第5章

"Butdoyougrudgemesuchaverynaturalfeeling?"askedLucien.

"Weshouldbearinmindthathedidnothideit,"saidLeonGiraud;

"heisstillopenwithus;butIamafraidthathemaycometofeelshyofus."

"Andwhy?"Lucienasked.

"Wecanreadyourthoughts,"answeredJosephBridau.

"Thereisadiabolicalspiritinyouthatwillseektojustifycourseswhichareutterlycontrarytoourprinciples.Insteadofbeingasophistintheory,youwillbeasophistinpractice."

"Ah!Iamafraidofthat,"saidd"Arthez."Youwillcarryonadmirabledebatesinyourownmind,Lucien,andtakeupaloftypositionintheory,andendbyblameworthyactions.Youwillneverbeatonewithyourself."

"Whatgroundhaveyouforthesecharges?"

"Thyvanity,dearpoet,issogreatthatitintrudesitselfevenintothyfriendships!"criedFulgence."Allvanityofthatsortisasymptomofshockingegoism,andegoismpoisonsfriendship."

"Oh!dear,"saidLucien,"youcannotknowhowmuchIloveyouall."

"Ifyoulovedusasweloveyou,wouldyouhavebeeninsuchahurrytoreturnthemoneywhichwehadsuchpleasureinlending?orhavemadesomuchofit?"

"Wedon"tlendhere;wegive,"saidJosephBridauroughly.

"Don"tthinkusunkind,dearboy,"saidMichelChrestien;"wearelookingforward.Weareafraidlestsomedayyoumaypreferapettyrevengetothejoysofpurefriendship.ReadGoethe"sTasso,thegreatmaster"sgreatestwork,andyouwillseehowthepoet-herolovedgorgeousstuffsandbanquetsandtriumphandapplause.Verywell,beTassowithouthisfolly.Perhapstheworldanditspleasurestemptyou?Staywithus.Carryallthecravingsofvanityintotheworldofimagination.Transposefolly.Keepvirtuefordailywear,andletimaginationrunriot,insteadofdoing,asd"Arthezsays,thinkinghighthoughtsandlivingbeneaththem."

Lucienhunghishead.Hisfriendswereright.

"IconfessthatyouarestrongerthanI,"hesaid,withacharmingglanceatthem."MybackandshouldersarenotmadetobeartheburdenofParislife;Icannotstrugglebravely.Wearebornwithdifferenttemperamentsandfaculties,andyouknowbetterthanIthatfaultsandvirtueshavetheirreverseside.Iamtiredalready,Iconfess."

"Wewillstandbyyou,"saidd"Arthez;"itisjustinthesewaysthatafaithfulfriendshipisofuse."

"ThehelpthatIhavejustreceivedisprecarious,andeveryoneofusisjustaspoorasanother;wantwillsoonovertakemeagain.

Chrestien,attheserviceofthefirstthathireshim,candonothingwiththepublishers;Bianchonisquiteoutofit;d"Arthez"sbooksellersonlydealinscientificandtechnicalbooks——theyhavenoconnectionwithpublishersofnewliterature;andasforHoraceandFulgenceRidalandBridau,theirworkliesmilesawayfromthebooksellers.Thereisnohelpforit;Imustmakeupmymindonewayoranother."

"Stickbyus,andmakeupyourmindtoit,"saidBianchon."Bearupbravely,andtrustinhardwork."

"Butwhatishardshipforyouisdeathforme,"Lucienputinquickly.

"Beforethecockcrowsthrice,"smiledLeonGiraud,"thismanwillbetraythecauseofworkforanidlelifeandthevicesofParis."

"Wherehasworkbroughtyou?"askedLucien,laughing.

"WhenyoustartoutfromParisforItaly,youdon"tfindRomehalf-

way,"saidJosephBridau."Youwantyourpeasetogrowreadybutteredforyou."

Theconversationendedinajoke,andtheychangedthesubject.

Lucien"sfriends,withtheirperspicacityanddelicacyofheart,triedtoeffacethememoryofthelittlequarrel;butLucienknewthenceforwardthatitwasnoeasymattertodeceivethem.Hesoonfellintodespair,whichhewascarefultohidefromsuchsternmentorsasheimaginedthemtobe;andtheSoutherntemperthatrunssoeasilythroughthewholegamutofmentaldispositions,sethimmakingthemostcontradictoryresolutions.

Againandagainhetalkedofmakingtheplungeintojournalism;andtimeaftertimedidhisfriendsreplywitha"Mindyoudonothingofthesort!"

