ital importance
comes out, and the publisher is stingy with copies, his life is made a
burden to him. The craft is vile, but I live by it, and so do scores of
others. Do not imagine that things are any better in public life.
There is corruption everywhere in both regions; every man is corrupt or
corrupts others. If there is any publishing enterprise somewhat larger
than usual afoot, the trade will pay me something to buy neutrality. The
amount of my income varies, therefore, directly with the prospectuses.
When prospectuses break out like a rash, money pours into my pockets; I
stand treat all round. When trade is dull, I dine at Flicoteaux's.

"Actresses will pay you likewise for praise, but the wiser among them
pay for criticism. To be passed over in silence is what they dread
the most; and the very best thing of all, from their point of view, is
criticism which draws down a reply; it is far more effectual than bald
praise, forgotten as soon as read, and it costs more in consequence.
Celebrity, my dear fellow, is based upon controversy. I am a hired
bravo; I ply my trade among ideas and reputations, commercial, literary,
and dramatic; I make some fifty crowns a month; I can sell a novel for
five hundred francs; and I am beginning to be looked upon as a man to
be feared. Some day, instead of living with Florine at the expense of a
druggist who gives himself the airs of a lord, I shall be in a house of
my own; I shall be on the staff of a leading newspaper, I shall have
a _feuilleton_; and on that day, my dear fellow, Florine will become a
great actress. As for me, I am not sure what I shall be when that time
comes, a minister or an honest man--all things are still possible."

He raised his humiliated head, and looked out at the green leaves, with
an expression of despairing self-condemnation dreadful to see.

"And I had a great tragedy accepted!" he went on. "And among my papers
there is a poem, which will die. And I was a good fellow, and my heart
was clean! I used to dream lofty dreams of love for great ladies,
queens in the great world; and--my mistress is an actress at the
Panorama-Dramatique. And lastly, if a bookseller declines to send a copy
of a book to my paper, I will run down work which is good, as I know."

Lucien was moved to tears, and he grasped Etienne's hand in his. The
journalist rose to his feet, and the pair went up and down the broad
Avenue de l'Observatoire, as if their lungs craved ampler breath