第7章

Butitwasinthepassageknownbythepompoustitleofthe"GlassGallery"thattheoddesttradeswerecarriedon.Herewereventriloquistsandcharlatansofeverysort,andsightsofeverydescription,fromthekindwherethereisnothingtoseetopanoramasoftheglobe.Onemanwhohassincemadesevenoreighthundredthousandfrancsbytravelingfromfairtofairbeganherebyhangingoutasignboard,arevolvingsuninablackboard,andtheinscriptioninredletters:"HereManmayseewhatGodcanneversee.Admittance,twosous."Theshowmanatthedoorneveradmittedonepersonalone,normorethantwoatatime.Onceinside,youconfrontedagreatlooking-glass;andavoice,whichmighthaveterrifiedHoffmannofBerlin,suddenlyspokeasifsomespringhadbeentouched,"Youseehere,gentlemen,somethingthatGodcanneverseethroughalleternity,thatistosay,yourlike.GodhasnotHislike."Andoutyouwent,tooshamefacedtoconfesstoyourstupidity.

Voicesissuedfromeverynarrowdoorway,cryingupthemeritsofCosmoramas,viewsofConstantinople,marionettes,automaticchess-

players,andperformingdogswhowouldpickyououttheprettiestwomaninthecompany.TheventriloquistFritz-JamesflourishedhereintheCafeBorelbeforehewenttofightandfallatMontmartrewiththeyoungladsfromtheEcolepolytechnique.Here,too,therewerefruitandflowershops,andafamoustailorwhosegold-laceduniformsshonelikethesunwhentheshopswerelightedatnight.

Ofamorningthegallerieswereempty,dark,anddeserted;theshopkeeperschattedamongthemselves.Towardstwoo"clockintheafternoonthePalaisbegantofill;atthree,mencameinfromtheBourse,andParis,generallyspeaking,crowdedtheplace.Impecuniousyouth,hungeringafterliterature,tooktheopportunityofturningoverthepagesofthebooksexposedforsaleonthestallsoutsidethebooksellers"shops;themeninchargecharitablyallowedapoorstudenttopursuehiscourseoffreestudies;andinthiswayaduodecimovolumeofsometwohundredpages,suchasSmarraorPierreSchlemihl,orJeanSbogarorJocko,mightbedevouredinacoupleofafternoons.TherewassomethingveryFrenchinthisalmsgiventotheyoung,hungry,starvedintellect.Circulatinglibrarieswerenotasyet;ifyouwishedtoreadabook,youwereobligedtobuyit,forwhichreasonnovelsoftheearlypartofthecenturyweresoldinnumberswhichnowseemwell-nighfabuloustous.

Butthepoetryofthisterriblemartappearedinallitssplendoratthecloseoftheday.Womenofthetown,flockinginandoutfromtheneighboringstreets,wereallowedtomakeapromenadeoftheWoodenGalleries.ThithercameprostitutesfromeveryquarterofParisto"dothePalais."TheStoneGalleriesbelongedtoprivilegedhouses,whichpaidfortherightofexposingwomendressedlikeprincessesundersuchandsuchanarch,orinthecorrespondingspaceofgarden;buttheWoodenGallerieswerethecommongroundofwomenofthestreets.

ThiswasTHEPalais,awordwhichusedtosignifythetempleofprostitution.Awomanmightcomeandgo,takingawayherpreywhithersoeverseemedgoodtoher.Sogreatwasthecrowdattractedthitheratnightbythewomen,thatitwasimpossibletomoveexceptataslowpace,asinaprocessionoratamaskedball.Nobodyobjectedtotheslowness;itfacilitatedexamination.Thewomendressedinawaythatisneverseennowadays.Thebodicescutextremelylowbothbackandfront;thefantasticalhead-dresses,designedtoattractnotice;hereacapfromthePaysdeCaux,andthereaSpanishmantilla;thehaircrimpedandcurledlikeapoodle"s,orsmootheddowninbandeauxovertheforehead;theclose-fittingwhitestockingsandlimbs,revealeditwouldnotbeeasytosayhow,butalwaysattherightmoment——allthispoetryofvicehasfled.Thelicenseofquestionandreply,thepubliccynicisminkeepingwiththehaunt,isnowunknownevenatmasqueradesorthefamouspublicballs.

