ster of a de
Marsay and young Rastignac and any Ajuda-Pinto or Maxime de Trailles or
Vandenesse of them all. Remember that your mistress is Coralie! But you
will not play me any tricks, eh?"

Two days afterwards, on the eve of the supper-party at Coralie's house,
there was a new play at the Ambigu, and it fell to Lucien to write the
dramatic criticism. Lucien and Coralie walked together after dinner from
the Rue de Vendome to the Panorama-Dramatique, going along the Cafe Turc
side of the Boulevard du Temple, a lounge much frequented at that
time. People wondered at his luck, and praised Coralie's beauty. Chance
remarks reached his ears; some said that Coralie was the finest woman in
Paris, others that Lucien was a match for her. The romantic youth
felt that he was in his atmosphere. This was the life for him. The
brotherhood was so far away that it was almost out of sight. Only two
months ago, how he had looked up to those lofty great natures; now
he asked himself if they were not just a trifle ridiculous with their
notions and their Puritanism. Coralie's careless words had lodged in
Lucien's mind, and begun already to bear fruit. He took Coralie to her
dressing-room, and strolled about like a sultan behind the scenes; the
actresses gave him burning glances and flattering speeches.

"I must go to the Ambigu and attend to business," said he.

At the Ambigu the house was full; there was not a seat left for
him. Indignant complaints behind the scenes brought no redress; the
box-office keeper, who did not know him as yet, said that they had sent
orders for two boxes to his paper, and sent him about his business.

"I shall speak of the play as I find it," said Lucien, nettled at this.

"What a dunce you are!" said the leading lady, addressing the box-office
keeper, "that is Coralie's adorer."

The box-office keeper turned round immediately at this. "I will speak to
the manager at once, sir," he said.

In all these small details Lucien saw the immense power wielded by the
press. His vanity was gratified. The manager appeared to say that the
Duc de Rhetore and Tullia the opera-dancer were in the stage-box, and
they had consented to allow Lucien to join them.

"You have driven two people to distraction," remarked the young Duke,
mentioning the names of the Baron du Chatelet and Mme. de Bargeton.

"Distraction? What will it be to-morrow?" said Lucien. "So far, my
friends have been mere skirmishers, but I have given them