homes,
in the bosom of their families, in the full heart of their private life.
It shall trouble their domestic joy, it shall make them think that their
wine is sour, their dinner burned, their wives bad-tempered. They will
very soon become insane, and will have to be put in strait-jackets when
they go to the Institute, on the days when there are meetings. That idea
pleases me."

A few days later, when Marcel had already forgotten his terrible plans for
vengeance upon his persecutors, he received a visit from Father Medicis.
For that was the name by which the brotherhood called a certain Jew, whose
real name was Soloman, and who at that time was well known throughout the
bohemia of art and literature, with which he constantly had dealings.
Father Medicis dealt in all sorts of bric-a-brac. He sold complete
house-furnishings for from twelve francs up to a thousand crowns. He would
buy anything, and knew how to sell it again at a profit. His shop,
situated in the Place du Carrousel, was a fairy spot where one could find
everything that one might wish. All the products of nature, all the
creations of art, all that comes forth from the bowels of the earth or
from the genius of man, Medicis found it profitable to trade in. His
dealings included everything, absolutely everything that exists; he even
put a price upon the Ideal. Medicis would even buy ideas, to use himself
or to sell again. Known to all writers and artists, intimate friend of the
palette, familiar spirit of the writing-desk, he was the Asmodeus of the
arts. He would sell you cigars in exchange for the plot of a dime novel,
slippers for a sonnet, a fresh catch of fish for a paradox; he would talk
at so much an hour with newspaper reporters whose duty was to record the
lively capers of the smart set. He would get you passes to the parliament
buildings, or invitations to private parties; he gave lodgings by the
night, the week, or the month to homeless artists, who paid him by making
copies of old masters in the Louvre. The greenroom had no secrets for him;
he could place your plays for you with some manager; he could obtain for
you all sorts of favors. He carried in his head a copy of the almanac of
twenty-five thousand addresses, and knew the residence, the name, and
the secrets of all the celebrities, even the obscure ones.

In entering the abode of the bohemians, with that knowing air which
characterized him, the Jew divined that he had arrived at a propitious