Itwasanappalling,gayscene.Thedazzlingwhitefleshofthewomen"snecksandshouldersstoodoutinmagnificentcontrastagainstthemen"salmostinvariablysombrecostumes.Themurmurofvoices,thehumofthecrowd,couldbeheardeveninthemiddleofthegardenasasortofdroningbass,interspersedwithfioritureofshrilllaughterorclamorofsomeraredispute.Yousawgentlemenandcelebritiescheekbyjowlwithgallows-birds.Therewassomethingindescribablypiquantabouttheanomalousassemblage;themostinsensibleofmenfeltitscharm,somuchso,that,untiltheverylastmoment,Pariscamehithertowalkupanddownonthewoodenplankslaidoverthecellarswheremenwereatworkonthenewbuildings;andwhenthesqualidwoodenerectionswerefinallytakendown,greatandunanimousregretwasfelt.

Ladvocatthebooksellerhadopenedashopbutafewdayssinceintheangleformedbythecentralpassagewhichcrossedthegalleries;andimmediatelyoppositeanotherbookseller,nowforgotten,Dauriat,aboldandyouthfulpioneer,whoopenedupthepathsinwhichhisrivalwastoshine.Dauriat"sshopstoodintherowwhichgaveuponthegarden;Ladvocat"s,ontheoppositeside,lookedoutuponthecourt.

Dauriat"sestablishmentwasdividedintotwoparts;hisshopwassimplyagreattradewarehouse,andthesecondroomwashisprivateoffice.

Lucien,onthisfirstvisittotheWoodenGalleries,wasbewilderedbyasightwhichnonovicecanresist.Hesoonlosttheguidewhobefriendedhim.

"Ifyouwereasgood-lookingasyonderyoungfellow,Iwouldgiveyouyourmoney"sworth,"awomansaid,pointingoutLucientoanoldman.

Lucienslunkthroughthecrowdlikeablindman"sdog,followingthestreaminastateofstupefactionandexcitementdifficulttodescribe.Importunedbyglancesandwhite-roundedcontours,dazzledbytheaudaciousdisplayofbaredthroatandbosom,hegrippedhisrollofmanuscripttightlylestsomebodyshouldstealit——innocentthathewas!

"Well,whatisit,sir!"heexclaimed,thinking,whensomeonecaughthimbythearm,thathispoetryhadprovedtoogreatatemptationtosomeauthor"shonesty,andturning,herecognizedLousteau.

"Ifeltsurethatyouwouldfindyourwayhereatlast,"saidhisfriend.

Thepoetwasstandinginthedoorwayofashopcrowdedwithpersonswaitingforanaudiencewiththesultanofthepublishingtrade.

Printers,paper-dealers,anddesignerswerecatechizingDauriat"sassistantsastopresentorfuturebusiness.

LousteaudrewLucienintotheshop."There!thatisFinotwhoeditsmypaper,"hesaid;"heistalkingwithFelicienVernou,whohasabilities,butthelittlewretchisasdangerousasahiddendisease."

"Well,oldboy,thereisafirstnightforyou,"saidFinot,comingupwithVernou."Ihavedisposedofthebox."

"SoldittoBraulard?"

"Well,andifIdid,whatthen?Youwillgetaseat.WhatdoyouwantwithDauriat?Oh,itisagreedthatwearetopushPauldeKock,Dauriathastakentwohundredcopies,andVictorDucangeisrefusingtogivehimhisnext.Dauriatwantstosetupanothermaninthesameline,hesays.YoumustratePauldeKockaboveDucange."

"ButIhaveapieceonwithDucangeattheGaite,"saidLousteau.

"Verywell,tellhimthatIwrotethearticle.ItcanbesupposedthatIwroteaslashingreview,andyoutoneditdown;andhewilloweyouthanks."

"Couldn"tyougetDauriat"scashiertodiscountthisbitofabillforahundredfrancs?"askedEtienneLousteau."WearecelebratingFlorine"shouse-warmingwithasupperto-night,youknow."

"Ah!yes,youaretreatingusall,"saidFinot,withanapparenteffortofmemory."Here,Gabusson,"headded,handingBarbet"sbilltothecashier,"letmehaveninetyfrancsforthisindividual——Fillinyourname,oldman."

Lousteausignedhisnamewhilethecashiercountedoutthemoney;andLucien,alleyesandears,lostnotasyllableoftheconversation.