"Itwouldbethetombofthebeautiful,graciousLucienwhomweloveandknow,"saidd"Arthez.

"Youwouldnotholdoutforlongbetweenthetwoextremesoftoilandpleasurewhichmakeupajournalist"slife,andresistanceistheveryfoundationofvirtue.Youwouldbesodelightedtoexerciseyourpoweroflifeanddeathovertheoffspringofthebrain,thatyouwouldbeanout-and-outjournalistintwomonths"time.Tobeajournalist——

thatistoturnHerodintherepublicofletters.Themanwhowillsayanythingwillendbystickingatnothing.ThatwasNapoleon"smaxim,anditexplainsitself."

"Butyouwouldbewithme,wouldyounot?"askedLucien.

"Notbythattime,"saidFulgence."Ifyouwereajournalist,youwouldnomorethinkofusthantheOperagirlinallherglory,withheradorersandhersilk-linedcarriage,thinksofthevillageathomeandhercowsandhersabots.Youcouldneverresistthetemptationtopenawitticism,thoughitshouldbringtearstoafriend"seyes.I

comeacrossjournalistsintheatrelobbies;itmakesmeshuddertoseethem.Journalismisaninferno,abottomlesspitofiniquityandtreacheryandlies;noonecantraverseitundefiled,unless,likeDante,heisprotectedbyVirgil"ssacredlaurel."

Butthemorethesetoffriendsopposedtheideaofjournalism,themoreLucien"sdesiretoknowitsperilsgrewandtemptedhim.Hebegantodebatewithinhisownmind;wasitnotridiculoustoallowwanttofindhimasecondtimedefenceless?Hebethoughthimofthefailureofhisattemptstodisposeofhisfirstnovel,andfeltbutlittletemptedtobeginasecond.How,besides,washetolivewhilehewaswritinganotherromance?Onemonthofprivationhadexhaustedhisstockofpatience.Whyshouldhenotdonoblythatwhichjournalistsdidignoblyandwithoutprinciple?Hisfriendsinsultedhimwiththeirdoubts;hewouldconvincethemofhisstrengthofmind.Someday,perhaps,hewouldbeofusetothem;hewouldbetheheraldoftheirfame!

"Andwhatsortofafriendshipisitwhichrecoilsfromcomplicity?"

demandedheoneeveningofMichelChrestien;LucienandLeonGiraudwerewalkinghomewiththeirfriend.

"Weshrinkfromnothing,"MichelChrestienmadereply."Ifyouweresounluckyastokillyourmistress,Iwouldhelpyoutohideyourcrime,andcouldstillrespectyou;butifyouweretoturnspy,Ishouldshunyouwithabhorrence,foraspyissystematicallyshamelessandbase.Thereyouhavejournalismsummedupinasentence.Friendshipcanpardonerrorandthehastyimpulseofpassion;itisboundtobeinexorablewhenamandeliberatelytrafficsinhisownsoul,andintellect,andopinions."

"WhycannotIturnjournalisttosellmyvolumeofpoetryandthenovel,andthengiveupatonce?"

"Machiavellimightdoso,butnotLuciendeRubempre,"saidLeonGiraud.

"Verywell,"exclaimedLucien;"IwillshowyouthatIcandoasmuchasMachiavelli."

"Oh!"criedMichel,graspingLeon"shand,"youhavedoneit,Leon——

Lucien,"hecontinued,"youhavethreehundredfrancsinhand;youcanlivecomfortablyforthreemonths;verywell,then,workhardandwriteanotherromance.D"ArthezandFulgencewillhelpyouwiththeplot;youwillimprove,youwillbeanovelist.AndI,meanwhile,willenteroneofthoselupanarsofthought;forthreemonthsIwillbeajournalist.Iwillsellyourbookstosomebooksellerorotherbyattackinghispublications;Iwillwritethearticlesmyself;Iwillgetothersforyou.Wewillorganizeasuccess;youshallbeagreatman,andstillremainourLucien."

"Youmustdespisemeverymuch,ifyouthinkthatIshouldperishwhileyouescape,"saidthepoet.

"OLord,forgivehim;itisachild!"criedMichelChrestien.

