labor enables the Chinese to manipulate each
sheet of paper separately. They take it out of the mould, and press it
between heated tablets of white porcelain, that is the secret of the
surface and consistence, the lightness and satin smoothness of the
best paper in the world. Well, here in Europe the work must be done by
machinery; machinery must take the place of cheap Chinese labor. If
we could but succeed in making a cheap paper of as good a quality, the
weight and thickness of printed books would be reduced by more than
one-half. A set of Voltaire, printed on our woven paper and bound,
weighs about two hundred and fifty pounds; it would only weigh fifty if
we used Chinese paper. That surely would be a triumph, for the housing
of many books has come to be a difficulty; everything has grown smaller
of late; this is not an age of giants; men have shrunk, everything about
them shrinks, and house-room into the bargain. Great mansions and great
suites of rooms will be abolished sooner or later in Paris, for no one
will afford to live in the great houses built by our forefathers. What a
disgrace for our age if none of its books should last! Dutch paper--that
is, paper made from flax--will be quite unobtainable in ten years' time.
Well, your brother told me of this idea of your father's, this plan for
using vegetable fibre in paper-making, so you see that if I succeed, you
have a right to----"

Lucien came up at that moment and interrupted David's generous
assertion.

"I do not know whether you have found the evening pleasant," said he;
"it has been a cruel time for me."

"Poor Lucien! what can have happened?" cried Eve, as she saw her
brother's excited face.

The poet told the history of his agony, pouring out a flood of clamorous
thoughts into those friendly hearts, Eve and David listening in pained
silence to a torrent of woes that exhibited such greatness and such
pettiness.

"M. de Bargeton is an old dotard. The indigestion will carry him off
before long, no doubt," Lucien said, as he made an end, "and then I will
look down on these proud people; I will marry Mme. de Bargeton. I read
to-night in her eyes a love as great as mine for her. Yes, she felt
all that I felt; she comforted me; she is as great and noble as she is
gracious and beautiful. She will never give me up."

"It is time that life was made smooth for him, is it not?" murmured
David, and for answer Eve pressed his arm without speaking. David
guesse