"Thatisnotall,myfriend,"Etiennecontinued;"Idon"tthankyou,wehaveswornaneternalfriendship.IhavetakenituponmyselftointroducethisgentlemantoDauriat,andyoumustinclinehiseartolistentous."

"Whatisonfoot?"askedFinot.

"Avolumeofpoetry,"saidLucien.

"Oh!"saidFinot,withashrugoftheshoulders.

"Youracquaintancecannothavehadmuchtodowithpublishers,orhewouldhavehiddenhismanuscriptintheloneliestspotinhisdwelling,"remarkedVernou,lookingatLucienashespoke.

Justatthatmomentagood-lookingyoungmancameintotheshop,gaveahandtoFinotandLousteau,andnoddedslightlytoVernou.ThenewcomerwasEmileBlondet,whohadmadehisfirstappearanceintheJournaldesDebats,witharticlesrevealingcapacitiesoftheveryhighestorder.

"Comeandhavesupperwithusatmidnight,atFlorine"s,"saidLousteau.

"Verygood,"saidthenewcomer."Butwhoisgoingtobethere?"

"Oh,FlorineandMatifatthedruggist,"saidLousteau,"andduBruel,theauthorwhogaveFlorinethepartinwhichsheistomakeherfirstappearance,alittleoldfogynamedCardot,andhisson-in-lawCamusot,andFinot,and——"

"Doesyourdruggistdothingsproperly?"

"Hewillnotgiveusdoctoredwine,"saidLucien.

"Youareverywitty,monsieur,"Blondetreturnedgravely."Ishecoming,Lousteau?"

"Yes."

"Thenweshallhavesomefun."

Lucienhadflushedredtothetipsofhisears.BlondettappedonthewindowaboveDauriat"sdesk.

"Isyourbusinesslikelytokeepyoulong,Dauriat?"

"Iamatyourservice,myfriend."

"That"sright,"saidLousteau,addressinghisprotege."Thatyoungfellowishardlyanyolderthanyouare,andheisontheDebats!Heisoneoftheprincesofcriticism.Theyareafraidofhim,Dauriatwillfawnuponhim,andthenwecanputinawordaboutourbusinesswiththepashaofvignettesandtype.Otherwisewemighthavewaitedtilleleveno"clock,andourturnwouldnothavecome.ThecrowdofpeoplewaitingtospeakwithDauriatisgrowingbiggereverymoment."

LucienandLousteaufollowedBlondet,Finot,andVernou,andstoodinaknotatthebackoftheshop.

"Whatishedoing?"askedBlondetofthehead-clerk,whorosetobidhimgood-evening.

"Heisbuyingaweeklynewspaper.Hewantstoputnewlifeintoit,andsetuparivaltotheMinerveandtheConservateur;EymeryhasrathertoomuchofhisownwayintheMinerve,andtheConservateuristooblindlyRomantic."

"Ishegoingtopaywell?"

"Onlytoomuch——asusual,"saidthecashier.

Justashespokeanotheryoungmanentered;thiswasthewriterofamagnificentnovelwhichhadsoldveryrapidlyandmetwiththegreatestpossiblesuccess.Dauriatwasbringingoutasecondedition.

Theappearanceofthisoddandextraordinarylookingbeing,sounmistakablyanartist,madeadeepimpressiononLucien"smind.

"ThatisNathan,"Lousteausaidinhisear.

Nathan,thenintheprimeofhisyouth,cameuptothegroupofjournalists,hatinhand;andinspiteofhislookoffiercepridehewasalmosthumbletoBlondet,whomasyetheonlyknewbysight.

Blondetdidnotremovehishat,neitherdidFinot.

"Monsieur,Iamdelightedtoavailmyselfofanopportunityyieldedbychance——"

("Heissonervousthatheiscommittingapleonasm,"saidFelicieninanasidetoLousteau.)

"——togiveexpressiontomygratitudeforthesplendidreviewwhichyouweresogoodastogivemeintheJournaldesDebats.Halfthesuccessofmybookisowingtoyou."

"No,mydearfellow,no,"saidBlondet,withanairofpatronagescarcelymaskedbygood-nature."Youhavetalent,thedeuceyouhave,andI"mdelightedtomakeyouracquaintance."