WhenLucien"sintellecthadbeenstimulatedbytheeveningsspentind"Arthez"sgarret,hehadmadesomestudyofthejokesandarticlesinthesmallernewspapers.Hewasatleasttheequal,hefelt,ofthewittiestcontributors;inprivatehetriedsomementalgymnasticsofthekind,andwentoutonemorningwiththetriumphantideaoffindingsomecolonelofsuchlightskirmishersofthepressandenlistingintheirranks.Hedressedinhisbestandcrossedthebridges,thinkingashewentthatauthors,journalists,andmenofletters,hisfuturecomrades,inshort,wouldshowhimrathermorekindnessanddisinterestednessthanthetwospeciesofbooksellerswhohadsodashedhishopes.Heshouldmeetwithfellow-feeling,andsomethingofthekindlyandgratefulaffectionwhichhefoundinthecenacleoftheRuedesQuatre-Vents.Tormentedbyemotion,consequentuponthepresentimentstowhichmenofimaginationclingsofondly,halfbelieving,halfbattlingwiththeirbeliefinthem,hearrivedintheRueSaint-FiacreofftheBoulevardMontmartre.Beforeahouse,occupiedbytheofficesofasmallnewspaper,hestopped,andatthesightofithisheartbegantothrobasheavilyasthepulsesofayouthuponthethresholdofsomeevilhaunt.

Nevertheless,upstairshewent,andfoundtheofficesinthelowentresolbetweenthegroundfloorandthefirststory.Thefirstroomwasdivideddownthemiddlebyapartition,thelowerhalfofsolidwood,theupperlatticeworktotheceiling.InthisapartmentLuciendiscoveredaone-armedpensionersupportingseveralreamsofpaperonhisheadwithhisremaininghand,whilebetweenhisteethheheldthepassbookwhichtheInlandRevenueDepartmentrequireseverynewspapertoproducewitheachissue.Thisill-favoredindividual,ownerofayellowcountenancecoveredwithredexcrescences,towhichheowedhisnicknameof"Coloquinte,"indicatedapersonagebehindthelatticeastheCerberusofthepaper.Thiswasanelderlyofficerwithamedalonhischestandasilkskull-caponhishead;hisnosewasalmosthiddenbyapairofgrizzledmoustaches,andhispersonwashiddenascompletelyinanampleblueovercoatasthebodyoftheturtleinitscarapace.

"Fromwhatdatedoyouwishyoursubscriptiontocommence,sir?"

inquiredtheEmperor"sofficer.

"Ididnotcomeaboutasubscription,"returnedLucien.Lookingabouthim,hesawaplacardfastenedonadoor,correspondingtotheonebywhichhehadentered,andreadthewords——EDITOR"SOFFICE,andbelow,insmallerletters,Noadmittanceexceptonbusiness.

"Acomplaint,Iexpect?"repliedtheveteran."Ah!yes;wehavebeenhardonMariette.Whatwouldyouhave?Idon"tknowthewhyandwhereforeofityet——Butifyouwantsatisfaction,Iamreadyforyou,"headded,glancingatacollectionofsmallarmsandfoilsstackedinacorner,thearmoryofthemodernwarrior.

"Thatwasstillfurtherfrommyintention,sir.Ihavecometospeaktotheeditor."

"Nobodyiseverherebeforefouro"clock."

"Lookyouhere,Giroudeau,oldchap,"remarkedavoice,"Imakeitelevencolumns;elevencolumnsatfivefrancsapieceisfifty-fivefrancs,andIhaveonlybeenpaidforty;soyouowemeanotherfifteenfrancs,asIhavebeentellingyou."

Thesewordsproceededfromalittleweasel-face,pallidandsemi-

transparentasthehalf-boiledwhiteofanegg;twoslitsofeyeslookedoutofit,mildblueintint,butappallinglymalignantinexpression;andtheowner,aninsignificantyoungman,wascompletelyhiddenbytheveteran"sopaqueperson.Itwasablood-curdlingvoice,asoundbetweenthemewingofacatandthewheezychokingsofahyena.

"Yes,yes,mylittlemilitiaman,"retortedheofthemedal,"butyouarecountingtheheadingsandwhitelines.IhaveFinot"sinstructionstoaddupthetotalsofthelines,andtodividethembythepropernumberforeachcolumn;andafterIperformedthatconcentratingoperationonyourcopy,therewerethreecolumnsless."

"Hedoesn"tpayfortheblanks,theJew!Hereckonstheminthoughwhenhesendsupthetotalofhisworktohispartner,andhegetspaidforthemtoo.IwillgoandseeEtienneLousteau,Vernou——"

"Icannotgobeyondmyorders,myboy,"saidtheveteran."What!doyoucryoutagainstyourfoster-motherforamatteroffifteenfrancs?

youthatturnoutanarticleaseasilyasIsmokeacigar.Fifteenfrancs!why,youwillgiveabowlofpunchtoyourfriends,orwinanextragameofbilliards,andthere"sanendofit!"

"Finot"ssavingswillcosthimverydear,"saidthecontributorashetookhisdeparture.

