ists, and as
they chatted they walked on into the woods beyond the park. In among the
thickets the German thought he caught a glimpse of his hostess, put
up his eyeglass, made a sign to his young companion to be silent,
and turned back, stepping softly.--"What did you see?" asked the
journalist.--"Nothing particular," said the clerk. "Our affair of the
long article is settled. To-morrow we shall have at least three columns
in the _Debats_."

Another anecdote will show the influence of a single article.

A book of M. de Chateaubriand's on the last of the Stuarts was for some
time a "nightingale" on the bookseller's shelves. A single article in
the _Journal des Debats_ sold the work in a week. In those days, when
there were no lending libraries, a publisher would sell an edition of
ten thousand copies of a book by a Liberal if it was well reviewed by
the Opposition papers; but then the Belgian pirated editions were not as
yet.

The preparatory attacks made by Lucien's friends, followed up by his
article on Nathan, proved efficacious; they stopped the sale of his
book. Nathan escaped with the mortification; he had been paid; he had
nothing to lose; but Dauriat was like to lose thirty thousand francs.
The trade in new books may, in fact, be summed up much on this wise.
A ream of blank paper costs fifteen francs, a ream of printed paper is
worth anything between a hundred sous and a hundred crowns, according to
its success; a favorable or unfavorable review at a critical time often
decides the question; and Dauriat having five hundred reams of printed
paper on hand, hurried to make terms with Lucien. The sultan was now the
slave.

After waiting for some time, fidgeting and making as much noise as
he could while parleying with Berenice, he at last obtained speech
of Lucien; and, arrogant publisher though he was, he came in with the
radiant air of a courtier in the royal presence, mingled, however, with
a certain self-sufficiency and easy good humor.

"Don't disturb yourselves, my little dears! How nice they look, just
like a pair of turtle-doves! Who would think now, mademoiselle, that
he, with that girl's face of his, could be a tiger with claws of steel,
ready to tear a reputation to rags, just as he tears your wrappers,
I'll be bound, when you are not quick enough to unfasten them," and he
laughed before he had finished his jest.

"My dear boy----" he began, sitting down beside Lucien.--"Mademoiselle,
I am Dauriat,