"Nowthatyourreviewhasappeared,Ishallnotseemtobecourtingpower;wecanfeelatease.Willyoudomethehonorandthepleasureofdiningwithmeto-morrow?Finotiscoming——Lousteau,oldman,youwillnotrefuseme,willyou?"addedNathan,shakingEtiennebythehand——"Ah,youareonthewaytoagreatfuture,monsieur,"headded,turningagaintoBlondet;"youwillcarryonthelineofDussaults,Fievees,andGeoffrois!Hoffmannwastalkingaboutyoutoafriendofmine,ClaudeVignon,hispupil;hesaidthathecoulddieinpeace,theJournaldesDebatswouldliveforever.Theyoughttopayyoutremendouslywell."

"Ahundredfrancsacolumn,"saidBlondet."Poorpaywhenoneisobligedtoreadthebooks,andreadahundredbeforeyoufindoneworthinterestingyourselfin,likeyours.Yourworkgavemepleasure,uponmyword."

"Andbroughthiminfifteenhundredfrancs,"saidLousteauforLucien"sbenefit.

"Butyouwritepoliticalarticles,don"tyou?"askedNathan.

"Yes;nowandagain."

Lucienfeltlikeanembryoamongthesemen;hehadadmiredNathan"sbook,hehadreverencedtheauthorasanimmortal;Nathan"sabjectattitudebeforethiscritic,whosenameandimportancewerebothunknowntohim,stupefiedLucien.

"HowifIshouldcometobehaveashedoes?"hethought."Isamanobligedtopartwithhisself-respect?——Prayputonyourhatagain,Nathan;youhavewrittenagreatbook,andthecritichasonlywrittenareviewofit."

Thesethoughtssetthebloodtinglinginhisveins.Scarceaminutepassedbutsomeyoungauthor,poverty-strickenandshy,camein,askedtospeakwithDauriat,lookedroundthecrowdedshopdespairingly,andwentoutsaying,"Iwillcomebackagain."TwoorthreepoliticianswerechattingovertheconvocationoftheChambersandpublicbusinesswithagroupofwell-knownpublicmen.TheweeklynewspaperforwhichDauriatwasintreatywaslicensedtotreatofmatterspolitical,andthenumberofnewspaperssufferedtoexistwasgrowingsmallerandsmaller,tillapaperwasapieceofpropertyasmuchindemandasatheatre.OneofthelargestshareholdersintheConstitutionnelwasstandinginthemidstoftheknotofpoliticalcelebrities.Lousteauperformedthepartofciceronetoadmiration;witheverysentenceheutteredDauriatrosehigherinLucien"sopinion.PoliticsandliteratureseemedtoconvergeinDauriat"sshop.Hehadseenagreatpoetprostitutinghismusetojournalism,humiliatingArt,aswomanwashumiliatedandprostitutedinthoseshamelessgallerieswithout,andtheprovincialtookaterriblelessontoheart.Money!Thatwasthekeytoeveryenigma.Lucienrealizedthefactthathewasunknownandalone,andthatthefragileclueofanuncertainfriendshipwashissoleguidetosuccessandfortune.Heblamedthekindandloyallittlecircleforpaintingtheworldforhiminfalsecolors,forpreventinghimfromplungingintothearena,peninhand."IshouldbeaBlondetatthismoment!"heexclaimedwithinhimself.

OnlyalittlewhileagotheyhadsatlookingoutoverParisfromtheGardensoftheLuxembourg,andLousteauhadutteredthecryofawoundedeagle;thenLousteauhadbeenagreatmaninLucien"seyes,andnowhehadshrunktoscarcevisibleproportions.Thereallyimportantmanforhimatthismomentwasthefashionablebookseller,bywhomallthesemenlived;andthepoet,manuscriptinhand,feltanervoustremorthatwasalmostlikefear.Henoticedagroupofbustsmountedonwoodenpedestals,paintedtoresemblemarble;Byronstoodthere,andGoetheandM.deCanalis.Dauriatwashopingtopublishavolumebythelast-namedpoet,whomightsee,onhisentranceintotheshop,theestimationinwhichhewasheldbythetrade.UnconsciouslyLucien"sownself-esteembegantoshrink,andhiscourageebbed.HebegantoseehowlargeapartthisDauriatwouldplayinhisdestinies,andwaitedimpatientlyforhimtoappear.

