little dogs
as well, for they bark loudest. This breakfast is certain to make a
noise, and if you don't ask them they'll think you pick and choose, and
everyone excluded will be your enemy."

"Then you think it is enough merely to send the invitations?"

"Yes; I'll make the list, and you can write the notes and send them
to me. I'll see that they are delivered; some of them I shall take in
person."

"If I were sure," said Thuillier, undecidedly, "that this expense would
have the desired effect--"

"_If I were sure_,--that's a queer thing to say," said Barbet. "My dear
master, this is money placed on mortgage; for it, I will guarantee the
sale of fifteen hundred copies,--say at forty sous apiece; allowing the
discounts, that makes three thousand francs. You see that your costs and
extra costs are covered, and more than covered."

"Well," said Thuillier, turning to go, "I'll talk to la Peyrade about
it."

"As you please, my dear master; but decide soon, for nothing gets mouldy
so fast as a book; write hot, serve hot, and buy hot,--that's the rule
for authors, publishers, and public; all is bosh outside of it, and no
good to touch."

When la Peyrade was consulted, he did not think in his heart that the
remedy was heroic, but he had now come to feel the bitterest animosity
against Thuillier, so that he was well pleased to see this new tax
levied on his self-important inexperience and pompous silliness.

As for Thuillier, the mania for posing as a publicist and getting
himself talked about so possessed him that although he moaned over this
fresh bleeding of his purse, he had decided on the sacrifice before he
even spoke to la Peyrade. The reserved and conditional approval of the
latter was, therefore, more than enough to settle his determination, and
the same evening he returned to Barbet junior and asked for the list of
guests whom he ought to invite.

Barbet gaily produced his little catalogue. Instead of the ten guests
originally mentioned, there proved to be fifteen, not counting himself
or la Peyrade, whom Thuillier wanted to second him in this encounter
with a set of men among whom he himself felt he should be a little out
of place. Casting his eyes over the list, he exclaimed, vehemently:--

"Heavens! my dear fellow, here are names of papers nobody ever heard of.
Where's the 'Moralisateur,' the 'Lanterne de Diogene,' the 'Pelican,'
the 'Echo de la Bievre'?"

"You'd better be careful how you scorn the 'Ec