan's abject attitude before this critic. Dauriat was hoping to publish a . felt a nervous tremor that was almost like fear. and went out saying. stupefied Lucien. "I should be a Blondet at this moment!" he exclaimed within himself. Politics and literature seemed to converge in Dauriat's shop." Lucien felt like an embryo among these men. Scarce a minute passed but some young author. Claude the _Journal tremendously Geoffrois! Hoffmann was talking about you to a friend of Vignon. and Lousteau had uttered the cry of a wounded eagle. Only a little while ago they had sat looking out over Paris from the Gardens of the Luxembourg. his pupil. Byron stood there. upon my word. "But you write political articles. he said that he could die in peace. "I will come back again. and that the fragile clue of an uncertain friendship was his sole guide to success and fortune." "And brought him in fifteen hundred francs. Nathan. The weekly newspaper for which Dauriat was in treaty was licensed to treat of matters political. Lucien realized the fact that he was unknown and alone. He noticed a group of busts mounted on wooden pedestals. and the provincial took a terrible lesson to heart. He had seen a great poet prostituting his muse to journalism. Lousteau performed the part of cicerone to admiration. till a paper was a piece of property as much in demand as a theatre. and the critic has only written a review of it. don't you?" asked Nathan." "A hundred francs a column. like yours. came in. and read a hundred before you find one worth interesting yourself in. One of the largest shareholders in the _Constitutionnel_ was standing in the midst of the knot of political celebrities." said Lousteau for Lucien's benefit. and Goethe and M. They ought to pay you well. He blamed the kind and loyal little circle for painting the world for him in false colors. he had reverenced the author as an immortal. and the poet. Money! That was the key to every enigma. and now he had shrunk to scarce visible proportions." Two or three politicians were chatting over the convocation of the Chambers and public business with a group of well-known public men. "Poor pay when one is obliged to read the books. and the number of newspapers suffered to exist was growing smaller and smaller. with every sentence he uttered Dauriat rose higher in Lucien's opinion. The really important man for him at this moment was the fashionable bookseller. "How if I should come to behave as he does?" he thought. "Yes. pen in hand.Fievees. "Is a man obliged to part with his self-respect?--Pray put on your hat again. by whom all these men lived. Your work gave me pleasure." These thoughts set the blood tingling in his veins. now and again. he had admired Nathan's book. as woman was humiliated and prostituted in those shameless galleries without. des Debats_ would live forever. manuscript in hand. then Lousteau had been a great man in Lucien's eyes.

Jay." said Dauriat. "Why not the people out there in the street?" asked Dauriat. Theodore Leclercq." "'Tis an idea." and extended a hand royally to Nathan with a friendly nod. and that is over the mark. "I thought you had more tact. children. which even Finot did not permit himself to use in reply. Lousteau." said Blondet. It will be a kind of local branch of the Academie. "----and Nathan. and Claude Vignon. and a permanent secretary to draw up the minutes for me. "Well. mellowed by an air of good-nature which deceived superficial observers. I have eleven hundred manuscripts submitted to me at this moment. Felicien Vernou. with numbered counters for those who attend. "Twelve thousand. lowering his voice. and a committee to vote on their merits. Listen to me. children. and----" "And why not Lucien de Rubempre?" the provincial poet put in boldly." said Blondet. "Another piece of business. my boy. Dauriat." said a voice. with a puffy face that suggested a Roman pro-consul's visage. He began to see how large a part this Dauriat would play in his destinies. The provincial poet felt his shirt wet with perspiration when the formidable sultan looked indifferent and ill pleased. "Will you take a third at forty thousand francs?" "It's a bargain. scowling at the author of the _Marguerites_. if you will take Emile Blondet here on the staff. my boy!" exclaimed Dauriat. "Are you going to take any partners?" inquired Finot. "I have brought this gentleman to you. "One moment. and his courage ebbed. here am I. ." Lucien watched this Dauriat. the proprietor of the only weekly paper in the market. with an insolent glance. a paper with two thousand subscribers!" "Old joker! The registered number is seven hundred. on his entrance into the shop. who addressed Finot with the familiar tu.--"To whom have I the honor of speaking?" he added. and a short. then raising it again. the estimation in which he was held by the trade. Unconsciously Lucien's own self-esteem began to shrink. and waited impatiently for him to appear. while Finot is thinking over your proposals." he added. I have eleven hundred manuscripts on hand." he added. "Why. who might see. Scribe. "That depends. who called the redoubtable Blondet "my boy. I shall soon be obliged to start a department to keep account of the stock of manuscripts. Jouy. as you know! Yes." concluded Finot. stout man appeared. "Well. and the Academicians will be better paid in the Wooden Galleries than at the Institut. and a special office for reading them. on my sacred word of honor--I said two thousand for the benefit of the printers and paper-dealers yonder. gentlemen. ask Gabusson." said Lousteau.volume by the last-named poet.

Blondet had gone down tremendously in his opinion since he had heard the amount given by Dauriat for the articles in the _Debats_." he said. clapping Lucien on the shoulder with odious familiarity. I can push a business of a hundred thousand crowns. "That is not my affair. "If anybody comes here with manuscripts. and there is no opening for them as bootmakers. With my influence and the articles which I secure. instead of a single volume involving a couple of thousand francs. looking daggers at this handsome young fellow. I speculate in literature. 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. nor bailiffs. and you will find gold in torrents. Dauriat turned to Gabusson with a gesture worthy of Talma."A bad idea. nor domestic servants. which cost me five hundred----" "But if all booksellers talked as you do." he continued. "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 has not brought in a thousand yet. nor corporals. "It is a volume of magnificent poetry. I have made three great men in the last two years. I should have to shut up shop. and if he says poetry." At that word. besides a dinner. how could a man publish his first book at all?" asked Lucien. or _Memoires sur la Revolution_. "I do not publish books for amusement. addressing Lucien's protector. "What is it about?" he continued. "Gabusson. "from this day forward. I have doubled the prices of manuscripts. and three assistants at once emerged from among the piles of books at the sound of their employer's wrathful voice. and to find it for men with distinguished names. books that bring in a fortune. I deserve the gratitude of literature. but to make money. as to make a success with the _Theatres etrangers_. If I am not exactly a Maecenas. "If I were to talk to all the authors who have a mind that I should be their publisher. and lo and behold three examples of ingratitude! Here is Nathan talking of six thousand francs for the second edition of his book. my friend. I am not here as a stepping-stone to future fame. nor risk two thousand francs for the sake of seeing my money back again. who was smiling pleasantly at him. Nobody comes here until he has made a name for himself! Make a name for yourself." The terrible Dauriat's gorgeous raiment seemed in the provincial poet's eyes to add force to the man's remorseless logic. all of you?" he broke in upon himself. I should pass my time very agreeably no doubt. The manuscripts for which I give a hundred thousand francs pay me better than work by an unknown author who asks six hundred. looking at the finger-nails of a well-kept hand." said Dauriat. nor officials. I paid a thousand francs for Blondet's two articles. just as Panckouke does and the Baudoins. I am giving you this explanation because you are a friend of Lousteau's my boy." added Dauriat. which cost me three thousand francs in reviews. Nobody does." returned Dauriat. except in classical tragedies on the stage. sir. but the conversations would cost too much. _Victoires et Conquetes_. "ask him whether it is poetry or prose. show him the . and publish forty volumes of ten thousand copies each. when anybody begins to talk of works in manuscript here--Do you hear that. I am not rich enough yet to listen to all the monologues of self-conceit.

" cried the chorus of journalists. trample his watch under his feet. You ask Gabusson! There may be immortal poets somewhere in the world. and descriptive poetry after the pattern of the younger men who discovered Delille. I will read them. and yet he felt consumed by a fierce desire to catch the bookseller by the throat. I know _this_: there are a thousand volumes of manuscript poetry going the round of the publishers at this moment. looking at Lucien. "What do you mean?" "Just what I say. I know of some that are blooming and rosy. Dauriat. a . there are only four poets --Beranger. and Victor Hugo. and Beranger have done by their success." Lucien felt that he lacked the courage to hold up his head and show his spirit before all these influential persons. "What is this after all?" he asked. Casimir Delavigne. and literature breeds the publisher. stories in verse that begin in the middle. Dauriat burst out laughing. with a regal gesture that marked the full extent of the concession." said Lousteau. "You have no idea. "A volume of sonnets that will put Petrarch to the blush." "And the journalist. Verses mean reverses in the booktrade. Casimir Delavigne. and tear him in pieces. young man. "Very well. Lamartine." said Lousteau. holding up the manuscript. "If these sonnets of yours are up to the level of the nineteenth century. like _The Corsair_ and _Lara_." "If he has brains to equal his good looks. you will run no great risks." answered Lousteau. I will make a great poet of you. of the amount of harm that Byron. They set up to be original. as for Canalis--he is a poet made by sheer force of writing him up. There is no virtue but has a vice to match." said Dauriat. Victor Hugo." remarked one of the greatest public speakers of the day. who were laughing with all their might. to break the gold chain that glittered on the man's chest. I have lost twenty thousand francs through poetry in the last twelvemonth. gentlemen. Lamartine. Poets have been swarming like cockchafers for two years past. and indulge in stanzas that nobody can understand." he continued. striding about his shop with Lucien's manuscript in his hand. things that nobody can make head nor tail of. "but in the trade. forsooth. my boy. and imagine that they are doing something new. and have no beards on their chins as yet.door at once. But he smiled amiably. Canalis. seeing the knowing smile that went round the group. to ruffle the insolent composure of his cravat." said Blondet. Lucien could not take offence but he chafed inwardly. and inwardly he swore eternal enmity to that bookseller. He knew very well that he should look hopelessly ridiculous." "Bravo! well put. "giving life alike to primeval forests and to ants and gnats and mosquitoes. "It is true!" cried the bookseller. "Poetry is like the sun. Mortified vanity opened the door to thoughts of vengeance. The fame of them has brought down an invasion of barbarians upon us.

" said Etienne. "Fame means twelve thousand francs in reviews. and now was at war with the Bourbons." At the title of General.--Dauriat." "Come in. at the theatre. as he took his place in the cab beside Lousteau." Lousteau continued. but he has a great opinion of himself. he likewise was about to disappear when Lucien impatiently stopped him. "but I shall see you again later. and we will see. "Pshaw! we all of us laugh at Dauriat. nor to salute General Foy nor Benjamin Constant. A young fellow learns more there in an hour than by poring over books for half-a-score of years. and a thousand more for dinners. whose book on the Hundred Days was just about to appear. And as for sitting by yourself in a corner alone with your intellect. and the pleasant-looking mouth belonging to the man who had played the part of a Potemkin to Mme. I will take your offer. "To the Panorama-Dramatique. but it is on a wholesale scale. "What a shop!" exclaimed Lucien. my boy. and he is generous. keen eyes. Let us step into your office. as he had been at war with Napoleon." said Finot. you make the acquaintance of great or influential people who may be useful to you. You meet all the best men at Dauriat's.--"Dauriat is a rascal who sells books to the amount of fifteen or sixteen hundred thousand francs every year. it will not be long before I make a bargain with him. You must know people if you mean to get on nowadays. you see. and the distinguished name of Benjamin Constant. he had not time to take leave of Vernou and Blondet and Raoul Nathan. and his shop is a capital place to frequent.deputy who was chatting with the editor of the _Minerve_. a refined oval-shaped face." answered Dauriat. it consists in a faculty for picking up all that he hears. General. Benjamin de Constant means to write a paper on this young poet. When shall I have an answer?" "Oh. I want a word with you. and a writer for the _Constitutionnel_." Etienne Lousteau called to the cabman. "Lousteau. Dauriat can be civil." said Dauriat. "If you are in ." "But what insolence!" said Lucien. as for his wit. come back in three or four days. "If M.--It is all luck. the bookseller's shop took the proportions of Olympus for the provincial great man. He is a kind of Minister of Literature. it is the most dangerous thing of all. my little poet. look sharp. Lucien scarcely caught a glimpse of fair hair. His self-conceit had been pleasantly tickled. allowing Finot to pass before him. and he was showing off before Lucien. "You are keeping my manuscript. and you shall have thirty sous. but on conditions. Then. People talk about articles and concoct subjects. "Dauriat is just as grasping as Barbet. intimating to some ten persons still waiting for him that he was engaged." Lousteau hurried Lucien away. He was destined to win his cause and to die stricken to earth by his victory. de Stael for twenty years.

and when once a youthful imagination is heated by this superstition. together with a plethora of restrictions and a scarcity of good plays. his success varies in direct ratio with the time required for his work to be appreciated. Your work will sell or it will not sell. "I know of no more dangerous company than solitary spirits like that fellow yonder. The Panorama-Dramatique suffered from competition. you throw your very life into it: and after all your journeyings in the fields of thought. have their vicissitudes. lies the whole question. what was I telling you. I am for Mahomet's system--if the mountain does not come to me. A dwelling-house stands on the site of the once charming theatre in the Boulevard du Temple. you were right. the Gaite. and the better the book. had now produced a piece professedly entirely his own. Florine's acting had attracted some attention." exclaimed Lucien. the candidate for posthumous honors makes no attempt to move the world while such moving of the world is both possible and profitable. To-day's book must be sold by to-morrow. was counting on the success of a new melodramatic comedy by M. you wear out your wits over it with toiling at night." "D'Arthez was right. he tramples upon you. and Florine." "Why do you choose to suffer? You find your subject. problematical. who fancy that they can draw the world after them. she obtained no . Well. No dramatic author cared to quarrel with a prosperous theatre for the sake of the Panorama-Dramatique. Play-houses. The management at this moment. and therein. five years later a celebrated actress. a young author who. you will see a good many queer things. after working in collaboration with divers celebrities. "My experience in that shop was even more painful than I expected. He said not a word till they reached the Boulevard du Temple. a young actress who began her stage career as a supernumerary at the Gaite." The common-sense so trenchantly put in this sally left Lucien halting between the resignation preached by the brotherhood and Lousteau's militant doctrine. The Panorama-Dramatique no longer exists. and the Vaudeville. All of us begin by thinking that we are capable of great things. where two successive managements collapsed without making a single hit. I am for going to the mountain. however. he lets the time go by. the Porte Saint-Martin. the less likely it is to sell. A book means so much capital to risk. whose existence was. the monument reared with your life-blood is simply a good or a bad speculation for a publisher. Acting on this system. after your programme.need of him. if he has need of the _Journal des Debats_. But though Mlle. made her first appearance in the theatre opposite the Rue Charlot. if you take to literature. And no publisher wants to wait. combined to bring about the downfall of the house. publishers and booksellers do not care to take real literature. who has since fallen heir to some of Potier's popularity. and had been promoted to small parts for the last twelvemonth. A man of talent rises above the level of ordinary heads. like men. to say the least. Emile Blondet sets him spinning like a top. The machinations of its rivals. and yet Vignol. It had been specially composed for the leading lady. du Bruel. the Ambigu. for them. eh?" "Yes. books that call for the high praise that comes slowly. Oh. "Do you know d'Arthez?" asked Lousteau. made his _debut_ there." said Lucien.

" said Etienne Lousteau. was something so altogether different from the stage seen over the footlights. we will speak to the manager. the supernumeraries sitting among the hanging back-scenes. the thick paint on the actors' faces. following his friend. and she shrieked. you will pull down a palace. "There is nothing left now but the stage box. Lucien was amazed at the power wielded by the press. Quick with you. or bring down a forest on your head. and the Panorama accordingly had carried her off. 'Stop. and the box-office clerks bowed before him as one man." . look sharp. and say." "Come." he said to Lousteau.engagement. shabby." said Etienne. "Stop. the heroine of the evening. wretched man!' nicely. one of the strangest of all spectacles opened out before the provincial poet's eyes. when Etienne said." A certain amount of time was wasted in controversies with the box-keepers in the lobbies. The height of the roof. hideous. or a literary paper. the heterogeneous collection of absurdities. "This gentleman is with me. though the play was a failure on the stage in Paris. together with Byron and Sir Walter Scott. the doorkeeper of the orchestra took out a little key and unlocked a door in the thickness of the wall. the stage carpenters in greasy jackets. a play adapted from a tragedy by Maturin which Charles Nodier. went suddenly out of the lighted corridor into the black darkness of the passage between the house and the wings. the ladders hung with Argand lamps. dirty. "Let us go behind the scenes. for there are two thousand francs of takings. "It is like the bookseller's shop in the Wooden Galleries. little one. made of such coarse materials. "it is a kitchen. the slenderness of the props. and their outlandish costumes. was to make her _debut_ at the same time. unless you have a mind to fall through a trap-door. "Keep a tight hold of my arm. held in the highest esteem." At a sign from Etienne Lousteau." said Etienne Lousteau. addressing an actress who stood waiting for her cue. the ropes and pulleys. another actress. my pet?" he added. "So this is the stage. or carry off a cottage." Lucien was struck with amazement when the girl's whole face suddenly changed. love. the firemen. and besides. --"Is Florine in her dressing-room. neither more nor less. he will take us into the stage-box. Coralie. the atrocious ugliness of scenery beheld at close quarters. "You will find it no easy matter to get seats. don't spoil your entry. if you are not careful. the stage manager strutting about with his hat on his head. and gaudy. She was no longer the same creature. A short flight of damp steps surmounted. that Lucien's astonishment knew no bounds." said the head-clerk. "Yes. I will introduce you to Florine. Thank you for the things you said about me. wretched man!" a cry that froze the blood in your veins. Lucien. You are so much nicer since Florine has come here. The curtain was just about to fall on a good old-fashioned melodrama entitled _Bertram_.

M. "In the morning I hold the views of my paper." "Lousteau. dear boy. spying the trio. "A great poet. she is living in the Rue du Bondy now." "Very much at your service." said the actress. he came with me. who have written such a book. who is the handsome young man that you have brought with you?" asked the actress." "And as for you. monsieur. there is not a place in the house." continued Etienne. all journalists see double at night. as you are to meet again at supper. upon my word. are you cured already of your fancy? They told me that a Russian prince had carried you off. I am doing the minor theatres for the _Gazette_ until something better turns up. laughing. Lucien de Rubempre to you." "Wait till your first book comes out. and a shrewd smile flitted over his face. The manager will go down on his knees to pray for some more Russian princes. "I say! I say! here are Ultras and Liberals actually shaking hands!" cried Vernou. dear. my little Florville. "I read your book two days ago. by the by. I cannot understand how you. "the forfeit money was so much clear gain." "Oh! come to supper with us this evening. and such poetry. and my prince got off with paying the forfeit money to the management. and--here he is!" "Ah." "You have a good name." "Who carries off women in these days" said Florville (she who had cried. "Stop. Etienne. "where did you steal these diamond ear-drops? Have ." Felicien Vernou turned to Lousteau." said Nathan.Nathan appeared at this moment. "in the evening I think as I please. with the sweetest smile imaginable." returned Nathan. is there?" asked Finot. "What brings you here?" inquired Lousteau. "You know. that will have a famous name one of these days. speak well of Florine. "Finot is looking for you." Florville continued. Raoul Nathan. "You will always find a place in our hearts. Nathan. and I will do as much for you. can be so humble to a journalist. --M." said Nathan. now returned to the wings." said Nathan. turning to a pretty girl in a peasant's costume. and. child." said Finot. "Why. "We stayed at Saint-Mande for ten days. "I say. wretched man!"). "Lucien. I must introduce M.

--There. Lousteau has forgotten nothing----" "Forgotten! You are going to have Blondet of the _Debats_. who has gone off already. you will make a bad hooked an Indian prince?" "No. whenever they like. and say. you will find me there when you come. you dear boy! stop. the very Blondet--Blondet himself. "Good-day or good-night. and two chairs. through a labyrinth of scenery and corridors. a blacking manufacturer. a wealthy druggist of the Rue des Lombards. I must give you a kiss. Nathan and Felicien Vernou following them. "The manager is giving up the stage box to us. the stout person in the corner." said Finot. tired of domestic life." said Nathan." "What did she do? the house is applauding like mad. 'He is saved!' like a Fury. but they will be under our table to-morrow morning. that is her great resource. stout man standing in a corner. Matifat. had imagined that a little Boulevard actress would have no very expensive tastes." said the blacking-maker's widow. "the blacking has gone to your head!" "If you want a success. for Florine was to take the part of a countess in an imbroglio. a carpet on the floor." she said. All the quick subtlety of her character was visible in the features of the charming actress. At the back of the stage. in short. looked serious at this. like a bud. "These gentlemen are the rulers of my destiny. my future is in their hands. "the genuine Blondet. like Pasta's '_O patria_. "instead of screaming.' in a chest voice. "It is too late. 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. if M." said Lousteau.' in _Tancreda_." and she flung her arms about the journalist's neck. 'He is saved. hung with a pretty wall-paper." said Vernou." asked Lousteau. A dresser was putting the finishing touches to a Spanish costume. as Florine does and Coralie. Florine was thin. go to the staircase. walk on quite quietly. "the effect has hung fire." "Oh! Lousteau. the pair climbed several flights of stairs and reached a little room on a third floor." said Etienne. go along!" and he pushed her towards the stage. gentlemen. . Matifat. a tiny place some ten feet square. her beauty. It is not everybody who can find millionaire shopkeepers. turning to a short. as Lousteau walked off with Lucien. the girl of sixteen could only delight the eyes of artists who prefer the sketch to the picture. who at that time might have sat for Goethe's Mignon. "Went down on her knees and showed her bosom. There was a fireplace in the dressing-closet. gave promise of the flower to come. but in eleven months Florine had cost him sixty thousand francs. Aren't they just lucky?" "Florville. I hope." said Florine. Then. an Englishman. a sofa. and cupboards all round the room. and adorned with a full-length mirror.

" said the actress. du Bruel. attenuated young man in an overcoat." "Yes." said Lucien. I would pay him so much for every blunder. from the provinces. "And he is quite aware that he is treating the most dangerous men in Paris. won't you?" said Florine. then." said this personage. darlings. "Which of you has imported the Apollo Belvedere from Florence? He is as charming as one of Girodet's figures. glancing at the journalist. turning to the three journalists. "are you sure of your part. and Lucien beheld M. but you will look at me when you say it. "By the by.." Florine continued." said Florine." said Nathan.' just as we agreed. and the stockbroker."That girl will be the handsomest actress in Paris in five years' time. bring out that subtle touch. you will take care of me to-morrow. you know. "Upon my word." remarked Nathan. "I have engaged cabs for to-night." "Why do you take parts in which you have to say such things?" asked Matifat." "He is a poet. Matifat was looking uneasily at Lucien. a short. as you do when you are rehearsing. "Florine. 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." she continued. 'I do not love you. turning to Felicien Vernou. "Very well. he felt jealous of the young man's good looks. "What does it matter to you. "Poor as Job. the owner of house-property. confronting Lucien. Just then the author of the play suddenly entered. Matifat has sent in wines--oh! wines worthy of Louis XVIII. "so long as I don't say such things to you. make the irony tell. and engaged the Prussian ambassador's cook. ." remonstrated the druggist. eh? No slips of memory. child. and it gives me a turn. great stupid?--Oh! his stupidity is the pleasure of my life. The druggist's remark was received with a general shout of laughter. "It is a great temptation for some of us. for I am going to send you home as tipsy as Shrove Tuesday. "But here is some one that I do not know." A bell rang outside in the passage. a composite human blend of the jack-in-office." added Florine." "We expect something enormous from the look of the gentleman. if it would not be the ruin of me. I forgot to present him to you. And mind that scene in the second act. I will look at my friend Lousteau here. say. mademoiselle.

of supreme power and want of principle. they are bewitchingly pretty and graceful. Some things cannot be helped. All three of these city men were polishing their opera-glasses. Matifat was in the ground-floor box exactly opposite with a friend of his. wit is not much appreciated here. Everything depends on Florine and Coralie to-night. all of you!" cried Florine. and dance a Spanish dance. as they came away. I can see. a sprinkling of the determined playgoers who never miss a first night if they can help it." said Finot. in Lousteau's room he had seen it at its cynical worst." Etienne and Lucien entered the stage-box. A few clever notices in the papers. my dear fellow----" "Oh! you know nothing of Parisian life. and found the manager there with Finot. I have squared the men in their pay. it comes to the same thing."Go out. "But--but that Matifat." "Oh! come. Suppose that you fell in love with a married woman. it will only be a moderate success. of treachery and pleasure. maker of vaudevilles. The usual heterogeneous first-night elements filled the boxes--journalists and their mistresses. wear very short skirts. in the Wooden Galleries he had met Literature abject and Literature insolent. my boy. The sharp contrasts of heights and depths. "they will even hiss the piece. they will make a muddle of it. The first box was occupied by the head of a department. and Lucien heard her say. "let me read my part over again and try to understand it. if the play takes. of mental elevation and bondage--all this made his head swim." Lucien and Lousteau were the last to go. "Three of the theatres have got up a plot. and a very few people of fashion who care for this sort of sensation. but I have made arrangements to defeat their kind intentions. For two months Literature had meant a life of poverty and want. he seemed to be watching some strange unheard-of drama." continued the manager. Boulevard audiences don't care for that kind of thing. "Do you think du Bruel's piece will pay?" he asked. and given them to acquaintances able and ready to act as chuckers out. The . his father-in-law. and anxiously scanning the house. to whom du Bruel. A couple of city men yonder have taken a hundred tickets apiece to secure a triumph for Florine and Coralie." "Isn't she charming?" said Etienne. a silk-mercer named Camusot (Coralie's protector). and I may make a hundred thousand crowns. Impossible. Finot was talking with the manager. _lorettes_ and their lovers. That stupid old animal told his wife that he was going out into the country. Lucien had gone from surprise to surprise since the dinner at Flicoteaux's. Lousteau set a kiss on Florine's shoulder. "Not to-night. and possibly they may carry off the piece with the public. It all depends on the way that you look at it. they like harrowing sensations. "Du Bruel has tried to do something in Beaumarchais' style. certain symptoms in the pit appeared to disturb them. and a worthy little old soul. of compromise with conscience. The whole affair is a gambling speculation. owed a snug little sinecure in the Treasury.

"What is the matter with you?" asked Etienne Lousteau." "Ah! you have still some illusions left. the high successes of genius. my dear fellow. in six months' time it will cost a million francs to start a new journal. If you can sell one-half of my share." The words recalled the pen-and-ink sketch that lay on the table in the editor's office and the words. "I see poetry fallen into the mire. In the theatre as in the publishing trade." he said. my hundred francs!" Lucien's inmost soul shrank from the man in disgust. there was not a word of art or of glory. and a scene of that sort always makes a good impression on the house. I should make something out of the business. Blondet told me that the Government intends to take restrictive measures against the press. and glancing at Finot. and talked as if he were doing me a favor?--Well. And yet while the orchestra played the overture." "Two hundred tickets! What invaluable men!" exclaimed Finot. "Yes. lowering his voice. Money. as actresses bow down to journalists. 'Tis a splendid thing. Dauriat has passed his word. The curtain rose. and tears glittered in his eyes. "Finot. Didn't you see how he made forty per cent out of me at Dauriat's. seemed to fall like hammer-strokes on his heart and brain.fellows." retorted Etienne. Finot turned to Etienne. so I struck a bargain though I have only ten thousand francs in hand. on condition that I am to be editor and director. I have agreed to give thirty thousand francs in cash. while the pit was full of noisy tumult of applause and hisses. "My dear fellow. and we ourselves to the booksellers?" "My boy. With two more actresses as handsomely kept as Florine and Coralie. when together they beheld the wonders of Art. there will be no new papers allowed. Listen to me. of the poetry that he came to know in that atmosphere of pure peace. unconsciously he drew a comparison between this scene and others that came up in his mind." For the past two hours the word money had been sounding in Lucien's ears as the solution of every difficulty. and in the publishing trade as in the newspaper-office--it was everywhere the same. will go quietly." "Is there nothing for it but to cringe and submit to thickheads like Matifat and Camusot. "He has neither genius nor cleverness. and the stage-manager went off to the wings to give orders. The steady beat of the great pendulum. He thought of the evenings spent with d'Arthez and his friends. and visions of glory borne on stainless wings. but he is covetous. having been paid twice. "I would sooner die. Visions arose before him of David and the printing-office. he means to make a fortune at all costs. "Sooner live. he gets letters from not a few unknown men of genius who go down on their knees to him for a hundred francs. I am proprietor of one-third of his weekly paper. . do you see that dull-brained fellow?" said Etienne. and he is a keen man of business.

Perhaps I may be a Ministerialist. Nothing but millions of money or a social cataclysm can open out the way to my goal. "Good-bye till to-morrow evening. I have sent in my _ultimatum_. as I please. I am afraid I can scarcely keep on with it now. and now declining to take fifty subscriptions. 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. So let Florine do this bit of jockeying. If they take my terms. If I can't find the money within forty-eight hours. "_You_ are not much hurt with your ten subscriptions. "I am going to the Opera. Good-bye. They are stingy with me. I shall very likely have a duel on my hands to-morrow." and Finot rose to his feet. you can take my box. My father is a hatter. I must cry off my bargain. give you the Chambers to do for another paper on which I work. but nobody need know that. "Yes." said Lousteau. "If you had gone through all that I have endured. so he has his own third _gratis_. I reserve the right to use the paper to attack or defend men or causes. and your name will appear as editor. I do not know yet. But." "You will end by ruining us. perhaps Ultra. and ten thousand francs to the good. Dauriat sold another third to his printer and paper-dealer for thirty thousand francs. and to keep my hold upon it. I don't know now that the revolution is not the easier. I had two good notices put into the _Constitutionnel_. If I bore your friend's name. I will give you preference. you need not pay contributors more than three francs. I had my fill of misery in those days." said Finot." returned Finot. you are a good fellow. and I . he still keeps a shop in the Rue du Coq. I should have a chance to get on. if the Court has the good sense to suppress newspapers. and there was no help for it. Hush. here comes the manager. Lousteau. "You can give me your answer at the Francais. so we shall have twelve hundred with the New Year. I want in any case to have the control of my old paper. for he only gave fifty thousand for the whole affair. and you may indulge your own likes and dislikes so long as you do not interfere with my schemes. at the same time. and you keep the difference. if the Court buys it up. I can speak out with you. you would not say that of me. as they say. And in another year's time the magazine will be worth two hundred thousand francs. there is a new piece on there. perhaps. to Matifat for thirty thousand francs. and of the two alternatives. That means another four hundred and fifty francs per month." "Oh! I am not complaining of you. I shall have eight hundred readers and a thousand paying subscribers. I might. and as I shall not be able to write the notice. you see." "Aha?" said the manager." "You are lucky. you have worked yourself to death for me." said the manager. tell her to put the screw on her druggist. you shall be editor of my little paper with a salary of two hundred and fifty francs per month." cried the manager. "now cutting off a box. I mean to have a hundred subscriptions out of them and a box four times a month. but I mean to keep up my connections with the Liberal party (below the surface).that is one-sixth of the paper. You will be paid at the rate of five francs per column.

he may perhaps have friends some day----" "Good heavens! what a den!" said Lucien. Felicien Vernou offered twenty thousand francs for a third share of my little paper. looking at Florine. careless whether the wily schemer overheard the remark or not." "And he who finds it. he is a strong box delivered into our hands by his fancy for an actress. "My dear boy. Mars. and are you wallowing in scruples worthy of a nun who accuses herself of . he will enjoy the respect of all who know him. "If Coralie is smitten with you. "But Coralie is not attending to her part. my dear fellow." The manager went. "He is a gallows-bird that will get on in the world." "No! no!" cried Lousteau. she is missing her cues. 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 you must needs amuse yourself by finding fault with the means? What! you appear to me to possess intelligence. monsieur. Florine. grateful. "And are you going to drag that excellent creature into such a business?" he continued." said Lousteau. go into the corner. "What! do you mean to say that you will ask that druggist. this is the second time she had not heard the prompter. through Mlle." "How about your conscience?" "Conscience. but I want to be absolute master." remarked the manager. Pray. is a stick which every one takes up to beat his neighbor and not for application to his own back. and Coralie will make a fiasco." he continued. when they love." said Etienne. who gave them side glances from the stage. I will go and tell her that you have left the house. "They redeem their failings and expiate all their sins by boundless love. Come. a miracle for which I have been waiting these two years. "Coralie is smitten with our friend here. what country can you come from? The druggist is not a man. and Lucien turned to Etienne. finds a diamond worthy of the proudest crown lying in the mud. to pay thirty thousand francs for one-half a share." said the manager." said Lucien. "She will carry it through too. 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. as he shut the door of the box. slyboots) "for nothing. and to work without a salary for a twelvemonth." returned Lousteau. "tell Coralie that this gentleman is coming to supper. "A great love is all the grander in an actress by reason of its violent contrast with her surroundings." "He is not named Finot" (_finaud_. and that she can do as she likes with him. and she will play like Mlle. now! who the devil are you angry with? In one day chance has worked a miracle for you. "He will be a millionaire. "_He_!" said the manager. You do not know the devotion and the wiles of these beloved beings. all unsuspicious of his conquest.

now. if you choose. If you have the ability. to say nothing of the books you will write for the trade. we shall have made our fortunes. In that case you would be making a hundred crowns a month. if all goes well. you see. you and I. In three days' time. "Now. you might get a hundred francs for an article in this new weekly review of his. you can. At the Luxembourg. As for your novel. These are the advantages of the journalist's profession. so you will have two hundred francs coming in every month. you can make him come to you. And here are you quibbling over your good fortune! If we had not met to-day. you will see him come climbing up your stairs like a clematis. but you can go behind the scenes in four theatres. and we shall hold his in our hands--wealth and fame to give or to hold. a sub-prefect's salary only amounts to a thousand crowns. who dines at Flicoteaux's every day. and knock off two or three articles that threaten to spoil some of Dauriat's speculations. and the value of the manuscript. . draw a revenue of pleasure from the actresses at your theatres. you can demand ten tickets a month of each of your theatres--that is. and you will be making four thousand francs a year by your pen. Then if you make yourself useful to Finot. and you can take my place and do the Boulevard theatres. you can. 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. in which case you would show uncommon talent. So let us do our best to keep all newcomers out of it. and a still greater amount of luck. I shall take the important plays and leave the vaudevilles to Vernou. and we shall be whatever we meant to be--peers of France. and always at the door of your dwelling. or to ruin a book on which he counts. I say nothing of the pleasure of going to the theatre without paying for your seat. and so get a foot in the stirrup. By the time that d'Arthez is as learned as Bayle and as great a writer of prose as Rousseau. you did not know which way to turn. Finot will be a deputy and proprietor of a great newspaper. if you choose. and there he stops in his arrondissement. I shall be editor of a newspaper with a fixed salary of two hundred and fifty francs per month. wearing away time like the rung of a chair. If Florine succeeds. you will have some sixty francs worth of books to sell to Barbet. which old Doguereau valued at four hundred francs will rise to four thousand. you are on the eve of entering a privileged class. forty tickets in all--and sell them for forty francs to a Barbet who deals in them (I will introduce you to the man). for all the articles are signed. You will make three francs per column and write a column a day--thirty columns a month means ninety francs. you might have danced attendance on the booksellers for another three years. and lastly. and you will be simply overwhelmed with invitations from actresses. Be hard and sarcastic for a month or two. if you do work of that kind. or prisoner for debt in . you can wreck a good play and send all Paris running after a bad one. you will only dine at Flicoteaux's when you happen to have less than thirty sous in your pocket and no dinner engagement. . who may wait for ten years before they will make a hundred crowns. and their adorers will pay court to you. and you cannot put in slip-shod work as you can on a small paper. or starved like d'Arthez in a garret.eating an egg with concupiscence? . there are men of ability. Now. for that is a delight which quickly palls. If Dauriat declines to pay you for your _Marguerites_. It needs an immense amount of brains to make your way. my dear boy. you will be one of the hundred persons who tell France what to think. 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. at Flicoteaux's. like that poor d'Arthez. at five o'clock. and meekly and humbly implore you to take two thousand francs for them.