"Well,children,"saidavoice,andashort,stoutmanappeared,withapuffyfacethatsuggestedaRomanpro-consul"svisage,mellowedbyanairofgood-naturewhichdeceivedsuperficialobservers."Well,children,hereamI,theproprietoroftheonlyweeklypaperinthemarket,apaperwithtwothousandsubscribers!"

"Oldjoker!Theregisterednumberissevenhundred,andthatisoverthemark,"saidBlondet.

"Twelvethousand,onmysacredwordofhonor——Isaidtwothousandforthebenefitoftheprintersandpaper-dealersyonder,"headded,loweringhisvoice,thenraisingitagain."Ithoughtyouhadmoretact,myboy,"headded.

"Areyougoingtotakeanypartners?"inquiredFinot.

"Thatdepends,"saidDauriat."Willyoutakeathirdatfortythousandfrancs?"

"It"sabargain,ifyouwilltakeEmileBlondethereonthestaff,andClaudeVignon,Scribe,TheodoreLeclercq,FelicienVernou,Jay,Jouy,Lousteau,and——"

"AndwhynotLuciendeRubempre?"theprovincialpoetputinboldly.

"——andNathan,"concludedFinot.

"Whynotthepeopleoutthereinthestreet?"askedDauriat,scowlingattheauthoroftheMarguerites——"TowhomhaveIthehonorofspeaking?"headded,withaninsolentglance.

"Onemoment,Dauriat,"saidLousteau."Ihavebroughtthisgentlemantoyou.Listentome,whileFinotisthinkingoveryourproposals."

LucienwatchedthisDauriat,whoaddressedFinotwiththefamiliartu,whichevenFinotdidnotpermithimselftouseinreply;whocalledtheredoubtableBlondet"myboy,"andextendedahandroyallytoNathanwithafriendlynod.Theprovincialpoetfelthisshirtwetwithperspirationwhentheformidablesultanlookedindifferentandillpleased.

"Anotherpieceofbusiness,myboy!"exclaimedDauriat."Why,Ihaveelevenhundredmanuscriptsonhand,asyouknow!Yes,gentlemen,I

haveelevenhundredmanuscriptssubmittedtomeatthismoment;askGabusson.Ishallsoonbeobligedtostartadepartmenttokeepaccountofthestockofmanuscripts,andaspecialofficeforreadingthem,andacommitteetovoteontheirmerits,withnumberedcountersforthosewhoattend,andapermanentsecretarytodrawuptheminutesforme.ItwillbeakindoflocalbranchoftheAcademie,andtheAcademicianswillbebetterpaidintheWoodenGalleriesthanattheInstitut."

""Tisanidea,"saidBlondet.

"Abadidea,"returnedDauriat."Itisnotmybusinesstotakestockofthelucubrationsofthoseamongyouwhotaketoliteraturebecausetheycannotbecapitalists,andthereisnoopeningforthemasbootmakers,norcorporals,nordomesticservants,norofficials,norbailiffs.Nobodycomeshereuntilhehasmadeanameforhimself!Makeanameforyourself,andyouwillfindgoldintorrents.Ihavemadethreegreatmeninthelasttwoyears;andloandbeholdthreeexamplesofingratitude!HereisNathantalkingofsixthousandfrancsforthesecondeditionofhisbook,whichcostmethreethousandfrancsinreviews,andhasnotbroughtinathousandyet.IpaidathousandfrancsforBlondet"stwoarticles,besidesadinner,whichcostmefivehundred——"

"Butifallbooksellerstalkedasyoudo,sir,howcouldamanpublishhisfirstbookatall?"askedLucien.BlondethadgonedowntremendouslyinhisopinionsincehehadheardtheamountgivenbyDauriatforthearticlesintheDebats.

"Thatisnotmyaffair,"saidDauriat,lookingdaggersatthishandsomeyoungfellow,whowassmilingpleasantlyathim."Idonotpublishbooksforamusement,norrisktwothousandfrancsforthesakeofseeingmymoneybackagain.Ispeculateinliterature,andpublishfortyvolumesoftenthousandcopieseach,justasPanckoukedoesandtheBaudoins.WithmyinfluenceandthearticleswhichIsecure,Icanpushabusinessofahundredthousandcrowns,insteadofasinglevolumeinvolvingacoupleofthousandfrancs.Itisjustasmuchtroubletobringoutanewnameandtoinducethepublictotakeupanauthorandhisbook,astomakeasuccesswiththeTheatresetrangers,VictoiresetConquetes,orMemoiressurlaRevolution,booksthatbringinafortune.Iamnothereasastepping-stonetofuturefame,buttomakemoney,andtofinditformenwithdistinguishednames.