"Now,wouldnotanybodythinkthathewasRousseauandVoltairerolledinone?"thecashierremarkedtohimselfasheglancedatLucien.

"Iwillcomeinagainatfour,sir,"saidLucien.

Whiletheargumentproceeded,Lucienhadbeenlookingabouthim.HesawuponthewallstheportraitsofBenjaminConstant,GeneralFoy,andtheseventeenillustriousoratorsoftheLeft,interspersedwithcaricaturesattheexpenseoftheGovernment;buthelookedmoreparticularlyatthedoorofthesanctuarywhere,nodoubt,thepaperwaselaborated,thewittypaperthatamusedhimdaily,andenjoyedtheprivilegeofridiculingkingsandthemostportentousevents,ofcallinganythingandeverythinginquestionwithajest.Thenhesaunteredalongtheboulevards.Itwasanentirelynovelamusement;

andsoagreeabledidhefindit,that,lookingattheturretclocks,hesawthehourhandswerepointingtofour,andonlythenrememberedthathehadnotbreakfasted.

HewentatonceinthedirectionoftheRueSaint-Fiacre,climbedthestair,andopenedthedoor.

Theveteranofficerwasabsent;buttheoldpensioner,sittingonapileofstampedpapers,wasmunchingacrustandactingassentinelresignedly.Coloquintewasasmuchaccustomedtohisworkintheofficeastothefatiguedutyofformerdays,understandingasmuchoraslittleaboutitasthewhyandwhereforeofforcedmarchesmadebytheEmperor"sorders.Lucienwasinspiredwiththeboldideaofdeceivingthatformidablefunctionary.Hesettledhishatonhishead,andwalkedintotheeditor"sofficeasifhewerequiteathome.

Lookingeagerlyabouthim,hebeheldaroundtablecoveredwithagreencloth,andhalf-a-dozencherry-woodchairs,newlyreseatedwithstraw.Thecoloredbrickfloorhadnotbeenwaxed,butitwasclean;

socleanthatthepublic,evidently,seldomenteredtheroom.Therewasamirrorabovethechimney-piece,andontheledgebelow,amidasprinklingofvisiting-cards,stoodashopkeeper"sclock,smotheredwithdust,andacoupleofcandlestickswithtallowdipsthrustintotheirsockets.Afewantiquenewspaperslayonthetablebesideaninkstandcontainingsomeblacklacquer-likesubstance,andacollectionofquillpenstwistedintostars.Sundrydirtyscrapsofpaper,coveredwithalmostundecipherablehieroglyphs,provedtobemanuscriptarticlestornacrossthetopbythecompositortocheckoffthesheetsastheyweresetup.Headmiredafewratherclevercaricatures,sketchedonbitsofbrownpaperbysomebodywhoevidentlyhadtriedtokilltimebykillingsomethingelsetokeephishandin.

Otherworksofartwerepinnedinthecheapsea-greenwall-paper.

Theseconsistedofninepen-and-inkillustrationsforLeSolitaire.

Theworkhadattainedtosuchanunheard-ofEuropeanpopularity,thatjournalistsevidentlyweretiredofit——"TheSolitarymakeshisfirstappearanceintheprovinces;sensationamongthewomen——TheSolitaryperusedatachateau——EffectoftheSolitaryondomesticanimals——

TheSolitaryexplainedtosavagetribes,withthemostbrilliantresults——TheSolitarytranslatedintoChineseandpresentedbytheauthortotheEmperoratPekin——TheMontSauvage,RapeofElodie."——

(Lucienthoughthiscaricatureveryshocking,buthecouldnothelplaughingatit.)——"TheSolitaryunderacanopyconductedin

Betweenthewindowandthechimney-piecestoodawriting-table,amahoganyarmchair,andawaste-paperbasketonastripofhearth-rug;

thedustlaythickonalltheseobjects.Therewereshortcurtainsinthewindows.Aboutascoreofnewbookslayonthewriting-table,depositedthereapparentlyduringtheday,togetherwithprints,music,snuff-boxesofthe"Charter"pattern,acopyofthenintheditionofLeSolitaire(thegreatjokeofthemoment),andsometenunopenedletters.

Lucienhadtakenstockofthisstrangefurniture,andmadereflectionsofthemostexhaustivekinduponit,when,theclockstrikingfive,hereturnedtoquestionthepensioner.Coloquintehadfinishedhiscrust,andwaswaitingwiththepatienceofacommissionaire,forthemanofmedals,whoperhapswastakinganairingontheboulevard.

