er of prudence, and
he unbosomed himself to Lucien, ending up with: "My friend--for you are
my friend, Lucien; you lent me a thousand francs, and you have only
once asked me for the money--shun play! If I had never touched a card, I
should be a happy man. I owe money all round. At this moment I have
the bailiffs at my heels; indeed, when I go to the Palais Royal, I have
dangerous capes to double."

In the language of the fast set, doubling a cape meant dodging a
creditor, or keeping out of his way. Lucien had not heard the expression
before, but he was familiar with the practice by this time.

"Are your debts so heavy?"

"A mere trifle," said Lousteau. "A thousand crowns would pull me
through. I have resolved to turn steady and give up play, and I have
done a little 'chantage' to pay my debts."

"What is 'chantage'?" asked Lucien.

"It is an English invention recently imported. A 'chanteur' is a man
who can manage to put a paragraph in the papers--never an editor nor a
responsible man, for they are not supposed to know anything about it,
and there is always a Giroudeau or a Philippe Bridau to be found. A
bravo of this stamp finds up somebody who has his own reasons for not
wanting to be talked about. Plenty of people have a few peccadilloes, or
some more or less original sin, upon their consciences; there are plenty
of fortunes made in ways that would not bear looking into; sometimes
a man has kept the letter of the law, and sometimes he has not; and
in either case, there is a tidbit of tattle for the inquirer, as, for
instance, that tale of Fouche's police surrounding the spies of the
Prefect of Police, who, not being in the secret of the fabrication of
forged English banknotes, were just about to pounce on the clandestine
printers employed by the Minister, or there is the story of Prince
Galathionne's diamonds, the Maubreuile affair, or the Pombreton will
case. The 'chanteur' gets possession of some compromising letter,
asks for an interview; and if the man that made the money does not buy
silence, the 'chanteur' draws a picture of the press ready to take the
matter up and unravel his private affairs. The rich man is frightened,
he comes down with the money, and the trick succeeds.

"You are committed to some risky venture, which might easily be written
down in a series of articles; a 'chanteur' waits upon you, and offers to
withdraw the articles--for a consideration. 'Chanteurs' are sent to
men in office, who