few who show us an example of "a noble gift
with a noble nature combined," to quote a poet's fine thought.

"There is no cheap route to greatness," Daniel went on in his kind
voice. "The works of Genius are watered with tears. The gift that is in
you, like an existence in the physical world, passes through childhood
and its maladies. Nature sweeps away sickly or deformed creatures, and
Society rejects an imperfectly developed talent. Any man who means to
rise above the rest must make ready for a struggle and be undaunted
by difficulties. A great writer is a martyr who does not die; that
is all.--There is the stamp of genius on your forehead," d'Arthez
continued, enveloping Lucien by a glance; "but unless you have within
you the will of genius, unless you are gifted with angelic patience,
unless, no matter how far the freaks of Fate have set you from your
destined goal, you can find the way to your Infinite as the turtles in
the Indies find their way to the ocean, you had better give up at once."

"Then do you yourself expect these ordeals?" asked Lucien.

"Trials of every kind, slander and treachery, and effrontery and
cunning, the rivals who act unfairly, and the keen competition of the
literary market," his companion said resignedly. "What is a first loss,
if only your work was good?"

"Will you look at mine and give me your opinion?" asked Lucien.

"So be it," said d'Arthez. "I am living in the Rue des Quatre-Vents.
Desplein, one of the most illustrious men of genius in our time, the
greatest surgeon that the world has known, once endured the martyrdom of
early struggles with the first difficulties of a glorious career in the
same house. I think of that every night, and the thought gives me the
stock of courage that I need every morning. I am living in the very room
where, like Rousseau, he had no Theresa. Come in an hour's time. I shall
be in."

The poets grasped each other's hands with a rush of melancholy and
tender feeling inexpressible in words, and went their separate ways;
Lucien to fetch his manuscript, Daniel d'Arthez to pawn his watch and
buy a couple of faggots. The weather was cold, and his new-found friend
should find a fire in his room.

Lucien was punctual. He noticed at once that the house was of an even
poorer class than the Hotel de Cluny. A staircase gradually became
visible at the further end of a dark passage; he mounted to the fifth
floor, and found d'Arthez's room.

A bookcase of dark