Atthisconjuncturetherustleofadresssoundedonthestair,andthelightunmistakablefootstepofawomanonthethreshold.Thenewcomerwaspassablypretty.SheaddressedherselftoLucien.

"Sir,"shesaid,"IknowwhyyoucryupMlle.Virginie"shatssomuch;

andIhavecometoputdownmynameforayear"ssubscriptioninthefirstplace;buttellmeyourconditions——"

"Iamnotconnectedwiththepaper,madame."

"Oh!"

"AsubscriptiondatingfromOctober?"inquiredthepensioner.

"Whatdoestheladywanttoknow?"askedtheveteran,reappearingonthescene.

Thefairmillinerandtheretiredmilitarymanweresoondeepinconverse;andwhenLucien,beginningtolosepatience,camebacktothefirstroom,heheardtheconclusionofthematter.

"Why,Ishallbedelighted,quitedelighted,sir.Mlle.Florentinecancometomyshopandchooseanythingshelikes.Ribbonsareinmydepartment.Soitisallquitesettled.YouwillsaynomoreaboutVirginie,abotcherthatcannotdesignanewshape,whileIhaveideasofmyown,Ihave."

Lucienheardasoundasofcoinsdroppingintoacashbox,andtheveteranbegantomakeuphisbooksfortheday.

"Ihavebeenwaitinghereforanhour,sir,"Lucienbegan,lookingnotalittleannoyed.

"And"they"havenotcomeyet!"exclaimedNapoleon"sveteran,civillyfeigningconcern."Iamnotsurprisedatthat.ItissometimesinceI

haveseen"them"here.Itisthemiddleofthemonth,yousee.Thosefinefellowsonlyturnuponpaydays——the29thorthe30th."

"AndM.Finot?"askedLucien,havingcaughttheeditor"sname.

"HeisintheRueFeydeau,that"swherehelives.Coloquinte,oldchap,justtakehimeverythingthathascomeinto-daywhenyougowiththepapertotheprinters."

"Whereisthenewspaperputtogether?"Luciensaidtohimself.

"Thenewspaper?"repeatedtheofficer,ashereceivedtherestofthestampmoneyfromColoquinte,"thenewspaper?——broum!broum!——(Mindyouareroundattheprinters"bysixo"clockto-morrow,oldchap,tosendofftheporters.)——Thenewspaper,sir,iswritteninthestreet,atthewriters"houses,intheprinting-officebetweenelevenandtwelveo"clockatnight.IntheEmperor"stime,sir,theseshopsforspoiledpaperwerenotknown.Oh!hewouldhaveclearedthemoutwithfourmenandacorporal;theywouldnothavecomeoverHIMwiththeirtalk.Butthatisenoughofprattling.Ifmynephewfindsitworthhiswhile,andsolongastheywriteforthesonoftheOther(broum!broum!)——

afterall,thereisnoharminthat.Ah!bytheway,subscribersdon"tseemtometobeadvancinginserriedcolumns;Ishallleavemypost."

"Youseemtoknowallaboutthenewspaper,sir,"Lucienbegan.

"Fromabusinesspointofview,broum!broum!"coughedthesoldier,clearinghisthroat."Fromthreetofivefrancspercolumn,accordingtoability——Fiftylinestoacolumn,fortyletterstoaline;noblanks;thereyouare!Asforthestaff,theyarequeerfish,littleyoungsterswhomIwouldn"ttakeonforthecommissariat;andbecausetheymakeflytracksonsheetsofwhitepaper,theylookdown,forsooth,onanoldCaptainofDragoonsoftheGuard,thatretiredwithamajor"srankafterenteringeveryEuropeancapitalwithNapoleon."

ThesoldierofNapoleonbrushedhiscoat,andmadeasifhewouldgoout,butLucien,swepttothedoor,hadcourageenoughtomakeastand.

"Icametobeacontributorofthepaper,"hesaid."Iamfullofrespect,Ivowanddeclare,foracaptainoftheImperialGuard,thosemenofbronze——"

"Wellsaid,mylittlecivilian,thereareseveralkindsofcontributors;whichkinddoyouwishtobe?"repliedthetrooper,bearingdownonLucien,anddescendingthestairs.Atthefootoftheflighthestopped,butitwasonlytolightacigarattheporter"sbox.

"Ifanysubscriberscome,youseethemandtakenoteofthem,MotherChollet——Simplysubscribers,neverknowanythingbutsubscribers,"headded,seeingthatLucienfollowedhim."Finotismynephew;heistheonlyoneofmyfamilythathasdoneanythingtorelievemeinmyposition.SowhenanybodycomestopickaquarrelwithFinot,hefindsoldGiroudeau,CaptainoftheDragoonsoftheGuard,thatsetoutasaprivateinacavalryregimentinthearmyoftheSambre-et-Meuse,andwasfencing-masterforfiveyearstotheFirstHussars,armyofItaly!

