"Success is the ruin of a man in France," said Finot. "We are so jealous
of one another that we try to forget, and to make others forget, the
triumphs of yesterday."

"Contradiction is the life of literature, in fact," said Claude Vignon.

"In art as in nature, there are two principles everywhere at strife,"
exclaimed Fulgence; "and victory for either means death."

"So it is with politics," added Michel Chrestien.

"We have a case in point," said Lousteau. "Dauriat will sell a couple
of thousand copies of Nathan's book in the coming week. And why? Because
the book that was cleverly attacked will be ably defended."

Merlin took up the proof of to-morrow's paper. "How can such an article
fail to sell an edition?" he asked.

"Read the article," said Dauriat. "I am a publisher wherever I am, even
at supper."

Merlin read Lucien's triumphant refutation aloud, and the whole party
applauded.

"How could that article have been written unless the attack had preceded
it?" asked Lousteau.

Dauriat drew the proof of the third article from his pocket and read it
over, Finot listening closely; for it was to appear in the second number
of his own review, and as editor he exaggerated his enthusiasm.

"Gentlemen," said he, "so and not otherwise would Bossuet have written
if he had lived in our day."

"I am sure of it," said Merlin. "Bossuet would have been a journalist
to-day."

"To Bossuet the Second!" cried Claude Vignon, raising his glass with an
ironical bow.

"To my Christopher Columbus!" returned Lucien, drinking a health to
Dauriat.

"Bravo!" cried Nathan.

"Is it a nickname?" Merlin inquired, looking maliciously from Finot to
Lucien.

"If you go on at this pace, you will be quite beyond us," said Dauriat;
"these gentlemen" (indicating Camusot and Matifat) "cannot follow you
as it is. A joke is like a bit of thread; if it is spun too fine, it
breaks, as Bonaparte said."

"Gentlemen," said Lousteau, "we have been eye-witnesses of a strange,
portentous, unheard-of, and truly surprising phenomenon. Admire
the rapidity with which our friend here has been transformed from a
provincial into a journalist!"

"He is a born journalist," said Dauriat.

"Children!" called Finot, rising to his feet, "all of us here present
have encouraged and protected our amphitryon in his entrance upon a
career in which he has already surpassed our hopes. In two months he has
shown us what he can do in a series of excellent articl