ThemanuscriptsforwhichIgiveahundredthousandfrancspaymebetterthanworkbyanunknownauthorwhoaskssixhundred.IfIamnotexactlyaMaecenas,Ideservethegratitudeofliterature;Ihavedoubledthepricesofmanuscripts.IamgivingyouthisexplanationbecauseyouareafriendofLousteau"smyboy,"addedDauriat,clappingLucienontheshoulderwithodiousfamiliarity."IfIweretotalktoalltheauthorswhohaveamindthatIshouldbetheirpublisher,Ishouldhavetoshutupshop;Ishouldpassmytimeveryagreeablynodoubt,buttheconversationswouldcosttoomuch.Iamnotrichenoughyettolistentoallthemonologuesofself-conceit.

Nobodydoes,exceptinclassicaltragediesonthestage."

TheterribleDauriat"sgorgeousraimentseemedintheprovincialpoet"seyestoaddforcetotheman"sremorselesslogic.

"Whatisitabout?"hecontinued,addressingLucien"sprotector.

"Itisavolumeofmagnificentpoetry."

Atthatword,DauriatturnedtoGabussonwithagestureworthyofTalma.

"Gabusson,myfriend,"hesaid,"fromthisdayforward,whenanybodybeginstotalkofworksinmanuscripthere——Doyouhearthat,allofyou?"hebrokeinuponhimself;andthreeassistantsatonceemergedfromamongthepilesofbooksatthesoundoftheiremployer"swrathfulvoice."Ifanybodycomesherewithmanuscripts,"hecontinued,lookingatthefinger-nailsofawell-kepthand,"askhimwhetheritispoetryorprose;andifhesayspoetry,showhimthedooratonce.Versesmeanreversesinthebooktrade."

"Bravo!wellput,Dauriat,"criedthechorusofjournalists.

"Itistrue!"criedthebookseller,stridingabouthisshopwithLucien"smanuscriptinhishand."Youhavenoidea,gentlemen,oftheamountofharmthatByron,Lamartine,VictorHugo,CasimirDelavigne,Canalis,andBerangerhavedonebytheirsuccess.Thefameofthemhasbroughtdownaninvasionofbarbariansuponus.IknowTHIS:thereareathousandvolumesofmanuscriptpoetrygoingtheroundofthepublishersatthismoment,thingsthatnobodycanmakeheadnortailof,storiesinversethatbegininthemiddle,likeTheCorsairandLara.Theysetuptobeoriginal,forsooth,andindulgeinstanzasthatnobodycanunderstand,anddescriptivepoetryafterthepatternoftheyoungermenwhodiscoveredDelille,andimaginethattheyaredoingsomethingnew.Poetshavebeenswarminglikecockchafersfortwoyearspast.Ihavelosttwentythousandfrancsthroughpoetryinthelasttwelvemonth.YouaskGabusson!Theremaybeimmortalpoetssomewhereintheworld;Iknowofsomethatarebloomingandrosy,andhavenobeardsontheirchinsasyet,"hecontinued,lookingatLucien;"butinthetrade,youngman,thereareonlyfourpoets——

Beranger,CasimirDelavigne,Lamartine,andVictorHugo;asforCanalis——heisapoetmadebysheerforceofwritinghimup."

Lucienfeltthathelackedthecouragetoholduphisheadandshowhisspiritbeforealltheseinfluentialpersons,whowerelaughingwithalltheirmight.Heknewverywellthatheshouldlookhopelesslyridiculous,andyethefeltconsumedbyafiercedesiretocatchthebooksellerbythethroat,toruffletheinsolentcomposureofhiscravat,tobreakthegoldchainthatglitteredontheman"schest,tramplehiswatchunderhisfeet,andtearhiminpieces.Mortifiedvanityopenedthedoortothoughtsofvengeance,andinwardlyhesworeeternalenmitytothatbookseller.Buthesmiledamiably.

"Poetryislikethesun,"saidBlondet,"givinglifealiketoprimevalforestsandtoantsandgnatsandmosquitoes.Thereisnovirtuebuthasavicetomatch,andliteraturebreedsthepublisher."