One,two,andthemanthathadanycomplaintstomakewouldbeturnedoffintothedark,"headded,makingalunge."Nowwriters,myboy,areindifferentcorps;thereisthewriterwhowritesanddrawshispay;thereisthewriterwhowritesandgetsnothing(avolunteerwecallhim);and,lastly,thereisthewriterwhowritesnothing,andheisbynomeansthestupidest,forhemakesnomistakes;hegiveshimselfoutforaliteraryman,heisonthepaper,hetreatsustodinners,heloafsaboutthetheatres,hekeepsanactress,heisverywelloff.Whatdoyoumeantobe?"

"Themanthatdoesgoodworkandgetsgoodpay."

"Youareliketherecruits.TheyallwanttobemarshalsofFrance.

TakeoldGiroudeau"swordforit,andturnrightabout,indouble-

quicktime,andgoandpickupnailsinthegutterlikethatgoodfellowyonder;youcantellbythelookofhimthathehasbeeninthearmy——Isn"titashamethatanoldsoldierwhohaswalkedintothejawsofdeathhundredsoftimesshouldbepickingupoldironinthestreetsofParis?Ah!GodA"mighty!"twasashabbytricktodeserttheEmperor——Well,myboy,theindividualyousawthismorninghasmadehisfortyfrancsamonth.Areyougoingtodobetter?And,accordingtoFinot,heisthecleverestmanonthestaff."

"WhenyouenlistedintheSambre-et-Meuse,didtheytalkaboutdanger?"

"Rather."

"Verywell?"

"Verywell.GoandseemynephewFinot,agoodfellow,asgoodafellowasyouwillfind,ifyoucanfindhim,thatis,forheislikeafish,alwaysonthemove.Inhiswayofbusiness,thereisnowriting,yousee,itissettingotherstowrite.Thatsortlikegallivantingaboutwithactressesbetterthanscribblingonsheetsofpaper,itseems.Oh!theyarequeercustomers,theyare.HopeImayhavethehonorofseeingyouagain."

Withthatthecashierraisedhisformidableloadedcane,oneofthedefendersofGermainicus,andwalkedoff,leavingLucieninthestreet,asmuchbewilderedbythispictureofthenewspaperworldashehadformerlybeenbythepracticalaspectsofliteratureatMessrs.

VidalandPorchon"sestablishment.

TenseveraltimesdidLucienrepairtotheRueFeydeauinsearchofAndocheFinot,andtentimeshefailedtofindthatgentleman.Hewentfirstthinginthemorning;Finothadnotcomein.Atnoon,Finothadgoneout;hewasbreakfastingatsuchandsuchacafe.Atthecafe,inanswertoinquiriesofthewaitress,madeaftersurmountingunspeakablerepugnance,LucienheardthatFinothadjustlefttheplace.Lucien,atlengthtiredout,begantoregardFinotasamythicalandfabulouscharacter;itappearedsimplertowaylayEtienneLousteauatFlicoteaux"s.Thatyouthfuljournalistwould,doubtless,explainthemysteriesthatenvelopedthepaperforwhichhewrote.

Sincetheday,ahundredtimesblessed,whenLucienmadetheacquaintanceofDanield"Arthez,hehadtakenanotherseatatFlicoteaux"s.Thetwofriendsdinedsidebyside,talkinginloweredvoicesofthehigherliterature,ofsuggestedsubjects,andwaysofpresenting,openingup,anddevelopingthem.AtthepresenttimeDanield"ArthezwascorrectingthemanuscriptofTheArcherofCharlesIX.Hereconstructedwholechapters,andwrotethefinepassagesfoundtherein,aswellasthemagnificentpreface,whichis,perhaps,thebestthinginthebook,andthrowssomuchlightontheworkoftheyoungschoolofliterature.OnedayitsohappenedthatDanielhadbeenwaitingforLucien,whonowsatwithhisfriend"shandinhisown,whenhesawEtienneLousteauturnthedoor-handle.LucieninstantlydroppedDaniel"shand,andtoldthewaiterthathewoulddineathisoldplacebythecounter.D"ArthezgaveLucienaglanceofdivinekindness,inwhichreproachwaswrappedinforgiveness.Theglancecutthepoettothequick;hetookDaniel"shandandgraspeditanew.

