editor-in-chief of the Boulevard, the highest type of French literary
paper, he seemed astonished that an idea so journalistic--that was his
word--should have been evolved from the brain of his most recent
acquisition. I had been with him two weeks and it was my first
contribution. "Give me some details, my dear Labarthe," he said, in a
somewhat less insolent manner than was his wont. After listening to me for
a few moments he continued: "That is good. You will go and interview
certain men and women, first upon the age at which one loves the most,
next upon the age when one is most loved? Is that your idea? And now to
whom will you go first?"

"I have prepared a list," I replied, and took from my pocket a sheet of
paper. I had jotted down the names of a number of celebrities whom I
proposed to interview on this all-important question, and I began to read
over my list. It contained two ex-government officials, a general, a
Dominican father, four actresses, two cafe-concert singers, four actors,
two financiers, two lawyers, a surgeon and a lot of literary celebrities.
At some of the names my chief would nod his approval, at others he would
say curtly, with an affectation of American manners, "Bad; strike it off,"
until I came to the name I had kept for the last, that of Pierre Fauchery,
the famous novelist.

"Strike that off," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "He is not on good
terms with us."

"And yet," I suggested, "is there any one whose opinion would be of
greater interest to reading men as well as to women? I had even thought of
beginning with him."

"The devil you had!" interrupted the editor-in-chief. "It is one of
Fauchery's principles not to see any reporters. I have sent him ten if I
have one, and he has shown them all the door. The Boulevard does not
relish such treatment, so we have given him some pretty hard hits."

"Nevertheless, I will have an interview with Fauchery for the Boulevard,"
was my reply. "I am sure of it."

"If you succeed," he replied, "I'll raise your salary. That man makes me
tired with his scorn of newspaper notoriety. He must take his share of it,
like the rest. But you will not succeed. What makes you think you can?"

"Permit me to tell you my reason later. In forty-eight hours you will see
whether I have succeeded or not."

"Go and do not spare the fellow."

Decidedly. I had made some progress as a journalist, even in my two weeks'
apprenticeship, if I could permit Pascal t