Sainte-Pelagie. 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. a salary of five hundred francs per month. she will perhaps obtain an engagement in another theatre with a salary of twelve thousand francs. will be only too glad to let him have two or three articles for nothing. And for you. gaping with open-mouthed admiration at Florine. at last.' and we will kill him by a phrase put in the paper morning by morning. she will have all my wit and her own besides. he is making twenty thousand francs a year. behold him the editor of a weekly review with a sixth share. the druggist may make twenty thousand francs in six months on an investment of thirty thousand. _if_ you make yourself indispensable to Finot. but at Florine's prospects. "Quite sure. recollecting that scene in the office. to begin with. _Now_. Indeed. Finot would allow you to bludgeon your man in a big paper with ten or twelve thousand subscribers. and for which the firm pays. Finot has a paper of his own. You have only to say to me. He dines most sumptuously every day. You know nothing of men. you can break a foe or friend on the wheel. if the minister buys the newspaper. When you are in his position. dining for eighteen sous at Tabar's. worth about a hundred thousand francs." Lousteau remarked drily. Matifat will save a thousand francs every month in dinners and presents to journalists. if you will blindly minister to his enmity. Florine's name will be made. attack at Finot's bidding. if it is a matter of capital importance to you. Matifat is not looking at the newspaper. saying that Mme. What with subscribers who pay and take no copies. you can judge Finot. You yourself. Bastienne's bonnets are superior to the millinery which they praised at first!" said Lucien. dazzled by these prospects. In fact. and now. 'Lousteau. a man can only be tried by his peers. Bastienne and runs down Mlle. is there not an immense future opening out before you. just as he sells favorable notices to Mme." "Then are you sure that Florine can bring her druggist to make the bargain?" asked Lucien. for which he will not pay a penny. and another thousand francs for supplying matter which costs him nothing. "Three years ago Finot was walking on the uppers of his boots. His clothes hung together by some miracle as mysterious as the Immaculate Conception. and afterwards you can slay the slain with a solemn article in Finot's weekly. Now comes the interval. I will go and tell her everything at once in a word or two. and praise when he gives the word? Suppose that you yourself wish to be revenged upon somebody. it will be settled to-night. let us put an end to So-and-so. Virginie. "My dear fellow. you are a simpleton." "So Finot will sell his paper to the highest bidder among the Ministers. and indirect taxes levied by his uncle. "Why. if Finot consents to pay you fifty francs per sheet. If Florine once has her lesson by heart. genuine subscriptions." . the newspapers will be full of friendly notices of Florine and Coralie. nor of the way things are managed. and knocking off a tradesman's prospectus (when he could get it) for ten francs. he has set up a cabriolet within the last month. my dear boy." "And there sits that honest tradesman. As soon as it is known that Matifat and Camusot--(for they will go shares)--that Matifat and Camusot are proprietors of a review.

At the age of fifty-six. has fully made up his mind to enjoy the rest of his life. monotonous days of toil. as he leaned back in his corner. lost in the infinite of thought. and they were applauding Coralie to the skies. That amateur was a worthy silk-mercer of the Rue des Bourdonnais. soaring above this everyday world. the very short skirts. and this so much the more keenly because it shone out like a blaze of fireworks against the blank darkness of his own obscure. "he is looking forward to an evening's pleasure. He was not left alone for long. perhaps for not more than five minutes. he had seen the seamy side of life. one arm resting on the crimson velvet cushion. And to-morrow I shall be editor of Finot's paper. as the spectacle on the stage had heated his senses. He felt the fascination of the life that was offered to him. Those were Coralie's eyes that glowed upon him. a father of four children. he had been behind the scenes. already. like two channels that will spread sooner or later in flood time and make one. A brow the color of fresh butter and florid cheeks like a monk's jowl seemed scarcely big enough to contain his exuberant jubilation. In the Wooden Galleries he had seen the wires by which the trade in books is moved. He looked at the women with their wanton eyes. That corruption was eating into Lucien's soul. All the rich man's citizen vanity was summed up and gratified in Coralie. and Lucien sat like one bewildered. The end of my troubles is in sight!" cried Florine's lover. Lousteau went out. at this moment. for a few moments he had forgotten Matifat in the background. the consciences of men involved in the machinery of Paris. at the gleaming bare necks. and his hand drooping over the edge. with a cap of gray hair on his head. stout and substantial. he has seen something of the kitchen where great reputations are made."Poor man!" said Lucien. and having been forced to put up with a good deal that he did not like in the way of business. he felt that half . Suddenly his listless eyes became aware of a burning glance that reached him through a rent in the curtain. that displayed as much as possible of limbs encased in scarlet stockings with green clocks to them--a disquieting vision for the pit. the mechanism of it all. now. and making a thousand francs a month. and roused him from his lethargy." "And he will be sawn in two with arguments until Florine sees Finot's receipt for a sixth share of the paper. He lowered his head and looked across at Camusot. all the brighter for the red paint on their cheeks. A double process of corruption was working within him in parallel lines. and not to quit this earth until he has had his share of cakes and ale. of the gleams of light among its clouds. and the husband of a second wife. but those minutes seemed an eternity. who just then entered the opposite box. he had the smug appearance of a man who has his eighty thousand francs of income. staring vacantly at the curtain. the luxuriant forms outlined by the lascivious folds of the basquina. Camusot had left his wife at home. a judge in the commercial court. in Coralie's lodging he gave himself the airs of a great lord of a bygone day. Thoughts rose within him that set his soul on fire. As he watched Florine on the stage he almost envied Lousteau his good fortune.

" he said within himself. watching this creature." Florine said in an aside while Coralie was finishing her speech. and gleamed in the light like a varnished surface. or how sparks of the heat of the desert might flash from them in response to a summons from within. He looked at Coralie. and destined likewise to share their fate. and again he fell to dreaming. She was one of the most charming and captivating actresses in Paris. You must pass through all experience if you mean to render all experience. why should I not know. and enjoyment above desire. Camusot's conduct was sanctioned by the presence of his father-in-law. Coralie was a woman of a type that exerts at will a power of fascination over men. Coralie was the delight of the pit. there came a moment when he set desire above love. all eyes dwelt on the outlines moulded by the clinging folds of her bodice. Coralie was a Jewess of the sublime type. who played for him alone. Fleuriet. But who could trouble over Coralie's psychology when his eyes were dazzled by those smooth. seemed to dwell in the swarthy forehead beneath the double curve of ebony hair that lay upon it like a crown. a mouth red as a pomegranate. my dear girl. round arms of hers. Again Lucien felt disgust rising within him. rivaling Mme. the spindle-shaped fingers. the flexible curving lines of throat. the graciously moulded outlines beneath the scarlet silk stockings? And this beauty. caring no more for Camusot than a street-boy in the gallery cares for an apple-paring. He thought of the year when he loved Mme. and at that thought love.of her success was his. Coralie had little wit in spite of her aptness at greenroom repartee. the knowledge that he had paid for it confirmed him in this idea. and the demon of Lust stirred strange thoughts in him. Her brain was prompted by her senses. "He is thinking about as much of you as of the Grand Turk. de Bargeton with an exalted and disinterested love. To Lucien. With an oval face of deep ivory tint. countless memories drew a circle of distant blue horizon about the great man of Angouleme. spread its white wings about him. and breast celebrated in the Song of Songs. and there stood Coralie and Florine upon the stage. and a chin subtly delicate in its contour as the edge of a porcelain cup. Perrin and Mlle. the delights which the great lords of the eighteenth century sought so eagerly of wantons of the Opera? Must one not first learn of . the fair white shoulders. Up went the curtain. "I have lived more with ideas than with realities. and lingered over the Andalusian contour of the hips from which her skirt hung. and scarcely any education in spite of her boudoir experience. was brought into relief by the conventional Spanish costume of the stage. Lucien could not help laughing. "I know nothing of the love that wallows in luxury and wine and sensual pleasure. well-nigh amounting to genius. my first orgy in a new and strange world. you could guess how soft they might grow. The jet black eyes behind their curving lashes seemed to scorch her eyelids. This will be my first great supper. a little old fogy with powdered hair and leering eyes. her kindness was the impulsive warm-heartedness of girls of her class. Magnificent mental power. The circles of olive shadow about them were bounded by thick arching lines of eyebrow. highly respected nevertheless. as a poet understands it. fluttering wantonly with every movement. for once. worthy of an Eastern poet. but like many another actress.

is knocking off an article against the Opera. "Coralie is raving about you. listen to it and think it over. she has tried to find happiness. but he is like a father to her. and now he himself had sunk to the same level. Florine has gone to her dressing-room to bring the girl to reason. Poor thing!" said Lucien. Well now. he felt his heart swell high with self-conceit. de Marsay. the play will go to pieces. the subtleties of love. Since her mother sold her three years ago for sixty thousand francs." Lucien had quite forgotten Camusot. in despair. and found nothing but annoyance. Coralie is eighteen years old. The Baron is paying court to your lady love. Finot." "Pooh! . I have seen him many a time at the Opera. than in all the first eighteen years of my life. The first sight of you went to her heart like a pistol-shot. and when she came out of the galleys. Wait! Finot has just sent a special messenger round to say that they are short of copy at the office. You are in luck my dear boy. why should I not profit by her fancy. they fling aside all thought of yesterday or to-morrow. and in a few days' time she may be making sixty thousand francs a year by her beauty. a cuttlefish bone that she is. I can see your great lady as I sit here. and of the cordial hatred he bore the Baron du Chatelet. She took to the stage in a desperate mood. who lets her live in peace." "So this is how a newspaper is written?" said Lucien. and I will go to the manager's office and think out three columns about your man and your disdainful fair one. Several times already she has refused the handsomest proposals. you can do this play. and she endures him and his love. carried away by the casuistry of his vehement desire. "Stay though! the newspaper wants a _bete noire_. she has a horror of her first purchaser. the perfections. she has forgotten her part. She is crying over your cruelty. she is faithful to Camusot. I was envying Lousteau just now. worthy of the greatest Greek sculptors. my dear fellow. To Lousteau he had expressed the utmost disgust for this most hateful of all partitions. They will be in no pleasant predicament to-morrow. we will take him up. had given the reins to his fancy. my dear fellow. the transports." And Lucien related the history of his love affairs with Mme. 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. he is the man for us. "Your countenance. for the king of dandies soon dropped her. The Baron is a buck of the Empire and a Ministerialist. Every instinct of vanity was tickled by the words. the resources. So you are her first love. I should be a fool to be more squeamish than princes. Young Hector Merlin has left them in the lurch because they did not pay for white lines. she picked up old Camusot. when the greatest nobles buy a night with such women with their richest treasures? When ambassadors set foot in these depths. but here is another handsomer than Florine. She does not care much about him. . has worked unutterable havoc behind the scenes." said Lousteau as he came in. she is often in the Marquise d'Espard's box. de Bargeton. and. .courtesans and actresses the delights. especially as I love no one as yet. after all. . "More adventures have befallen me in this one evening. if only to translate them afterwards into the regions of a higher love than this? And what is all this. and good-day to the engagement at the Gymnase which Camusot had planned for her. She is an honest girl still.

worthy man. or on friends of ours if it needs must be. or possibly the word is ironically derived from the Latin word _copia_." continued Lousteau. She has been hissed once already. pleasure is not a misfortune. You can still save the piece. "Pray don't tell her that!" cried the manager. or my play will be ruined. and that sort of gratitude is better than any kind of pledge. Vignol. allow me to tell her that you will go home with her after supper." doubtless because the writers are supposed to send in a fair copy of their work. "But don't look as if you meant to snub that charming creature. "Coralie is just the girl to fling Camusot overboard and ruin herself in good earnest. who played the part of the alcalde. and pays for all her dresses and _claqueurs_. for copy is invariably scarce. sir. after all. and not a line has been written. a grand idea that will never be realized. monsieur. pawntickets always excepted." Manuscript sent to the printer is spoken of as "copy. for they invariably represent something solid. "We always mean to have a few numbers ready in advance. Write a brilliant article." said Lucien. to take a message to Coralie. I shall ask Vernou and Nathan for a score of epigrams on deputies. just as a privateer will load his guns with silver pieces taken out of the booty sooner than perish.' or on the Ministry. A man in this pass would slaughter his parent. and revealed for the first time his genius as an actor of old men. with a sultan's airs." pleaded du Bruel." "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. "Dear me! am I to write the notice of your play and smile on your heroine as well?" exclaimed the poet. The wretched girl does not know what she is doing or saying. "It is ten o'clock. . and. save your play. they have always run short of copy at eight o'clock in the evening." "I am not accustomed to rivals. The proprietor of the _Golden Cocoon_. and you will make brilliant progress in Finot's estimation." Lousteau's hand was on the lock when du Bruel came in with the manager. or on 'Chancellor Cruzoe." "As your promise pledges me to nothing. you see. "Permit me. came forward amid a storm of applause to make an announcement to the house. allows her two thousand francs a month. "These ten months that I have been a journalist."It is always like this. she will cry when she ought to laugh and laugh when she ought to cry." Lucien answered." answered Lousteau. who began to act forthwith in a marvelous way. The author vanished with a signal to Coralie. for Finot has a lively sense of benefits to come.

busy taking away footstools and shutting doors. It was hideous. He plunged into this joyous intoxication. the most impossible things seem to be true. "Will you honor me by giving me your arm?" Coralie asked tremulously. too!" roared a voice of thunder from the opposite box. The lights in the great chandelier were extinguished. a lantern was lowered from the ceiling. filthy passages filled with machinery. "With pleasure. and Coralie stooped for her flowers and held them out to Lucien. Lucien felt as if he had taken some narcotic. and firemen and stage carpenters departed on their rounds."The piece which we have the honor of playing for you this evening. with something of the delight of a cat that rubs herself against her master with eager silken caresses. the rows of fair faces in the boxes. my boy?" Lousteau's voice called from the stage. with their faces hidden by hats and thick black veils. Matifat and Camusot flung wreaths on the stage." "Why. in which Camusot and his father-in-law old Cardot were seated already. blown out as one candle. there was no one left in the house except the boxkeepers. Coralie drew Lucien to one of the two. The footlights. and cold reigned in their stead. and Coralie had completed the work. and. The solemnity and reality of life disappear. is the work of MM. emptiness. Vignol reappeared between the two actresses. the noises echoing strangely through the empty theatre. Lucien sat on in bewilderment. Two butterflies returned to the chrysalis stage could not be more completely transformed. its sensuality and dissolute morals had affected the poet's still untainted nature. "Jump down." Lucien sprang over. "Florine and Coralie!" The curtain rose. The spell that held him had begun to work when he went behind the scenes. the atmosphere of the place. and Lousteau." "Coralie_! Coralie_!" shouted the enraptured house. Nathan is partly responsible. For him those two hours spent in the theatre seemed to be a dream. and dismal darkness. The fairy scenes of the stage. The party of four found two cabs waiting for them at the door in the Rue des Fosses-du-Temple. in spite of its horrors. Raoul and de Cursy. and other voices took up the cry. "Well! are you coming. the magical illusion of new scenery and costume had all disappeared. sent up a fetid reek of smoke." said Lousteau. "I don't wonder that he looked in. gentlemen. and lit with smoky. the dazzling lights. He could feel the beating of her heart throbbing against his like some snared bird as she nestled closely to his side. A sort of malaria that infects the soul seems to lurk among those dark. She offered du Bruel a fifth place." said Lucien. and the manager drove off with Florine. . Matifat. He scarcely recognized Florine and Coralie in their ordinary quilted paletots and cloaks. The curtain rose again. "Florine. the most sacred things are matter for a jest. greasy lamps. "So we are supping together!" she said.

Cardot only gives Florine five hundred francs a month. "I do not like to tell you before M. she was enough to drive you wild with admiration. "This is all much ado about nothing. "_Why_?" she asked pettishly. "Yes." said Coralie in an unfamiliar voice." "And half of her success is due to me. Would you believe it." Coralie exclaimed angrily. down on his knees. for he trained his son-in-law. Lucien felt thrilled through and through by that touch. metaphorically speaking. Papa Camusot. she carried Lucien's hand to her lips and kissed it and drenched it with tears." said Camusot. no doubt. "you can write a charming paragraph about our dear Coralie. seizing an opportunity in the darkness. buy carriages for me instead of praises. miss. "he will write what he pleases. know nothing. "something put her out at the beginning." "You shall have them on very easy terms. for in the humility of the courtesan's love there is a magnificence which might set an example to angels. happily ignorant of these violent revulsions. Cardot's face." "Do leave him his independence. but from the middle of the second act to the very end. just about enough to pay for her rent and her grub and her clothes." said Coralie." As she uttered the sharp words that cut Camusot to the quick." said du Bruel." Lucien answered politely. and develops within their souls a poetry of which other women. Half of the success of your play was due to her. "You will always find me ready to do you a good turn at any time."These hackney cabs are abominable things. she groped for Lucien's knee. And. M. and pressed it against her own." "You shall have a carriage the day after to-morrow. "Are you writing the dramatic criticism. but I am an artist and not a common hussy. little and old as he is. The old Marquis de Rochegude offered me a brougham two months ago." "Oh! do us that little service!" pleaded Camusot." "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. She was silent." said Camusot benignly. "Why don't you have a carriage?" returned du Bruel. "I have never written for newspapers before. 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. monsieur?" said du Bruel. addressing Lucien. and he has six hundred thousand francs a year. and clasped her fingers upon his hand. "you never asked me for one. before the critic. so I am not accustomed to ." said du Bruel. Mars herself towards the end. "You played like Mlle.

afraid to touch the new furniture. my maiden pen is at your disposal----" "That is funny. the whole room was artistically decorated. the printers are setting up my article. The walls were hung with green cloth with a border of gilded nails. and if M. and he had done his part rather shabbily. who was building a house for him. dear boy!" she cried. 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. addressing Finot. stands full of flowers stood in every direction. then she went up to Florine's bedroom to change her dress for a toilette previously sent. and everything necessary. chatting with the manager. copy!" called Finot. Matifat. dashed into the room. a carpet of Eastern design. "There is a fire burning in Florine's boudoir. "There is nothing in the box. Etienne was the real king of these festivals. The drawing-room was resplendent with the furniture in fashion in those days--a Thomire chandelier. Matifat will find us paper and ink. Etienne enjoyed the use of all these fine things. and the young man had taken great pains with the rooms when he knew that Florine was to occupy them. Matifat was not nearly so rich a man as his friend Camusot. as if he were the master of the house. a rising architect. He was standing just now on the hearthrug with his back to the fire. Lucien at once began to understand Lousteau's indifference to the state of his garret. for the chorus and the orchestra and the _corps de ballet_ are to take them . Camusot." said Cardot." said Etienne. there is a table there. and yellow silken hangings relieved by a brown border. "they won't cost the management anything. and to look upon the splendors about him as so much jewelry imprudently withdrawn from the case. "They agree to take the hundred copies. and they will soon have finished. The candlesticks." "We will manage. Suddenly the door was flung open. Coralie's sally had quite crushed the little old man. "And I shall be obliged to do as much for Florentine!" old Cardot's eyes seemed to say. fire-irons. "Copy. the first love that has sprung up in my heart shall be yours. coming into the room. "Here we are in the Rue de Bondy." Cardot. and Tullia." said du Bruel. and clock were all in good taste. we will knock off the newspaper while Florine and Coralie are dressing. "If you are giving me the first fruits of your pen." whispered Coralie in the brief instant that they remained alone together in the cab. a tradesman to the backbone. who was congratulating du Bruel. for Matifat had left everything to Grindot. yet the sight of the dining-room took Lucien by surprise. lighted by handsome lamps. one of the prettiest opera-dancers of the day. he seemed to have the totals of the bills always before his eyes. and Matifat disappeared in search of quills. went about carefully. penknives.their ways.

There will be no professional jealousies. "I have enough for one. and I haven't another notion in my head. And you are going to have your boxes. and Blondet. and Florentine appeared. you have all of you too much sense to show jealousy in public. "Nathan. surely will vouchsafe a couple of short columns for the first sheet. he is a vaudevillist. and du Bruel will make the jokes at the end. holding out a couple of banknotes." said Lucien. as you are a dancer. and he has a German Minister with him. Vernou and Claude Vignon with him. paling visibly. Vernou. It is lucky that you brought your carriage. or I will crush thee. he is capable of making bad jokes if you get him to concert pitch.'" she added. and give your arm to Tullia. how handsome you are to-night!" "We shall be thirteen at table!" exclaimed Matifat." added Lousteau." "I can make two of the play. before such a remarkable audience he was eager to show what he could do. "A German? They are the ones to drink. Tullia." said Nathan." "Ask the Duke and the Minister to come up. And." said a voice in the doorway. speaking with a burlesque English accent." said Lousteau. help friends! I want five columns. fourteen. all of you. you must use all your wit before those fifty-six bottles of wine drive it out. of all things. "Here. Here is the subscription for the first quarter. du Bruel. butterfly as thou art. "Claude Vignon came with Blondet. stir up du Bruel. but your paper is so clever that nobody will grumble. I will run round to the printer. by the light of the pink candles lighted by Matifat." "I brought him here to drink. "No. and as to beauty. he shall hear some astonishing things to send home to his Government. Nathan. Dear me! Tullia. "Is there any sufficiently serious personage to go down to speak to him?" asked Finot. "I have come to look after 'milord Cardot.whether they like it or not. and they listen too. "Very well. there is a dear. "Look here. good fellow. divine Lais!" exclaimed Blondet. but the Duke is waiting below in it." "Yes. Blondet." And Lucien wrote his first newspaper article at the round table in Florine's boudoir. "And besides. taking up an inkstand. who had followed the lady upstairs and brought Nathan. "I must suppress my abominable diatribe. . "Stop to supper." cried Blondet. you are an official." she continued." returned Blondet. du Bruel. bring up the Duc de Rhetore and the Minister." "What a happy inspiration." "Oh dear!" cried Finot. "so don't cut me up!" "It is all over with me!" groaned Finot.

There is something alarming about the young actor's old age. Vignol retorts in such a fashion. Finally the Alcalde finds a man without his daughter. a young actor who personates old age so admirably that the oldest men in the audience cannot help laughing.--Vignol. wheezing and waddling about like an asthmatic old man. is Vignol. She can be anything that she chooses. a Parisian Spaniard appeared upon the scene. for she must be called by her real name. and come and go more than ever. breathing Andalusian. that you long to spring upon the stage and offer her your thatched hovel and your heart. she tantalizes you so horribly. This particular Alcalde. no larger than _that_. which is satisfactory for the magistrate. the Alcalde tries to examine the man. or thirty thousand livres per annum and your pen. . but the cap does not fit. with a breath of Moliere throughout. it must belong to some thief. General hubbub. nobody finds anything. on whom Potier's mantle has fallen. an imbroglio in three acts. "She wears scarlet stockings with green clocks to them. Coralie.THE PANORAMA-DRAMATIQUE. And what an admirable Alcalde he makes! What a delightful. puts the house in good humor. arranging the sleeves of his Alcalde's gown. a Spaniard's complexion. everybody is looking for something. but I am quite unable to clear up the mystery. and a cross on the ribbon about her neck. First performance of the _Alcalde in a Fix_. When the act was over. or to say wherein it lay. People are coming and going. he is so very old. can more be said of a boulevard actress? With the second act. 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. and those spindle shanks trembling under the weight of a senile frame. love in her heart.--Mademoiselle Coralie. Where is the thief? People walk and talk.--First appearance of Mademoiselle Florine. The Andalusian is the loveliest actress in Paris. in her patent leather shoes. a good half of an Alcalde's business on the stage in Paris. The Alcalde has lost his daughter and found his cap. that the person under examination elicits all the truth from the Alcalde. I answered. Only in Spain do Alcaldes cling to their enormous sleeves and wear plaited lawn ruffles about the magisterial throat. a Spaniard with a Spaniard's eyes. and in which part she would be more charming one cannot tell. This piece of pure comedy. With that quavering voice of his. but not for the audience. and somebody asked me how the piece was going. she has a little foot. you feel nervous lest senility should be infectious. Behold a venerable Alcalde. that bald forehead. and his daughter without the man. and the prettiest pair of ankles in Andalusia!" Oh! that Alcalde's daughter brings your heart into your mouth. can be a countess or a _grisette_. uneasy smile! what pompous stupidity! what wooden dignity! what judicial hesitation! How well the man knows that black may be white. a Spaniard from top to toe. personified by a living. she is born to achieve all possibilities. Quiet being resorted. sitting in an Alcalde's great armchair. walking and talking. with her poniard in her garter. for the Alcalde's daughter was there. The people on the stage all seemed to understand what they were about. a Spaniard's gait and figure. he may look forward to a long career of decrepitude.

but. rich men. to the subtle charm of a Parisienne disguised as an Andalusian girl. dames. and look for one another. to shed tears over the love-distracted grandee. to little feet full of promises. was called before the curtain. and married to a grandee cut out to wear an Almaviva's cloak. for Florine the jealous and the happy Coralie had entangled me once more in the folds of mantilla and basquina. the man did not love the Alcalde. such spirit was there in her gestures. with himself. wherefore I begin to believe in the influence of that "public and religious morality. I even contrived to gather that a man was in love with two women who failed to return his affection. and their little feet were twinkling in my eyes. or with heaven. and I did nothing to scandalize the house. grandees. Mlle. from the sparkling talk between the two. The play is twice a success. you can go to the Panorama-Dramatique. The author. a veil which she put to admirable uses. felt no tremor. As for the actresses. The bolero in itself would be enough to attract old age while there is any lingering heat of youth in the veins.with her features cut like a cameo and her dangerous eyes. nor patent leather shoes. a triumphant proof of the excellence of the piece. like the great lady that she is! She showed to admiration that the tigress can be a cat. again I left it to thicken. Florine wore neither scarlet stockings with green clocks. who writes it. the Alcalde's stupidity embroiled everybody again. that any one might think there was no morality left in France. alcaldes. and just as everything was put right. for he becomes a monk. and damsels--the whole company on the stage began to eddy about. and was told that she came from the greenroom. de Cursy. the dialogue seemed witty at once. Figaros. I could not believe a syllable of it. the author. upon my word. and appeared with a love-distraught damsel on each arm. And if you want to know any more. The applause and calls for the author caused the architect some anxiety. to eyes with a ray of sunlight shining through them. but she appeared in a mantilla. and die of laughing at the old Alcalde. to reach the third act without any mishap. however. I began to understand. and that she was Mademoiselle Florine. perhaps. and fairly brought down the excited house. if the worst came to the worst. or else that two women were in love with a man who loved neither of them. with stuff sufficient in it for a hundred boulevard noblemen. and escaped ecclesiastical censure in spite of its wanton dangerous grace. which once found favor in the sight of a council of reverend fathers. and out of charity I warn these persons to keep the lenses of their opera-glasses well polished. who was nevertheless a gallant gentleman. in collaboration with one of the great poets of the day. You are hereby given fair warning--you must go once to accustom yourself to those irresistible scarlet stockings with the green clocks. they danced the famous bolero of Seville. Torchbearers. and of an Andalusian masquerading as a Parisienne. but M. She is the rival of the Alcalde's daughter. . "Where does she come from?" I asked in my turn. such frenzy in her love. and come and go. it is said. that some drama of jealousy was going on. or the Alcalde had no love for the man. footmen. The plot thickened. and in love with somebody. being accustomed to volcanic eruptions of the reeling Vesuvius beneath the chandelier. You must go a second time to enjoy the play. 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 commissary of police was not compelled to interfere." about which the Chamber of Deputies is so anxious. I managed.

An hour later. the manager.While Lucien was writing a column which was to set a new fashion in journalism and reveal a fresh and original gift. the four women. and by the Duc de Rhetore's advice an indirect eulogium of Mme. who tried in vain to swallow the Cuttlefish bone. but the room rang with applause when he finished." said Finot. Du Potelet has forgotten that he was once in waiting upon Her Imperial Highness. Lousteau." remarked Finot. sir. Blondet read aloud an extremely clever article against the Romantics. a burlesque absurdity which amused readers who knew neither of the personages. but he still sings the songs composed for the benefactress who took such a tender interest in his career. Lousteau indited an article of the kind described as _moeurs_--a sketch of contemporary manners. slender. turning to Lucien. where the other guests were chatting. he conferred a _du_ upon himself. which broke into three pieces when he dropped it. and tell them to wait. he is paying his court to the Faubourg Saint-Germain. if I have nothing to take them. Other papers. the actresses embraced the neophyte. and the two merchants. A baron of the Empire. and good-night to the newspaper. de Bargeton." "That boy's common-sense is appalling to me. was irresistibly ludicrous. to whom he was paying his court. with a paper cap on his head. such as they used to write in those days. was waiting even then for copy. He wears a corset and the Cross of the Legion of Honor. when the three came in." he wrote. a post) implies. quaking for fear. they would take to tippleography. The Duke was there and the Minister. as his name (_Potelet_. and introduced Mme. It was a tissue of personalities. and was one of the thousand and one causes which provoked the rigorous press legislation of Charles X. or something very like it. half choked the breath out of him." and so forth and so forth." he said. "The men are just going off. "Stay a bit. Everybody remembers the sensation which the pleasantry made in the Faubourg Saint-Germain. but to stand well with the Court. and notably the _Figaro_. A tale of the loves of the Heron. "The buck of the Empire. Lousteau compared the Baron to a heron. "What have _you_ written?" asked Finot. His name was originally Potelet. and _du_ Potelet he is until another revolution. have brought the art to a curious perfection since. and Lucien came back to the drawing-room. the three merchants. here are ten francs. and the Minister was in the middle of a prediction of a brilliant future for the urchin. A printer's devil. a man of two ends. Blondet. 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. silly enough for the most part. and the . and well preserved. it was the first of a series of similar articles. There were tears in du Bruel's eyes as he grasped his critic's hand. as a cuttlefish bone. lest the whole Faubourg Saint-Germain should take offence. And Lucien read. "is invariably long. following suit. and Finot. "If I give them the money. entitled _The Elderly Beau_. Lousteau's paragraph drew laughter. d'Espard was slipped in.

"Such a fine young fellow!" exclaimed the Minister." said Lousteau. condemning M. le Vicomte d'A---. de Bargeton showed Lucien the door as if he had been an imposter. "Yes. but it is our best number yet. was redolent of opulence." said Blondet. like a man who had spirit and taste and wrote like a gentleman. and will be Master of Requests some day. he has just the kind of leg for a Court suit. a personal friend of Matifat's.manager invited him to dinner. "Here are du Bruel's. turning to Blondet and du Bruel. "His article is well written. said his programme was only a continuation of Decaze's policy." said Nathan." "He is on the newspaper.--Run round with this. "That fellow has brains. and write like a gentleman. I don't ask more of you." "With such a beginning. as Blondet had said. "but he stands on a Monarchical basis. they say that he is prefect-designate of the Charente." said Finot. the wines from a celebrated merchant on the Quai Saint-Bernard. Sevres porcelain." said a lady. and gave him a shrewd glance. *** An Ultra. served with new plate." "Mme." and he turned to the group of writers. The Duke gave his arm to Florine. le Vicomte Demosthenes was heard to say yesterday. but he kept his astonishment to himself. For the first time Lucien beheld the luxury of Paris displayed. he went from surprise to surprise." said Claude Vignon. "There are no children nowadays. "What jokes have you made?" inquired Lousteau. Pasquier's speech. and Tullia went in to supper between Emile Blondet and the German Minister. and white damask. "the paper is not exactly a genuine article. "it will be all right. "Supper!" cried Matifat. *** "Now. Supper. "Since M. "I cannot understand why you are making an onslaught on attracting so much attention.' I can only tell you quite simply that you have spirit and taste. turning to the boy. as he thanked Etienne. they will perhaps let _me_ alone. ." he added." said Blondet. The dishes were from Chevet. de Chateaubriand called Victor Hugo a 'sublime child. de Bargeton and the Baron du Chatelet. that M. Coralie went across to Lucien." said Finot." M. Already Lucien's colleagues were privately taking his measure.

and Coralie's toilette brought her characteristic beauty into prominence. It never crossed his mind that Lousteau already regarded him as a dangerous rival. he had done his very best when a colorless article would have served him admirably well. Her dress. "I should love you if you were ill and ugly. of toiling without reward? The fascination of the under world of Paris was upon him. Coralie was perfectly dressed. 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. and the bargain made in a few whispered words. had blent with one of the strange violent fancies which sometimes possess these poor creatures. Those words rang in Lucien's ears. have you?" returned Florine. joyous over the wine. He had made a blunder. perhaps in their eyes the secret of the attraction of a house of pleasure lies in the certainty of gratification. "Here is a real friend!" he thought. He reflected that it would be prudent to keep on good terms with Lucien. he saw Coralie. I love him. borne to them by the fifth deadly sin. for. and had eyes for nothing else. unknown as yet to the public. dear. with an adorable little shrug of the shoulders. first love indeed. Blondet's remark to Finot that it would be better to come to terms with a man of that calibre. using the idiom of women of her class. The decision was made in a moment. and now to-morrow they should receive a stab in their very hearts. at the same time." she whispered. His wrongs had just been avenged. perhaps many a long fidelity is attributable to the same cause. was of some exquisite stuff. like Florine's. a _mousseline de soie_. he was a kind of Providence in Paris to the Lyons silkweavers. and love and admiration of Lucien's great beauty taught Coralie to express the thoughts in her heart. had counteracted Lousteau's gnawing jealousy. after standing about and waiting in the Rue de Sentier. Every woman possesses some personal charm in perfection. all enjoyment of life. as he looked at Lousteau. "So you have hooked your journalist. "Make Camusot so drunk that he will be compelled to stop here all night. as owner of the _Golden Cocoon_. tired of the monotony of existence in a country town. moreover. Love for love's sake. Coralie bent to Florine. harassed by enforced continence.As they crossed the drawing-room. and. weary of poverty. with which Camusot had been supplied a few days before the rest of the world. . 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. A looked-for delight which cannot elude the grasp possesses an immense charm for youth. and climbing of so many stairs." she whispered as they sat down. to arrange with Finot to exploit this formidable newcomer--he must be kept in poverty. After so much vain search." said Coralie. Love and toilet are like color and perfume for a woman. all sensation. and Coralie in her happiness looked lovelier than ever. How should he draw back--this creature. "No. he had found Journalism a jolly boon companion. What a saying for a poet! Camusot utterly vanished. impatient of the claustral life of the Rue de Cluny. Lucien had forgotten his existence.