"Itisanimportantquestionofbusinessforme;Iwilltellyouaboutitafterwards,"saidhe.

LucienwasinhisoldplacebythetimethatLousteaureachedthetable;asthefirstcomer,hegreetedhisacquaintance;theysoonstruckupaconversation,whichgrewsolivelythatLucienwentoffinsearchofthemanuscriptoftheMarguerites,whileLousteaufinishedhisdinner.Hehadobtainedleavetolayhissonnetsbeforethejournalist,andmistookthecivilityofthelatterforwillingnesstofindhimapublisher,oraplaceonthepaper.WhenLuciencamehurryingbackagain,hesawd"Arthezrestinganelbowonthetableinacorneroftherestaurant,andknewthathisfriendwaswatchinghimwithmelancholyeyes,buthewouldnotseed"Arthezjustthen;hefeltthesharppangsofpoverty,thegoadingsofambition,andfollowedLousteau.

InthelateafternoonthejournalistandtheneophytewenttotheLuxembourg,andsatdownunderthetreesinthatpartofthegardenswhichliesbetweenthebroadAvenuedel"ObservatoireandtheRuedel"Ouest.TheRuedel"Ouestatthattimewasalongmorass,boundedbyplanksandmarket-gardens;thehouseswereallattheendnearesttheRuedeVaugirard;andthewalkthroughthegardenswassolittlefrequented,thatatthehourwhenParisdines,twoloversmightfalloutandexchangetheearnestofreconciliationwithoutfearofintruders.Theonlypossiblespoil-sportwasthepensionerondutyatthelittleirongateontheRuedel"Ouest,ifthatgray-headedveteranshouldtakeitintohisheadtolengthenhismonotonousbeat.

There,onabenchbeneaththelime-trees,EtienneLousteausatandlistenedtosample-sonnetsfromtheMarguerites.

EtienneLousteau,afteratwo-years"apprenticeship,wasonthestaffofanewspaper;hehadhisfootinthestirrup;hereckonedsomeofthecelebritiesofthedayamonghisfriends;altogether,hewasanimposingpersonageinLucien"seyes.Wherefore,whileLucienuntiedthestringabouttheMarguerites,hejudgeditnecessarytomakesomesortofpreface.

"Thesonnet,monsieur,"saidhe,"isoneofthemostdifficultformsofpoetry.Ithasfallenalmostentirelyintodisuse.NoFrenchmancanhopetorivalPetrarch;forthelanguageinwhichtheItalianwrote,beingsoinfinitelymorepliantthanFrench,lendsitselftoplayofthoughtwhichourpositivism(pardontheuseoftheexpression)

rejects.Soitseemedtomethatavolumeofsonnetswouldbesomethingquitenew.VictorHugohasappropriatedtheold,Canaliswriteslighterverse,Berangerhasmonopolizedsongs,CasimirDelavignehastakentragedy,andLamartinethepoetryofmeditation."

"Areyoua"Classic"ora"Romantic"?"inquiredLousteau.

Lucien"sastonishmentbetrayedsuchcompleteignoranceofthestateofaffairsintherepublicofletters,thatLousteauthoughtitnecessarytoenlightenhim.

"Youhavecomeupinthemiddleofapitchedbattle,mydearfellow;

youmustmakeyourdecisionatonce.Literatureisdivided,inthefirstplace,intoseveralzones,butourgreatmenarerangedintwohostilecamps.TheRoyalistsare"Romantics,"theLiberalsare"Classics."Thedivergenceoftasteinmattersliteraryanddivergenceofpoliticalopinioncoincide;andtheresultisawarwithweaponsofeverysort,double-edgedwitticisms,subtlecalumniesandnicknamesaoutrance,betweentherisingandthewaningglory,andinkisshedintorrents.TheoddpartofitisthattheRoyalist-Romanticsareallforlibertyinliterature,andforrepealinglawsandconventions;

whiletheLiberal-Classicsareformaintainingtheunities,theAlexandrine,andtheclassicaltheme.Soopinionsinpoliticsoneithersidearedirectlyatvariancewithliterarytaste.Ifyouareeclectic,youwillhavenooneforyou.Whichsidedoyoutake?"

"Whichisthewinningside?"

"TheLiberalnewspapershavefarmoresubscribersthantheRoyalistandMinisterialjournals;still,thoughCanalisisforChurchandKing,andpatronizedbytheCourtandtheclergy,hereachesotherreaders——Pshaw!sonnetsdatebacktoanepochbeforeBoileau"stime,"

saidEtienne,seeingLucien"sdismayattheprospectofchoosingbetweentwobanners."BeaRomantic.TheRomanticsareyoungmen,andtheClassicsarepedants;theRomanticswillgaintheday."

