r.

"You know, my dear fellow," said Moronval, as they strolled through
the empty boulevards, arm-inarm, that night, little Madame Moronval
pattering on in front of them,--"you know if I can succeed in the
establishment of my Review, that I shall make you editor-in-chief!"

Moronval threw the half of his cargo overboard in order to save his
ship, for he saw that unless the poet was enlisted, the countess would
take no interest in the scheme. D'Argenton made no reply, for he was
absorbed in thoughts of Ida.

No man can play the part of a lyric poet, a martyr to love, without
being conscious of, and touched by, that silent adoration which appeals
to his vanity, both as a man of letters and a man of the world. Since
he had seen Ida in her luxurious home, about which there was the same
suspicion of vulgarity that clung about herself, the rigidity of his
principles had amazingly softened.

CHAPTER VI.~~AMAURY D'ARGENTON.

Amaury d'Argenton belonged to one of those ancient provincial families
whose castles resembled great farms. Impoverished for the three last
generations, they had finally sold their property, and come to Paris to
seek their fortunes; with little change for the better, however; and for
the last thirty years they had dropped the _De_, which Amaury ventured
to resume on adopting his literary career. He meant to make it famous,
and even was audacious enough to announce this intention aloud.

The childhood of the poet had been one of gloom and privation;
surrounded by anxieties and by tears, by sordid cares, and that constant
lack of money which imbitters the lives of so many of us, he had never
laughed nor played like other children. A scholarship that was obtained
for him enabled him to complete his studies, and his only recreation was
obtained through the kindness of an aunt who resided in the Marais, and
who gave him gloves and other trifles, which the poet very early in life
learned to regard as essentials.

Such a childhood ripens early into bitter maturity. Infinite prosperity
is needed to efface such early impressions, and we often see men who
have attained to high honors, who are rich and powerful, and yet who
have never conquered the timidity born of their early deprivations.
D'Argenton's bitterness was not without reason: at twenty-five he had
succeeded in nothing; he had published a volume at his own expense, and
had lived on bread and water in consequence for at least six months.
He was