" "Ah?" "Good!" "A supper among French journalists always fills me with dread.' and he waved his hand over the glowing. nothing else can kill her."He has talent. ." "What prophecy?" asked Nathan. to fulfil a prophecy of Blucher's. and to follow up the story with a commentary on Eve. you are our guest." said the German diplomatist. in a bottle of brandied cherries. "And we could exhibit one in spirits. Sacken (a rough brute). gentlemen." "It would be funny. "It is laid upon you. And to-night I feel as if I were supping with lions and panthers." said Vernou. who graciously sheathe their claws in my honor." said Finot. with the sense of an old diplomatist." added Vignon." "It is clear. "Journalism is in its infancy." cried Claude Vignon. and the first and last transgression. "that we are at liberty to inform Europe that a serpent dropped from your Excellency's lips this evening. for recalling a day unfortunate for France). "Thought will make kings." "The influence and power of the press is only dawning. remarked. "Till you yourself would end by believing in the story. "I have not yet recovered from the fright that the little fellow gave me." said Lousteau. in a paper cap. a boy of ten. "We would begin with a scientific treatise on all the serpents found in the human heart and human body. "When Blucher and Sacken arrived on the heights of Montmartre in 1814 (pardon me." said Blondet. and----" "The blight of thought will be over it all.' said Blucher. it will grow." corrected Blondet. and so proceed to the _corps diplomatique_. In ten years' time. everything will be brought into publicity. with serene urbanity. he looked as he spoke at Blondet. whom he had met at the Comtesse de Montcornet's. and the Scriptures. The light of thought will be turned on all subjects.--There are no journalists in our country. But have no fear. that lay like a huge canker in the valley of the Seine. 'Now we will set Paris alight!' --'Take very good care that you don't. Tullia. "let sleeping claws lie." said Finot. gentlemen." cried the Duc de Rhetore. seething city. thank Heaven!" continued the Minister after a pause. "Gentlemen. looking at the diplomatist. 'France will die of _that_. "Here is an apothegm." "He will want the more. and that the venomous creature failed to inoculate Mlle." said Lousteau. the prettiest dancer in Paris.

" "The Government will give way." "Journalism is an evil. the beauty. we may wash our hands of all iniquity. Finot--we are all Platos." "You will die of it. It will take the credit of all creations of the brain. like other commercial speculations. it will flourish upon their decay. shameless.' sums up the whole significance of a phenomenon." said Claude Vignon. whichever you please. we only run the risk of cracks." "Blondet! Blondet! you are going too far!" called Finot. "Can you not see that if you enlighten the masses. it would be necessary to invent it forthwith. in its columns. and you."And undo monarchs. but the present Government is resolved to put it down. Lousteau. and raise them in the political scale. Every newspaper. Who will give way? That is the question. and win with the pen all that you failed to keep with the sword. and it will be base. and the hypocrisy of Tartufe besides. hypocritical. But for that. even if I live by it. but I can laugh at the whole business. Napoleon's sublime aphorism. Claude Vignon. moral or immoral. "Subscribers are present. Give any newspaper time enough. There will be a battle over it. you have reason to be afraid. and then a commercial speculation." said the German. it would set forth plainly. morning and evening. Plutarch's men." interposed du . and necessity of deformity. If there were a paper for hunchbacks. the utility. But here we have it. and live by it. you." said Blondet. systems. and the press has more wit than all men of intellect put together. but to supply them with congenial opinions." said Claude Vignon. and Catos. 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." "The authorities will resort to repressive legislation. We. came to be first a party weapon. you would make the conquest of Europe a second time. A newspaper is not supposed to enlighten its readers." said Blondet. suggested by his study of the Convention. 'No one individual is responsible for a crime committed collectively. is a shop to which people come for opinions of the right shade. for instance--I. Blondet. "I keep telling people that with all my might! Intellectual power is _the_ great power in France. you. nay. and be the first to fall victims? What do they smash in Paris when a riot begins?" "The street-lamps!" said Nathan. as Blondet says." returned the German diplomatist. and individuals. the periodical press will be the death of ideas. Aristides. "Journalism." "Blondet is right." "As a nation." "You are the proprietor of one of those poison shops. However shamefully a newspaper may behave. the harm that it does is done anonymously. you have too much mental activity to allow any government to run its course without interference. we are all immaculate. "The evil may have its uses. in short. "if the press did not exist. "And therefore. carried on without conscience or scruple. you will reap revolt. the disgrace attaches to no one person. and treacherous. "but we are too modest to fear for ourselves. so far from being in the hands of a priesthood.

"The people with hypocrisy added and generosity lacking. if any demand was refused. the Minister gets all the credit of the measure. in fact. I would wager that the Opposition papers would batter down a government of their own setting up. but ask for redress. The more they have. If the case is taken into court." "Journalism is. but in ten years' time every little youngster that has left school will take himself for a great man. and the Charter against the King. the plaintiff is held up as an unpatriotic obscurantist and a menace to the liberties of the country.Bruel. in fact." said Vignon. qualities denied to noble genius. The press will hold up the magistracy to scorn for meting out rigorous justice to the press. and the press will be infallible. It is a kind of . you are informed that he is not better than a common thief. Epigram breaks out the more for repressive legislation. One religion will be played off against another.--The King. can you extinguish the genius of the French nation. The paper scoffs if the victim gains the day. and if heavy damages are awarded. and _vice versa_. and applaud its action when it serves the cause of party hatred. A newspaper invents a scandalous libel--it has been misinformed. if a newspaper is against him. the curtailers of its liberties are monsters." interrupted Blondet. does right. but endowed with the resistance of flexibility of india-rubber. We see such things already indeed. Journalism will descend to mountebanks' tricks worthy of Bobeche. 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. the constant reader is persuaded to believe anything you please. and he will laugh in your face and treat his offence as a mere trifle. The _parvenu_ journalist will be succeeded by the starveling hack. "A law is going to be passed. "What is the law in France against the spirit in which it is received. falling sooner or later into the hands of men of abilities even lower than the average. the most subtle of all solvents?" "Ideas and opinions can only be counteracted by opinions and ideas. the People in folio form. If the victim complains. or the mistress who sacrifices everything to her lover. and by no other means." "Pooh!" retorted Nathan. as Aristides was driven into exile by the Athenians. the paper gets off with an apology for taking so great a freedom. perhaps the future newspaper proprietor will be the tradesman with capital sufficient to buy venal pens. Journalism would serve up its father with the Attic salt of its own wit sooner than fail to interest or amuse the public. and take their place. the editor complains that nobody asked him to rectify the mistake. nay." Vignon continued. "By sheer terror and despotism. it is like steam in an engine without a safety-valve. Everything which does not suit the newspaper will be unpatriotic. "All real ability will be driven out from the ranks of Journalism. drag them down by the feet. The sins of the press? Pooh! mere trifles. the more they will want in the way of concessions. just as they are battering the present government. Journalism will outdo the actor who put his son's ashes into the urn to draw real tears from his eyes. "Napoleon did wisely when he muzzled the press. for the language lends itself admirably to allusion and ambiguity. We shall see newspapers started in the first instance by men of honor. and give him time enough. The most sensational fictions will be invented to increase the circulation. There is no salve for this sore. slash his predecessors from the lofty height of a newspaper column. for example.

'Quarrel with my own bread and butter? _Never_!'" "Do you know what Vignon puts me in mind of?" said Lousteau. had shown him the noble method of work. Well. And when. We. that our brains are consumed to furnish their daily supply of poisonous trash. We are indolent. Blondet and I. we like to look on at the game. who speculate in our abilities. have reason to know that crowned kings are less ungrateful than kings of our profession. the wider it spreads. he will be guilty of anonymous meannesses which take the place of stratagem. and to die of thirst if he is starving. he is witty--so much the better for him. heard warnings on all sides. he is a poet. "What a nation this is! You see so much good in it and so much evil. Lucien." he continued.'" A burst of laughter followed the sally. until the day comes when newspapers shall so increase and multiply in the earth that confusion will be the result--a second Babel. We are cleverer.corruption which grows more and more obtrusive and malignant. shall continue to write. he will blunt his intellect and sully his soul. addressing the Duc de Rhetore." "I thought you would be more amusing than this!" said Florine. we have NOT the grim qualities of the man who makes others work for him. you are too young to come here. all of us. And yet we. standing on the brink of the precipice over which he was destined to fall. gentlemen." continued Claude Vignon. by the blessing of chance. the more patiently it will be endured. and what is more. he will put all his best and finest thought into his work. those dealers in poisons will leave him to starve if he is thirsty. yet nevertheless we are always exploited by them. we are meditative. "Florine is right. The merchants meanwhile ate and drank and listened. "Of one of those fat women in the Rue du Pelican telling a schoolboy. he has squandered his genius in the service of others who find the capital and do no work. Lousteau himself (partly from selfish motives) had tried to warn him away by describing Journalism and Literature in their practical aspects. they will sweat our brains and blame us for improvidence. such as we are. like men who work in quicksilver mines. We have a heart somewhere beneath the intellect. that the most sordid man of business is not so mercenary nor so keen in speculation. and the arrival of another convict gives me pleasure. but it pleased Coralie. "Look there. knowing that they are doomed to die of their trade. than Messieurs This and That. all of us. and ratting to the enemy in the warfare of _condottieri_. he will cross the threshold of one of those dens where a man's intellect is prostituted.--"You are prodigals who cannot ruin yourselves. "But. yet here am I in the galleys." said the Minister. and we are fastidious." said Finot. like hundreds more. D'Arthez had set him on the right road." And so. "let us leave the cure of public evils to those quacks the statesmen." "Thanks. Lucien had refused to believe that there ." said Blondet. As Charlet says. dear me. and aroused in him the spirit before which all obstacles disappear. pillage. 'My boy. "_I_ knew all this. "at that young man sitting beside Coralie --what is his name? Lucien! He has a beautiful face.

all unsuspicious. Lousteau. Coralie and her waiting-woman were obliged to assist the poet to climb to the first floor. these intellects environed by cold and brilliant analysis. a keen-witted man of the world. Lucien was ignominiously sick. was proposing to the assembled sleepers a health to Aurora the rosy-fingered. and argue. every one at table had made a remarkably good supper. and followed Florine to her room. in his own way. a match for a journalist. And besides all this. made a sign to the Duke and Tullia. Finally. this was his first experience of cookery carried to the pitch of a fine art. and very nearly fainted on . That evening he had seen things as they are. seemed so far greater in his eyes than the grave and earnest members of the brotherhood. and the three disappeared with the first symptoms of vociferous nonsense which precede the grotesque scenes of an orgy in its final stage. the first dawn of light discovered one man still able to speak. as soon as the wine was uppermost in Camusot's head. by the appreciation of his future rivals. sitting beside Camusot. that intrepid champion. And Camusot drank. he had fallen under the spell. When they reached the handsome house in the Rue de Vendome. left his guests to smoke. and so far from shuddering at the sight. Lucien was unaccustomed to orgies of this kind. for he thought himself. he was intoxicated with enjoyment of the intellectually stimulating society in which he found himself. the success of his articles and his conquest of Coralie might have turned an older head than his. and Blondet. The German Minister. During the discussion. and wondered at their sinister power. furtively poured cherry-brandy several times into his neighbor's wineglass. clad in armor damascened by their vices. a duke. made happy by a few words of his. the most beautiful actress in Paris. Camusot subsided under the table. He beheld the very heart's core of corruption of that Paris which Blucher so aptly described. The jokes became more personal when dessert appeared and the wine began to circulate. through the steam of the dishes and the fumes of wine. so fair had she grown with love. but the fresh air was too much for him. By the bright light of the wax-candles. but now he had heard the journalists themselves crying woe for their hurt.could be so much hidden corruption. faded away before a temptation that appealed to every fibre of his nature. where the actress lived. A minister. and he thought that he had power to win his kingdom. moreover. Daylight surprised the party. for the first time in his life he drank exquisite wines. or more accurately. His capricious instincts awoke. there was this Coralie. Lucien felt a horrible craving to reign over these kings. and such wines are not met with every day. How could it have been otherwise? Lucien's author's vanity had just been gratified by the praises of those who know. thought that he had gone home with Coralie. they made good their escape down the staircase and sprang into a cab. she looked sublimely beautiful to his eyes. The brotherhood. Coralie and Lucien had been behaving like children all the evening. These extraordinary men. he was horribly drunk. and an opera-dancer had joined the party of journalists. laugh. the heaven of noble thoughts. and challenged him to drink. he was reveling in his first taste of luxury. She was the loveliest. had watched them tearing their foster-mother's heart to read auguries of the future. His head was very tolerably clear as he came down the staircase. he had seen them at their work. Matifat. looking round for him.

to steep both in ecstasy. Who. he knew it. Coralie had already risen. Ten hours later Lucien awoke to meet Coralie's eyes. 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." "Poor boy! He is as innocent as a lamb. would not have found excuse in Lucien's more than human beauty? To the actress kneeling by the bedside. Berenice. it is the air. he knew nothing and saw nothing. Lucien understood all the self-sacrifice and delicacy of love. "No. half unconscious. it seemed that she had received love's consecration. happy in love within her. "Quick.the staircase. Lucien. some tea! Make some tea. moreover. a world of rose-color and white. He was very drowsy. He had caught glimpses of Coralie's chamber. drawing close the bond between the heart and the senses. putting a kiss on his hair. He had admired Florine's apartments. "And he knows that you are ." said Berenice. I was sitting up for you. Berenice broke in upon Coralie's rapture. Coralie made him swallow several cups of tea. cradled in this voluptuous paradise. mademoiselle! Where did you pick him up? I did not think a man could be as beautiful as you are. In a moment she had flung off her clothing and slipped like a serpent to Lucien's side. For in that apotheosis of human passion. Thank you. It was almost noon. she must be at the theatre by seven o'clock. she could not drink too deeply of this love that rose to rapture. Yet she had returned to gaze at the unconscious poet. mamma. lulled to sleep in bliss. which she meant to lay up as a relic. with Berenice's assistance. a stalwart Norman peasant woman as ugly as Coralie was pretty. abominably stained." "How charmingly he says 'mamma.'" cried Coralie. was laid at last in bed. but she still wore the delicate dress." he murmured again and again. "Did the porter see us? Was there anyone else about?" she asked." "Does Victoire know anything?" "Rather not!" returned Berenice. Coralie. She had watched by him as he slept. but this surpassed them in its dainty refinement." Lucien got out. poet that he was. undressed the poet with all a mother's tender care. "and I have never taken so much before in my life. "It is nothing. lay Coralie's justification. when Lucien lay in bed." said Berenice. and left him to sleep. fain of its reward. "Here comes Camusot!" cried the maid. for if she was to play her part as the Andalusian. "It is the air. "What happiness to love such an angel. an exquisite creation of luxury. At five o'clock in the afternoon Lucien was still sleeping." cried Coralie. He looked into Coralie's eyes. "It is nothing.

Innate generosity suggested that he was doing Coralie an injury. which an unobservant man may be allowed to disregard up to a certain point." she went on. "What is it?" asked Coralie. it must be added. and after all I must wear them. and bade Camusot seat himself in the _gondole_. These would be more in place in a shop window or taking a walk on the boulevard on somebody's feet. Coralie flung herself into the depths of a settee. and reflected their surroundings like a mirror. a round-backed chair that stood opposite. dared not look his mistress in the face. faltered out Camusot. They were the unmistakable. He put them on. The boots stared the honest silk-mercer out of countenance. which shone in glistening contrast against tight-fitting trousers invariably of some light color. here. for I must put on these confounded boots again. Berenice left the room with a scared glance at Coralie." said Camusot. and.--"Berenice. . uncompromising hessians then prescribed by sir. and that is the truth." "Don't put them on again if they are uncomfortable. smiling to herself at Camusot's want of spirit. honest soul. and both mistress and maid alike forgot that tell-tale witness." There was no excuse for this mean-spirited monologue. . Don't forget to bring them to my dressing-room to-night. whither Coralie and the maid brought his clothes with magical speed. (The boots had made him feel so very uncomfortable himself.--"I have a man's part in What's-his-name's piece. I ought to be as blind as Cupid himself. breathing more freely." "Ring the bell. he could not take his eyes off the pair of boots. But Coralie's adorer. they tell a pretty plain tale." Lucien sprang up at once. but they hurt me so much that I have taken them off. without a pair of feet in them. Camusot appeared. I am fifty years old. The bootmaker for the theatre brought me these things to try if I could walk in them." said Coralie. when the Norman handmaid appeared. . until a pair can be made to measure. a pair of extremely elegant betasseled boots. "Ought I to make a scene and leave Coralie?" he pondered. Berenice drew aside a curtain. "Were you beginning to believe?--great stupid! Oh! and he would believe it too. . instead of torturing herself as she did just now. and only then did Coralie's eyes alight on Lucien's boots. _your_ boots?" . and he fled into a dainty dressing-room. and I have never worn a man's clothes in my life before. they pained his heart. Berenice had privately varnished them. however. and put them before the fire to dry.) "Mademoiselle would do better to have a pair made of very thin morocco. "Nothing. warming in the fender. "just bring me a button-hook. The boots were not the high-lows at present in vogue. but . addressing Berenice." "What? . "Is it worth while to make a fuss about a trifle? There is a pair of boots wherever you go. "And whose should they be?" she demanded haughtily." she said.

to do the house-work. yes. and they do not understand how to love like you stupid old business men. You are so bored with your own society." "Come. I wouldn't let her shed a tear. She was crying. to leave this paradise and go and live in your garret." "You were nicely screwed yesterday." said Coralie. sir. "Do you think so? I don't admire men of that sort." said Camusot. and sold her. poor child! I have been telling her that you were too clever to do anything so silly. I would wait on her hand and foot as I wait on Coralie. sold her own child! If I had a daughter. Ah! Papa Camusot.--But I have just been comforting her. "No. if I was a man and loved a woman.the management is so stingy. I tell you at once----" "You will give that young man a present. There. she even talked of getting rid of Camusot if he is in your way. An hour later Berenice came to release Lucien. she is like my own . my little pet. So much for your care of me." "Is monsieur dining with madame?" inquired Berenice." she said. she says. and they have told her that you haven't a brass farthing. She wants to clear out of this. the god to whom she gives her soul. I would rather do that than pay as Florine does. her heart's darling as you are. Oh! there are those that are jealous and envious of you. She was sick of the life. I was obliged to keep the cab for seven hours. "Stay here.--She was so unhappy with her mother that used to beat her. I don't like men who drink. and I should go." "You shall go in your own carriage to-morrow to your manager's dinner at the _Rocher de Cancale_. Berenice. sir? Oh! you will see that you are her darling. my mouth is clammy. I only came in at six o'clock after looking for you everywhere. she is! She deserved that God in heaven should send her one of His angels. "Coralie is coming back alone. but you are too much of an angel to ruin her." "That is a handsome boy. "Are you just getting up. I am just going to dine. Yes.--If you only knew how nice she is when I hear her say her part over! My Coralie. go away with you. The new piece will not be given next Sunday. Coralie's companion since her childhood. I was right. I know. and live in the Latin Quarter. you forget me for a wine-bottle. her love. "Oh! yes. wasn't I. I don't want to fall off after that young man's notice of me. I ought to take care of myself now when I am to play every night so long as the _Alcalde_ draws. Coralie?" "Just this moment. sir. they are too much like women. too." said Camusot. yonder old fool has nothing but the body. You ought to order a pair for her----" "Yes. had a keen and subtle brain in her unwieldy frame. or give me a carriage to save time in future. good-for-nothing that one loves. you see. hurrying Camusot out of the room. I suppose?" interrupted Camusot.

it seemed to him that he had heard the name before.child to me. in truth. A pair of little. and Lucien. and she was arranging with him the places where she wished him to look after her. There is such a talk about your article on the Boulevards. produces upon a schoolboy. the house seemed to be some palace in the _Cabinet des Fees_. "Isn't it nice?" she said coaxingly. smoothing the lace bed-spread. he would be glad to barter his gray hair for your golden head. and persuaded Lucien to go to bed to take a preliminary nap. and felt glad for her mistress. Everything called up associations of innocence. "He would willingly give all that he is worth to be in your place. Florine might try to play her some shabby trick. She lighted the wax-candles. Lucien made a good dinner. and to Lucien's bewildered fancy. The room was full of flowering plants. wouldn't you. and not with wine. Berenice had read his wish.--Isn't it a bed fit for a prince. the dishes were of wrought silver. the first time that she has been really applauded. "Lucky?" repeated Berenice. The carving of the rosewood furniture caught and imprisoned the light that rippled over its surface. A carpet fit for a king's palace was spread upon the floor. delicate white heaths and scentless camellias. was quite willing to sleep on the couch that he had been admiring. black velvet slippers lined with purple silk told of happiness awaiting the poet of _The Marguerites_. Priceless trifles gleamed from the white marble chimney-piece. with her bare flaunting throat and neat ankles. it seems. Berenice waiting on him. for all she calls herself her friend. and they have got up a famous _claque_ for the second performance. setting a costly stand before him." She gave Lucien the richest wine that Bordeaux keeps for the wealthiest English purchaser. Lucien was intoxicated with love.--These are the first good times she has seen since I have been with her. Berenice left the room with the inquiry. covered with dishes abstracted from her mistress' dinner-table. There stood Coralie in most luxurious night attire. You have written something. Lucien had been sleeping. "He is the head of the _claqueurs_. At half-past ten that night Lucien awoke to look into eyes brimming over with love. The rug beside the bed was of swan's skins bordered with sable. How was it possible in these rooms to see the life that Coralie led in its true colors? Berenice noticed Lucien's bewildered expression. Camusot had chosen the richest stuffs from the _Golden Cocoon_ for the hangings and window-curtains. in stands marvelously wrought. and take all for herself. "How lucky Camusot is!" cried he. The luxury was producing exactly the same effect upon him that the sight of a girl walking the pavement." she said. than in a garret?--You won't let her do anything rash?" she continued. "What time . lest the cook should suspect that her mistress had a lover in the house." "Who? Braulard?" asked Lucien. A dainty lamp hung from the ceiling draped with silk. Braulard has been going through the play with her while you were asleep. the painted porcelain plates had cost a louis d'or apiece. "You would be more comfortable here.

who entered the room. It is my wife's birthday. All Paris in the Champs Elysees beheld the lovers. "Now. Down the stairs she went. I had forgotten that. and in her morning?" "At eleven o'clock. a dozen cravats and a dozen pocket-handkerchiefs for him." he replied. she appeared before all eyes an exquisite vision in her dainty toilette. "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. holding him tightly to her." said Coralie. He would reappear in the world of . and met a scornful glance from the poet. "do you love me so much?--I persuaded this gentleman to call on me this morning. happiness had increased Coralie's loveliness to the highest possible degree. sir. We will have breakfast in bed. and watched Camusot alight from a handsome coupe. "If only I could give you a carriage every day!" said the poor fellow." said Camusot in a melancholy voice. how badly bored you will be!" she said. "Poor pet. indicating Lucien to Camusot. Once again the Furies seized on Lucien at the bidding of Pride. Coralie had sent to Colliau's for a dozen fine shirts. Mme. "I thought that we might take a drive in the Champs Elysees to try the carriage. He saw glimpses of a great future before him. "I shall not dine with you. I am not at home to anybody before two o'clock. she lavished caresses upon him. several steps at a time. the elderly merchant following in their wake like a seal on land. In an avenue of the Bois de Boulogne they met a caleche." "Go without me. drawing Lucien after her. and quite unable to catch them up. and was about to make his power felt. When a carriage stopped at the door. she would drive with him in the new carriage. That moment was one of the sweetest in his life. And thus Lucien passed under the Caudine Forks. Lucien had been bathed and combed and dressed." she continued. it is two o'clock. as well as twelve pairs of gloves in a cedar-wood box. Lucien enjoyed the most intoxicating of pleasures. turning to Lucien. She was wild with joy at the thought that she and Lucien would handsel this gift together. de Bargeton looked in surprise at Lucien. putting her arms about his neck. He could fling them back in a glance some of the revengeful thoughts which had gnawed his heart ever since they planted them there. d'Espard and Mme." she said." At two o'clock in the afternoon Coralie and her lover were sitting together." "Poor Musot. and perhaps decided his fate. they both rushed to the window. but she comforted him with an adorable gesture. she seemed to love Camusot. The poet to all appearance had come to pay a call. who stood in distress and confusion.

Camusot. he would take a signal revenge. alone. who chose to be known as Mme. "I am sure I am quite as sharp and shrewd as they can be. he took pleasure in the pain of others. all the social pettiness hitherto trodden under foot by the worker. dear boy." "Pshaw!" said Lucien. Lucien asked the reason of his reserve. he was the brilliant Lucien de Rubempre who shone for a few months in the world of letters and art. Unbounded ambition and jealousy smouldered within him. short and thin. Now he understood all that Lousteau's attack had meant. wait. that collective mentor. Hector Merlin. and did his best to secure a recruit for the squadron under his command. "Don't make any engagement. and Mme. cajoled Lucien. Lousteau had served his passions. He was feted and envied. had seemed to mortify them in the interests of tiresome virtues and work which began to look useless and hopeless in Lucien's eyes. This charming woman. his talk sparkled. was the most dangerous journalist present. was absent. was the handsomest and most fashionable of the class of women now euphemistically styled _lorettes_. he gained self-possession. .Paris. All Florine's supper guests were there except the Minister. each one of whom in his heart thought himself a cleverer fellow than the rest. The dinner at the _Rocher de Cancale_ was exquisite. the Duke. His abilities were but slender. Finot. du Val-Noble asked Lucien and Coralie to dine with her. Lucien had spent the forty-eight hours since the success of his article in paradise. did not join in the laughter. du Val-Noble were overwhelmingly amiable and polite to each other. And Coralie watched the manoeuvres of this purveyor of brains. saw that Lucien was nibbling at the bait. but the natural instinct which draws the upstart towards money and power served him as well as fixity of purpose. for reasons not far to seek." Finot and Hector Merlin evidently had not fallen out over that affair of the white lines and spaces in the columns. Hector Merlin. for it was Finot who introduced Lucien to the journalist. du Val-Noble. while the brotherhood. the member of the brotherhood. we will talk of it to-night. By the time the dessert was put on the table. scenting it afar as an ogre might scent human flesh. Coralie and Mme. sprang up again afresh in his soul. and fomented strife to turn it to his own account. too. but these gaps were filled by two famous actors and Hector Merlin and his mistress. with lips always tightly compressed. They chatted frankly and unrestrainedly. and the dancer. and he had little force of character. Merlin. and Lucien as the newcomer was made much of by them all. 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 most touching friendship appeared to prevail among the men. Lucien and Merlin at once took a dislike to one another. proclaimed aloud the thoughts that Lucien kept to himself. They want to exploit you. with his infallible instinct for discovering ability. unfortunately. and tried to put him on his guard. 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.

we strike down a friend with the weapon which by rights should only be turned against an enemy. and everybody will fawn upon you. At first he felt miserable over the discovery."You are just entering the world of letters. and if you mean to make your way in literature." Hector Merlin watched Lucien as he spoke. now that. he took out his purse and found the money he had lost. could fail to understand Lucien's feelings as he climbed the dirty. before very long. let other people continually feel your teeth. You believe in friendship. "You will be able to present it with more confidence now. Play followed. at the cheerless grate. If you have a mind to be loved. Here we are friends or foes. in the delights of love. saw that his words went to the neophyte's heart like a stab. and foresaw his future in Coralie's rooms. He sat down and began to look through his . and Hector Merlin was glad. wound their susceptibilities. 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. but--he had already come as far as the Rue de la Harpe. passion includes every human affection. to be consistently spiteful. and entered and looked round at the unswept brick floor. the fierce excitement of the gambler. fetid staircase to his lodging. as it happens. "we shall live together as husband and wife. Honorable resolution struggled with temptation and swayed him now this way." d'Arthez wrote. short of a Diogenes." he said. and argued himself into accepting the gift. and Coralie brought him away. Lucien went from thought to thought. till he saw in it a proof of the maternal love which is blended with passion in women of her stamp. "You are a journalist with all your illusions left. turned the key that grated in the lock. which was to gain so strong a hold upon him. learn to be ill-natured. I give it you now in confidence. that fine sentiments will do nothing for you. "I love her. they say. A package of manuscript was lying on the table. and it is no small secret. and he forgot for a while. and thought of going back at once to return a gift which humiliated him." he said." "Regrets! What does he mean?" exclaimed Lucien. If you have never heard this golden rule before. I can see. dear poet. he saw his present in the garret. DANIEL. I will never forsake her!" What mortal. he would not return now that he had almost reached the Hotel de Cluny. The polite tone of the note astonished him. to friends and enemies. We saw your charming article on the Panorama-Dramatique. He pondered over Coralie's forethought as he went. You will find out. For some moments he stood in deep thought. It was his novel. make no exception even of your friends. For Coralie and her like. a note from Daniel d'Arthez lay beside it:-"Our friends are almost satisfied with your work. never leave your mistress until you have made her shed a tear or two. Lucien lost all his money. When he left Coralie in the morning and returned to the Latin Quarter. If you are naturally kindly. you are sure to excite as much jealousy in the profession as regret among your friends here. at the ugly poverty and bareness of the room.

pregnant. grasping his manuscript tightly. he knew that the brotherhood held journalism in utter abhorrence." said Michel Chrestien solemnly. a journalist. A master's correction of a line made upon the study always teaches more than all the theories and criticisms in the world. nervous. as he read chapter after chapter. And. and the devotion of the unknown great men.manuscript. not Louis. "He will die as he lived." "_We_ are to be pitied. terse. who had just gone out. to see in what condition his friends had returned it to him. stricken to earth by such greatness of soul." said Bianchon. with white robes and rosy-hued girdle and scarf--an entrancing creation. The misshapen. he felt conscious that he was less worthy of them than before. he would have had her break with Camusot. A voice spoke within him. due no doubt to Horace Bianchon. replaced his conversations. reading through rising tears. "Love fell like a firebrand in the vast empire of his brain and burned him away. who refused to leave the path of honor. which taught him more of literature and art than all his four years' apprenticeship of study and reading and comparison. "What is it?" he cried." said Fulgence Ridal. All of them. His wordy passages of description were condensed and vivid. . "We have just heard news of a dreadful catastrophe. which seemed poor and pointless prattle in comparison. and thought of these friends. Dialogue. to find his poverty transmuted into riches by the cunning of the pen. telling him that if d'Arthez had loved Coralie. physiological observations. As he climbed the stairs. "What friends are these! What hearts! How fortunate I am!" he cried. Night fell and took him by surprise." said Leon Giraud. There is no hope for him. and that he himself was already." said d'Arthez. feeling the worth of such a lesson. What was his amazement. admiring the alterations. his soul wandering in the skies. now stood out in vigorous contrast of color and relief. were in d'Arthez's room when he entered it. closely packed. With the quick impulsiveness of a poetic and mobile temperament. our most loved friend. a little uncertain in the drawing. who was like a light among us for two years----" "Louis Lambert!" "Has fallen a victim to catalepsy. His characters. ill-clad child of his brain had returned to him as a lovely maiden." said Joseph Bridau. besides this. and full of the spirit of the age. he rushed off to Daniel's lodging. supplied links of interpretations between human character and the curious phenomena of human life--subtle touches which made his men and women live. the greatest thinker of the age. except Meyraux. and saw that all their faces were full of sorrow and despair. "Yes. "he has reached a height that we cannot so much as see. "He will die. his body unconscious on earth. to some small extent. his friends of the brotherhood.