"Andthejournalist,"saidLousteau.

Dauriatburstoutlaughing.

"Whatisthisafterall?"heasked,holdingupthemanuscript.

"AvolumeofsonnetsthatwillputPetrarchtotheblush,"saidLousteau.

"Whatdoyoumean?"

"JustwhatIsay,"answeredLousteau,seeingtheknowingsmilethatwentroundthegroup.Luciencouldnottakeoffencebuthechafedinwardly.

"Verywell,Iwillreadthem,"saidDauriat,witharegalgesturethatmarkedthefullextentoftheconcession."Ifthesesonnetsofyoursareuptothelevelofthenineteenthcentury,Iwillmakeagreatpoetofyou,myboy."

"Ifhehasbrainstoequalhisgoodlooks,youwillrunnogreatrisks,"remarkedoneofthegreatestpublicspeakersoftheday,adeputywhowaschattingwiththeeditoroftheMinerve,andawriterfortheConstitutionnel.

"Famemeanstwelvethousandfrancsinreviews,andathousandmorefordinners,General,"saidDauriat."IfM.BenjamindeConstantmeanstowriteapaperonthisyoungpoet,itwillnotbelongbeforeImakeabargainwithhim."

AtthetitleofGeneral,andthedistinguishednameofBenjaminConstant,thebookseller"sshoptooktheproportionsofOlympusfortheprovincialgreatman.

"Lousteau,Iwantawordwithyou,"saidFinot;"butIshallseeyouagainlater,atthetheatre——Dauriat,Iwilltakeyouroffer,butonconditions.Letusstepintoyouroffice."

"Comein,myboy,"answeredDauriat,allowingFinottopassbeforehim.Then,intimatingtosometenpersonsstillwaitingforhimthathewasengaged,helikewisewasabouttodisappearwhenLucienimpatientlystoppedhim.

"Youarekeepingmymanuscript.WhenshallIhaveananswer?"

"Oh,comebackinthreeorfourdays,mylittlepoet,andwewillsee."

LousteauhurriedLucienaway;hehadnottimetotakeleaveofVernouandBlondetandRaoulNathan,nortosaluteGeneralFoynorBenjaminConstant,whosebookontheHundredDayswasjustabouttoappear.

Lucienscarcelycaughtaglimpseoffairhair,arefinedoval-shapedface,keeneyes,andthepleasant-lookingmouthbelongingtothemanwhohadplayedthepartofaPotemkintoMme.deStaelfortwentyyears,andnowwasatwarwiththeBourbons,ashehadbeenatwarwithNapoleon.Hewasdestinedtowinhiscauseandtodiestrickentoearthbyhisvictory.

"Whatashop!"exclaimedLucien,ashetookhisplaceinthecabbesideLousteau.

"TothePanorama-Dramatique;looksharp,andyoushallhavethirtysous,"EtienneLousteaucalledtothecabman——"Dauriatisarascalwhosellsbookstotheamountoffifteenorsixteenhundredthousandfrancseveryyear.HeisakindofMinisterofLiterature,"Lousteaucontinued.Hisself-conceithadbeenpleasantlytickled,andhewasshowingoffbeforeLucien."DauriatisjustasgraspingasBarbet,butitisonawholesalescale.Dauriatcanbecivil,andheisgenerous,buthehasagreatopinionofhimself;asforhiswit,itconsistsinafacultyforpickingupallthathehears,andhisshopisacapitalplacetofrequent.YoumeetallthebestmenatDauriat"s.Ayoungfellowlearnsmorethereinanhourthanbyporingoverbooksforhalf-a-scoreofyears.Peopletalkaboutarticlesandconcoctsubjects;youmaketheacquaintanceofgreatorinfluentialpeoplewhomaybeusefultoyou.Youmustknowpeopleifyoumeantogetonnowadays——Itisallluck,yousee.Andasforsittingbyyourselfinacorneralonewithyourintellect,itisthemostdangerousthingofall."

"Butwhatinsolence!"saidLucien.

"Pshaw!weallofuslaughatDauriat,"saidEtienne."Ifyouareinneedofhim,hetramplesuponyou;ifhehasneedoftheJournaldesDebats,EmileBlondetsetshimspinninglikeatop.Oh,ifyoutaketoliterature,youwillseeagoodmanyqueerthings.Well,whatwasI

tellingyou,eh?"

