the Lyons silkweavers.

Love and toilet are like color and perfume for a woman, and Coralie
in her happiness looked lovelier than ever. A looked-for delight which
cannot elude the grasp possesses an immense charm for youth; perhaps in
their eyes the secret of the attraction of a house of pleasure lies
in the certainty of gratification; perhaps many a long fidelity is
attributable to the same cause. Love for love's sake, first love indeed,
had blent with one of the strange violent fancies which sometimes
possess these poor creatures; and love and admiration of Lucien's great
beauty taught Coralie to express the thoughts in her heart.

"I should love you if you were ill and ugly," she whispered as they sat
down.

What a saying for a poet! Camusot utterly vanished, Lucien had forgotten
his existence, he saw Coralie, and had eyes for nothing else. How should
he draw back--this creature, all sensation, all enjoyment of life,
tired of the monotony of existence in a country town, weary of poverty,
harassed by enforced continence, impatient of the claustral life of the
Rue de Cluny, of toiling without reward? The fascination of the under
world of Paris was upon him; 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. After so much vain search, and climbing
of so many stairs, after standing about and waiting in the Rue de
Sentier, he had found Journalism a jolly boon companion, joyous over the
wine. His wrongs had just been avenged. 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, and now to-morrow they should receive a stab
in their very hearts. "Here is a real friend!" he thought, as he looked
at Lousteau. It never crossed his mind that Lousteau already regarded
him as a dangerous rival. He had made a blunder; he had done his very
best when a colorless article would have served him admirably well.
Blondet's remark to Finot that it would be better to come to terms with
a man of that calibre, had counteracted Lousteau's gnawing jealousy. He
reflected that it would be prudent to keep on good terms with Lucien,
and, at the same time, to arrange with Finot to exploit this formidable
newcomer--he must be kept in poverty. The decision was made in a moment,
and the bargain made in a few whispered words.

"He has talent."

"He will want the more."

"A