I have not added to the burdens of genius." said Michel Chrestien. I have scorned the easy triumphs of epigram. in short." "I am not a journalist yet. "You have changed my alloy into golden coin." exclaimed Lucien. 'I have not sat in judgment on another man's work. "Yes. we will spread doctrines that.' is not this a viaticum that gives one daily strength?" "But one can say all this. "The fame of your first appearance has reached even the Latin Quarter."Perhaps he will recover. "Lucien knows the value of a clean conscience. "we might produce imbecility instead of catalepsy. "We had the pleasure. I have not even troubled the happiness of imbecility." "Is there no way of offering another head to the spirit of evil? I would give mine to save him!" cried Michel Chrestien. to one man afterwards. so you are a journalist." "Yet there are physical means. "Our duty to Humanity comes first." said Lucien. surely. I have sacrificed no one's success to a jest. "Aha! So much the better." "I came here with a heart full of gratitude to you all. "If I had absolutely no other way of earning a living. "I told you so!" said d'Arthez." Lucien broke in with Machiavellian wisdom. When you can say to yourself as you lay your head on the pillow at night. 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. and yet work on a newspaper. "Well." "Gratitude! For what do you take us?" asked Bianchon. are you?" asked Leon Giraud. "From what Meyraux has been telling us. "we are capitulating." replied Michel Chrestien. "And what would become of European federation?" asked d'Arthez. will be of real service to mankind----" "You will not have a single subscriber. I should certainly come to this. are we?" "He will turn journalist." returned Lucien. "Oh. recovery seems impossible. I have not used the edge of my wit to deal a stab to some harmless soul." said Bianchon." "Oh! oh! oh!" cried Fulgence. I have not acted against my convictions." added Fulgence. "Ah! true." Leon Giraud said gravely. Lucien." said d'Arthez." said Lucien. perhaps." answered Bianchon. his voice rising a note each time. I have given pain to no one. . "Medicine has no power over the change that is working in his brain.

whom an actor kisses on stage. I could not bring myself to love a woman who must rub shoulders with all sorts of people in the green-room. smile on every one. with humorous fierceness. at this moment. and a mistress for a prince. "Look here. and dress like a man. and all sorts of pain. "I could have wished Lucien a Beatrice." asserted Michel Chrestien. like the dentist's pincers." continued Lucien." D'Arthez was kind. who would have been a help to him in life----" "But." he thought. Coralie herself." "And if she would not leave the stage?" "I should die of mortification. but his conscience treated him hardly. perhaps in the street. and my love should cleanse her from the stain of it. then he went. and talked comfortingly. and his heart sank. "Hard and salutary." said d'Arthez. "but they will be worth five hundred thousand. "He is hard. The poet spent an hour with his friends. and is there any harm in it?" "You would not say that if you thought that there was no harm in it. "a noble woman. Daniel." commented Lucien. A dim foreboding told him . Or if I loved such a woman. "No." said Bianchon. lift her skirts as she dances. "you can be a great writer. You cannot pluck love out of your heart as you draw a tooth. she must lower herself before the public. she should leave the stage. "love is love wherever you find it. only devotion. "Michel foresees your future." said Bianchon. he is thinking of you with tears in his eyes. "You were seen driving about in a very smart turnout with a pair of thoroughbreds. and saw a faint light shining in them." burst out Michel Chrestien." asked Lucien." "You will need a lot of capital. and sniffing comically. but a little play-actor you shall never be. "on that one point I am an aristocrat. looking at Lucien's head." "Well. "Anybody might take him for a perfumer's assistant. "You will be a journalist--a journalist!" as the witch cried to Macbeth that he should be king hereafter! Out in the street." said the fierce republican. is Michel Chrestien. "When they find out that I am tolerating Camusot. how they will despise me." said d'Arthez. and tried to cheer Lucien. crying to him. that all the world may see what none should see save I alone." and he took up his hat and went out." Lucien's face grew dark and thoughtful. is it not?" "Ah!" said the republican member. jealousy. he looked up at d'Arthez's windows."There will be five hundred of them.

and hurried away to Florine. and you could blossom out into leaders in it at your ease. Merlin is on the paper. The adorable girl's excuse for her visit was an announcement that the firm of Camusot. and all three breakfasted sumptuously together. and so is Florine. my boy. She would be as wretchedly poor as her poet. Lucien went to Etienne Lousteau's room. is to be editor of Dauriat's weekly paper. for which he has not paid one penny. "Very well. he is the chap to follow close on Finot's heels. and Lucien meant to invite Matifat. A few moments were spent together." Lucien found her sobbing in his garret. Everything went off as I expected. received their friend in the pretty bedroom. with a salary of six hundred francs per month. and he may do you a good turn if he can reckon on your pen. "Why. It is a Liberal paper. Coralie. she wept. As he turned out of the Place de la Sorbonne into the Rue de Cluny. that is the popular party." said Florine. "take advantage of it at once. found it empty.that he had bidden his friends good-bye for the last time. saw Coralie as a saint ready to assume the hair-shirt of poverty. du Val-Noble. you will be a Liberal. you meet great people at their house--dukes and dandies and millionaires. or you will soon be forgotten." "The bargain. I should advise you. is concluded. didn't they ask you and Coralie to dine with them?" "Yes. and Lousteau (the second trio) to supper. You would do well to pay him attention. if you can keep well with such a rascal. "ask him to be of the party. he saw a carriage at the door of his lodging. "That Finot. Next morning. when they sat at table. And I. you would do better for yourself if they had reason to be afraid of you. my dear fellow. if you mean to go over to the Ministerialists. that Lucien." Lousteau continued. the great business. She spared Lucien the knowledge that Camusot was waiting for her below. and besides. and keep well with him. settled into possession of their new quarters like a married couple. had Lucien any invitations to issue to people who might be useful to him? Lucien said that he would take counsel of Lousteau. Coralie had driven all the way from the Boulevard du Temple for the sake of a moment with her lover and a "good-night. he might perhaps introduce you. Felicien Vernou does a _feuilleton_ for a political paper. and Coralie hurried away. as she arranged his shirts and gloves and handkerchiefs in the crazy chest of drawers. He may be useful to you before long." said Lousteau. ask him and Mme. du Val-Noble to supper. Her distress was so real and so great. we shall come across him pretty often. and Lucien had mentioned Coralie's projected supper. without a spark of talent in him. and owner of a sixth share. like ours. at eight o'clock. she could give points to . "you are going too. for rancorous people are always in need of others." "Your beginning has made enough sensation to smooth your way. Then there is Hector Merlin and his Mme." Lucien and Etienne were now on familiar terms after Friday's debauch and the dinner at the _Rocher de Cancale_. Lousteau and Florine. am now editor of our little paper. but even now chidden for his connection with an actress. Florine managed superbly." replied Lucien. Florine. to come with me to see Felicien Vernou.

in a cotton dressing-gown contrived out of the remains of one of his wife's dresses.Tallyrand himself." said Florine. we have been breakfasting with her. "And by these means. Felicien Vernou. "We have just left Florine. if you had been my brother." continued Lousteau. "We shall see. "Haven't I been in Paris for three years?" said Lousteau. the harsh." he attack an enemy all round. you are saying nothing!" exclaimed Florine." . and two very small children perched on high chairs with a bar in front to prevent the infants from tumbling out. A diplomatist sees a man made up for the occasion. To Lucien's great astonishment. for a chance to get an article into a paper! You will do like Emile Blondet." "Let us go in the first place to Felicien Vernou. A marbled paper. "You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. placing a chair for Lucien. and a series of aqua tints in gilt frames decorated the apartment. and severe critic's surroundings were vulgar to the last degree. in the language of her class. "All those in our set combine to in various papers." retorted Lousteau.'" "I suspect that Florine put him up to it." put in Lousteau. 'This affair is quite in my line. Lousteau?" he asked. In six months' time you will be giving yourself high and mighty airs. "He said. I am supplying drugs to the public. "but I Finot. "Have you breakfasted. fastidious. I could not for you. "and only yesterday Finot began to pay me a fixed monthly salary of three hundred francs." cried Lucien." "And when the thing was settled." she added. I have promised can draw back if you like." said Lucien. we know him in his moments of folly. He was eager to conclude an alliance with such formidable birds of prey. my little dear." "We have a hold on men through their pleasures." said Lucien. wait till they are sick of waiting. cheap and shabby. your foot is in the stirrup. "What lots of young fellows wait for years." "Well." remarked Florine. so our power is greater. and lend each other a helping hand have done more won't answer for the next two for you. with a meaningless pattern repeated at regular intervals. "My dear boy. 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. Matifat made the first and last joke of his whole druggist's career. was not over well pleased by this invasion. and a hundred francs per sheet for his paper. somewhat nettled. Scores of sharp fellows will besiege Finot for days with offers to work for low pay. "while a diplomatist only works on their self-love. but you you are. covered the walls.--You little know how lucky added after a pause. where Vernou sat at table with a woman so plain that she could only be the legitimate mistress of the house. with her eyes turned on Lucien. with a mocking smile.

as we will attack his. so that he can put in at least a couple of articles every month. keen and elaborately wrought as a stiletto. Her health left no room for hope. Vernou was an actor by nature bound never to pardon the success of another." "Yes." replied Vernou. but that is not all. "She will take offence if we don't go. the strings of the latter article of dress being tied so tightly under the chin that her puffy cheeks stood out on either side. and you are very glad of her when you have a bill to discount. M. old chap." "Yes and no. "you are coming. with a tolerably fair complexion. "It is a supper. Sick of his marriage.Lucien could not take his eyes off Mme. he had yet sufficient of the artistic temper to suffer continually from their presence." continued Lousteau. and a few more besides--Hector Merlin and Mme. She looked like a stout. Give him out for a chap that will make a name for himself in literature. "You have so much imagination!" said Lucien." put in the wife." "This wife of mine. and will attack our enemies. 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. Vernou." said Lucien (Mme. dear. Lucien began to understand the sour look which seemed to add to the bleak expression of envy on Vernou's face. shaking . her cheeks were almost purple. were at once explained." "But we are engaged to Mme. "Let us go into my study. my dear boy. homely cook. the journalist's pungent phrases. "you have come on business. "What does that matter?" returned Vernou." he added. There will be play afterwards. She is always with me while I work. the acerbity of the epigrams with which his conversation was sown. I will say a word for him at the Opera to-night. In a moment it dawned upon Lucien how it was that Vernou was always so ill at ease in society. unable to bring himself to abandon his wife and family. and thereby made a mortal enemy of Vernou. du Val-Noble and some others. "Well. Mahoudeau this evening. my boy. rising from the table." Vernou said. enveloped her from head to foot in such a fashion that a comparison to a milestone at once suggested itself." "I have brought a message from Coralie. condemned to chronic discontent because he was never content with himself. here was the living explanation of his misanthropy." said Lousteau. A shapeless. so you must push him in your paper. if he means to be one of us. beltless garment. "Very well--good-bye till to-morrow. The lady wore a bandana tied over her night-cap. but commonplace to the last degree. fastened by a single button at the throat. no doubt. de Rubempre is about to be one of us." replied Etienne Lousteau. her fingers looked like sausages. 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.

Journalism is the giant catapult set in motion by pigmy hatreds. but his inflated periods would collapse at a pin-prick from a critic. for the two infants. were fighting with their spoons." "It is a case of gunophobia. it is ready. the joys of domestic life. where he will never set foot. He is at pains to write an original style. because he himself is a commoner. 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. "Poor Vernou cannot forgive us for his wife. dukes." said Lousteau. The most dogged industry would fail to graft a book on his prose. and therefore he goes in terror of reviews. marquises. a tiger with two hands that tears everything to pieces. philosophical or Liberal notions masquerading. it is all turned to gall. like every one else who can only keep his head above water . He tries to sneer at the Faubourg Saint-Germain. rejoicing over every one's misfortunes. he would give an eye to put out both eyes in the head of the best friend he has. That is the sort of man to raise a howl at the Jesuits. he would go into society. 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. 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. and a deluge of blood-thirsty reviews and stinging sarcasms against successful men of every sort would be averted. as if his pen had the hydrophobia." said Etienne. and he rose with a bow to his colleague's wife. reviling the work of unmarried men because he forsooth has a wife. he is a writer of articles. He ought to be relieved of her in the interests of the public. of fitting characters harmoniously in a plot which develops till it reaches a climax. You will see him using the bodies of the slain for a stepping-stone. when they came away. "When is your book coming out?" "That depends on Dauriat. Have you any wish to marry after this? Vernou has none of the milk of human kindness in him. Felicien is incapable of conceiving a work on a large scale. but he has no knowledge of facts. and he is emphatically the Journalist. and nobles. of broad effects. like Rigaudin. The abrupt departure was necessary indeed. attacking princes. my boy. this very moral critic will spare no one. "Has he ability?" "He is witty. "Are you satisfied?" "Yes and no----" "We will get up a success. and flinging the pap in each other's faces." said Vernou _pater-familias_. Vernou will not fight himself. In short. not even infants of tender age. He incubates articles. he that thinks himself the equal of no one. he does that all his life and nothing else. he would be an optimist. and journalism offers starting-points by the hundred.hands with every sign of cordiality." said Lucien. He has ideas. if he were in a fair way to be a Royalist poet with a pension and the Cross of the Legion of Honor. and makes his duchesses talk like his wife. If he were a bachelor. engaged in a noisy quarrel. and everlastingly preaching morality. his heroes are utopian creatures. is a woman who all unconsciously will work great havoc in contemporary literature. insult the Court. and the duties of the citizen. but he will set others fighting. "That.

the brilliant talk of this new friend. and expensive life which the actress led. "Yes. "Where shall I put you down?" "At Coralie's. "Well. . I should have been in for another six years of the Boulevard theatres. in strong contrast with the glistening leather. and take your fling. but he believed them practically useful. "if there had been no article.with the bladders of newspaper puffs." "Ah! we are infatuated." cried Coralie. The Gymnase offered Coralie an engagement after Easter on terms for which she had never dared to hope." She danced up to Lucien and flung her arms round him. _The Alcalde_ would have fallen flat but for him. The color of that seam had tinged his thoughts during a previous conversation with himself. a deep yellow thread used by the best bootmakers of that time. fashioning herself with incredible flexibility to his every wish." "You are turning editor. effeminate habits which strengthen her hold. must be spoken. the friends agreed to meet at the office between four and five o'clock. Lousteau was right." retorted Lousteau." said Coralie. as he sought to explain the presence of a mysterious pair of hessians in Coralie's fender. Love had come to Coralie. the axioms of Parisian Machiavelism. Arrived in the Boulevard du Temple. encouraging the soft." said Lucien. "Like everything else about him. let Coralie be your housekeeper. Rue de la Michodiere." said Camusot. sir. Hector Merlin would doubtless be there. Theoretically the poet knew that such thoughts were perilous. He found Coralie and Camusot intoxicated with joy." printed in black letters on the soft white kid lining." "What an article you are making out of him!" "That particular kind. his paradoxes. "What a mistake! Do as I do with Florine. there is no damning a devil. Lucien was thirsting already for enjoyment. he saw the seam of Lucien's boots. he was in love with the easy. luxurious. The flippant tone. for the courtesan who loves knows how to grapple her lover to her by every weakness in his nature. And Camusot? his eyes fell. "And this great success is owing to you. "You have a handsome pair of boots." he said." laughed Lucien. Looking down after the wont of mankind in moments of sharp pain.--all these things impressed Lucien unawares. The infatuation of desire was upon Lucien." "You would send a saint to perdition. putting an indescribable silken softness and sweetness into her enthusiasm. surely. He remembered now that he had seen the name of "Gay. and never written. my boy. his views of life." said Lousteau.

I would rather you did. she turned to the silk-mercer. M. sir. how like the Rue des Bourdonnais to ask for a tradesman's address. "I will believe nothing that you do not wish me to believe. if you would take off one of your boots. as if to bid him see the beautiful picture made by two young lovers. take all that you gave to me back again. speak out! You think that this gentleman's boots are very like mine. she looked from Camusot to Lucien. waiting for them." she added. I am deceiving you. It is the simple truth." Camusot sank into a low chair. And whichever way it is. and this gentleman was hiding in my dressing-room at the time. the love that all women long for. "I love mademoiselle. with a queenly gesture that crushed Camusot. we can do with some here. I do not want to keep anything of yours." "Indeed. and that is the identical pair." Lucien faltered out.--"Yes. but for his beauty. you must leave me or take me as I am. Yes. "Is it really true?" he asked. There was no anger in her face. At that word. looking at him with cruel scorn. "I could not get it on again without a button-hook. There was a note of ferocity in her voice which no words can describe. for I love this boy here madly. yet begging to be deceived." persisted Camusot." "Oh. not for his intellect. do you not?--I forbid you to take off your boots." She sat down. The two men avoided each other's eyes." said Camusot. "Do _you_ intend to patronize a young man's bootmaker? A nice young man you would make! Do keep to your own top-boots. no embarrassment. Coralie sprang to her poet and held him tightly to her. "Berenice will fetch you one. I was wrong----" "I am either a shameless baggage that has taken a sudden fancy. with her arms still about him. I would rather starve with him than have millions with you. you saw some boots lying about in the fender here the other day. Camusot. And if I am? I do it to please myself." said Lucien. I should be very much obliged. "Papa Camusot!" said Coralie. and said not a word. Come. flushing up. then. Coralie. and he had passed the night here. seeing from their faces that this was no jest." cried Coralie. they are the kind for a steady-going man with a wife and family and a mistress. turning to Lucien. or a poor. _hein_? Think so. . That was what you were thinking. unhappy girl who feels what love really is for the first time. "Poor Musot. "Would you like us to go away?" she asked." she said." jeered Camusot. "Don't play with me. "have the courage of your pitiful baseness. hid his face in his hands."I should be very glad of your bootmaker's address.

"And I shall make as much again at the theatre. "I must close with Finot after this. He is fond of me! We can live like Croesus on fifteen hundred francs a month. Sooner or later. it will not be long before you come to want. And yet." "And the horses? and the coachman? and the footman?" inquired Berenice. "There!" said Coralie. he would wait a while. "Come as often as you wish. The persistent passion that could consent to such humiliation terrified Lucien. "I will get into debt. Camusot's proposal of a dinner at Very's in the Palais Royal was accepted." Camusot seemed to be resigned to his fate so long as he was not driven out of the earthly paradise. And she began to dance with Lucien." the old tradesman said at last." Lucien exclaimed. stripped as he was of his happiness just as happiness had reached its height. and all that had been his should be his again. and _vogue le galere_!" She began to dance her Spanish dance. thought the wily tradesman. he beheld himself burdened with a woman. so . this handsome young fellow would be unfaithful. "What joy!" cried Coralie. "If I work hard I may make five hundred francs a month. Camusot will pay for my dresses as before. We shall always be together. And--I confess it. I will wait outside in the boulevard for you with the carriage." she said. However great this gentleman's talent may be. There is the worth of sixty thousand francs here in the furniture. an actress. but Coralie was there before his eyes. Coralie was quite unsoftened by it. "I shall like you all the better when I don't pretend to love you. you will live here. in a faint. "Stay here. but I could not bear to think of my Coralie in want. Coralie. in which his life could not have been all joy. let me come and see you sometimes." Lucien sat down on the sofa and made some very sober reflections as he watched Coralie at her toilet. We old fellows must expect this sort of thing.Cold chills ran down Lucien's spine. as soon as Camusot had departed. I cannot live without you. poor Musot. he can't afford to keep you. with an excited eagerness that revealed the strength of the passion in her heart. he would be their friend. Coralie. keep it all." The poor man's gentleness. he would keep a watch on him. "I will dress and take you to your office. It would have been wiser to leave Coralie free than to start all at once with such an establishment. touched Lucien deeply. and a household. and Coralie was so lovely." said Coralie. and the better to do this and use his opportunity with Coralie." Lucien said. I may be of use to you. without counting extras. unsteady voice that came from his heart. he trusted to the chances of life in Paris and to the temptations that would beset Lucien's path. "You will not go back now to your garret in the Latin Quarter. You can take a room in the Rue Charlot for the sake of appearances. "I don't want anything back.

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 you see; you must stand of Nathan's, and we are empire.--Frederic, will tricks.--We are all working for you, Lucien, by us when your turn comes. We are all friends attacking him. Now, let us divide Alexander's 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?"

he will be impartial. 'this critic is not jealous.' says the reader. but no ideas. of which Scott is full. Action and stir is not life. over thought. insert a panegyric on Voltaire. draw a comparison between Rabener. cry out against a style within the reach of any intellect. . and in the distance you descry a legion of petty authors hastening to imitate this novel and easy style of writing. and Buffon. for any one can commence author at small expense in a way of literature. show how it spreads a varnish. and Le Sage. a man must make up his mind to the drawbacks of the calling. as it were. which you can nickname the 'literature of imagery. a fatal precedent.' you will say. a journalist is a juggler. you will regret that you must blame the tendency and influence of such work upon French literature.--In spite of the merits of the work.' Here. 'The romance after the manner of Scott is a mere passing fashion in literature. Let fall a few aphorisms. he gives you pictures. It throws open the gates of the temple of Fame to the crowd. 'Good. "Come out with such phrases. but there is no room for anything else. so compact of the stuff of life. you fling all the mighty dead at the heads of the illustrious living." "My dear boy. this is the way _I_ should set to work myself. Montesquieu. you show that the author substitutes events for sentiments. Invention may be displayed in such work. Diderot. such as--'A great writer in France is invariably a great man. for the benefit of the philistine. Attention! You might begin by praising the book. Rousseau. to prove your case.' you will say. Then. Nothing gives a critic such an air as an apparent familiarity with foreign literature. so trenchant. composed of scenery and word-pictures and metaphor and the dramatic situations. and amuse yourself a while by saying what you really think. it seems to you to be a dangerous. Then. nay. The concise grand style of the eighteenth century is lacking. You explain that in the present day a new form of literature has sprung up.' and from that point your public will think that your criticism is a piece of conscientious work. and description dispenses with any need for thinking on the part of the author or reader. Diderot. 'Does not France. and so on. the German satirical moralist. and establish it beyound cavil that he is a mere imitator with an appearance of genius. "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. Look here! I am not a bad fellow. '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. no doubt. You bring up the fiction of Voltaire. and fulminate against the fatal way in which ideas are diluted and beaten thin. and people will take them up. Hold forth upon the inexorable French language. it is otherwise in other countries'--and so on. he writes in a language which compels him to think. when you have won your reader's confidence. and turn from them to the modern novel. Kant is Cousin's pedestal. and La Bruyere." "I am incapable of such a juggler's feat. that dialogue (the easiest form of writing) is overdone.' "Then you fall upon Nathan with your argument."You turn all the good points into bad ones. Sterne.' Armed with this expression.

and slip in eulogies of Messieurs Etienne Jouy. you do the public a service. and in this way you snuff out the book between two promises. Your education will complete itself in time. he beheld new truths of which he had never before caught so much as a glimpse. "If it were not. not Nathan. by ways which you do not choose to specify. and begin with general remarks. and wind up with--'and this brings us to Mr. Aignan." Etienne Lousteau's cruel lesson opened up possibilities for Lucien's imagination." said he. and express regret that so clever a man does not know the taste of the country better. no one but the publisher is any the worse. In the first case. If publishers. and Dauriat will be done to a turn. He understood this craft to admiration. who always rush to the fore. But in this case you are writing down. But there are plenty of other ways. There is the gist of it. but of France and the glory of France."Here you launch out into resounding lamentations over the decadence and decline of taste. it confirms the bourgeois taste for literature without ideas. Villemain. you can crush Nathan. my boy. which will form the subject of a second article. And with that you flatter your readers. you bring out a neutral special article.' The second article never appears. have stolen a success. he needs the pickaxe style. Just a sprinkle of the salt of wit and a dash of vinegar to bring out the flavor. It is the duty of all honest and courageous pens to make strenuous opposition to these foreign importations. the reading public very soon judges for itself. Duval. "But all this that you are saying is quite true and just. the scales fell from his eyes. Next you draw a picture of that glorious phalanx of writers repelling the invasion of the Romantics. "That is the first manner of demolishing a book. but Dauriat. it is no longer a question of Nathan and his book. Gosse. "Say that the publisher who sold a first edition of the book is audacious indeed to issue a second. the modern representatives of the school of Voltaire as opposed to the English and German schools. Tissot. these are the upholders of ideas and style as against metaphor and balderdash. but it goes to the core of it if it is bad. you understand. Baour-Lormian. and corrects the mistakes made by some five hundred fools. If the book is really good." Lucien was amazed at this talk from Lousteau. are equally serviceable in political criticism. for although his work is far above the average. As the journalist spoke. for proprietors and editors are sometimes under compulsion. Shrewd French mother-wit is not easily caught napping. "And then. it is the pickaxe style of criticism. Benjamin Constant. the pickaxe does no harm. So-and-so's book. Jay. But mind that you end with seeming to pity Nathan for a mistake. . You put the title of the book at the head of it. and the whole Liberal-Bonapartist chorus who patronize Vernou's paper. moreover. and speak of him as of a man from whom contemporary literature may look for great things if he renounces these ways. When you are absolutely obliged to speak of a man whom you do not like. under cover of names respected by the immense majority of Frenchmen (who will always be against the Government). in the second. how could you make it tell against Nathan's book?" asked Lousteau. on the Greeks and the Romans if you like. even as the seventeen heroic deputies of the Left fought the battle for the nation against the Ultras of the Right. And after that. Both methods.

" said another contributor." said Hector Merlin. Nathan's book. _Non bis in idem_. "It is as well to have you for a friend. and Lucien was surprised and gratified no less to see the alacrity with which his comrades proceeded to demolish Nathan's book. they went up to the room in the roof where the paper was made up. Evidently he does not know the legal maxim. in moments of weariness." began Lucien. Lousteau inserted the following note:-"M. but apparent success obliges us to publish an article. "if it takes." had its so much new school At the head of the "Facetiae" in the morning's paper. "Blondet and Vignon will feel bad. For three days he never left Coralie's room. All honor to rash courage. "Here is a short article which I have knocked together for you." "There was no need to do more than show you the way. Dauriat is bringing out a second edition of M. "Then it will do?" Lucien asked quickly. found his associates." Lousteau's words had been like a torch for burning." said Lousteau. and we will agree among ourselves to charge at Nathan. Felicien said not a syllable." said Lousteau. at the end of that time." remarked Hector Merlin. We intended to keep silence with regard to that work. It was nine o'clock in the evening when he ran round to the office. by the silent and attentive Coralie." said Lousteau. "we shall find our friends there. you will see. they will laugh. he sat at work by the fire. and an astonishingly good piece of work. Lucien's hot desire to be revenged on Dauriat took the place of conscience and inspiration.-"A second edition of M." Arrived in the Rue Saint-Fiacre. he had made a fair copy of about three columns of criticism. and read over his work to an attentive audience. I could write you a series. and made off with it pell-mell down the staircase. not a line to add." ."Let us go to the office. petted. "He has taken your article straight to the printer. He took up the manuscript. till. waited upon by Berenice. not upon the book itself as upon certain tendencies of the of literature. "What has come to him?" cried Lucien. "I should like to see Nathan's face when he reads this to-morrow. Nathan's book is announced. Hector Merlin took up a piece of paper and wrote a few lines for his own newspaper. "'Tis a masterpiece. beaming with gentle satisfaction. nor a word to take out.

'A man of talent comes to you. Look. who told him that he had sold his paper to you." said Lousteau. the sounding ring of the adverbs and adjectives caught the reader's ear. which Lucien squeezed. This specimen--"The Man in the Street"--was written in a way that was fresh and original. The paper was as different from the serious and profound article on Nathan as the _Lettres persanes_ from the _Esprit des lois_. malicious. Have you seen the paper? It is a funny article. "You are a born journalist." said Lousteau." said Lousteau."Read it over.' I told him. and no mistake. he is a weakling." said Merlin. He was hurling imprecations. de Bargeton is called the Cuttlefish-bone now. 'Funeral of the Heron. bantering talk. Lucien was introduced to this one and that. a type. Do as much of this sort of thing as you like. Lucien gained a knowledge of the inner life of literature. and he has lost his head. or some new bit of personal gossip. I will go round with you and introduce you to the managers of your theatres. a portrait. and of the manners and customs of the craft. and have a frolic in their dressing-rooms." said Lousteau. and the Cuttlefish-bone's lament. you turn the cold shoulder on him. had gained an engagement at the Gymnase. Nathan was there. At eleven o'clock the pair arrived at the Panorama-Dramatique. Nathan held out a hand. that buck of the Empire." said Hector Merlin. over the foibles of some among their number." "Ah. . 'The _Marguerites_ will cost you dear. for every one of them knew that this was the critic who. and could not help laughing at Vernou's extremely clever skit. actresses flung him side glances. "They will capitulate soon. and the associates smoked and chatted over the day's adventures. the thoughts were struck out by the shock of the words. or some of the oddities of the great city. they went from theatre to theatre.' Mme. and enthroned as a dramatic critic. and in such a rage with Finot. with twelve thousand francs a year. and Chatelet is known everywhere as Baron Heron. Lucien was a man of importance. and take you behind the scenes. From their witty. a series of sketches of Paris life.'" "Dauriat will be dumfounded by the article on Nathan. I have just come from him." Arm-in-arm. "It shall go in to-morrow. "Dauriat is furious about those two bombshells hurled into his magazine. "And then we will go to the Panorama-Dramatique. The little ovations raised Lucien in his own eyes. Lucien merrily assisted at the manufacture of epigrams and jokes at the end of the paper. There was a cutting article upon him in this morning's issue. Lucien? Your revenge is beginning to tell. I took him aside and just said a word in his ear. The Baron Chatelet came here this morning for your address." Lucien took up the paper. "Do you see now what journalism is. Managers complimented him. and Lucien read the first of the delightful short papers which made the fortune of the little newspaper. an ordinary event. Lucien with a careless air that worked wonders. by a single article. and another for Florine at the Panorama-Dramatique with eight thousand francs. and taught him to know his power. As for me. "While they are setting up the paper. and send him into the arms of the newspapers. for Coralie. by the by.

that one of that peculiar kind of maniacs. looking from one to the other. the fiscal law pressed more heavily than ever upon periodical publications. Coralie. you will be pleased. So much originality indeed was expended on placards in Paris. Paragraphs and articles in the newspapers were the only means of advertisement known in those days. and wait. and the manner of pulling up at the door. so that they could hear the light sound made by an elegant cabriolet. she was quick-witted where he was concerned. when newspaper reading-rooms were only just beginning to lend new books." Lucien reddened with confusion. "Then there is no harm done. so you have a mind to floor me. which tells unmistakably of a thoroughbred." said Lousteau. Dauriat and Ladvocat. possesses a complete series. beheld a splendid English horse. and kissed her with a great rush of tenderness. and took refuge in Coralie's dressing-room. . in fact." said Lucien. and you shall see how Lucien has taken you in hand. as Lucien and Coralie sat at breakfast. Upon my word. Lucien went to the window."Ah! my masters. Berenice. vignettes. was due to circumstances almost entirely forgotten. and necessity created the invention of advertisements. The street was quiet enough. till a placard became a fairy-tale for the eyes. were also the first to use the placards which caught the attention of Paris by strange type. and not unfrequently a snare for the purse of the amateur. striking colors. and no less a person than Dauriat flinging the reins to his man as he stepped down. that the largest sheet of those times was not so large as the smallest daily paper of ours. the first publishers to make a stand against the tyranny of journalists. "Hector Merlin in the greenroom of the Vaudeville was saying that I had been cut up. "Is it severe?" inquired Nathan. Lucien smiled at her presence of mind. "Let him wait. and French newspapers before the year 1822 were so small. had just come off the stage. A piece of serious criticism like that is sure to do a book good. This mere girl had made his interests hers in a wonderful way. and (at a later time) by lithograph illustrations. and there. "Just you wait till to-morrow. so utterly has the book trade changed during the last fifteen years. The apparition of the insolent publisher. Next morning. From 1816 to 1827. have you?" said Nathan." Coralie said at once." "Let him talk. a carriage drove along the Rue de Vendome. in her alluring costume. my dear fellow. and there was that in the pace of the horse. "'Tis the publisher. "It is serious. Coralie." Nathan rejoined. known as a collector. the sudden and complete collapse of that prince of charlatans." cried Lucien.

made a sign to his young companion to be silent. and all those who are condemned to the penal servitude of a life-long success.--"What did you see?" asked the journalist. Newspaper advertising." . after the advertisement and the book which is advertised are both forgotten. and the mistress of the house. obtained heaven knows how. that many people nowadays will not believe what immense efforts were made by writers and publishers of books to secure a newspaper puff. So. went to walk in her park with the illustrious visitor. methodical German with nothing but business in his head. by the almost insuperable difficulties put in the way of starting a new venture. and a sort of privilege was created. it took a new lease of life when walls were plastered with posters. "Our affair of the long article is settled. as it were. were reduced to such shifts. and fond of pleasure. de Villele. afterwards it spread all over France. which continues to strike the eye. In among the thickets the German thought he caught a glimpse of his hostess. is within the reach of all who care to pay for it. in 1821. To-morrow we shall have at least three columns in the _Debats_. Every kind of persuasion was brought to bear on journalists--dinners. sometimes putting in a long article. and the heavy deposits of caution-money required by the government as security for good behavior. will always be among us. and presents. the periodical press might be said to have power of life and death over the creations of the brain and the publishing trade. the offspring of heavy stamp duties. that the largest publishing firms had writers in their pay to insert short articles in which many ideas are put in little space.--"Nothing particular. but he missed his opportunity. and stooped to depths of bribery and corruption as seem fabulous to-day." said the clerk. Obscure journalists of this stamp were only paid after the insertion of the items. the printing-room became a sort of battlefield. of destroying the power of journalism by allowing newspapers to multiply till no one took any notice of them.At first the placard was confined to the shop-windows and stalls upon the Boulevards in Paris. a high rate of postage. But the placard. flattery. The head-clerk of the firm. a cool. the martyrs of glory. The manners and customs of journalism and of the publishing houses have since changed so much. then a young and pretty woman. if he had but known it. A few lines among the items of news cost a fearful amount. and this or that article was put in or left out to suit the space. nevertheless. sometimes a few lines of a puff. he was young in those days. and not unfrequently spent the night in the printing-office to make sure that their contributions were not omitted. and as they chatted they walked on into the woods beyond the park. put up his eyeglass. and of a night when the columns were divided up. and turned back. was discussing a project with one of the journalists. so much so. There was once upon a time an editor of an important paper. stepping softly. who had a chance. The press restrictions were invented in the time of M. and has turned the fourth page of every journal into a harvest field alike for the speculator and the Inland Revenue Department. and he became the favorite of a well-known publishing house. Intrigues were multiplied in newspaper offices. a clever writer with a prospect of becoming a statesman. The following story will throw more light on the close connection between the critic and the publisher than any quantity of flat assertions. One Sunday the wealthy head of the firm was entertaining several of the foremost journalists of the time in the country. till it was supplanted to some extent by a return to advertisements in the newspapers. steady.

just like a pair of turtle-doves! Who would think now. lemons. by accepting your invitation I shall have a right to expect you to dine with my friend Lucien here. He judged it expedient to fire his name at her like a pistol shot." he said. could be a tiger with claws of steel. a ream of printed paper is worth anything between a hundred sous and a hundred crowns. "Don't disturb yourselves. arrogant publisher though he was. "Besides. Nathan escaped with the mortification. interrupting himself. he came in with the radiant air of a courtier in the royal presence. he at last obtained speech of Lucien. he had been paid. sitting down beside Lucien. --"Mademoiselle. I'll be bound. with that girl's face of his. however. The trade in new books may. ready to tear a reputation to rags. A book of M. First of all." and he laughed before he had finished his jest. for he considered that Coralie was less cordial than she should have been. 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. The sultan was now the slave. de Chateaubriand's on the last of the Stuarts was for some time a "nightingale" on the bookseller's shelves. fresh butter. drew from it three bills for a thousand francs each. followed up by his article on Nathan. A ream of blank paper costs fifteen francs. just as he tears your wrappers. I am Dauriat." said Dauriat. yes. monsieur. In those days. when you are not quick enough to unfasten them. it is easier to talk at table. "You have come to buy my sonnets. fidgeting and making as much noise as he could while parleying with Berenice. and Dauriat having five hundred reams of printed paper on hand. and champagne. "You are too clever not to know what has brought me here. he had nothing to lose." said Dauriat. and laid them before Lucien with a suppliant . "Have you breakfasted. will you keep us company?" asked Coralie. for we must be close friends now. proved efficacious. that he. in fact. but then the Belgian pirated editions were not as yet." "Precisely. After waiting for some time. The preparatory attacks made by Lucien's friends. "Why. be summed up much on this wise. mademoiselle. my little dears! How nice they look.Another anecdote will show the influence of a single article. they stopped the sale of his book. hand and glove!" "Berenice! Bring oysters. fixing his eyes on Lucien. with a certain self-sufficiency and easy good humor. when there were no lending libraries. "My dear boy----" he began. according to its success. let us lay down our arms on both sides." As he spoke he took out a neat pocketbook. hurried to make terms with Lucien. a favorable or unfavorable review at a critical time often decides the question. but Dauriat was like to lose thirty thousand francs. A single article in the _Journal des Debats_ sold the work in a week. mingled. and." said Coralie.

and the certainty of success. Last week your sonnets were so many cabbage leaves for me. Oh! you have a very great gift. so that I am prepared. will you?" "I agree to that. and therefore he asked him to a great dinner which he was giving to a party of journalists towards the end of the week. but he longed to sing aloud. do you think I should have come here in such a hurry but for that? That terrible article of yours is very well written. He was afraid of Lucien." With the sultan's pleasure of possessing a fair mistress. my friend. copying Talma's gesture in _Manlius_. . as theirs are mine." she laughed." "To your fame!" and Dauriat raised his glass. as you well know. In six months' time you will be a great poet. "Yes. All my authors are my friends. in short. He controlled himself. I am the same man of business that I was four days ago. which masked the extreme insolence of the speech. You will be written up." said Lucien. "if you have not read my sonnets. Dauriat was not disconcerted." continued Dauriat. it is _you_. it is at the service of my friends. with good humor. . cried Dauriat. he had grown satirical and adorably impertinent of late. a publisher cannot pay a greater compliment than by buying your _Marguerites_ unread. "Yes. he believed in his own genius. flooded his soul at the sight of that unhoped wealth." said Lucien. "But have you yourself a copy of the paper? Have you seen your article in print?" "Not yet. but I cannot pledge my pen. people are afraid of you. "My boy. you have read my article. but Hector will have sent a copy to my address in the Rue Charlot." "But you are one of my authors now." "Here--read!" . for which no words exist. and ." said the poet. A sense of beatitude. Lucien took the paper but Coralie snatched it from him. "I see that you have read the _Marguerites_. to jump for joy." he added.air. It is not I who have changed. my boy. "but you will undertake not to attack my publications. won't you?" "The _Marguerites_ are yours." "Ah well. Dauriat was unwontedly courtier-like and complimentary." said Lucien. Take my advice and make the most of your vogue. "Is monsieur content?" asked he. worse luck. he was ready to believe in Aladdin's lamp and in enchantment. "though this is the first long piece of prose which I have published. "Then the _Marguerites_ are mine. I shall have no difficulty in selling your book. So you won't spoil my business without warning me beforehand. to-day your position has ranked them beside Delavigne. "The first-fruits of your pen belong to me.