Theword"pedant"wasthelatestepithettakenupbyRomanticjournalismtoheapconfusionontheClassicalfaction.

Lucienbegantoread,choosingfirstofallthetitle-sonnets.

EASTERDAISIES.

Thedaisiesinthemeadows,notinvain,Inredandwhiteandgoldbeforeoureyes,Havewrittenanidyllforman"ssympathies,Andsethisheart"sdesireinlanguageplain.

GoldstamenssetinsilverfiligraneRevealthetreasureswhichweidolize;

AndallthecostofstrugglefortheprizeIssymboledbyasecretblood-redstain.

WasitbecauseyourpetalsonceuncurledWhenJesusroseuponafairerworld,Andfromwingsshakenforaheav"nwardflightShedgrace,thatstillasautumnreappearsYoubloomagaintotellofdeaddelight,Tobringusbackthefloweroftwentyyears?

LucienfeltpiquedbyLousteau"scompleteindifferenceduringthereadingofthesonnet;hewasunfamiliarasyetwiththedisconcertingimpassibilityoftheprofessionalcritic,weariedbymuchreadingofpoetry,prose,andplays.Lucienwasaccustomedtoapplause.Hechokeddownhisdisappointmentandreadanother,afavoritewithMme.deBargetonandwithsomeofhisfriendsintheRuedesQuatre-Vents.

"Thisone,perhaps,willdrawawordfromhim,"hethought.

THEMARGUERITE.

IamtheMarguerite,fairandtallIgrewInvelvetmeadows,"midtheflowersastar.

Theysoughtmeformybeautynearandfar;

Mydawn,Ithought,shouldbeforevernew.

Butnowanallunwished-forgiftIrue,AfatalrayofknowledgeshedtomarMyradiantstar-crowngrownoracular,ForImustspeakandgiveananswertrue.

Anendofsilenceandofquietdays,TheLoverwithtwowordsmycounselprays;

Andwhenmysecretfrommyheartisreft,Whenallmysilverpetalsscatteredlie,Iamtheonlyflowerneglectedleft,Castdownandtroddenunderfoottodie.

Attheend,thepoetlookedupathisAristarchus.EtienneLousteauwasgazingatthetreesinthePepiniere.

"Well?"askedLucien.

"Well,mydearfellow,goon!Iamlisteningtoyou,amInot?ThatfactinitselfisasgoodaspraiseinParis."

"Haveyouhadenough?"Lucienasked.

"Goon,"theotheransweredabruptlyenough.

Lucienproceededtoreadthefollowingsonnet,buthisheartwasdeadwithinhim;Lousteau"sinscrutablecomposurefrozehisutterance.Ifhehadcomealittlefurtherupontheroad,hewouldhaveknownthatbetweenwriterandwritersilenceorabruptspeech,undersuchcircumstances,isabetrayalofjealousy,andoutspokenadmirationmeansasenseofreliefoverthediscoverythattheworkisnotabovetheaverageafterall.

THECAMELLIA.

InNature"sbook,ifrightlyunderstood,Therosemeanslove,andredforbeautyglows;

Apure,sweetspiritinthevioletblows,Andbrightthelilygleamsinlowlihood.

Butthisstrangebloom,bysunandwindunwooed,Seemstoexpandandblossom"midthesnows,Alilysceptreless,ascentlessrose,Fordaintylistlessnessofmaidenhood.

YetattheoperahousethepetalstraceFormodestyafittingaureole;

Analabasterwreathtolay,methought,Induskyhairo"ersomefairwoman"sfaceWhichkindlesev"nsuchlovewithinthesoulAssculpturedmarbleformsbyPhidiaswrought.

"Whatdoyouthinkofmypoorsonnets?"Lucienasked,comingstraighttothepoint.

"Doyouwantthetruth?"

"Iamyoungenoughtolikethetruth,andsoanxioustosucceedthatI

canhearitwithouttakingoffence,butnotwithoutdespair,"repliedLucien.

"Well,mydearfellow,thefirstsonnet,fromitsinvolvedstyle,wasevidentlywrittenatAngouleme;itgaveyousomuchtrouble,nodoubt,thatyoucannotgiveitup.ThesecondandthirdsmackofParisalready;butreadusonemoresonnet,"headded,withagesturethatseemedcharmingtotheprovincial.

Encouragedbytherequest,Lucienreadwithmoreconfidence,choosingasonnetwhichd"ArthezandBridaulikedbest,perhapsonaccountofitscolor.