"Yes,youwereright,"saidLucien."MyexperienceinthatshopwasevenmorepainfulthanIexpected,afteryourprogramme."

"Whydoyouchoosetosuffer?Youfindyoursubject,youwearoutyourwitsoveritwithtoilingatnight,youthrowyourverylifeintoit:

andafterallyourjourneyingsinthefieldsofthought,themonumentrearedwithyourlife-bloodissimplyagoodorabadspeculationforapublisher.Yourworkwillselloritwillnotsell;andtherein,forthem,liesthewholequestion.Abookmeanssomuchcapitaltorisk,andthebetterthebook,thelesslikelyitistosell.Amanoftalentrisesabovethelevelofordinaryheads;hissuccessvariesindirectratiowiththetimerequiredforhisworktobeappreciated.

Andnopublisherwantstowait.To-day"sbookmustbesoldbyto-morrow.Actingonthissystem,publishersandbooksellersdonotcaretotakerealliterature,booksthatcallforthehighpraisethatcomesslowly."

"D"Arthezwasright,"exclaimedLucien.

"Doyouknowd"Arthez?"askedLousteau."Iknowofnomoredangerouscompanythansolitaryspiritslikethatfellowyonder,whofancythattheycandrawtheworldafterthem.Allofusbeginbythinkingthatwearecapableofgreatthings;andwhenonceayouthfulimaginationisheatedbythissuperstition,thecandidateforposthumoushonorsmakesnoattempttomovetheworldwhilesuchmovingoftheworldisbothpossibleandprofitable;heletsthetimegoby.IamforMahomet"ssystem——ifthemountaindoesnotcometome,Iamforgoingtothemountain."

Thecommon-sensesotrenchantlyputinthissallyleftLucienhaltingbetweentheresignationpreachedbythebrotherhoodandLousteau"smilitantdoctrine.HesaidnotawordtilltheyreachedtheBoulevardduTemple.

ThePanorama-Dramatiquenolongerexists.Adwelling-housestandsonthesiteoftheoncecharmingtheatreintheBoulevardduTemple,wheretwosuccessivemanagementscollapsedwithoutmakingasinglehit;andyetVignol,whohassincefallenheirtosomeofPotier"spopularity,madehisdebutthere;andFlorine,fiveyearslateracelebratedactress,madeherfirstappearanceinthetheatreoppositetheRueCharlot.Play-houses,likemen,havetheirvicissitudes.ThePanorama-Dramatiquesufferedfromcompetition.Themachinationsofitsrivals,theAmbigu,theGaite,thePorteSaint-Martin,andtheVaudeville,togetherwithaplethoraofrestrictionsandascarcityofgoodplays,combinedtobringaboutthedownfallofthehouse.NodramaticauthorcaredtoquarrelwithaprosperoustheatreforthesakeofthePanorama-Dramatique,whoseexistencewas,tosaytheleast,problematical.Themanagementatthismoment,however,wascountingonthesuccessofanewmelodramaticcomedybyM.duBruel,ayoungauthorwho,afterworkingincollaborationwithdiverscelebrities,hadnowproducedapieceprofessedlyentirelyhisown.Ithadbeenspeciallycomposedfortheleadinglady,ayoungactresswhobeganherstagecareerasasupernumeraryattheGaite,andhadbeenpromotedtosmallpartsforthelasttwelvemonth.ButthoughMlle.

Florine"sactinghadattractedsomeattention,sheobtainednoengagement,andthePanoramaaccordinglyhadcarriedheroff.Coralie,anotheractress,wastomakeherdebutatthesametime.

Lucienwasamazedatthepowerwieldedbythepress."Thisgentlemaniswithme,"saidEtienneLousteau,andthebox-officeclerksbowedbeforehimasoneman.

"Youwillfinditnoeasymattertogetseats,"saidthehead-clerk.

"Thereisnothingleftnowbutthestagebox."

Acertainamountoftimewaswastedincontroversieswiththebox-

keepersinthelobbies,whenEtiennesaid,"Letusgobehindthescenes;wewillspeaktothemanager,hewilltakeusintothestage-

box;andbesides,IwillintroduceyoutoFlorine,theheroineoftheevening."

AtasignfromEtienneLousteau,thedoorkeeperoftheorchestratookoutalittlekeyandunlockedadoorinthethicknessofthewall.