He had seen himself in print. Rastignac. Both Lucien and Coralie looked upon this restitution as a meritorious action. and he sent Berenice out to change one of the notes. Blondet. it seems to me. Nathan was a stepping-stone for him--that was all. and came back to dine at Mme." Coralie. the great musician. Conti. Beaudenord. kissed Coralie's hand. "Well. He was not dressed finely enough for her. "Those little friends of yours in the Rue des Quatre-Vents are great ninnies. and on the maid's return he sent her to the coach-office with a packet of five hundred francs addressed to his mother. Lucien. he wanted to sent the money at once. that first pleasurable thrill of gratified vanity which comes but once. the fine thoughts and the faults alike stare you in the face. killing and giving life. and thought him a model son and brother. Vignon. he had just experienced the ineffable joy of the author. prowling about among the musty old books in the Bibliotheque de Sainte-Genevieve?" asked Coralie. He could not trust himself. He took the _Marguerites_ away with him when he went. Bixiou. she could not make enough of him. du Val-Noble's. his beautiful. for she knew the whole story of Lucien's life by this time. it brings beauties and defects to light." His brothers of the _cenacle_! And Lucien could hear the verdict and laugh. where his whole family had lived upon an income of twelve hundred francs. would you have seen many of these bits of paper if you had stopped in your hole in the Rue de Cluny.Coralie was included in the invitation. in his excitement and rapture. "We have a dinner now every day for a week. and of his poor mother. The pleasures of his life in Paris must inevitably dim the memories of those days. waving away in lordly fashion the receipt which Lucien offered. Thence the lovers went to drive in the Bois de Boulogne. He thought of Eve. took Lucien back to Staub. The full import and bearing of his article became apparent to him as he read and re-read it. gave not another thought to Nathan. dear love. you have worked quite hard enough. of David his friend. at this moment he left the three thousand francs. Dauriat never forgot the royal airs with which he endeavored to overawe superficial observers. for generosity is a trait of character which delights these kindly creatures. all the . 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. des Lupeaulx. as yet. and to impress them with the notion that he was a Maecenas rather than a publisher. but so keen were they. The garb of print is to manuscript as the stage is to women. who always carry their hearts in their hands. "we will make a little carnival. and took his departure. Finot. While she went he wrote a few lines to his family. Philippe Bridau. Coralie put her arms about her lover and kissed him. that. later he might not be able to do it. and the agreement should be ready for his signature. noble sister." she said. the Baron de Nucingen. he seemed to be back again in the Place du Murier. asking _his_ poet to look in when he pleased in the Wooden Galleries. fain to delight in the beauty of a man whom all other women should envy her. and he (Lucien) was happy exceedingly--he thought himself rich.

de Bargeton's heart? This thought was uppermost in the poet's mind." continued Blondet." put in Coralie. who thought of starting a Royalist paper to be entitled the _Reveil_ at a later day." "How do you know that. when he called at eleven o'clock in the morning and found that Lucien was not yet risen. "I have come to enlist you. de Bargeton and Lucien. and was pronounced to be a "clever fellow" in the slang of the coterie of semi-comrades. But I don't fancy that the women are so much in question as a poor devil that Lucien pilloried in his newspaper. the bucks of that day. gave Lucien a welcome among them.--"His good looks are making ravages from cellar to garret. that _I_ am particularly anxious to take such a handsome fellow as your poet to Mme. dear fellow.artists and speculators. He walked in the lobby. du Val-Noble. And Lucien had gained confidence. "You are forgetting that I once had six months of de Marsay. he is begging for mercy and peace. at the Italiens. de Bargeton put up their opera-glasses at Coralie. Mme. my pet?" asked Blondet. de Bargeton. child." . high and low." "If Lucien is nice." "Have you a vested interest in him? Are you jealous of fine ladies?" "Yes. And indeed Lucien. and the Marquise and Mme. 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. he gave himself out in talk as though he had not to live by his wit. Coralie and Mme. where Merlin had a box. arm in arm with Merlin and Blondet." "Do you suppose." retorted she. "From their husbands. and Manerville. You will not give a refusal to a charming woman? You meet people of the first fashion there. Vandenesse. had caused a discussion in the Marquise d'Espard's box. Merlin and Lucien. looking the dandies who had once made merry at his expense between the eyes. The Marquise d'Espard." he continued. Chatelet was under his feet. "Yesterday. Did the sight of Lucien send a pang of regret through Mme. The whole party adjourned thither. kissing Coralie on the forehead. "Oh! we must wait and see what he has in him. The Baron du Chatelet is imbecile enough to take the thing seriously. he will not go to see your Countess. let us consider that nothing has been said. and I have undertaken to reconcile Petrarch and his Laura--Mme. "Did you bring an amulet with you from the provinces?"--It was Blondet who made this inquiry some few days later. grasping Lucien by the hand. a poet patronized by the Court. After dinner." cried Coralie." said Theodore Gaillard. beautiful and elegantly arrayed. and Mme. and Lucien triumphant reappeared upon the scene of his first serious check. the Comtesse de Montcornet asked me to bring you to her house. went to the Opera. all the men who seek for violent sensations as a relief from immense labors. de Montcornet's set have taken up the Heron's cause. de Montcornet's house? If you object. "What call is there for him to show his face in fine society? He would only be bored there. "They are worse than we are. Rastignac had paid a long visit. He clashed glances with de Marsay.

worship my friends. how rare such explosions are in this jaded Paris. we shall see." He flourished the pen which had written the article upon Nathan. he might play you an ugly trick with your first book. You have your _Archer of Charles IX. But you will set about another article. "Did you ask him to supper here the day after to-morrow?" asked Blondet. was careful to put an initial C at . The whole party cut him short with a shout of laughter. "Felicien." added Lousteau. when the champagne had gone to all heads. "You article was not signed."Aha!" cried Lucien." "What! After my article against his book. would you have me say----" began Lucien. "You do not mean to make an enemy of Nathan._ to sell. "If you but knew." "And if he should climb so high that he can reach a sceptre by treading over a corpse. you might appreciate yourself. the couple shall feel the weight of _this_. Then. and puff praise in his face. I will go. revenge! And I will have it to the full!" "What a man it is!" said Blondet." he cried." said the girl. In the middle of the repast. bow down to the fate-dispensing power of the press. "Well. You will be a precious scamp" (the actual expression was a trifle stronger). the glow of the intoxication of revenge throbbing full-pulsed through every vein. "you are in a fair way to be a power in the land. Coralie. "There were a lot of new things in it. he is in a terrible way." he cried." said Blondet. Felicien Vernou brought a hundred francs for Lucien's article. Coralie. Don't be frightened. Lucien was immensely flattered by this attention. have you not? We went round to Nathan this morning. You are past master!" Lousteau called with Hector Merlin and Vernou. "I will hurl a couple of columns at their heads.--I will go with you. for so light as it is. catching Blondet by the waist. the nearest restaurant. and asked her visitors to adjourn to her handsomely furnished dining-room when Berenice announced that the meal was ready." "He will get on.--"I congratulate you on your big article. it was felt that such a contributor must be well paid to attach him to the paper. the motive of the visit came out. Lucien. I have not written a single sentence as yet upon the Heron and the Cuttlefish-bone. not being quite such a new hand as you are. and he has friends. it is not love but revenge." he added. "To-morrow. he shall have Coralie's body for a stepping-stone. ordered in a breakfast from the _Cadran bleu_. "Nathan is a journalist. turning to Lucien." said Coralie. looking round at the chapter of journalists. "You are a pair of lovers of the Golden Age. do you?" asked Lousteau. he has come a good way already in six weeks. my boy. "Aha! so my foot is on their necks! You make me adore my pen. "yes. but first.

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----"

addressing Lucien. Aha! I can hiss any one on the stage if I like. It was an ill smelling squad. and the applause will follow. for she has feeling. her . "Coralie has improved. applauding under the chandeliers of the theatre at night. and I will treat him as I do you. He is a friend of yours. "Very well.--"Ah! here are my lamplighters." "But let us settle this business about the tickets. seedy trousers. I will take her part. sir." "I have good wine. Perhaps you will be wanting an advance?" added Braulard. "his dinners are famous in dramatic literature. "behold fame incarnate for actresses and dramatic authors. for they have got up a cabal against her at the Gymnase. I will come to this gentleman's lodging for them at the beginning of the month. selling watch guards and brass jewelry in the streets by day." continued Braulard. and they are what you might expect from his cash-box." he added. not without profound astonishment. a flock of gallows-birds with bluish and greenish tints in their faces. I have a liking for Coralie. There was a bookcase in Braulard's study. "No. with the air of a competent critic. It is no prettier than our own when you come to look at it close." Thirty guests were assembled that evening in Coralie's rooms. This is how I mean to do it. You have five theatres. and you ought to be satisfied. and threadbare overcoats. attired in caps. no. there were framed engravings and good furniture." put in Lousteau. you will get thirty tickets--that will be something like seventy-five francs a month. I will have a few well-dressed men in the balconies to smile and make a little murmur. Lucien on his way down saw a march past of _claqueurs_ and retailers of tickets." "I will work with Coralie.Lucien fancied that he must be dreaming when he heard a _claqueur_ appraising a writer's value. and a strange mixture of savagery and subservience in their eyes. "If she is a good girl. who was looking about him." said Braulard. "Behold the Romans!" laughed Lousteau." said Lousteau. A horrible population lives and swarms upon the Paris boulevards." Braulard replied modestly." "It is difficult to keep illusions on any subject in Paris. "But Braulard is an epicure." said Lousteau. "There is a tax upon everything --everything has its price. he noticed that the fittings were neither too luxurious nor yet mean. lifting a cash-box full of coin out of his desk. and ready to lend themselves to any dirty business in the great city. and we will come to an understanding." answered Lucien as they turned in at his door. he remarked on this jokingly. neglected beards. The dining-room seemed to be the best ordered room. That is a dodge which makes a position for an actress. and anything can be made to order--even success. as a sound of hoarse voices and strange footsteps came up from the staircase. and as they passed through the drawing room. "we will keep that shift against a rainy day.

he looked round at the fair reality about him with a confidence to which envious minds might have given the name of fatuity. it seemed to him that he might go to and fro as lord of it all. and Lucien felt indefinable stirrings of hope and gratified vanity and pleasure at the thought that he was the master of the house. the hangings. His life had been changed so suddenly during the last few months. But how and by whom the magic wand had been waved he no longer sought to remember. smiled on the poet like two fairies at the gates of the Palace of Dreams. Hector Merlin and Mme. Blondet. he had gone so swiftly from the depths of penury to the last extreme of luxury. uncertain as it was. when the lights of the candles in the chandeliers shone over the furniture. Lucien kissed her . Matifat and Florine. Giroudeau. and with good reason. of chandeliers. he had an establishment. for whom most of the journalists wrote. Mariette. As such a style of living will seem. were also of the party. it will not be superfluous to give a glance to the foundation. Lucien had asked Dauriat and the manager of the Panorama-Dramatique. He had also asked all his friends of the Rue des Quatre-Vents. and the flowers. At eight o'clock. Felicien Vernou. each fitted with forty wax-lights. And yet. Heart and soul and brain were alike transformed within him. the rooms wore the festal air that gives to Parisian luxury the appearance of a dream. to be anything but secure to economists who have any experience of Paris. therefore. Looking out over the world of letters and of men. and this had been done without her knowledge. to use Mme. Cardot and Florentine. Philippe Bridau. Camusot had given Coralie's tradesmen instructions to grant her credit for three months at least. when the great results were visibly there before his eyes. Coralie had taken Lucien's hand and given him a glimpse of the transformation scene in the dining-room. of the splendidly appointed table. and a menu of Chevet's. enlightened as it was by love and experience. and just now the present held not a care for him. to du Bruel. d'Espard's expression. like everything else. Nathan. Lousteau. and untold wealth in his inkstand. du Val-Noble. And Lucien was almost in a dream. Lucien himself had changed. in short. eager for enjoyment. why should he care to be over nice about the means. all the instruments of success lay there to his hand. He was the handsomer for it. and Bixiou. he looked like a man who is loved. and enjoying to their hearts' content. that at moments he felt as uncomfortable as a dreaming man who knows that he is asleep. of the royally luxurious dessert. horses and servants. said gossip. He had grown paler during these days of continual enjoyment. upon which the prosperity of the pair was based. Camusot. waited as if by enchantment at the bidding of two children. a carriage. a mistress whom all Paris envied him. Vignon. During those three months. Tullia the dancer. languor had lent a humid look to his eyes. The breath of praise swelled the sails of his skiff.dining room would not hold more. had come without her duke. who was not unkind. Florine and Coralie. Consciousness of his powers and his strength was visible in his face. Finot. The proprietors of the newspapers. dressed with the fanciful extravagance and magnificent artistic effect of the stage. Sober reflection never entered his romantic head unless it was driven in by the pressure of adversity.

" "I wish I may be mistaken. "Coralie had an elderly adorer. Michel and Fulgence exchanged incredulous scornful smiles at this. that smile of yours pays for everything. you will make your way. Fulgence. so the brotherhood had sent three artists among their number. "and then I will repay you for such love and devotion. Matifat. D'Arthez could not come. and Joseph appeared about ten o'clock. she shall sit to you if you like for your Venetian lady brought by the old woman to the senator." said Fulgence." said Lucien. and with a serpentine movement she raised her head and laid her lips against his. "she is an angel. then. under all circumstances. "Well." "Very well." said Michel Chrestien. Michel. Florine." returned Lucien." exclaimed Joseph Bridau. "Yes. "Are you living with Coralie until you can do better?" asked Fulgence. child. not to say ill at ease. "the 'comical fellow' may become a great public character yet. chatting with them in a corner. a merchant. assuming a slightly patronizing tone. "A man that will always be the same for you. Lousteau." he added. but Lousteau lost a thousand francs. "he does not know how to manage Mariette. addressing Joseph Bridau. upon my word. "Are you satisfied?" "I should be very hard to please if I were not. my dear fellows. and Lucien could not refuse to lend him the money when he asked for it. saw that they looked sober and serious enough. Lucien saw the absurdity of his remark. and Lucien." "You are a man like another now. trying to look unconscious." said Lucien. "What a magnificent portrait she would make!" "Beautiful and good. ." "All women who love are angelic. he was finishing his book.on the forehead and held her closely to his heart. I am better off than your brother Philippe. poor fellow. "Coralie is wonderfully beautiful. I don't ask better." "Pshaw!" said Coralie. in short. Lucien's friends began to arrive. and she showed him the door." said Michel. Leon Giraud was busy with the first number of his review. "I shall succeed. and they sat over the cards from nine o'clock till midnight." he said. thinking that they would feel less out of their element in an uproarious supper party than the rest. for already these folk began to call themselves "Lucien's friends". you see. and Camusot were setting out the card-tables." she said." said Lucien. When they went back to the others. Lucien was unacquainted with a single game. And you shall paint her portrait.

my good friend. and fearful axioms of the journalistic jurisprudence. and Finot took up the cudgels for the system known by the name of _blague_." "Any one would think that the question interested you. a pun [Laure (l'or)] received with acclamations. who sent him a proof of the favorable review to appear in to-morrow's issue. upholding the dignity of criticism. it justified the remark which amused Fulgence." "Can you do as you like?" Michel asked quickly. and the fun grew fast and furious. "When d'Arthez's book comes out. depraved by arguing for either side. You are a devoted friend. Young intellects. "_Faciamus experimentum in anima vili_." Lucien's joy had reached the highest point. you are something more than a great man. through thick and thin. gossip." said Dauriat. Lucien was radiant." he said. "I only consented to write the attack on condition that I should be allowed to reply to it myself. as it were. and grasped both his hands and shook them in a sudden access of violent friendship. Merlin. "then every one held up to ridicule in print will fancy that he has made a success. upon it. puffery. for no one suspected that the representatives of the brotherhood and the newspaper writers held divergent opinions. Claude Vignon." exclaimed Finot. That thought in itself would induce me to remain a journalist. hurtled to and fro." said Lousteau. "And how about our sonnets." cried he. in short." said Lucien modestly. Nathan's appearance upon the scene was the result of an overture from Merlin." Lucien said in Nathan's ear." said Michel Chrestien. now came into conflict with each other." "Oho!" put in Lucien. as in a Roman triumph. I am yours.Just at that moment Raoul Nathan flew upon Lucien. "Any man who can stand that test has real power. "is that the way they will win us the fame of a second Petrarch?" "Laura already counts for something in his fame. "I am in a position to be useful to him. Lousteau. you have a heart. "I am one of you. saying that the writers of personalities lowered themselves in the end. and set the hall-mark. said they. It was almost midnight when they sat down to supper. "a much rarer thing than genius in these days. then in its infancy. I shall never forget all that you have done for me this week. "Oh." cried Merlin. Talk was less restrained in Lucien's house than at Matifat's. was the test of talent. . "Besides. "So far as one can when one is indispensable. "when a great man receives ovations. 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. there ought to be a chorus in insults to balance." retorted Lucien with a smile. inveighed against the tendency of the smaller newspapers. and humbug." This incident was opportune. turning to the three.

" "Contradiction is the life of literature. the triumphs of yesterday. "these gentlemen" (indicating Camusot and Matifat) "cannot ." "To Bossuet the Second!" cried Claude Vignon. "If you go on at this pace. "Success is the ruin of a man in France. "We have a case in point. drinking a health to Dauriat. "How could that article have been written unless the attack had preceded it?" asked Lousteau." "I am sure of it." said Dauriat. 'Look elsewhere. for it was to appear in the second number of his own review. and the whole party applauded. "I am a publisher wherever I am. Finot listening closely."And woe unto him whom reviewers shall spare. "People will say." said he. "Gentlemen. "so and not otherwise would Bossuet have written if he had lived in our day. "Dauriat will sell a couple of thousand copies of Nathan's book in the coming week. flinging him crowns at his first appearance. and no man shall pay him the slightest attention." said Dauriat." said Vernou. And why? Because the book that was cleverly attacked will be ably defended. even at supper. and as editor he exaggerated his enthusiasm.' as Champcenetz said to the Marquis de Genlis. "Read the article. and to make others forget." Merlin read Lucien's triumphant refutation aloud. in fact. who was looking too fondly at his wife. you will be quite beyond us. "In art as in nature." said Claude Vignon. "and victory for either means death. Dauriat drew the proof of the third article from his pocket and read it over. "To my Christopher Columbus!" returned Lucien." exclaimed Fulgence. for he shall be shelved like the saints in their shrines. raising his glass with an ironical bow." added Blondet." added Michel Chrestien. there are two principles everywhere at strife. you have had your due already. "Bossuet would have been a journalist to-day. "Bravo!" cried Nathan. looking maliciously from Finot to Lucien. simpleton." "So it is with politics." said Merlin. "How can such an article fail to sell an edition?" he asked. "We are so jealous of one another that we try to forget." Merlin took up the proof of to-morrow's paper." said Lousteau." said Finot. "Is it a nickname?" Merlin inquired.

glancing at Coralie. Just at that moment Lucien caught sight of three melancholy faces. Admire the rapidity with which our friend here has been transformed from a provincial into a journalist!" "He is a born journalist. "Fulgence used to be a good fellow." cried Bixiou. A joke is like a bit of thread. Michel Chrestien. In two months he has shown us what he can do in a series of excellent articles known to us all. and the Fine. "Some very serious young men. Journalist." said Blondet. it breaks. or makes some progress. Finot. sprinkled a few drops of champagne on Lucien's golden curls. The more incapable members of the party were grotesquely tricked out in these blossoms." said Lousteau. I propose to baptize him in form as a journalist. if it is spun too fine." "Who are 'they'?" asked Claude Vignon. "before they perverted his morals. unheard-of. "we have been eye-witnesses of a strange. making a faint attempt to champion the brotherhood. "Queer customers!" said Merlin. seemed to them to be nonsense. including white lines!" cried Merlin. "You take theories of that sort for idle words." "A crown of roses! to signalize a double conquest. warranted by Scripture. Coralie made a sign to Berenice. Joseph Bridau. May thy articles sit lightly on thee!" "And may they be paid for. and worry themselves about the meaning of human life----" "Oh! oh!" "They are trying to find out whether it goes round in a circle. pronouncing with delicious gravity the words--"In the name of the Government Stamp. "Children!" called Finot. rising to his feet. and a crown of roses was soon woven. That portly handmaid went to Coralie's dressing-room and brought back a box of tumbled artificial flowers. when. and truly surprising phenomenon. "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. as high priest." said Dauriat. the triangle. "who meet at a philosophico-religious symposium in the Rue des Quatre-Vents." said Felicien Vernou." . the Caution-money." "Gentlemen. and Fulgence Ridal took up their hats and went out amid a storm of invective. 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." continued Blondet. "They were very hard put to it between the straight line and the curve." added Lousteau. "but a time comes when the arguments take the form of gunshot and the guillotine. as Bonaparte said.follow you as it is. I baptize thee. portentous.

it is pretty clear that wine has got the upper hand.'" "It's a bargain. and of unlocking his heart. "he will be a great physician anyhow. I am much afraid that they will turn poor Joseph Bridau's head among them. There is no fault to find with the action of the Government. who held the future in their hands." "He is a genius!" cried Lucien. "Fasten intentions on the Government. "The Liberal party. Which of you now cares to write a pamphlet in favor of the system of primogeniture. the humanitarian significance of breeches. "they have only come as far as the designs of Providence in the invention of champagne. "Felicien." said Finot." "How much shall I get?" "Six hundred francs. "It is my own point of view. Sign it 'Le Comte C." said Hector Merlin." "Isn't d'Arthez their visible head?" asked Nathan. "It is simply the Chabot affair carried into the region of abstract ideas. and you may imagine what a fix the Opposition is in." "I will write it. and the blind deity who keeps the world going." said Felicien Vernou. Saint-Simon. "is compelled to stir up discussion somehow." said Finot. three stars." announced Finot." said Lousteau. They pick up fallen great men like Vico. "So you are introducing the _canard_ to the political world. "it is all their doing----" "Do they give lectures on orthopedy and intellectual gymnastics?" asked Merlin. in his quality of host. Every one. Lucien. began to explain his character for the benefit of his neighbor." "Bianchon. addressing each other as great men and bold spirits. gives me the cold shoulder now. Dauriat will bring it out."They have not come to that yet." "Your party will complain that you are compromising them. is he! Well. thereupon. smiling. and then let ." remarked Lousteau. my old schoolfellow. "a little youngster that is going to swallow all of us up." answered Finot. give me a glass of sherry!" said Claude Vignon. was sufficiently clearheaded to apprehend the meaning of the sophistries which impressed him and completed his demoralization. "if Bianchon has any hand in their theories." "Pshaw!" said Lousteau. and we will keep the secret. An hour later. and Fourier. all the men in the company were the best friends in the world. and raise a cry against the secret designs of the Court? The pamphlet will be paid for handsomely. "Genius. and when a clever man feels a pressing need of explaining himself. "Very likely." said Bixiou. you must undertake it.

de Montcornet and Mme. He no longer thought of the future. in whose honor the dinner was given. the fixed idea. If they are nettled by it. Lucien was placed between Mme. In dress and figure he was a rival for the great dandies of the day. Lucien was living from hand to mouth. Maxime de Trailles." said Claude Vignon." replied the poet." he added. the thing will rankle in people's minds. all the young men regarded him with suppressed envy. breakfasts. like many another journalist. Coralie. the discipline. and signet-rings. Men of fashion are as jealous among themselves as women. and evening parties. The power of calculation amid the complications of life is the sign of a strong will which poets. and in sufficient number to match every color in a variety of costumes. like all zealots. and the Duc de Maufrigneuse gave place to none in the kingdom of fashion. "You are making progress hourly. and scarf-rings. besides an assortment of waistcoats marvelous to behold. "You are a modern order of Jesuits. yet de Marsay. d'Espard. When he went to the German Minister's dinner. Lucien had wonderful canes. your friends from the Rue des Quatre-Vents looked as dismal as criminals going to be hanged. addressing Finot." "France will be a cipher until newspapers are abolished by law. loved to adorn her idol. Beaudenord. lacking the creed. The newspaper risks nothing. And I have a quarrel with you too. For a month Lucien's whole time was taken up with supper parties. is matter for perpetual and profound astonishment to me. and the authorities have everything to lose. weaklings. She ruined herself to give her beloved poet the accoutrements which had so stirred his envy in the Garden of the Tuileries. and a charming eyeglass. Manerville. Vandenesse. he had diamond studs. and before long the light of the candles grew feeble in the dawn. and men who live a purely intellectual life can never counterfeit. not the criminals. Rastignac. we can give them a drubbing." They went back to the card-tables. You owed me a call--I . "Every one was prepared to make much of you." "How a Government can leave the control of ideas to such a pack of scamps as we are." said Coralie. dinner engagements. "If the Ministry blunders so far as to come down into the arena. "Lucien. and the Government will lose its hold on the masses. both ladies overwhelmed him with flatteries. and in the same way. 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. spending his money as fast as he made it. he was swept away by an irresistible current into a vortex of dissipation and easy work. "Why did you turn your back on society when you would have been so well received?" asked the Marquise. and the union. "They were the judges. Ajuda-Pinto." said Coralie." said Claude Vignon.loose public opinion. "Judges are more amusing than _that_. His transition to the estate of dandy swiftly followed.

Chatelet has received compensations for his troubles." the Marquise continued. "M. I might love you to madness--which is to say. 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. for we want you to make it up again some of these days. and not seldom one seems to sacrifice friends the better to serve them." protested she. There were some sharp lessons in store for him. You will go to her house. but in spite of his perspicacity. are cleverer than the cleverest man. madame. "I owe not a little amusement to you." the Marquise d'Espard broke in upon him. as des Lupeaulx said. and some one else who has the keenest desire to become acquainted with you--Mlle. and therefore she could not afford to neglect any means of success. but one must look as if the talk was amusing. if you prefer it) is prodigiously rich. no doubt. died. "You are clever. And now that you understand the difficulties of Paris life. you see. . is a great vanity.--Oh! and she would have succeeded." Lucien knew not what to think of all this." said the Comtesse de Montcornet. for. the noblest nature that I know. You do not know all that Louise was trying to do for you. and yet you know nothing of current deceit? My cousin apparently sacrificed you to the Heron. "Her husband is dead now. "is not the Heron under your protection?" "One is obliged to be civil to one's worst enemies in society. Mlle. 'While the newspapers are making Chatelet ridiculous.'" There was a pause. but how could she dispense with his influence for you? Our friend stands well with the present ministry." "Your still waiting to receive it. then. when we love. replying to Lucien's mute incredulity. Love. very well." the Marquise d'Espard continued. for her words aroused a lively curiosity. des Touches. your articles on Chatelet made me laugh heartily. she is not rich. "one may be bored. Blondet led me to hope that I should have the pleasure of seeing you in my house. which requires the lesser vanities to be in harmony with itself--especially in marriage. nor how tactfully she laid her plans for you. Of the treachery and bad faith of journalism he had had some experience. you will know how many roundabout ways you must take to reach your end. "But. he scarcely expected to find bad faith or treachery in society." he objected. so unmistakably dismissed me--" "Oh! you do not know women. I saw you at the Opera the other day. and we have made him see that your attacks will do him service--up to a certain point. you must admit that Louise was aspiring to an all but impossible piece of Court favor. "You will meet a few artists and men of letters. they will leave the Ministry in peace. "but we women. the Marquise left Lucien to his own reflections. madame. and you would not deign to come to see me nor to take any notice of me. she was quite unknown. the owner of talents rare among our sex. sufficiently to marry you--and yet I should find it very unpleasant to be called Madame Chardon. as he was bound to die. My cousin tried to make that absurd Chatelet useful--Oh!" she broke off. Are you still a novice? You mean to write. You can see that. of an indigestion. "You have wounded the most angelic heart. de Touches (or Camille Maupin.

" she continued. he thought. that he thought of his first evening at the Panorama-Dramatique. You are not like the same man. was the talisman that worked this change. Her mother was the Princess Scherbellof. So. "it was I myself who advised her not to take you into her confidence. she should not take him unawares. but _then_ it would not have been so hard to manage. Can you recollect yourself as you were then? You must admit that if you could see your double to-day. I knew her dreams of a great career for you. and a title would mean a fortune for you." Lucien could only pour out incoherent thanks and glance enviously at Emile Blondet." Lucien heard the great lady with inexpressible pleasure. She would have borne a great deal. and began to fancy that some such miracle was about to take place a second time." she said. The Countess was young and witty and beautiful. Everything had smiled upon him since that happy evening. had you not?--your name to win back? Louise thought of all that. but indifference! Indifference is like polar snows. Your opinions have put that out of the question now. I was afraid that your inexperience and rash ardor might wreck our carefully-made schemes. There was as great a difference between a great lady like Mme. That was our mistake. that I took alarm. too. and we know. his youth. By this time the Marquise had made an end of trifling disdainfully with the wing of a chicken. the flatteries were spoken with such a petulant. 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. all the . "but we know something of life." "Then why was she silent?" "_Eh! mon Dieu!_" cried the Marquise. you must see that you have lost a precious affection through your own fault. She has heard that you are as handsome as you are clever. you would say the same yourself. and is dying to meet you. You were transformed so quickly.and presides over one of the most remarkable salons in Paris. childlike. "My poor Louise felt so much affection for you. "Louise meant to obtain a royal patent permitting you to bear the name and title of Rubempre. but what scorn you showed her when you sent back her letters! Cruelty we can forgive. "Then. you know. "You will look on these things as trifles and visionary ideas. you acquired the manner of Paris so easily. it extinguishes all life. you had your way to make. those who hurt us must have still some faith in us. confiding air. and the Minister before dinner had paid her the most respectful attention. de Montcornet and Coralie as between Coralie and a girl out of the streets. Between ourselves. She wished to put Chardon out of sight. with the very white fairness of women of the north. what were these schemes which have turned to chimeras. He would prove this great lady. and she seemed to take such a deep interest in him. madame?" asked he. that I did not recognize you in the Bois de Boulogne a month ago. "She took me into her confidence. Why break with her? Even if she had scorned you. you seemed so little used to the ways of the world.

and perhaps his grandson may be a duke. de Bargeton would be there in spite of her mourning. Do you see that good-looking young man? He is the Vicomte Felix de Vandenesse. she will move the political world for young M. have you a name? You know des Lupeaulx. You have chosen badly in love. d'Espard) to spend an evening at her house. "so surely it rests with her cousin. You are turning your back on fortune at this minute. for he holds sound opinions. and not of herself. and asked him (at a sign from Mme. madame!" cried Lucien. extolling that young writer for her benefit. but he would find open hearts. He turned to Mme. M. for the Marquise was offended. Lucien would be pleased. de Montcornet and talked to her of Blondet. which only couple her name with the name of a man for whom she does not care at all. d'Espard glanced at Mme. Blondet. It was to be a small and quiet gathering to which only friends were invited--Mme. but do you belong to a great family. his good looks. one of the King's private secretaries. and if you continue in that way. He was so dashed by it. You are a thousand times cleverer than he. well. Where will a Coralie take you? In a few years' time you will be hopelessly in debt and weary of pleasure. de Bargeton. --You have made a false start. You thought that she had used you ill. even among the burgeois. she was sure. they are everywhere in the world. "What object should I have in telling lies?" returned the Marquise. She deplored the way in which you were throwing away your talent and the prime of youth. would be like a diamond in a rich setting.solid advantages of a Count's title when it is borne by a fashionable and extremely charming young man. "Mme. it will be all over with you. "Your charming neighbor" (Mme. she has influence. and note the difference of the effect. and said no more. and promised himself that he would repair his error. The Count might be in debt. brought into relief by his title. Chardon would not be so much as noticed. I . with a glance of cold disdain which annihilated him." said Lucien. there are two peers of France in the family and two deputies. Emile Blondet has been! He is engaged on a Government newspaper. and Vandenesse came from the provinces with baggage nearly as light as yours. The King is fond enough of young men of talent. she was thinking of you. he can afford to mix with Liberals. The Countess was gracious to him. le Comte de Rubempre' before heiresses or English girls with a million to their fortune. Announce 'M. all the while. that the conversation dropped. The woman whom you delight to wound was at the Opera the other night. de Montcornet) "was a Troisville. and you will soon sign a treaty of peace. See how much wiser M. he is well looked on by those in authority. Chardon' and 'M. But then he understood how to choose his opinions and his protectors. Lucien was nettled by her silence. she sees a great deal of society at her house. and this was how she spoke of you. his name is very much like yours. for he was born a Chardin. WE have not invented these notions." "Ah! if you were only telling me the truth. and soon or later he will succeed. to meet Mme. but he felt that it was due to his own clumsiness. She made a wealthy marriage with her name. he will be Comte des Lupeaulx some day. does it not. la Marquise says that all the wrong is on my side. to decide whether she will meet me?" "Put an end to those ridiculous attacks. and you are arranging your life ill. he would not sell his little farm of Lupeaulx for a million.

and was not refused. he will soon be one of us. he did not venture to make any other reply. no single point in common. The two were standing near the Marquis de Ronquerolles." said he. the ancient gilding. de Marsay. and he showed no surprise. Is it true that she left the provinces on your account?" Lucien smiled. The loftiness and disposition of the rooms in one of the handsomest houses in the Faubourg Saint-Germain. the older and responsible men laid down the law with one or two profound remarks. so you have made your peace with Mme. There was no sort of resemblance between the two kinds of splendor." said Rastignac. d'Espard." remarked Blondet." Lucien burst out laughing. looking round the group. du Val-Noble's. saw that the Marquise was gracious to Lucien. like the younger men. Lucien was nothing loath. but Lucien had learned very quickly to take luxury for granted." Blondet put in briskly. the breadth of decorative style. His behavior was as far removed from assurance or fatuity on the one hand as from complacency and servility upon the other. he found favor in the eyes of all who were not prepared to be hostile. and came in the character of a fellow-countryman to remind the poet that they had met once before at Mme. "but now he will choose for himself. When they rose from told." "He will soon find out that he is not doing well for himself. "and my illustrious fellow-countryman has wit enough to sell. all this was strange and new to him. but I myself have seen her in sadness because you had forsaken her. asked Lucien to breakfast with him some morning." he added. the younger ones made merry at the expense of the Liberals. Rastignac. "well. The Minister came across to join the group. the subdued richness of the accessories. I am sure. Believe me. 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. women value intellect more than good looks. de Bargeton cared less for you than for your talents. and felt jealous of his good looks and his success. she is delighted with you." said Rastignac. "Well. and we all know. The young patrician seemed anxious to find an ally in the great man from his own province. "Oh! how could you doubt the woman who made such sacrifices for you? Beautiful and intellectual as she is." added the Countess. His manner was good. "He simply tossed up head or tails for Right or Left. stealing a glance at Emile Blondet. the Duc de Rhetore. "The dear Blondet is coming. and Mme. watching him. but she adores intellect. "how difficult it is to please her. he offered his arm to Mme." "Yes." Those who stood about Lucien rang the changes on this theme. "He will come over. d'Espard. she deserves besides to be loved for her own sake. addressing Lucien with a bluff German heartiness that concealed his dangerous subtlety. he thought of his talk with Lousteau that . who resented his sudden intrusion into the great world. and offered to introduce him to some young men of fashion. and General Montriveau.

