which appeared to
be familiar to him, and drank water. Wherever Lucien saw him, at the
library or at Flicoteaux's, there was a dignity in his manner, springing
doubtless from the consciousness of a purpose that filled his life,
a dignity which made him unapproachable. He had the expression of a
thinker, meditation dwelt on the fine nobly carved brow. You could tell
from the dark bright eyes, so clear-sighted and quick to observe, that
their owner was wont to probe to the bottom of things. He gesticulated
very little, his demeanor was grave. Lucien felt an involuntary respect
for him.

Many times already the pair had looked at each other at the Bibliotheque
or at Flicoteaux's; many times they had been on the point of speaking,
but neither of them had ventured so far as yet. The silent young man
went off to the further end of the library, on the side at right angles
to the Place de la Sorbonne, and Lucien had no opportunity of making
his acquaintance, although he felt drawn to a worker whom he knew by
indescribable tokens for a character of no common order. Both, as they
came to know afterwards, were unsophisticated and shy, given to fears
which cause a pleasurable emotion to solitary creatures. Perhaps they
never would have been brought into communication if they had not come
across each other that day of Lucien's disaster; for as Lucien
turned into the Rue des Gres, he saw the student coming away from the
Bibliotheque Sainte-Genevieve.

"The library is closed; I don't know why, monsieur," said he.

Tears were standing in Lucien's eyes; he expressed his thanks by one of
those gestures that speak more eloquently than words, and unlock hearts
at once when two men meet in youth. They went together along the Rue des
Gres towards the Rue de la Harpe.

"As that is so, I shall go to the Luxembourg for a walk," said Lucien.
"When you have come out, it is not easy to settle down to work again."

"No; one's ideas will not flow in the proper current," remarked the
stranger. "Something seems to have annoyed you, monsieur?"

"I have just had a queer adventure," said Lucien, and he told the
history of his visit to the Quai, and gave an account of his subsequent
dealings with the old bookseller. He gave his name and said a word or
two of his position. In one month or thereabouts he had spent sixty
francs on his board, thirty for lodging, twenty more francs in going to
the theatre, and ten at Blosse's reading room--one hundred an