saw. de Talleyrand's saying. for he never knew whom he might need. Will they upset the Government? Never! You will never come to anything through them." de Marsay added. Lousteau's politics consist in a belief that Napoleon will return. you are laying up an unhappy old age for yourself. he was everybody's friend. to his no small astonishment. and overwhelmed him with protestations and expressions of friendship and interest. As a Rubempre. slipping himself in everywhere. turning to the Marquise when he had gone. Lucien was well received. but. Be an Ultra. to repeat M. He saw plainly that this was a young journalist whose social success would probably equal his success in literature. She strongly advised him to enlist under the ministerial banner. and. or he will never be either Rubempre or a secretary-general. and bowed with a semblance of friendliness which the poet could not doubt." continued Blondet. She had come to fetch him. de Montcornet. smiling. he was. "one Etienne Lousteau. a newspaper hack who sees a five-franc piece in a column.evening in the Luxembourg Gardens. too. and talked his very best for them. "They plot and conspire. He remembered Lucien. "You have nothing to expect from the Liberals but hard knocks. to all appearance. It is the . as a journalist. that the poet was ambitious. "He has taken on a bear-leader. Des Lupeaulx was in favor. the Minister. he ought to be for authority. "Come early to me on the day of that breakfast affair. You are a discredit to the royal city of Angouleme. "What a coxcomb!" said des Lupeaulx." When Lucien stepped into the carriage in the courtyard. he told her the history of his evening." she said. they murdered the Duc de Berri. and marry an heiress. he found Coralie waiting for him. and be a peer of France. to the great astonishment of those present. madame." Rastignac whispered. for turning his head in this way. and Mme. he declared that he did not know the game. You might render services to the State. d'Espard. and went to spend a few moments with the two ladies before taking leave. and did the Ministry secret services. Mme. cunning and ambitious. while you will be Comte de Rubempre if you throw in your lot with the other side. 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. "He will be rotten before he is ripe. "You must have private reasons of your own. and. "and I will teach you to play. Lucien's sympathies should lean towards the aristocracy." The Minister now asked Lucien to take a hand at whist. The little attention touched him. 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. till Lucien felt as if they were old friends already. moreover." Des Lupeaulx was announced. He knew that much of his success was owing to the Duc de Rhetore. he was a Master of Requests. and took his promises and speeches for more than their worth. du Val-Noble's. whom he had met at Mme. the new notions which even now were running in his head met with Coralie's approval. So.

so you. Lucien's beauty. who (let us admit it) had made life easy for him. she can obliterate them all with a smile or a question of feigned surprise. and lo! in a moment. he had tasted flesh. and after all her insinuating speeches and her fascinations. In a moment old illusions regained their power over Lucien and Louise. de Bargeton--all the old feeling reviving in her at the sight of Lucien. decided answer. cruel Louise. "I dined with the Val-Noble. she is amazed. for I felt that in such a revenge there was a trace of love still left. "Are you happy?" Lucien was not ready with a prompt. Lucien went to Mme. she told me that Theodore Gaillard is really going to start his little Royalist _Revue_. and saw the woman whom he had so loved.proper thing besides. and say nothing to Etienne and your friends. as before. like an ogre. had turned his head. comments. black as ink you knew them to be. but he must needs begin to explain his position with regard to Coralie." she added. de Montcornet's house. She remembers nothing. and I forgave you. de Bargeton bit her lips. Lucien's cleverness--was waiting and expecting that sacrifice all evening. for they are quite equal to playing you some ill turn." With that speech. whom later he had stabbed to the heart with a jest. felt that he had been put in the wrong." she had said. and thought the while that he was doing a clever thing. There was no more to be said. this being the last word with her on all subjects. he was intoxicated with gratified vanity. and she knows this. convinced that he was a thousand times in the right. you behold immaculate white innocence. 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. "Well. she had her trouble for her pains. He could not make up his mind to sacrifice the actress to the great lady. took me for your first victim. and in her kindness there was both generosity and Parisian grace. till in the end her sins disappear like stains on the application of a little soap and water. Villele's party will be in office before the year is out. they talked like friends. with a hesitating sigh. my dear. Lucien. . asks questions. and the queenly way in which it was uttered. Try to turn the change to account before they come to power. A melancholy "No" would have made his fortune." A week later. M. haughty. she can explain everything. She left the room with a fixed determination to be revenged. Lucien fancied that this coquetry was aimed in some degree at him. so as to reply to your witticisms and the jokes in the _Miroir_. He said that he was loved for his own sake. dear Lucien. To hear them talk. Mme. and he was right. put the question. Coralie. for Louise also had undergone a transformation. He felt the most violent agitation at the sight of her. and all that evening he vacillated between Coralie's warm. he said a good many foolish things that a man will say when he is smitten with a tender passion. "well. Mme. amplifies. voluptuous beauty and the dried-up. but. de Bargeton recovered her position. 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. but when the lady. dear Lucien. that were to have been my pride. Mme. and quarrels with you. and lucky are you if you do not find that you yourself have sinned in some way beyond redemption. and Mme.

they will speak to the Chancellor for you. d'Espard. "Conti sings too well." he told des Lupeaulx. "Let M. "If he wishes to drop his patronymic and to bear his mother's name. every man who entered the rooms bore a sounding name mounted in a glittering title. will you not interest yourself in him?" asked Mme. He was flattered. Here he is. "Very well. now so justly famous. "The charming young lady is thirty years old. "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." she said. a sensation quite as unpleasant when he went back to his desk after an evening spent in the great world." said Lucien. "Well." returned Mme. but unless you make some great conquest in the great world. and Mlle. we might abridge the romance. my dear boy. go and cut out Conti." "It would not be a bad dream for you." laughed de Marsay. Wherever he had been during the last few days. it is true. "I will speak to my father and uncle. d'Espard in another room. des Touches' voice blending with Conti's. in which . who carried him off to Mme. and made much of by the three women." returned Rastignac. just about to sing with Camille Maupin. he was entangled with art which no words can describe. des Touches. and he himself was plain Chardon. "You both of you write romances too well to care to live them.d'Espard brought Mme. His social success in this fine and brilliant circle was at least as great as his triumphs in journalism. an actress will do you harm in the long run." But when Lucien heard Mlle. seemed to have made an impression upon her." said Lucien. de Bargeton. they are in waiting. my boy. de Montcornet to her cousin. Lucien exerted himself to show that his wit equaled his good looks. should he not?" "In less than two months I will arrange everything. 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. addressing de Marsay and Rastignac. "If she should like me as much as I like her. but she has an income of eighty thousand livres. and Lucien became the hero of the evening. Unspeakable mortification filled him at the sound of it. Now. and her style of beauty wears well. that pang had been constantly present with him. He felt. well enough for a start. nor suspect how continual enjoyment whets the appetite for novelty. The poet's head was turned by the glory of the aristocracy. de Bargeton. Beautiful Mlle. and he went back to Mme. his hopes fled. for a young spark must have a mistress. his beauty. Poetry has taken precedence of music ever since time began. Coralie is a silly little fool. so well known as "Camille Maupin." asked him to one of her Wednesday dinners. Chardon first put himself in such a position that he will not compromise those who take an interest in him. petted. The Marquise spoke with an air half kindly. She is adorably capricious. he should at any rate be on the right side. half insolent." The diplomatist and the two women had very soon discovered Lucien's weak side. moreover. so to speak.

to the present enjoyment. some poor. A great love has much in common with childhood--a child's heedless. they lived with incredible insolence --unabashed and unproductive consumers. they drew back from no impossibility. thanks to Coralie's carriage and Coralie's servants. The practical jokes. were compelled to find other outlets for their superabundant energy besides journalism. the idle sought to stimulate their appetites or wished for excitement. Coralie encouraged his extravagance with the peculiar short-sightedness of an all-absorbing love. or letters. or conspiracy. and is ready to sacrifice anything. a privilege which he had envied other young men so greatly when he first came to Paris. indeed. others were ruined by it. in which the set indulged became so famous. upon a political career. one and all of them wanted a place. teach him life? His guests were anything but charitably disposed towards him. such sap and luxuriant power was there in young France. They squandered their strength in the wildest excesses. nevertheless. d'Espard. were confined within certain limits. and. Nearly all the "free-livers" were men of unusual mental powers. . The most pitiless of those who laughed that evening at Lucien's expense was Rastignac himself. in order to escort Mme. to discern certain shades and distinctions in conduct. and made the blunder of giving it in Coralie's rooms in the Rue de Vendome. and all of them idle. and the Comtesse de Montcornet when they drove in the Bois. Lucien proved an apt pupil at whist. it was clearly proven to their minds that Lucien the critic and the actress were in collusion for their mutual interests. and so far from disapproving. The hard workers among these gilded youths wanted power and pleasure. too much of a poet. These spendthrifts mingled the roughest practical jokes with a life not so much reckless as suicidal. a child's laughter and tears. des Touches. in which he has since distinguished himself. Mlle. he was too young. which sees nothing beyond the moment. In those days there lived and flourished a set of young men. it was impossible not to pardon them. spendthrift ways. that he could afford to treat scandal as slander. The poet asked Rastignac and his new associates to a breakfast. a good-hearted but uneducated girl. being at a loss to know what to do with themselves. but so careful had he been of appearances. He learned to ride. and one and all were shut out from politics and public life. and all of the young men were jealous of an arrangement which all of them stigmatized. so Lucien wasted many an evening there. the artists wished for money. No sign of the times more plainly discovered the helotism to which the Restoration had condemned the young manhood of the epoch. too self-confident. Play became a passion with him. or art. who entered. with de Marsay's help. and gloried in pranks which. called "free-livers" (_viveurs_). some of them rich. and yet more intrepid drinkers. some held out against the enervating life. Finot was delighted to give his right-hand man an order for the Opera. even the future. that not a few vaudevilles have been founded upon them. Coralie looked on cards as a safe-guard against rivals. and how should an actress. and as they showed the most original wit in their escapades. The most celebrated and the cleverest among them was Eugene Rastignac.he made a tolerable figure. careless. and thenceforward he was among the exquisites of the day. Rastignac had made and held his position by very similar means. The younger men.

the Marquise d'Espard. he never missed a single party given by Mlle. He encouraged the poet in dissipation that wasted his energies. ranking next to Bixiou. He continued his series of sketches of contemporary life. easy life. parties of pleasure and play. Rastignac brought about the reconciliation between the poet and the elderly beau at a sumptuous supper given at the _Rocher de Cancale_. and rose in the middle of the day. So. dinners and breakfasts. earning money easily by writing publishers' prospectuses and articles paid for by speculators. but they came to nothing in his idle. Rastignac. de Bargeton. one of the most mischievous and untiring scoffing wits of his time. for the most part. took up most of his time. Lucien was assiduous in society. and never to lose the exquisite tact which the _parvenu_ needs at every moment. 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. he foresaw immense difficulties in the way if he should try to rise above the rest. all of them lived beyond their incomes. besides. Unconsciously he gave up the idea of winning fame in literature. and the mainspring of will grew slack. no one would have him for a superior. and very occasionally made great efforts to write a few pages of serious criticism. . how often she forgave him or added one more condemnation to the rest? Chatelet saw that his rival had still a chance left. that Chatelet would be a surer and more useful ally than Lucien. All through that winter Lucien's life was one long fit of intoxication. jealous of his fellow-countryman. and the Comtesse de Montcornet. some few days after the meeting of the Petrarch and Laura of Angouleme. none of them thought seriously of the future. appearing in society after a dinner given by authors or publishers. Lucien had been admitted into the ranks of journalism and of literature on terms of equality." So Lucien never lost sight of his principal idea. He paid court to Mme. for it seemed easier to gain success in politics. But study was the exception. with intervals of easy work. Sometimes he saw his real position. He would not think of the morrow. and leaving the salons for a supper given in consequence of a bet." du Chatelet had said one day (for Lucien and the Baron had made up their quarrel). The demands of conversation and the excitement of play absorbed all the ideas and energy left by excess. "Intrigue raises less opposition than talent. and though to-morrow. and only undertaken at the bidding of necessity. de Bargeton left him with wounded susceptibilities. "a plot below the surface rouses no one's attention. He saw besides that his so-called friends were leading the same life. while. on which he brought his utmost power of thought to bear. des Touches. and thinking. of which he became a brilliant ornament. the immense resources of talent only injure a man. Every one was willing to look upon him as an equal. is superior to talent. How should he know how many a time Mme. and made good resolutions. moreover. never found the promised work accomplished. Coralie was always at his side.Blondet introduced Lucien to this society of prodigals. following close upon the heels of to-day in the midst of an orgy. he could not forego a single pleasure. Lucien never returned home till morning. and only responded to the heaviest pressure of necessity. and Coralie absorbed all that was left. had taken up the Baron's cause. for it makes something out of nothing. Intrigue. not the rule. so he became Lucien's friend.

because she thought that the cravings which she fostered would bind her lover to her. In three months he had only made a thousand francs. Their debts were growing frightfully fast. Royalist writers. moved." That winter.Coralie had been glad that Lucien should amuse himself. Lucien. that they may transmute personal experience. or a most robust belief in their destiny and a fixed resolution to circumvent the law. together with Lucien's first five hundred livres. as always. his affairs cannot be embarrassed--We have nothing to lose but the fortune that we seek--Swim with the stream. . and these while absorbed in feeling. It should be observed that there are certain natures in which a really poetic temper is united with a weakened will. All through the dissipations of that winter Lucien had been secretly making ready for this change of front. was a necessary interval employed in finding capital for the new Royalist paper. Merlin's intimate. would vow that he would begin to work in earnest. The editorship had been promised to Hector Merlin. One day Coralie saw the poetic brow overcast. The fifteen hundred francs which remained from the purchase-money of the _Marguerites_ had been swallowed up at once. du val-Noble exercised a certain influence over the great personages. sensation. while he was counting upon Ministerial largesses to extricate himself from embarrassment and to lighten Coralie's secret cares. 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. she smiled now. nor looked into the futures of his so-called friends. after the fashion of poets. But tender-hearted and loving as she was. and once or twice was obliged to remind him that he had earned very little during the month. it will take you somewhere--A clever man with a footing in society can make a fortune whenever he pleases. filled as it was with so many pleasures and dissipations." as the elegant and clever courtesan herself used to say--to transact business which could not be arranged elsewhere. he fancied that he was a deep politician because he concealed the preparation for the approaching transformation-scene. So Lucien neither asked his associates what became of those who disappeared from among them. Coralie said nothing of her distress. she had encouraged him in this reckless expenditure. Mme. was pretty certain to be his right-hand man. Child as he was. by the tale of disasters. Some of them were heirs to property. Theodore Gaillard and Hector Merlin only brought out the first number of the _Reveil_ in March 1822. and drown his fleeting cares in excess. too. and the budding great man. The affair had been settled at Mme. and bankers who met in her splendid rooms--"fit for a tale out of the _Arabian Nights_. and scolded Berenice. du Val-Noble's house. But by this time Lucien had adopted the "free-livers" pleasant theory of debts. but Berenice was bolder. yet he felt as though he had been working tremendously hard. she found courage to advise Lucien not to forget his work. and then forget his resolution. but after the age of five-and-twenty they are inexcusable. Lucien. and a _feuilleton_ in a Ministerial paper had been promised to him besides. and told her lover that everything would be settled. she kept Lucien informed of their difficulties. Debts are becoming to a young man. or impression into some permanent form are essentially deficient in the moral sense which should accompany all observation. yet others either possessed names that were known in the world. others had definite expectations. 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.

Debts forsooth! "Why. you must owe for everything. before applying through Chatelet for the patent which should permit Lucien to bear the so-much desired name. is given him by his friend the pawnbroker. their courage equal to all odds. By this time. Lousteau was grateful. for it had been attached. the one pledge of which a great man can be sure. which proved that Florine was in much the same case. but if Florine chooses. Berenice had cooked a dish of eggs for them over the grate. however._ "How came Florine to be in this plight?" asked Lucien. "No. which took up all his time. and furniture at last. for an amount of four thousand francs. and a host of other great men whose failings are held up for the corruption of youth. When. There is always the stock example of Julius Caesar with his debt of forty millions. a new volume by Canalis was coming out. de Lamartine's second series of _Meditations_ was in the press. Dauriat had this and that in hand. and offered to take the necessary steps for the sale of Lucien's _Archer of Charles IX. while not a word is said of their wide-reaching ideas. you have had everything. so they said. A man only succeeds under the pressure of the iron hand of necessity. d'Espard and Mme. and received an advance on his work. there was not a single object of any value in the house. for the cook had gone." Three days after this bootless errand. Debts! There was never yet a man of any power without debts! Debts represented satisfied cravings. Lucien had proposed to dedicate the _Marguerites_ to Mme.Mme. and Friedrich II. 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. the poet journalist explained his position to his friends in the fast set. and the coachman and servants had taken leave. carriage. but when Lucien went to Dauriat and asked after his book. she can make him pay dear for his treachery. iced with pleasantries. represented all . Lucien went to Lousteau and asked his friend to meet his bill for the thousand francs lent to pay gaming debts. Lucien's needs were so pressing that he had recourse to Finot. and he did not want the two books to clash. that worthy publisher met him with excellent reasons for the delay in its appearance. Lucien and Coralie were breakfasting in melancholy spirits beside the fire in their pretty bedroom. however." cried Blondet. forming a very instructive octavo volume. They could not sell the furniture." 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." said Lousteau. d'Espard. at a supper-party that evening. and two important collections of poetry ought not to appear together. A goodly collection of pawntickets. clamorous vices. Creditors seized Coralie's horses. "We have lost him. "If you want everything. but Lousteau showed him certain pieces of stamped paper." corrected des Lupeaulx. de Bargeton were waiting for Lucien's profession of his new creed. they drowned his scruples in champagne. on an allowance of one ducat a month. M. "if you owe for everything." called Bixiou. "The Matifat took alarm. I will tell you all about it.

I see that you have saucers still left. _The Queen and the Cardinal_. Dauriat is in treaty. Well. Come. now. that our men opened eyes as big as saucers. Hector and I allowed it to leak out that you might consider an offer of five thousand francs for three thousand copies. you are going to write a whole series. they are two good fellows. let us have a little fun! Here comes the champagne. Why disturb his harmless vanity? They never read a manuscript. little as they suspected it. silver. or _The France of Louis Quatorze_." "Who are they?" asked Lucien. We will go halves. so now my gentlemen have a mind to exploit the native product. pretty straightforward in business. or _The Early Days of Louis Quinze_. There is a rumor current that those dealers in spoiled white paper are trading on other people's capital. and prepared the way for your romance with cunning insinuations. but Dauriat is haggling over it. Etienne Lousteau broke in upon their breakfast with a shout of "Hurrah! Long live _The Archer of Charles IX.the gold. don't forget that you have a great historical series on hand--_La Grande Mademoiselle_. you are not simply the writer of one more or less ingenious novel._! And I have converted a hundred francs worth of books into cash. the day after to-morrow we are to breakfast with the publishers. "I understand. The word 'series' did it! So. he won't give more than four thousand francs for two thousand copies. Berenice had kept back a couple of spoons and forks. it is a big business." "They are attached. A publisher asks to see your manuscript. till you will be better known for the books that you have not written than for the work you have done. and I resume. they would not publish so many if they did. "Hector Merlin and I went to a booksellers' trade dinner yesterday. and sent Berenice out in quest of a more substantial breakfast. dressmaker. and jewelry. in two editions. but I don't think it matters very much to you who finds the money._. And 'In the Press' is a way of gaining credit in advance for work that you will do.' for the titles are all to appear on the cover. By the by. _The Son of the Concini_. They only started in business last year. and milliner were afraid to meddle with a journalist who was quite capable of writing down their establishments. and gives you to understand that he is going to read it. mind you. so long as you are paid. and you want six thousand francs. You can understand. One of them used to be with Vidal and Porchon. for the tailor. It is not a mere book for sale. that was all. Lucien. the other is the cleverest hand on the Quai des Augustins. "Two partners named Fendant and Cavalier. We made you out twice as great as Sir Walter Scott! Oh! you have such novels as never were in the inwards of you. _Cotillon I. children. or _Paris and the Fronde_. and have lost a little on translations of English novels. Let me have your _Archer_. These novels will be announced on the wrapper of the book." . and we will get the upper hand of them." explained Coralie. or _Richelieu's Intrigue_. We call this manoeuvre 'giving a success a toss in the coverlet. Lousteau's newspaper was of service now to Coralie and Lucien. Show a publisher one manuscript volume and he will believe in all the rest." He handed fifty francs to Coralie.

or if it costs too much to discount the paper that he receives. and it was in the same state as before. Cavalier brought his experience. he had been paid for many an article. and twelve months--a method of payment determined by the custom of the trade. the author's copyright was paid for in bills at six. He was prepared all along for something of the kind. and becomes a bankrupt with an untroubled mind. and very accurately described by that word. then. nine. So. as at present. or at the theatre. He had filled columns. His intimate knowledge of the party would stand him in good stead in future. A great many publishing houses were established at that time in the same way. resignedly. Fendant looked after business in Paris. This questionably honest couple were both supposed to be clever men of business. but Fendant was more slippery than Cavalier. 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. where their business was transacted. Even if only two or three of these hit the public taste. he had been initiated into the life of journalism. from Fendant and Cavalier for introducing the future Sir Walter Scott to two enterprising tradesmen in search of a French Author of "Waverley. from writing any panegyric. and gambled away the money along with the desire to write. in Lucien's old quarter of Paris. or if. 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. Lousteau still kept his room in the Rue de la Harpe. Out of this fund they allowed each other a fairly handsome salary. they staked other people's money. on his side. true to his name. one book upon another. for it consisted in a few thousand francs scraped together with difficulty by the mistresses of the pair. the pair went to a breakfast in the Rue Serpente." At that time. Fendant his industry. the publisher-bookseller happens to bring out some really good literature which stays on hand until the right public discovers and appreciates it. But if all of them turn out badly. He was dependent upon Barbet and Braulard. was privately receiving five hundred francs of purchase-money. for booksellers settle accounts between themselves by bills at even longer dates. in the ingenious ways described by Lousteau on that memorable evening as they went to the Palais Royal. A partnership between two publishers is always more or less of a duel. traveled about. They had brought out plenty of romances already. and the publisher pays his way by grafting. the capital was a joint-stock affair. the profitable speculations pay for the bad. he trafficked in books and theatre-tickets. but this time Lucien felt no surprise. This was the case with Fendant and Cavalier. Cavalier. under the name of commission. not their own upon the gaming-table of business speculation. he shrank no longer from any attack." The firm of Fendant and Cavalier had started in business without any capital whatsoever. for his misfortune. such as the _Tour du . 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. Since that evening of his introduction to the Wooden Galleries. not once but many times. and so it was with Fendant and Cavalier. he files his schedule. he knew all its ups and downs. Papermakers and printers are paid in the same way.Two days later. all the chances being in favor of the publishers. And Lousteau. as it were. and scrupulously spent it all in dinners to journalists and authors. as they said.

their private office had been contrived at the further end of a suite of large drawing-rooms. Lucien wondered at such prompt action. and he gained his ends by talk. or Russia a Hundred Years Ago_." said Fendant. success spoils success. We don't care for _The Archer of Charles IX. in fact. A book is very seldom bought and sold for its just value. you see. "There is no need to discuss this affair. We have reserved the right of giving a new title to the book. it is very literary. The partners occupied the ground floor of one of the great old-fashioned houses in the Rue Serpente. now! But _The Archer of Charles IX. they thought. we always make the same stipulations in all cases. combined to give the impression that this was a consummate rascal. translations of the works of Galt. there were several kings of that name. and so exactly the kind of thing we want. and in Paris. _Le Marchand de Benares_. it doesn't tickle the reader's curiosity sufficiently. A single good book might float their sunken bales. and twelve months respectively. "In the style of Scott. and the bills ready. thick-set young fellow. all agog for a second Norman conquest. and speculate in projected railways. _La Fontaine du Sepulcre_. The success of translations of Scott had called the attention of the trade to English novels. With his low. A honeyed tongue compensated for these disadvantages. which would help them to tide over their monthly settlement. the agreement drawn up. "I have read the work. a stout. Fendant was short and thin. he looked like a Kalmuck Tartar. and _Tekeli_. the great way of promoting sales in those days. and hard mouth. narrow forehead.Nord_. Fendant and Cavalier rashly added in big letters the words. sunken nose. for success lies in contraries._. an English novelist who never attained much popularity in France. addressing Lucien and Lousteau. and by no means reassuring of aspect. and of his book as a salable article. The race of publishers." "If you but knew the class of people that we have to do with!" exclaimed Cavalier. the crabbed irregular outline of his countenance. just as at a rather later day every one must needs look for asphalt in stony soil. were seeking industriously for a second Scott. looked more like the driver of a mail coach than a publisher." Fendant and Cavalier were in great need of a success. of all places in the world. Cavalier would have to give a course of history lessons before he could place a copy anywhere in the provinces. So beneath the title of _Strelitz. and there was the alluring prospect besides of articles in the newspapers. The bills fall due in six. and purchases are determined by considerations quite other than the merits of the work. you will meet with no difficulty in discounting them. a fiery red countenance. nine._!--why. and besides. So Fendant and Cavalier thought of Lucien as a journalist. and we will refund you the discount. and there were so many archers in the Middle Ages. The agreement is drawn on the lines laid down. he had hair of a sandy color. a voice like a cracked bell--the man's whole appearance. wide-awake black eyes. now converted into warehouses for books. Cavalier. that I have sent it off as it is to the printer. The stupidity of the Paris commercial world is conspicuous in these attempts to do the same thing twice. and the heavy build and untiring tongue of a commercial traveler. If you had only called it the _Soldier of Napoleon_. Lucien and Etienne found the publishers in their office. a pair of small. . or bitumen in marshes.

somewhat heated and flushed with the wine. "A thousand crowns would pull me through." In the language of the fast set. lasted till five o'clock. and each of the contracting parties took their copy." said Lousteau. I should be a happy man. "Do as you please. and was so vexed. A 'chanteur' is a man who can manage to put a paragraph in the papers--never an editor nor a responsible man. and the four repaired to Fendant's abode." "That's true." Fendant said. Plenty of people have a few peccadilloes. and Brie cheese. would sound more like one of Scott's novels." said Fendant." "What is 'chantage'?" asked Lucien."_Saint Bartholomew_ would suit better. where they breakfasted on beefsteaks and oysters. At this moment I have the bailiffs at my heels. kidneys in champagne. and there is always a Giroudeau or a Philippe Bridau to be found." said Lousteau. you lent me a thousand francs." said Lucien. A bravo of this stamp finds up somebody who has his own reasons for not wanting to be talked about. indeed. ending up with: "My friend--for you are my friend. Just as they sat down to table the printer appeared. "It is an English invention recently imported. or keeping out of his way. and he unbosomed himself to Lucien. "Where shall we get cash for these things?" asked Lucien as they came away. "We want to get on with it. to Lucien's surprise. with the first two proof-sheets. The agreement was read over. Lucien put the bills in his pocket with unequaled satisfaction. ._. Wine had got the better of prudence. and you have only once asked me for the money--shun play! If I had never touched a card. so long as I approve your title. but he was familiar with the practice by this time. for they are not supposed to know anything about it." suggested Etienne. doubling a cape meant dodging a creditor. or France under Charles IX. I owe money all round. but if the fare was something of the homeliest. "Are your debts so heavy?" "A mere trifle. I have dangerous capes to double. Florine only told her about it yesterday." The breakfast. "we are counting on your book. begun at noon. "We will settle it when the work is printed. and I have done a little 'chantage' to pay my debts. I have resolved to turn steady and give up play." continued Fendant. the wines were exquisite. she seemed to lay the blame of it on you. Lucien had not heard the expression before." added Cavalier. and they turned down to the Quai des Augustins. "_Catherine de' Medici. Lucien. signed in duplicate. when I go to the Palais Royal. Cavalier had an acquaintance a traveler in the wine trade. that she was ready to throw you over. "We might try Barbet. "Coralie is astonished to the highest degree over Florine's loss. we want a success confoundedly badly.

that tale of Fouche's police surrounding the spies of the Prefect of Police. and is laughing in his sleeve at us. something was said of calling up more capital. instead of paying a dividend. Florine complained to Matifat. The original inventor was Pietro Aretino. held tight to his sixth. as he thought. there is a tidbit of tattle for the inquirer. as. Finot and I are howling with despair. 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. he works upon a man's self-love. and in either case. were just about to pounce on the clandestine printers employed by the Minister. there are plenty of fortunes made in ways that would not bear looking into. That was a bit of 'chantage' that you did with Dauriat. Matifat's business is not amenable to . Matifat. and. or there is the story of Prince Galathionne's diamonds. for us. Finot was to give me a thousand crowns if the dodge succeeded. this kind of blackmail was levied by pamphleteers in the pay of favorites and great lords. the 'chanteur' draws a picture of the press ready to take the matter up and unravel his private affairs. or they are heedless of their characters. who. who will bargain that their acts and not their private characters are to be attacked. he let out a word of Finot's trick. and offers to withdraw the articles--for a consideration. being a shrewd man of business. is a kind of agent for affairs of this sort.or some more or less original sin. when the manager of the Panorama-Dramatique comes to him with some accommodation bills that he wanted to negotiate before filing his schedule. Braulard told the man of drugs that _you_ were demolishing Florine in Coralie's interest. asks for an interview. which might easily be written down in a series of articles. In the eighteenth century. 'Chanteurs' are sent to men in office. and if the man that made the money does not buy silence. took the hint. the Maubreuile affair. sometimes a man has kept the letter of the law. he bribes newspapers to pass over a loan in silence. for Florine had been telling him for several days past that Finot's review was doing badly. as stage-players go in fear of a newspaper to-day. he is the middle-man of the press and the ambassador of the Ministers. a great Italian. or to make no comment on a contract which was never put up for public tender. that charming Master of Requests des Lupeaulx. when journalism was still in its infancy. a 'chanteur' waits upon you. To induce Matifat to take them of him. The rascal has made a position for himself in the most marvelous way in the very centre of power. Well. and sometimes he has not. a heartless. and the trick succeeds. not being in the secret of the fabrication of forged English banknotes. or the Pombreton will case. he comes down with the money. Unluckily. Kings went in fear of him. for instance. soulless wretch." "What did you do to the Matifat to make the thousand crowns?" "I attacked Florine in half a dozen papers. "You are committed to some risky venture. One of your acquaintance. and the jackals of Liberal bankers get a share out of it. he gave you a thousand crowns to let Nathan alone. We have been so misguided as to attack a man who has no affection for his mistress. Matifat was only too glad to get back ten thousand francs out of the thirty thousand invested in a risky speculation. and Finot put Braulard on the wrong scent. The 'chanteur' gets possession of some compromising letter. Matifat went to Braulard to find out what the attacks meant. The rich man is frightened. too. and anxious only to shield the woman they love. upon their consciences. I did my 'chantage' for Finot's benefit. So Matifat was just about to close with the offer.

A druggist is not like a hatter or a milliner. and pepper. We can strike him in the very midst of his Lares and Penates. She has some principles. without so much as mentioning his name. Imagine his wrath when he sees the first number of a little serial entitled the _Amours of a Druggist_. but she is not quite simple enough to help herself to a rival. the Panorama closes to-morrow. He talks about the 'little god Cupid. my dear fellow. the story promised to the readers might have come from the _Arabian Nights_." said Lousteau. A short time ago the proprietor of a minor newspaper was refused credit. or a theatre or a work of art." "Not she!" said Lousteau. He will shake in his shoes lest an anonymous letter should supply his wife with the key to the riddle. The notability lost no time in asking that editor to dine with him. "she might do something for Florine. for he lives in fear and terror of his wife. There is enough in that immensely funny correspondence to bring an influx of subscribers for a fortnight. "it is your money or your character. still left. where he feels himself safest. some hopes. Finot would have one-third. the spelling. and contemporary history has lost an anecdote. the editor was distinctly a gainer by the transaction. nor cocoa beans. Whenever the press makes vehement onslaughts upon some one in power. which is infinitely more corrupt than ours. Florine is at her wits' end. The question is whether Florine will consent to appear to persecute Matifat. that low tradesman wrote the queerest letters to Florine. paint. and he cannot complain.'" "'Chantage' seems to mean your money or your life?" "It is better than that. you may be sure that there is some refusal to do a service behind it. and matter of them is ludicrous to the last degree. style. which is to say. "My dear boy. So I propose to do another turn of 'chantage." "Coralie's engagement at the Gymnase begins in a few days. and he cannot be made to smart for it through his interests. "Coralie is not clever.' he tells Florine that she enables him to cross the desert of life (which looks as if he took her for a camel).the jurisdiction of the press. and a great source of wealth to the press in England. Perhaps she means to keep the letters and make something for . And Finot is in such a hurry to buy back his sixth----" "Why?" "It is a capital bit of business. 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. and is given fair warning that his love-letters have fallen into the hands of certain journalists. There is a chance of selling the paper for three hundred thousand francs." "Then how can you lay hold of Matifat?" asked Lucien. We are children in comparison! In England they will pay five or six thousand francs for a compromising letter to sell again. We are in a mess with a vengeance. he is above criticism. and his partners besides are going to pay him a commission. you can't run down his opium and dyewoods. Blackmailing with regard to private life is the terror of the richest Englishman. and spells 'never' with two v's. and what will become of her she does not know. which he will share with des Lupeaulx." said Lucien.

"Can you tell us of a bill-broker that will look at us?" "There is Daddy Chaboisseau. Lucien?" asked Lousteau. That's how it is. sir. she will give me the letters." rejoined the bookseller. d'Espard. If you won't listen to . Barbet. "You won't find any one that will take their paper. The printer will not trust them. They are cleverer at tippling than at bookselling. de Bargeton. "Nobody else will give you as much. If they make a hit now.herself out of them. She is cunning. He tided Fendant over his last monthly settlement. By this time Etienne and Lucien had reached Barbet's miserable bookshop on the Quai. for if Mme. "That will do. you know. that it would be impolitic to break with them. sooner or later they will have to go. He was dismayed by this first rebuff. His first thought was that he had some extremely dangerous friends. and Chatelet should fail to keep their word with him. and I will sell them to Finot. as befits my pupil. nine. and get the books at a reduction of two thousand francs." said Barbet. Etienne addressed Barbet: "We have five thousand francs' worth of bills at six. Here was a little scrub of a bookseller putting the essence of the art and mystery of bill-discounting in these few words." said Etienne. and that being so. or Finot gives her a suitable present or hopes of an engagement. In my own case. I can afford to give more than a professional discounter who simply looks at the signatures." The two journalists exchanged glances in surprise. and neither of them worth ten per cent. But as soon as she finds out that a bailiff is no laughing matter. their bills mean business. on the Quai Saint-Michel. so I shall buy their stock for cash and pay them with their own bills. "Three thousand francs!" echoed Lucien." said Barbet with imperturbable coolness. And here at the outset you only offer two signatures. "Your book is their last stake. but I happen to know that they have some good books that are hanging on hand. 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. they are obliged to leave the copies in pawn with him. and twelve months. "The firm will go bankrupt before three months are out." "Do you mind losing a couple of thousand francs. he might need their terrible power yet. "You are making a mistake. "Yes!" Lucien answered vehemently. given by Fendant and Cavalier. his second. Mme. Finot will put the correspondence in his uncle's hands. Are you willing to discount them for us?" "I will give you three thousand francs for them. they cannot afford to wait." said Lousteau. it will only stave off bankruptcy for another six months. and Giroudeau will bring Matifat to terms." These confidences sobered Lucien.

Chairs and tables. transformed into a bookseller. and it may be remarked that the most eccentric characters are found among men who give their whole energies to money-making. and this was a recent purchase. Lucien noticed a pile of second-hand books. and every least detail had evidently been sought with patient care in furniture warehouses. Everything is within their reach. Shining conspicuous among them." returned the little broker. consequently their fancy is jaded. ribbed stockings. the purple hangings fell over the wall like the classic draperies in the background of one of David's pictures. Chaboisseau might have entrenched himself in antiquity as in an impregnable camp. some accessible weakness and sensitive spot in their heart. and then I shall offer you two thousand francs instead of three. but as Chaboisseau went prudently out with them across the ante-chamber. "The man will be an antique to match. "How much?" . The man himself. he had a taste for the classical style. you might go and see what he says to you. Men of this stamp are. "MM Fendant and Cavalier are delightful young fellows. There was the elegance of antiquity about the classic revival as well as its fragile and somewhat arid grace. "Yes." Etienne and Lucien betook themselves to the Quai Saint-Michel. The student of human nature can always discover some hobby. wore a greenish coat and snuff-brown waistcoat. whose dealings were principally with the book trade. a little old person with powdered hair. Chaboisseau. Chaboisseau had been in the trade. no doubt. and they will make immense efforts to shake off their offer. The words slid down upon Lousteau's suggestion like the blade of the guillotine on a man's neck. was in grotesque contrast with the airy mythological look of his rooms." said Chaboisseau. but. but you would only come back to me. they have plenty of intelligence. After a short scrutiny. and shoes that creaked as he came forward to take the bills. The two friends withdrew. he was tricked out besides in black small-clothes. he noticed a copy of a work by the architect Ducereau. dated from the time of the Empire. The cornice was in the classical style. smiling. a bill-discounter." he said blandly. "Could you let me have that book?" he asked. A brevet-rank banker and millionaire to boot. lamps and sconces. in a certain sense. I have no money. lived in a second-floor lodging furnished in the most eccentric manner. "My friend here would be willing to meet you in the matter of discount----" Etienne began." said Etienne. which gives exceedingly accurate plans of various royal palaces and chateaux in France. the bedstead. like his manner of life. "I would not take the bills on any consideration. and found Chaboisseau in a little house with a passage entry. when such things were in fashion. in the purest classical taste. he returned them to Lucien with a serious countenance. Chaboisseau. intellectual libertines.

had come across. And I can only pay you with one of the bills which you refuse to take. from a cash-box full of coin. and the very bristles on the man's chin looked stiff and sharp as pins. when they reached Dauriat's shop. "Look here. can compare with this freak of human and Parisian nature (always admitting that Samanon was human). finally. telling them at the same time that this was the "oddest and queerest party" (to use his own expression) that he. The friends took a cab by the hour. Etienne and Lucien were still laughing at Chaboisseau. the other lively and bright. and went to the address. One of Samanon's eyes was fixed and glassy. but I want it. Samanon carried on a fourth business--he was a money-lender into the bargain. Lucien shuddered at the sight of the dried-up little old creature. still white." Gabusson had said. Chaboisseau made out a little memorandum. stood erect above a sallow forehead with a suggestion of menace about it. seemed to stretch the skin of the lips with the effect of an equine yawn. a hollow trench in either cheek defined the outline of the jaws. "If Samanon won't take your bills. A few stray white hairs escaping from under a small. there had been a balance of five hundred francs in favor of Fendant and Cavalier. sleek. he took four hundred and twenty francs. total deduction thirty francs." "It is dear. and the other for the trade in the pornographic curiosities upstairs." said the old man. Nor was there the slightest sign about him of any desire to redeem a sinister appearance by attention to the toilet. Chaboisseau. his threadbare jacket ."Fifty francs. the bills are either all of them good. and Etienne asked Gabusson to give them the name of a bill-broker. Apparently at the last statement of accounts. whose bones seemed to be cutting a leather skin. interest so much and commission so much. They went back to the classical department. rusty black wig. or all bad alike. while a set of projecting teeth." "You have a bill there for five hundred francs at six months. then he subtracted fifty francs for Ducerceau's book. spotted with all sorts of little green and yellow patches. like a portrait by Titian or Veronese when you look at it closely. I am paying myself for a sale. without understanding him. No character in Hoffmann's romances. though. no sinister-brooding miser of Scott's." said Chaboisseau. and a seller of indecent prints on the second. why don't you take the rest?" "This is not discounting. In spite of himself. he seemed to keep that dead eye for the bill-discounting part of his profession. Gabusson. Gabusson thus appealed to gave them a letter of introduction to a broker in the Boulevard Poissonniere. "nobody else will look at them. a second-hand clothes-dealer on the first story." A second-hand bookseller on the ground floor. M. The contrast between the ill-assorted eyes and grinning mouth gave Samanon a passably ferocious air. I will take that one of you.

Lucien started. then they presented Gabusson's introduction and Fendant and Cavalier's bills." said Samanon. he was taking his best clothes out of pawn for a state occasion. to judge by her rich. and ten years later he was destined to assist in the inauguration of the great but ill-founded Saint-Simonian system. pointing out Samanon to the two journalists with an extremely comical gesture. "And sou by sou." . so I keep my wardrobe here. he is so awfully charitable. "It's a pleasure to do business with you. "Let the gentleman have his clothes." "Took _him_ in!" chuckled the newcomer. the man was an artist of no small intellectual power. a cravat. Samanon has devoured my library already. "And even then. which seemed in the dimly-lighted shop to be cut out of a piece of zinc roofing. my black trousers. You aren't worth much" (turning to Lucien)." he continued. and left on exhibition a throat as wrinkled as a turkey-gobbler's. was frayed by contact with a stubble chin." said this person. This was the individual whom Etienne and Lucien discovered in his filthy counting-house. so solid was it by reason of alloy with all kinds of foreign matter. "I must see Fendant first. the friends exchanged the innumerable questions raised by the existence of such a creature. "and to me it is easier to find thirty sous than two hundred francs. pressing a numbered ticket on Samanon's attention. looking up. besides. holding out a hand to the newcomer. "I will let you have fifteen hundred francs. volume by volume" (_livre a livre_).was all but dropping to pieces. The great man dropped thirty sous into the money-lender's yellow. and a woman came down from some upper region. "I want my coat. Oddly attired as he was. "What queer business are you up to?" asked Lousteau of the artist. "_He_ lends you a good deal more than an ordinary pawnbroker on anything you pledge. like the Neapolitan _lazzaroni_. Samanon was subjecting the bills and their dates to a close scrutiny. busily affixing tickets to the backs of a parcel of books from a recent sale. a Normande apparently. fresh complexion. I am going to dine with the Kellers and my mistress to-night." said Samanon. "you are living with Coralie. sir. which had once been black. the wearer of a short jacket. Samanon was still reading the note when a third comer entered. In a glance. and satin waistcoat. The coins dropped jingling into the till. It has brought the charitable usurer a hundred francs in the last six months. he allows you to take your clothes out when you must have something to wear. as if the bill-broker had thrust a red-hot skewer through his heart. and your furniture has been attached. He ought to deposit some books with me. but that youngster whom one of your friends introduced to me took me in most abominably. Samanon touched the brass button of a bell-pull." he added. wrinkled hand. an opium-eater who dwelt among visions of enchanted palaces till he either could not or would not create." Lousteau said with a laugh. and.

"You will not keep your creditors quiet with four hundred francs when you must have four thousand. very well dressed. again they won three thousand seven hundred francs. or unmake. The friends dismissed their cab and went up to the gaming-table." said the stranger. They punted the whole sum. Gobseck. A very few moments later. when your future is in the balance?" "I shall take this money to Coralie in any case. "He is the devil himself!" exclaimed the poet. he is the _ultima ratio_. came out. were magnetic in their effect. if we lose the rest at _rouge et noir_. "you must exchange them for hard cash. "If you see Samanon in a bookseller's shop. an even number had not turned up for five times in succession. watching Lucien. or calling on a paper-merchant or a printer.Lousteau. and an odd number turned up once more. a spy for Palma. the two dashed down the staircase with the hundred francs kept back for the dinner." "How?" "Give them to Coralie. you may know that it is all over with that man. "Samanon is the undertaker come to take the measurements for a coffin. For several seconds he stood outside gazing at the shop front. The whole place was so pitiful. and dash out into the street." "That is sound advice." "If you cannot discount your bills at fifty per cent. Every man with a fortune to make. After another turn of luck they staked two thousand francs on an even number to double the stake at a stroke. as Lucien cut him short with a start.--You are disgusted. Let us keep a little and get drunk on it. dirty shelves of ticketed books. frenzied excitement. and wondering what kind of business a man could do among those mean. and turned to go with them in the direction of the Passage des Panoramas." said the artist. is sure to come across one of them sooner or later." remarked Lousteau. then they lost and fell to five hundred. between two pillars which support the little . Upon the steps. Lucien. in incognito." "You won't discount your bills now. "Here is more folly!" cried Lousteau." began Lucien. and this was the sixth time. and again they lost all but a five-franc piece. At the outset they won three thousand francs. spoken not four paces from Frascati's. that a passer-by could not see it without smiling at the sight." said the great man. "If Samanon will not take them. where he meant to complete his toilet by the polishing of his boots. the great man. Those words." added Lousteau. Camusot will cash them for her. "What nonsense! How can you allow such a silly scruple to turn the scale." said Etienne. smiled at his friends. nobody else will. and the rest of those crocodiles who swim in the Paris money-market. Werbrust. "He is one of Gigonnet's lambs. saw him take up his bills. After two hours of all-absorbing.

Black had turned up for the fifth consecutive time. taking alarm. they trusted that their previous luck would not repeat itself." as she called it. She had brought her love unsullied out of the shipwreck and twelve hundred francs. Without heeding the voice. Coralie paid her creditors and satisfied the landlord." he said. "Fly!" he cried. The news of the failure of the Panorama-Dramatique had come like a thunder-clap. and put the whole sum on the red--black turned up for the sixth time. 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. Then to the torturing excitement of suspense succeeded the delicious feeling of relief known to the gambler who has nothing left to lose. Lucien. "take it to Very's. The new venture was soon made--and lost. An hour later they owned a thousand crowns. "Let us just try twenty-five francs. No words can describe how his hands trembled as he raked in the coins which the bank paid him one by one.sheet-iron veranda to which so many eyes have been upturned in longing or despair. made haste to sell her furniture (with the consent of her creditors) to little old Cardot. excited face. "She has taken lodgings elsewhere. more than half intoxicated. Lucien. Coralie has gone. left alone. my angel. a few doors from the Gymnase. The twenty-five francs went in five stakes. and drowned his cares in wine. "You did quite right. and again he won. He handed ten louis to Lousteau. who installed Florentine in the rooms at once. he staked the whole again on the red. and was driven to the Rue de la Lune. flung down his last twenty-five francs on the number of his age. poured out his woes to Coralie and Berenice. And up the stairs again they went." Lucien was too far gone to be surprised at anything. and flung himself upon the cookery (to make use of Lafontaine's expression)." said the woman. while Berenice bought the absolutely indispensable necessaries to furnish a fourth-floor lodging in the Rue de la Lune. Then Lucien. with her arms about his ." Lousteau took the hint and went to order dinner. Lousteau stopped and looked into Lucien's flushed. Here Coralie was waiting for Lucien's return. "Let us just try fifty francs. She left her address with me on this scrap of paper. He found Lousteau at Very's. The tradition of the house remained unbroken. making puns to himself on the name of the street as he went." said Lucien. and won. Emboldened by the inner voice which a gambler always hears." said Coralie. He felt as if there were a furnace within him. and must perforce leave the palace of fire in which his dreams melt and vanish. Coralie. It was now six o'clock. proceeding with her "washing-day. He went back to the cab which had brought him. in a frenzy. laid his thirty louis on the red and won. "Mlle. They had lost. he laid a hundred and twenty louis on the black and lost.

Just then there came a knock at the door. and Berenice had managed to save a clock and a couple of china vases from the catastrophe. your character blighted for ever. and asked them to share the breakfast. we have come on more serious business than condolence. pouring a flood of gold upon such charming poverty. looking round the room. with the loose hair straying from under the crushed white silk handkerchief about her head. and I will make something out. We have come to entreat you in the name of our friendship. there was soft laughter in her eyes. Leon Giraud. kissed the lips that uttered them. The bedroom was entered from the dining-room. bordered with red. The walls were covered with a sea-green paper. Your life will be sullied. seeing nothing but love in the words. held the lovers' clothing. By this time Berenice had set the table near the fire and served a modest breakfast of scrambled eggs. her words were as bright as the first rays of sunrise that shone in through the windows. weakened though it may be. pens. Lucien. but situated as you are with regard to the Liberal Press. there was one mirror over the chimney-piece. A wardrobe. and lighted by a peephole through which that personage watched the comings and goings of seventeen families. coffee. Under any other circumstances I should be glad to hear that you had adopted my political convictions. we have just come from the Rue de Vendome. The rent was not more than a hundred crowns. we shall pull through. paper. the mahogany chairs were covered with blue cotton stuff." said d'Arthez. and cream. drove all cares and anxieties from the sobered poet's mind. "After all. "So long as nobody in society hears of this sudden comedown. and Berenice slept above in an attic." And Coralie. I am an old hand now. The kitchen was next the landing. Not that the room was squalid. not to soil . She looked bewitchingly charming. and paid for out of her own little store. Lucien. as well as four spoons and forks and half-a-dozen little spoons. and of Coralie herself conning her part with a knot of blue ribbon tied about it." in auctioneer's phrase. we have four thousand five hundred francs before us." The next morning Lucien awoke to an enchanted world of happiness made about him by Coralie." he said. and ink. it is impossible for you to go over to the Ultras. She was more loving and tender in those days than she had ever been. "No. and Michel Chrestien.neck. discovered a desk. and a second above the chest of drawers. The sight of Berenice in high spirits (she was building hopes on Coralie's _debut_ at the Gymnase). which Berenice had bought in spite of Coralie's orders. beheld three of his loyal friends of old days--d'Arthez. with a glass door and a chest. He was deeply touched. the porter's box being contrived behind one of the useless leaves of the gate. to his astonishment. which might have belonged to a clerk with an income of twelve hundred francs. a couple of cutlets. You know my opinions. To-morrow we shall start the _Reveil_. The dismal house boasted a sham carriage entrance. for this hive was a "good-paying property. I will turn my new position in Royalist journalism to account. The bare boards were covered with a cheap carpet. perhaps she thought that the wealth of love in her heart should make him amends for the poverty of their lodging. and Lucien. an easy-chair. "we know the whole story. "Berenice can easily negotiate your bills with Braulard.

the Court. as in warfare. When the evil is developed to its fullest extent. liars. "The Government. with a laugh. You have been prominent in attacking the Romantics. "may exercise a worthy influence before very long." said Lucien. but is unanimous as to the advisability of extinguishing the newspapers." "My reasons for the change are based on lofty grounds. the victory is with the big battalions. Insult and personalities will become a recognized privilege of the press. gibes." he added parenthetically. the Liberals are to be paid back in their own coin--shaft for shaft. you are going over to the losing side. too lately a journalist. the Right. the whole system opposed to the constitutional system. "What can come of it Lucien? The majority of newspaper readers incline for the Left. and railing of the Liberal press. my friends. you cannot now declare for the Government. Whatever may happen. not to fall a victim to the general hue and cry that will be raised against you in the Liberal newspapers. In these ways the pernicious influence of the press will be increased. You will be blackguards. By the time your victory is won. the _Foudre_." "We will cut off--your hair. I shall gain one solid advantage which no Liberal victory can give me. and some fine day they will rise and shake off the Bourbons. you have aroused too much jealousy. The _Reveil_. too little initiated into the secret springs of motive and the tricks of the craft. which spent itself in violence in 1815 and 1816. . there will be a return of the censorship of the press imposed after the assassination of the Duc de Berri. the end will justify the means. and carry weight. enemies of the people. and when both sides have recourse to the same weapons. which perhaps. though the fever. the standard is set and the general tone of journalism taken for granted. And do you know what the nation will conclude from the debate? The people will believe the insinuations of the Liberal press. wound for wound." said Leon Giraud. and the _Drapeau Blanc_ have all been founded for the express purpose of replying to the slander. "Perhaps you do not fully comprehend our position on the side of the Government. the Bourbons." said Michel Chrestien.yourself in this way. men to be held in honor. Lucien. martyrs. You are not only soiling your life. the Absolutist Party. and in the press. they will think that the Bourbons mean to attack the rights of property acquired by the Revolution. while the most odious form of journalism will receive sanction. newspapers have taken this tone in the subscribers' interests. restrictive laws will be followed by prohibitions. and the Government. You will be drawn into the fray by party spirit now still at fever-heat. though they may be even more hypocritical and slippery than their opponents." said Lucien. 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. now appears in debates in the Chamber and polemics in the papers. or to sum up in the general expression. I cannot approve them. the Right. and win respect. the other side will be defenders of their country. and the Romantics. You are too young. and repealed since the opening of the Chambers." "I am not quite a featherhead. but this Royalist artillery is destined for a first attempt at reprisals. I shall have gained my end. may be divided upon the question of the best means of extinguishing the Revolution. "though you may choose to see a poet in me.

to celebrate the inauguration. Lucien."I shall have my children by that time. the Duc de Grandlieu. the lovely Duchesse de Maufrigneuse. we must not carry it on with pop-guns. Did I not tell you. "Oh! never mind those ninnies. "We will pay the Liberals out. Rastignac. Lucien was thoughtful and sad for a few minutes. "He is one of us. The poet thought. I know how to come round that rake of a des Lupeaulx. and a host of others. all the most influential people at Court in fact. and des Lupeaulx. Mme. and not one of them gave him a friendly handshake. and not without reason. who will sign your patent. Lucien's flight was circumscribed. there must be no bribing with copies of books or presents. and not unreasonably held that it was better to have the licensing authorities for him than against him. still living. will find it hard to keep clean hands and self-respect. Blondet. Besides. of all men. who "did Monarchy and religion. Intercourse with the great world had developed in him the pride of caste. Nathan had also enlisted under the banner. There was a dinner at Robert's. I know you. let us have war in earnest. as a child holds a cockchafer by a string. the Comte d'Escrignon." to use the familiar expression coined for them." d'Arthez rejoined. springing upon his knee and putting her beautiful arms about his neck." "We must act honorably. His name was announced in the prospectus with a flourish of trumpets." cried Merlin." "Good!" said Martainville." cried Coralie. There must be no quarter. Martainville was there. and completed his intoxication. I will wheedle the _Chancellerie_ if there is no other way." said Nathan. and put them all to the sword with ridicule. "They take life seriously. We must inaugurate a Restoration of Journalism. two doors away from Frascati's. had turned his head. The Duc de Lenoncourt." The three could make nothing of Lucien. "Then there is no more to be said. no taking money of publishers. you will feel it acutely when you are despised by the very men to whom you offer yourself. I will give out La Fayette for the prince of harlequins that he is!" . 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_. accompanied by the name and title of Rubempre. and the whole band of Royalist writers for the press were present. you are going to be Count Lucien de Rubempre. and Auger and Destains. and the Ministry took care that a hundred thousand copies should be scattered abroad far and wide. he is sound. and life is a joke. Let us fall upon all Classicals and Liberals without distinction of age or sex." said Lucien. "You. The words. "if we are for war. "and if you cut off my head. "_Justum et tenacem propositi virum_! Let us be implacable and virulent. de Bargeton held him fast by this clue." The three took leave. d'Espard and Mme. had congratulated him on his conversion." accidentally overheard but three days ago in Mlle. it will not matter. de Touches' salon. "Gentlemen. that there was a fortune in his good looks and intellect. Lucien. the Duc de Navarreins. for he was thinking of starting a theatre. the vanities of the aristocrat.

At close of day A solitary jackass came to bray-A common Thistle's fitting epitaph. Vernou touched elsewhere on Lucien's gambling propensities." remarked an illustrious reveler in the doorway as he went. Lucien was the butt of the Opposition newspapers. They bade it prove its claims without delay. That comment appeared in the next day's issue of the _Miroir_ through the good offices of a publisher among the guests. The whole history of his sonnets was given to the public. Lucien was called "the Poet sans Sonnets. Lucien read the words through scalding tears. His defection gave the signal for a terrific hubbub in the Liberal camp. springing up one day Among the flowers in a garden fair." And close upon that ominous preface followed a sonnet entitled "The Thistle" (_le Chardon)_: A chance-come seedling. he read the following lines. but ne'er was blundering clown Upon the boards more promptly hooted down. the writer siding with Catholic cut-throats against their . and 'the illustrious orators of the Left. out of patience with its braggart's air. The sister flowers began to jeer and laugh. But with such insolence it flourished there._ as "anti-national" in its tendency. M. So for a while they suffered it to stay." and one morning. That. but barely intelligible to other readers: *** "If M. significant enough for him. It bloomed forthwith. we will act like generous foes. and spoke of the forthcoming _Archer of Charles IX.'" A war of extermination was unanimously resolved upon. to judge by the following specimen obligingly communicated by a friend of the author. and became historic. Dauriat was said to prefer a first loss of a thousand crowns to the risk of publishing the verses." added Lucien. in a flaming bowl of punch. The owner flung it out. "Sergeant Mercier. together with every glimmer of sense. and by one o'clock in the morning all shades of opinion were merged and drowned. in that very paper in which he had so brilliant a beginning. We will open our own columns to his poems. Lucien was supposed to be the traitor who blabbed."And I will undertake the heroes of the _Constitutionnel_. Made boast that splendid colors bright and rare Its claims to lofty lineage should display. Dauriat persistently withholds the Sonnets of the future Petrarch from publication. and ridiculed unmercifully. which must be piquant indeed. "We have had a fine Monarchical and Religious jollification. Jouy's Complete Works.

she did not hesitate. for instance. She had had time to gauge Lousteau pretty thoroughly. and energies strong as his cravings. but Etienne Lousteau during the interval became his sworn foe. when Florine was frantic with distress over the failure of the Panorama-Dramatique. In the course of that banquet it was decided that Nathan had not acted unfairly. "Nathan was carried away by passion. can depict the wrath of an author in a paroxysm of mortified vanity. Lousteau was terribly overcome. and there had been besides a private understanding between them. Then Nathan went to Florine and made capital with her out of the service done by the promise of a conditional engagement. His thousand crowns had vanished away. Nathan. acting on Florine's advice. and Finot declared that Lucien had betrayed the secret of the combination against Matifat. Party-spirit and zeal to serve his new friends had led the Royalist poet on to sin beyond forgiveness. but. Another week found the quarrel embittered. 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. nor the energy which he discovers when stung by the poisoned darts of sarcasm. he could not forgive Lucien for this treacherous blow (as he supposed it) dealt to his interests. but they all agreed that Lucien had behaved very ill when he arranged that business at the Gymnase.Calvinist victims. and thereby swindled him (Finot) out of fifty thousand francs. 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. no amount of description. is simply scheming for his own selfish ends. "while this 'distinguished provincial. After this. and took the sixth share of Finot's review in exchange for the compromising billets. and this was the manner of it. No words. on the other hand. Nathan drove a bargain for them with Matifat. which left her without an engagement. several writers present--Finot and Vernou. so she handed over Matifat's correspondence to Nathan. Florine proposed to reappear on the stage with renewed eclat. Etienne owed him a thousand francs.' as Blondet calls him. The wounds of vanity refuse to heal if oxide of silver gets into them. and here was Nathan with his ambitions in politics and literature. the man that is roused to fighting-fury by a personal attack usually . He wept (towards the close of a dinner given by his friends to console him in his affliction)." pronounced Bixiou. and undertook to keep a tight hand on him.--knew of Florine's fervid admiration for dramatic literature. gained Finot's support by selling him the sixth share for fifteen thousand francs. And now came Nathan's opportunity. Lousteau's courses were weakening his will. and much at a loss how to rid himself of Lousteau his rival. For the past three months Nathan had been smitten with Florine's charms." 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. he had indeed broken the most sacred laws of friendship. who was in fact dependent upon the actress. Lucien had counted upon his friend Etienne. Ambition turned Florine's head. and Lousteau consequently lost his commission. Vernou bore Lucien a personal grudge.

the only one among his associates who stood by him without an afterthought. who showed no sign of relenting towards the unfortunate boy. he is a bad bed-fellow. in which he shared the responsibilities of criticism with Hector Merlin. he is unsociable. eaten up with self-love. so much so that the President of a court of law. backed up by Martainville. and Vernou. whenever he could spare the time. Martainville was not in the secret of certain understandings made and ratified amid after-dinner jokes. and Lucien. and the rest of the journalists who were known for "good fellows. and all the while Hector Merlin and Theodore Gaillard fraternized unblushingly with Finot. he is sulky and rancorous. after reproving a learned brother in a certain council chamber for "sweeping the greenroom with his gown. When Lucien went to the greenroom of the Vaudeville. the representatives of the most opposite opinions courteously blunt the edge of their words. Classics and Romantics. gown to gown. now he was a rabid . when journalists of either side met on neutral ground. 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." The greenroom of the Vaudeville in those days was a hotbed of gossip. Lucien poured a perfect hailstorm of articles into the Royalist papers. But in those almost forgotten days the same theatre could scarcely hold certain Royalist and Liberal journalists. the most malignant provocation was offered. Lousteau. Everything can be excused and justified in an age which has transformed vice into virtue and virtue into vice. The more phlegmatic race. Intensity of feeling is diminished in our high-pressure age. claims the esteem and friendship of his victim. while the fury was upon him. He was always in the breach. let him avoid the snares set for him with base hypocrisy. or at Dauriat's in the Wooden Galleries. in time. In the time of the Restoration party hatred was far more bitter than in our day. the men of his own party held out a hand to shake. he met with no welcome. Lucien had been a Liberal and a hot Voltairean. and endure the most unhandsome treatment. and if the weaklings seem at first to be the strong men. they cannot hold out for any length of time. You found the same hatred masquerading in either form. or run the gantlet of innumerable jokes at his expense. the others cut him. in the greenroom of the Vaudeville. and no longer wondered at the scaffolds of the Convention. and fence with buttoned foils. or behind the scenes at the Vaudeville. During that first fortnight. as well as a neutral ground where men of every shade of opinion could meet. and the victim must keep on good terms with his slaughterer. Lousteau. Good-fellowship has come to be the most sacred of our liberties. Finot came thither almost every evening. glances were like pistol-shots. If he refuses. lay their account with the oblivion which speedily overtakes the spiteful article." met the subject of his strictures. who. went to the Vaudeville to watch the enemies. he must still exchange greetings with his assassin. The critic cuts a book to pieces and shakes hands with the author afterwards. shook hands again with Nathan. These are the truly courageous men of letters. he bears malice. pounding away with all his might in the _Reveil_.subsides very promptly. who take these things quietly. for that matter. To-day let an author receive a treacherous stab in the back. the least spark produced an explosion of quarrel.

The spite of the small Liberal papers fastened at once on the opportunity of coupling the two names. brought down upon them both a series of articles written by pens dipped in gall. Merlin was scolding his friend for giving a helping hand to Nathan in Florine's affair. hollow though it was. and this fact drew down all the hate of the Liberals on Lucien's head. to keep with the main body of the army if you mean to succeed. had given up the Asses' Bridge.Royalist and a Romantic. and. therefore. and flung them into each other's arms. like all his old associates. with intellect enough and to spare. and believed. Lucien and Hector Merlin went arm-in-arm to the Vaudeville. All of them felt instinctively that nothing was beyond the reach of this young and handsome poet. Florine and Coralie will never live in peace on the same stage. 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. both will wish to be first. they brought reciprocal accusations of lukewarm zeal. was more hated by the Liberals than any man on the Royalist side. In every possible way these writers of articles tried to injure each other with those in power. and founded on expectations. Martainville's staunch friendship injured Lucien. real or imaginary. Neither Nathan nor Gaillard was treating him with the frankness which he had a right to expect. the only one among his colleagues who really liked him and stood by him loyally. Political parties show scanty gratitude to outpost sentinels. Lucien said jestingly to des Lupeaulx that he himself. 'tis a rule of warfare which holds equally good in matters political. and Nathan not only has a pull as a dramatic author. Gaillard utterly confounded Lucien by saying roundly that newcomers must give proofs of their sincerity for some time before their party could trust them. the same characteristics come out. Their friendship. but so new a convert could hardly complain. You gave praise. Felicien Vernou was furious with jealousy of Lucien's social success. Lucien's luxurious life. and leave leaders of forlorn hopes to their fate. and you took no notice of it. You can only defend Coralie in our papers. There was more jealousy than he had imagined in the inner circles of Royalist and Ministerial journalism. surely. he was called Judas the Less. in the poet's approaching elevation. you did them a good turn--you will be well punished for your kindness. for Martainville was supposed (rightly or wrongly) to have given up the Bridge of Pecq to the foreign invaders. 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. "You then and there made two mortal enemies of Lousteau and Nathan. "I gave you good advice. Martainville being Judas the Great. they left no stone unturned to ruin him. Martainville. he can control the dramatic criticism in the Liberal newspapers. they invented the most treacherous ways of getting rid . they themselves had trained him in corruption." he said. had estranged his friends. He has been a journalist a little longer than you!" The words responded to Lucien's inward misgivings. The fiction of Lucien's treason was embellished with every kind of aggravating circumstance. Some few days before Coralie's first appearance at the Gymnase.

knew how to deal a deathblow to the poet of Angouleme. however rich they may be. looking from des Lupeaulx to Lucien. chance and his good looks would do the rest. and left Lucien with du Tillet. he was not made of such stuff. the Aretino. de Bargeton. and.of a rival. just as there are a hundred young men at this moment who would like to have an entrance to Mlle. Finot and des Lupeaulx. "Here is our handsome Lucien. you ought to be acquainted. eh? There were a score of applicants for the command of the army in Italy. and Lucien. he has contrived to make a great fortune in a short time. and to the Duchesse de Grandlieu's rout to-morrow?" "Yes. I thought I should like to know whether. and Mme. they turned away to continue their chat on one of the sofas in the greenroom. Truth to tell." continued Finot. and he is enchantingly handsome besides." Lucien and du Tillet bowed. or a footing in certain circles inaccessible for certain persons. This was all his plan. it would be better to baffle them and keep well with him. and shaking hands with feline amiability. a M. de Montcornet are wild about you. drawing des Lupeaulx in the direction of the poet. and before allowing them to plot against him. which any one can amass." ." said Lucien. "Can you call Bonaparte's fortune luck. "has made a brilliant success from this point of view. are you not." said Finot. for he saw clearly that for him such a restoration meant a wealthy marriage. Merlin." said Finot. and entered into conversation. That very night. position. as Lucien and Merlin went to the Vaudeville. and Etienne Lousteau. into which an inexperienced boy could not but fall. my dear boy. amid the inextricable tangle of ambitions. or the patience to unravel it. clapping Lucien on the shoulder. who had confided so much to him. Etienne had laid a terrible trap. patting Lucien's hand. and the banker asked Lucien to dinner. the title once secured. a well-matched pair. people are coupling her name with yours already in society." said des Lupeaulx. and there is the intangible fortune of connections. the patent of nobility." "Luck of that sort never comes to fools or incapables. Now my friend here----" "Our friend." interposed des Lupeaulx. and Nathan. too hopelessly out of favor. Mme. He could not be the Beaumarchais. he thought of nothing but his one desire. smiling blandly. du Tillet. "Our friend. his old friends cannot forgive him for his success--they call it luck. the Freron of his epoch. Is there really somebody behind Lucien? For he is the _bete noire_ of my staff. Firmiani's party to-night. in your opinion. Mme. "Allow me to introduce a young banker to you. knew his secret." repeated Finot. my friend. they were too far from power. "Ah! you are in high favor. more wit than the rest of us that envy him. You are going to Mme. "I cannot think of another example of such rapid success." said des Lupeaulx. There had been none of this internecine warfare among the Liberals. "tell me how things stand. more gift. d'Espard. "By the way. Lucien has more in him. knew each other well enough to keep upon good terms. "There are two sorts of success in Paris: there is a fortune in solid cash. des Touches' house. had neither the courage to draw sword and cut the knot.

"how can you imagine that the Marquise d'Espard. he would have turned again to the Cuttlefish-bone. Dauriat and I are the only proprietors now. and our distinguished provincial will lose his head when his mistress is hissed off the stage and left without an engagement. I am in their secrets. he will collapse. "He is under contract to write for Lousteau's paper. and allude to his mother the nurse and his father the apothecary. for Rastignac and de Marsay never wish to . and the review might be taken over for the benefit of the Court. we will send him back to his provinces. we will laugh at the victim's aristocratic pretensions. 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 saw a way of gaining credit with the Marquise d'Espard for this service. some post in the Royal Household. The young fool has missed his chance. we might come to an understanding. Master of Revels. I stipulated for the restitution of my sixth before I undertook to protect Nathan and Florine." "Then we can knock him over?" "How?" des Lupeaulx asked carelessly. Then can you arrange a definite engagement for Florine?" asked Finot. he will consider that Lucien is unworthy of the King's favor. "My dear fellow. When once the patent is suspended. the Baron Chatelet made a great step. you will do the greatest possible service to the two women. Help them to some. 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. and he would have had her too. de Bargeton--who has procured the Baron's nomination to the prefecture and the title of Count. he might have been librarian somewhere or other. and prove that Lucien wrote it. Instead of imposing his conditions. Master of Requests for a joke. and some day or other they will remember it. he would be Comte de Rubempre by this time. Nathan made Florine sell me Matifat's sixth share of the review. I was able to buy. he has accepted them. you and I. but I wished to know first how Lucien stood----" "You deserve your name. "Yes. but rid us of Lucien." said des Lupeaulx. If he had not had the actress for his mistress. Lucien would have made a very pretty reader to Louis XVIII.The Master of Requests and Finot looked at each other very closely for a moment or two. and we can the better hold him to his agreement because he has not a sou. Perhaps that is his unpardonable sin. the Cuttlefish-bone would have obtained some sinecure for him. Coralie has been the ruin of that boy. what you please. If we tickle up the Keeper of the Seals with a facetious article. I was surprised to find how much they hated the little fellow. We have a plot on hand besides.. they let me have it. or Mme. This Lucien might have rid himself of his bitterest enemy (Mme. Coralie will be ruined. he should have drowned her hate in torrents of love. Lucien's courage is only skindeep. or Chatelet. At this moment they are looking round for any excuse for not fulfilling the promises they made to that boy. "I like a man of your sort----" "Very well. and I must help them. When Lucien was caught with the bait of the patent of nobility." said des Lupeaulx.

and he was in a good humor. and at the same time he shrank from taking proceedings which might ruin him with his friends of the other side. He actually thanked Finot! Ambitious men. You and Felicien are not on speaking terms. who will promise to take them. Finot himself liked a man who was strong enough to change his opinions." as it must be called. "Nathan and Merlin will always have articles ready for Gaillard. for it ." Lucien saw nothing but good-fellowship and a shrewd eye to business in Finot's offer. There is only Martainville's paper left him in which to defend himself and Coralie. that week was the Retreat from Moscow. and might be mutually helpful in a thousand little ways. threads are snapped or entangled." "Sleep in peace. Finot and des Lupeaulx had flattered him. To every man. 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. but get Lucien to write that article and hand over the manuscript. it is all over with him. "Suppose that they play you false. like all those who can only make their way by the help of others and of circumstances. but if he can resist this first revolt of circumstances. But business first. he had had such luck that he was bound to know reverses and to see men and circumstances turn against him. he explained that he could not possibly afford to lose his contributor. what can a single paper do against so many?" "I will let you know the weak points of the Ministry. they will not compromise you. "Suppose that some Minister fancies that he has you fast by the halter of your apostasy. Social and literary success had come to him too easily. what will you do?" Finot ended." returned Finot. The first blow was the heaviest and the most keenly felt. Let me have purely literary articles. It had begun now for Lucien. For Napoleon. are bound to lay their plans very carefully and to adhere very closely to the course of conduct on which they determine. for instance. They were pretty sure to come across one another. We will cut off his supplies. will you not? Very well. there comes sooner or later "his fatal week. I only remain to you. and we shall have executed our agreement. Lucien will never get a line into the paper. and turns the cold shoulder on you? You will be glad to set on a few dogs to snap at his legs. and misfortune appears on every side. In the world which you are about to enter you can do me services in return for mine with the press. It is a rule of the craft to keep a good understanding with every man of real ability." said des Lupeaulx. who refrained carefully from informing Finot that Lucien's promised patent was nothing but a joke. needed a sure man in the Liberal party to attack the Ultras and men in office who might refuse to help him. Lucien. he is thirsting for your blood. Finot went to Lucien. unless he is born rich. But you have made a deadly enemy of Lousteau. and taking the good-natured tone which deceives so many victims. Let a man lose his head in the confusion.hear of him again. he and Lucien. besides. When des Lupeaulx had gone. 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.

but a heavy father of a family. She could not confront an audience with which she was out of sympathy. Lucien had discovered the treasures of her nature. was in reality girlish and timid. Coralie. willing to be pleased. There had been many a sharp struggle first. But if this action and reaction of the audience upon the actress reveals the nervous organization of genius. Roles must come to find Coralie. He would ask Camusot to discount them. The poet had not fallen so low that he could make this attempt quite coolly. but a great audience following attentively. and the way to that decision had been paved with many dreadful thoughts. born stage queen though she was. admiringly. 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. Genius is rare enough in the extraordinary art of the stage. Lucien made up his mind to a humiliating step for love's sake. wearing a magistrate's mask of judicial prudery. as the part required. in the furniture of a dressing-room. indolent. green cardboard boxes. to all appearance bold and wanton. and she possessed the great actress' faculty of suddenly standing aloof from self. Applause produced a sort of intoxication which gave her encouragement without flattering her vanity. Each new part gave her the terrible sensations of a first appearance. it shows no less clearly the poor child's sensitiveness and delicacy. she would not give herself to the first journalist who persecuted her with his advances and threatened her with his pen. He took Fendant and Cavalier's bills. and found Camusot seated gravely there. but hers was a noble nature. Lucien knew how much his friend would suffer on her first appearance at the Gymnase. this Camusot was the cool. had learned in the past months that this woman who loved him was still so much of a girl. Nevertheless. Art. and is positively hurtful unless it is accompanied by a genius for intrigue in which Coralie was utterly lacking. and Florine was as dangerous and depraved as Coralie was simple and generous. incredulous libertine whom he had known hitherto as Camusot. she felt that she possessed the power of stirring their souls and carrying them with her. This strange phenomenon is subject. at a murmur of dissatisfaction or before a silent house. not the easy-natured. he arrived at last in the dark. she flagged. had not yet triumphed over nature in her. cheerless little private office that looked out upon a yard. the supreme art of feigning passion and feeling. business-like head of the firm surrounded by clerks.touched Lucien where he thought himself invulnerable--in his heart and his love. to the caprices of character. and Coralie suffered besides from another true woman's weakness--she needed success. a cold reception paralyzed her. this was not Coralie's infatuated adorer. . She felt at once in communication with the nobler qualities of all those listeners. until it degenerates into a habit with long practice. she was nervous when she appeared on the stage. but all the money remaining from the sale of the furniture and all Lucien's earnings had been sunk in costumes. a merchant grown old in shrewd expedients of business and respectable virtues. she shrank before a great audience from the utterance that belongs to Love alone. A few days later. and went to the _Golden Cocoon_ in the Rue des Bourdonnais. Coralie might not be clever. but genius is only one condition of success among many. and not seldom to an admirable delicacy of feeling in actresses who are still young. she was too proud to implore authors or to submit to dishonoring conditions. electrified Coralie. and was anxious at all costs to obtain a success for her. and the expenses of a first appearance. and love had wrought in her a revulsion of her woman's heart against the comedian's mask. Florine was jealous of her.

Martainville was explaining that the party warfare with the Liberals must be waged on certain lines. to determine on the points where his "Romans" should work their fleshy clappers to bring down the house in applause. Braulard promised to come to the dress-rehearsal. and he was to be the first victim." said Camusot. considering Lucien to be the best qualified man on the staff. "Here are two or three bills." "You have taken something of _me_. and the editor of Merlin's paper." he said.pigeonholes. indeed. he knew how the booksellers stood)." Lucien went straight to Braulard. and fortified by the presence of a wife and a plainly-dressed daughter. who. moderate. People were beginning to speak of the circle in the Rue des Quatre-Vents as a second Convention. Lucien trembled from head to foot as he approached. invoices. He listened. in fact. it was taken for granted that he shared the views of his clique. "If you will take them of me. he fell under the same anathema. Martainville came several times to hear Coralie rehearse. if it did not suit his . like the money-lenders. Nathan. Lucien gave the rest of the money to Coralie (he did not tell her how he had come by it). smiling to himself over the signatures on the bills (for. and made arrangements for a good reception. monsieur. all the contributors. bending to murmur his explanation. D'Arthez's book had appeared. He spoke in a low voice. gave him the book to review. and samples. who did not rise from his desk. "I do not forget it. you will oblige me extremely. for the worthy merchant. were destined to sow the doctrines that drove the Bourbons into exile. Lucien refused to write the article. His book was to be honored with "a slashing article. A fatal event occurred on the evening before Coralie's _debut_. who was sorely troubled over their daily expenses. indifferent eyes upon him. for all the staff had been summoned. It was no part of Camusot's plans that Coralie should suffer a check. at a later day. and he knew more of the stage than most men of his time. and remarking that its influence was the more pernicious because the language was guarded. He owed his unlucky reputation to those articles on Nathan's work. It had been decided that the Royalist papers were to wage a systematic war of extermination against these dangerous opponents. Lucien had not a suspicion of the impending disaster. so that Camusot could hear the heavy throbbing of the humiliated poet's heart. Lucien explained Coralie's predicament. Merlin. turned cool." On this." to use the consecrated formula. and allayed her anxieties and the fears of Berenice. as a judge at the Tribunal of Commerce. monsieur. were talking of Leon Giraud's paper. Great was the commotion among the leading Royalist writers thus met in conclave. standing beside the merchant. cool. several Royalist writers had promised favorable articles. There were several men in the office at the time. D'Arthez's absolutist opinions were not known. 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. but that was only after the most brilliant of Royalist writers had joined them for the sake of a mean revenge. Lucien was told plainly that a renegade could not do as he pleased.

Lucien held out the manuscript. For a long while he hesitated. "Do you think me a base poltroon? No." "Poor boy! the bread that they give you is hard indeed!" said d'Arthez "I only ask for one favor. Again he turned to the book. "You don't understand it in the least. "What has happened?" asked d'Arthez. for she would find no champions on the Royalist and Ministerial side. I am a boy half crazed with love. and found d'Arthez sitting reading in a fireless room. taking the book as children might take some bright bird to strip it of its plumage and torture it.views to take the side of the Monarchy and Religion. "Let us look at the article. as his friends. and stood outside d'Arthez's house. and to quarrel with your own bread and butter. and here are you about to sacrifice Coralie and your own future. In the dead of night he hurried across Paris. d'Arthez. But at the sight of . his better self awoke. keep my visit a secret and leave me to my hell." said Martainville. Perhaps it is impossible to attain to success until the heart is seared and callous in every most sensitive spot. He looked up at the windows and saw the faint pure gleam of light in the panes. "Your book is sublime. what a fatal waste of intellect!" he began. as he had so often seen it. "Oh. Merlin and Martainville took him aside and begged him. to remember that he would simply hand Coralie over to the tender mercies of the Liberal papers. "if she plays for three months amid a cross-fire of criticism." said d'Arthez. she will make thirty thousand francs when she goes on tour in the provinces at the end of the season. and could not help smiling. all for a scruple that will always stand in your way. Her acting was certain to provoke a hot battle. no. and by the fireside he sat and read that finest production of modern literature. with a feeling of admiration for the noble steadfastness of that truly great nature. but at last he took up the pen and wrote a sarcastic article of the kind that he understood so well. and the kind of discussion which every actress longs to arouse. but his good angel urged him on. with tears in his eyes. for news of some dreadful kind was visible in Lucien's ghastly face. and ought to be got rid of at once. His sardonic jests were sure to tell. touched by all that Lucien said of Coralie." Lucien was forced to choose between d'Arthez and Coralie. Tears fell fast over it as the pages turned. d'Arthez. he could go back to the other camp. and as he read it over a second time. "and they have ordered me to write an attack upon it." and he told his story. For some moments he stood irresolute on the curbstone. to the occupations of the damned. he had not courage to go further. He tapped at the door and opened. Poor poet! He went home with death in his soul. His mistress would be ruined unless he dealt his friend a death-blow in the _Reveil_ and the great newspaper." "The same as ever!" cried d'Arthez. d'Arthez read." said Lucien.

Lucien overcome with grief in the opposite armchair." he went on. some day I will come to you and ask for it again. He looked over the rows of faces as a criminal eyes the judges and the jury on whom his life depends. It fell flat that night. I am afraid that you regard repentance as absolution. she might be the delight of a boulevard audience. and the treacherous Florine followed his example. he experienced for the first time the paroxysm of nervous terror caused by a _debut_. That evening. Repentance is virginity of the soul. any slight incident upon the stage. serious and conscientious criticism is sometimes praise in itself. I know my faults well enough." d'Arthez said solemnly." Lucien went slowly back to the Rue de la Lune. recast throughout. utterly unfit to play. which we must keep for God. Next morning d'Arthez sent back his article. would perturb him beyond all reason. Lucien hid the papers from her. she had been inspired by a laudable . and looked them over in the dining-room. Coralie was heartstricken. A murmur would have set him quivering. the slightest modulation of the tones of her voice. The next day found her in a high fever. Merlin. A crowd gathered in Coralie's dressing-room and consoled her. a man who repents twice is a horrible sycophant." "When you climb a hot. less for her own sake than for Lucien's. She went home in despair. and I have found it here and now. she had overestimated her strength. shadowless hillside. I know a way to make your article more honorable both for yourself and for me. Martainville applauded bravely. as he sprang sobbing to d'Arthez's arms and kissed his friend on the forehead. Besides. Coralie's exits and entrances. he checked himself. The play in which Coralie made her first appearance at the Gymnase was a piece of the kind which sometimes falls flat at first. till she had no courage left. "Flippancy depreciates a work. "Braulard has betrayed us. "It seems to me that I am leaving my conscience in your keeping. but from that day melancholy preyed upon him. "Will you leave it with me to correct? I will let you have it again to-morrow. and he could not always disguise his mood." Lucien said." said Lucien. Coralie was not applauded when she came on. Vanity of every kind was involved. face to face with the thought that she had been cut short in her career. The only applause came from Camusot's box. when the theatre was full. and afterwards has immense success. but it was clear that the piece was a failure. terror aggravated in his case by all the strength of his love. 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. and Lucien sent it in to the review. The reviewers one and all attributed the failure of the piece to Coralie. Nathan. and the chilly reception reacted upon her. stricken dumb by those words. "repentance becomes a sort of indemnity for wrongdoing. but she was out of her element at the Gymnase." "I look upon a periodical repentance as great hypocrisy. you sometimes find fruit to quench your torturing thirst.

followed by another and another. and made her reputation in it. which the treacherous writers of these unblushing _feuilletons_ knew to be utterly unsuited to her genius. She should play (according to these authorities) all kind of roles. Coralie heard a sob. at one time he possessed as much as thirty thousand francs. was not more furious than Lucien. As for the Liberal press. he found poor Coralie sobbing and exhausted on her bed. you shall have a carriage.ambition. I shall be the Comte de Rubempre. and was ready to take her place. I will make my fortune. that he complained. He grew haggard with rage. but when he began to say. put together on the same system as his attack upon Nathan. she had foreseen the outcome. He experienced both extremes of fortune during that day and part of the night that followed. Coralie sprang up at once. and I will write a part for you!" He took two thousand francs and hurried to Frascati's. whom you helped to earn her bread! If the Gymnase prefers to do so. Milo of Crotona. a prudent politician will see his friends first. for the piece succeeded. And these were the Royalist papers. Lucien read on through a pile of penny-a-lining." "What nonsense!" said Coralie. by way of consolation for the losses that he must expect. led off by Nathan. she had studied Coralie's part. "Very well. it is not all rosy. and you shall be my wife. In the Rue de la Lune he found Finot waiting for him with a request for one of his short articles. was ready to take Florine in Coralie's stead. She sprang out of bed to find Lucien. and sank fainting on the floor. A man should never leave one camp for another until he has made a comfortable berth for himself. and in any case. in the language of kindly counsel and friendly interest. For seven hours the unhappy victim of the Furies watched his varying luck. when he found his hands fast in the oak which he himself had cleft. Lucien so far forgot himself. So Florine took the part. and you shall live in a fine house. the newspapers all sang her praises. Nothing would satisfy her but she must read them all." returned Finot. and lay there in silence. in Lucien's presence. "You made your right-about-face in such a way that you were bound to lose the support of the Liberal press. and saw the papers. and he came out at last without a sou. and from that time forth Florine was the great actress whom we all know. Florine was in the plot. all the weapons which Lucien had used were now turned against him. "Nonsense!" repeated he. let the management pay you to cancel your engagement. that Florine knew the part. and when she had read them. she went back to bed. and outwardly seemed cool and self-contained. wait a few days. "I will play!" she cried. When the manager came. and . Florine's success exasperated Lucien to the highest degree. and the Liberals are far stronger in print than all the Ministerialist and Royalist papers put together. unwilling to give up the piece. The management. looking at him with wan eyes. "A wretched girl. she had chosen a part to which she was quite unequal. His friends gave Coralie the most treacherous advice. "Oh. and that the play must be given that evening. but she had not taken her powers into account.

Nathan and Merlin did that before they went over. a remedy open to Lucien. Coralie lay in bed. 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. Hawks don't pike out hawks' eyes. partly because he wished for an explanation of the non-appearance of the _Marguerites_. they sympathize with you. looking white and ill. "I will triumph. Marat is a saint compared with you. These finished. Eager to retrieve his losses at play. and he wished to give the articles to Finot in person. You were as innocent as a lamb." said Berenice. Keep my short articles in mind. Lucien shook off his dejection. Lucien went away." "I have not written a line in the _Reveil_ this week past. gave Lucien an edifying anecdote of the Keeper of the Seals. and take their opinions. for the subject of one of the papers. Dauriat flatly contradicted him. his courage rose. so oppressed and out of heart that he felt ready for suicide. and that he himself was the best judge of the expediency of producing the book. and wrote thirty articles of two columns each. and the relative positions of the parties to the agreement. I cannot conceal from you that your article on d'Arthez has roused a terrific hubbub. and determined not to bate an inch of his rights. The _Marguerites_ should appear when it suited his purpose. he went to Dauriat's. summoned up his energy and youthful force. he should wait until Lucien was in a position to secure the success of the book. and you agree to give mutual help. So the _Marguerites_ would not appear until Lucien had found a host of formidable supporters. as he had said in the alley at the Luxembourg. or grown formidable himself! He walked home slowly. you will be forced to show your teeth to your new party to make anything out of them. and once more he said to himself. or she will die. he was sarcastic in tone." And Finot. and the hits are the more telling because they are funny." "Very well. 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. with seeming carelessness. and your book will be a failure. he had bought it outright. Dauriat's moderate tone had exasperated him even more than his previous arrogance at their first interview. a piece of current gossip. Put under the ban of journalism. and I will pay you for them in a lump. they will come into power too. You will be attacked. he said. All the talk immediately ceased as he entered. When Lucien asserted that Dauriat was bound to publish the _Marguerites_ by the very nature of the contract. "She must have a part. as Lucien . Write fifty of them straight off. He found the bookseller's shop full of his enemies. partly because he felt sure of meeting Finot there. You can still act together.give them his reasons for going over. besides. The _Reveil_ is poking fun at the set in the Rue des Quatre-Vents. said that no publisher could be compelled by law to publish at a loss. There is a whole serious political coterie at the back of Leon Giraud's paper. sooner or later. it was his. You have been necessarily sacrificed to Nathan. There was. but they must be of the same color as the paper." Dauriat was neither amiable or inclined to patronize.

Garcia. and said that some distinction ought to avenge your treatment in the Liberal press. Des Lupeaulx and Vignon and Blondet were to be there. 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. and change the song-bird into an eagle. and Mme. de Bargeton. and . ashamed to confess that he was living in the Rue de la Lune. he jested. Emboldened with success and the flattering distinction shown to him by Mlle." added the Marquise. The unhappy young fellow to all appearances was light-hearted. Louis XVIII. The story was full of the blackest malice lurking in the most caustic wit. as well as Mme. de Montcornet sitting together. The party was given in honor of Conti. and two or three celebrated amateurs in society not excepted. after reading your sonnet on the Lily. d'Espard was an adept. owner likewise of one of the most famous voices off the stage. and content. That promise put new life into Coralie. would become illustrious through you.dressed for a great evening party at Mlle. was brought into the story in a masterly fashion. as they breakfasted together." said Mme. des Touches promised to give the heroine's part to his friend. he would not seem to need help from any one. my friend. "they praised your absolute and entire devotion. "The Duc de Lenoncourt and the Duc de Navarreins have made mention of you to the King. the great composer. but her thirst for vengeance was only increased by Lucien's graciousness. Cinti. happy. But the next day. and found that unlucky anecdote of the Keeper of the Seals and his wife. des Touches. Lucien was wanting in tact. but there is to be a meeting of the Council. to which you have a claim through your mother. d'Espard and Mme. "And you will be well rewarded.' said his Majesty. Where are you living?" "I will come to you." Lucien's expansion of feeling would have softened the heart of any woman less deeply wounded than Louise d'Espard de Negrepelisse. des Touches to a sofa in the boudoir. It never crossed his mind that this history of the patent was one of the mystifications at which Mme. the marvel of the moment was about to appear. The Keeper of the Seals will take it to-morrow to the Tuileries. Lucien saw the Marquise. and cited the hue and cry raised after him by the Liberal press as a proof of his zeal. with a gracious smile. Lucien had learned in Royalist newspaper offices that Mlle. As the rooms emptied. that Mlle. des Touches was the author of a play in which _La petite Fay_. they said. Des Lupeaulx was right. and you will find your patent signed by His Majesty. He dwelt on his services to the Royalist party. her cousin. I will let you know. 'Let us favor the songsters' (_chardonnerets_) 'of Pindus. Levasseur. de Navarreins replied. and told the story of Coralie's misfortune and his own so touchingly. if I hear the result to-morrow evening. which my cousin luckily remembered to give the Duke. de Bargeton. he was the Lucien de Rubempre of his days of splendor.--'Especially when the King can work miracles. he drew Mlle. and he will not come back till late. "Go to the _Chancellerie_ the day after to-morrow with 'the Heron' and des Lupeaulx. and made one of the party. Lucien opened Lousteau's newspaper. des Touches' house in the Rue du Mont Blanc.' M. Still. The name and title of Rubempre. Pasta. he stayed till two o'clock in the morning for a word in private with his hostess." said Lucien.

The unlucky wife of the Keeper of the Seals sent to the Chamber for her husband. his patent would not have been granted so soon. laughing at the King's chagrin. from the concrete to the abstract. but his lordship has torn it up. Who could be hidden behind her petticoats? Octavie decided. or had passed. The Sieur Chatelet. "Do you dare to come here. It was said that des Lupeaulx had invented the tale. the cooler grew the royal lover. and the King. Des Lupeaulx was waiting for them in the Secretary-General's office. 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. and treated his companion as an equal.held up to ridicule in such a way that prosecution was impossible. but precautions had been taken. Liberal persecution had been a stepping-stone to advancement. flew into a royal and truly Bourbon passion. and to convince outraged Majesty of the fraud. At last Octavie discovered the cause of her decline. to Lucien's utter bewilderment. and thought of it merely as a very amusing _canard_. That functionary started with surprise when Lucien appeared and looked at des Lupeaulx. newly appointed Councillor Extraordinary. 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. 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. was now Comte du Chatelet. The illustrious lady. The Comte _du_ Chatelet (for the _du_ had been inserted in the patent) drove with Lucien to the _Chancellerie_. she arranged that a stormy debate should detain the Minister at the Chamber. "The Minister wished to discover the author of . and at that moment the Minister was on his legs addressing the Chamber. sir? Your patent was made out. "What!" he exclaimed. then she contrived to secure a _tete-a-tete_. begging the King to write a note which must be answered at once. love had reached the Doctrinaire stage. The correspondence was languishing. so cruelly ridiculed under the name of Octavie by Beranger. With the help of a faithful friend. She laid her plans. but Finot always kept his counsel. That excellent woman was believed to be incapable of writing a note. "Your Chancellor will supply the rest. had conceived (so it was said) the gravest fears. she was simply and solely godmother to the efforts of audacious ambition. the Liberal papers and the Orleanists were delighted with it. He would not believe her. The lady racked her brains and replied to the note with such intellect as she could improvise. There was not a word of truth in the story. But for Lucien's articles. his wife. but it struck home to three persons--the Keeper of the Seals. Here is the substance of a fiction for which the Liberal party attempted to win credence. that the King was corresponding with his Minister. though they only succeeded in adding one more to the tale of their ingenious calumnies." cried Octavie. but the tempest broke on Octavie's head. in other words. after making observations of her own. He called next day for des Lupeaulx and the Baron du Chatelet. he said. Here it is!" (the Secretary-General caught up the first torn sheet that came to hand). The Baron had just been to thank his lordship. The article was caustic and clever. The more Octavie displayed her wit. Louis XVIII. Octavie offered immediate proof. and Lucien himself laughed.

"You have compromised me. He walked home along the Boulevards trying to think over his position. Conduct that one expects from an enemy is atrocious in a friend. It was an advertisement of a book with a grotesque title. He had no definite aim. his First Gentleman of the Bedchamber. and the Marquise will have scolded her cousin. his arms hanging at his sides. a moth flitting from one bright gleaming object to another. and he had heard nothing of it! All the newspapers were silent. absorbed in these thoughts. You are a very clever journalist. a poet whose thoughts never went beyond the moment. nor did he see that Michel Chrestien and Leon Giraud were coming towards him. Michel spat in his face. and is dragging the country headlong to ruin? You breakfast on the _Corsair_. harasses the Centre. "You call yourself a Royalist. he is more likely to bring on another Revolution than if he had gone over to the extreme Left." "Here comes his lordship--go!" said the Secretary-General. he was the slave of circumstance --meaning well. the _Miroir_. The Minister denounced you to the King. and the King was so angry that he scolded M. He walked at random. and greed. and you are on the staff of that detestable paper which turns the Minister's hair gray. who were responsible for you. you dine on the _Quotidienne_ and the _Reveil_. Mme. and there was that in the sound of his voice that set Lucien's heartstrings vibrating." added the speaker. Keep away from them and wait. And to crown it all. Mme. my dear fellow. treachery. de Montcornet. he was penniless and exhausted with work and emotion. "Take that as your wages for your article against d'Arthez. He saw himself a plaything in the hands of envy. le Duc de Navarreins. He did not notice a little knot of acquaintances --Rastignac and de Marsay and some other fashionable young men. Lucien went out into the Place Vendome. "Do you not know me?" he asked. Your enemies will be all the more formidable because they have hitherto been your friends." . the press would be as it ought to be--a self-respecting and respected priesthood. sir. really. must be furious. He stood motionless before the placard. "Are you M.yesterday's atrocious article. turning very pale. are you a child?" said des Lupeaulx." "Why. and then sup with Martainville. Conscience tortured him remorselessly. and the _Courier_. d'Espard. and Mme. doing ill. he was stunned by this bludgeon blow. The Duke is sure to have handed on his annoyance to the Marquise. de Bargeton. holding out the sheets of Lucien's article. the worst enemy of the Government! Martainville urges the Government on to Absolutist measures. and here is the manuscript. As he passed some of the reading-rooms which were already lending books as well as newspapers. What was he in this world of contending ambitions? A child sacrificing everything to the pursuit of pleasure and the gratification of vanity. the _Constitutionnel_. but you will never make a politician. but beneath the announcement he saw his name in brilliant letters--"By Lucien Chardon de Rubempre. If everybody would do as I do on his own or his friend's behalf." So his book had come out. Chardon?" It was Michel who spoke. a placard caught his eyes. His articles could not compare with Merlin's or Nathan's work.

is particularly appropriate for your lodgings. Whatever happens. Fortunately. He had discovered the cause of her apparent failure." "A good shot?" "Never fired a pistol in my life. Rastignac came for Lucien. life had become a bad dream. He stood in his place. Coralie should have the protection of the management." he said. only a few steps away from the Boulevard de Gand. The second shot hit . He did not care whether he lived or died. horse pistols are to be the weapons." "Here is the programme. five paces to take and three shots to fire--no more." said de Marsay. addressing Rastignac and de Marsay." "Then you have luck on your side. She had played without rehearsal in a one-act play. both fired twice and at the same time." He struck Michel a sudden. Michel Chrestien came as far as his limit. till you are only fifteen apart." said de Marsay. and the pair insisted that he should dine with them at the Cafe Anglais. She had met with genuine applause. "The name of your street my dear fellow. where they drank and made merry. you may kill your man. It was the hour of dinner. Michel's first bullet grazed Lucien's chin. I will promise you. De Marsay came to find Lucien. The courage of suicide helped him in some sort to carry things off with a dash of bravado before the spectators. Rastignac dragged Lucien off to the Rue Taitbout.Lucien staggered back and caught hold of Rastignac." he said. and her success had determined the manager to give her the heroine's part in Camille Maupin's play. "Are you a good swordsman?" inquired de Marsay. But first. for either party was considered to be equally insulted. and his seconds load for you. Her enemies had not been prepared for this step on her part. and was indignant with Florine and Nathan. by way of greeting. it is good form. We load for your antagonist. "Let us be first upon the ground on the road to Clignancourt. They thought the poet an uncommonly cool hand. that must be the end of it. At five o'clock that morning. where this scene took place. "I have never had a foil in my hands." For Lucien. as the cab rattled through the Faubourg Saint-Denis: "You stand up at twenty-five paces. The rest rushed in between the Republican and Royalist. or a crowd would have assembled at once. unexpected blow in the face. coming nearer. I wish to make matters even and apology impossible. You are a formidable antagonist to stand up to. We helped you to a chance. each of you. You have. he would not take a step. a piece of recklessness which the others took for deliberate calculation. "Gentlemen. to prevent a street brawl. Lucien's passed ten feet above Chrestien's head. The weapons were chosen by the four seconds at a gunmaker's. and we ought to set them an example. you are up in the sky. Lucien found Coralie in bed and asleep. "you will not refuse to act as my seconds. and taken her revenge.

Bianchon had come to tend him after hearing the story of the attack from d'Arthez. drop by drop. Then Barbet took a heroic resolution." answered Michel. had disposed of it at a cheap rate to hawkers. Lucien knew nothing of all this. "he will pull through. had sold the whole edition (without Cavalier's knowledge) to dealers in printed paper. By noon the unhappy boy lay in bed in his own room. Bianchon told Coralie that Lucien must on no account hear the news. and one or two articles by Leon Giraud had raised the value of the book. "Is he dead?" asked Michel Chrestien. being anxious to realize a little ready money before going into bankruptcy._." "So much the worse. "Perhaps he is dying at this moment." Lucien owed his life to the skill and devotion of a friend whom he had grievously hurt. Coralie choked down her grief and anguish. and often at the theatre Coralie acted her frivolous role with one thought in her heart. but it had taken five hours to bring him to the Rue de la Lune. one by one. These. and left his competitors to sell their wares at a loss. The prospect of a loss drove him frantic. His condition was not dangerous. Great was the outcry in the trade. at ten francs each." he had a belief in Lucien's abilities. with the obstinacy of greed. but Berenice and Coralie could not refuse to allow Hector Merlin to see his dying comrade. who had previously taken a quantity of copies.Lucien's coat collar. Bianchon suspected that d'Arthez was generously trying to screen the renegade. He stocked his copies in a corner of his shop. but precautions were necessary lest fever should set in and bring about troublesome complications. Before the first month was out. but on questioning Lucien during a lucid interval in the dangerous nervous fever. and excused the unhappy poet. Fendant. Lucien was in danger for two long months. Barbet sold his copies. the firm of Fendant and Cavalier filed their schedule. but the buckram lining fortunately saved its wearer. studying her parts by his bedside. in their turn. Two years afterwards. made bankrupts by his first ill-fated book. and he dropped. for which they had paid four francs fifty centimes. With untold pains they had managed to remove him. The third bullet struck him in the chest. She sat up with him at night through the anxious weeks of his illness. when d'Arthez's fine preface." said the surgeon. and Hector Merlin made him drink. the whole of the bitter draught brewed by the failure of Fendant and Cavalier. the one friend who stood by Lucien ." said Lucien. The booksellers on the Quai des Augustins. Martainville. so much the worse. who told it in confidence. now discovered that after this sudden reduction of the price they were like to lose heavily on their purchases. but the newspapers preserved a profound silence. for once he had broken his rule and taken two hundred copies. The famous _Archer of Charles IX. as his tears fell fast. the things he said of Lucien were fearful to hear. were being given away for fifty sous. had been a complete failure. the merits of the book. the four duodecimo volumes. he learned that his patient was only responsible for the one serious article in Hector Merlin's paper. brought out with an absurd title. "Yes. and Lucien's book at that moment was adorning the bookstalls along the Quays. Barbet had not foreseen this "clearance. "No.

amid all his troubles. Another mortification followed. the angelic creature loved him ten times more than before. but when she returned she looked as if all the life had gone out of her. When she came up again she held the warrants. and he helped besides to nurse Coralie and to relieve Berenice. Lucien discovered that Camusot was proceeding against him with great energy. Nathan had threatened the Gymnase with war if the management refused to give the vacant place to Coralie's rival. For a week or more all three of them--Lucien. When Coralie heard the name. had written a magnificent article on his work. who obtained credit for them of the druggist. and Coralie went down to him. and Bianchon might shut the door on Lucien's so-called friends. Coralie. knowing that Florine was waiting to step into her place. this step cost him most . 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. eager to work though he was. but in Bianchon they found a skilful and devoted doctor. Coralie broke down. but the creation of this character was the last flicker of a bright. and at last no one. and for the first time learned the dreadful and humiliating step which her poet had taken for her sake. gave the two unlucky children credit. was not yet strong enough to write. that his championship only injured Lucien. From poverty they had come to utter distress. with the exception of the pork-butcher and the druggist. The landlord of the house and the tradespeople knew by this time how matters stood. and the invalid--were obliged to live on the various ingenious preparations sold by the pork-butcher. but it was impossible to keep out creditors and writs. their bills were taken into bankruptcy according to that provision of the Code of Commerce most inimical to the claims of third parties. The Gymnase had advanced sums during Lucien's illness. in her hand. and would not approach Camusot. not a newspaper took up the challenge in spite of all his attacks. and proceeded to extremes. who raised a great outcry. She had overtasked her strength. The furniture was attached. and Coralie grew worse. Camusot hurried at once to the Rue de la Lune. After the failure of Fendant and Cavalier. _L'Oriflamme_. gloomy silence. when Lucien had so far recovered that he had regained his appetite and could walk abroad. a secret trouble was weighing upon her. Perhaps. she had no money to draw. Coralie was obliged to see her part given to Florine. Lucien. 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. who in this way lose the benefit of delay. Coralie had persisted till she could play no longer. but so great was the general exasperation against the editor of _L'Aristarque_. How had she obtained those papers from Camusot? What promise had she given? Coralie kept a sad. The tailor and dressmaker no longer stood in awe of the journalist.through thick and thin. and contributed not a little to the success of that illustrious literary hermaphrodite. dying lamp. On the twentieth night. Berenice. and talked of getting to work again. the inflammatory diet was little suited to the sick girl. and _Le Drapeau Blanc_. She played in Camille Maupin's play. Berenice always believed that she had promised to go back to Camusot to save Lucien. Berenice. in which Lucien was described as a tradesman. The bailiff bringing the warrant of arrest shrank back from the idea of dragging his prisoner out of bed. In vain did the athlete return the Liberal insults tenfold.

Which is the stronger? The man or the disease? One has need be a great man. Genius is a cruel disease. Lucien returned home. the heart withers. which destroys all feeling as it arises in him. and Lucien accepted the offer. The talent grows. When he shook hands with the one journalist who had not been hostile to him. Hunted down like a hare. to keep the balance between genius and character. it seemed to the poet that he was the least unfortunate among the four. Then he drew three bills of a thousand francs each. he forsook d'Arthez for journalism. due respectively in one. The great man unknown to fame. Misery had brought down Lucien's pride and extinguished sentiment. must needs hie him to a low haunt of vice to wallow in perilous pleasure. he was lodging now with this friend." the great critic said. You are slender and fragile. but each one of his comrades had a tale as cruel as his own. now with that. but it excited jealousy. All of them craved a respite from remembrance and thoughts which made trouble doubly hard to bear. Every writer carries a canker in his heart." he added. they met with one of the most famous printers of the day. Lousteau was not to be found in the Rue de la Harpe. He endorsed the bills. Vignon betook himself to the _Rocher de Cancale_ to drown memory and thought in a couple of bottles of Bordeaux. he shed tears as he told the story of his troubles. Lousteau offered him dinner. and. and your struggle will be hard and long. thinking over that terrible verdict. "One must do as one can. who kept his wardrobe at Samanon's. like the tapeworm in the stomach. "What shall I do?" he asked aloud. imitating the handwriting of his brother-in-law. Lucien wrote a few lines to give his brother-in-law notice of this assault upon his . a devouring monster. and three months. he must be content either to lose his gift or to live without a heart. As they came out of Flicoteaux's with Claude Vignon (who happened to be dining there that day) and the great man in obscurity. the paper-dealer in the Rue Serpente. as it fell out. He beheld the life of literature by the light of the profound truths uttered by Vignon. two. though he had a divine mistress.