newspaper world as he had
formerly been by the practical aspects of literature at Messrs. Vidal
and Porchon's establishment.

Ten several times did Lucien repair to the Rue Feydeau in search of
Andoche Finot, and ten times he failed to find that gentleman. He went
first thing in the morning; Finot had not come in. At noon, Finot had
gone out; he was breakfasting at such and such a cafe. At the cafe, in
answer to inquiries of the waitress, made after surmounting unspeakable
repugnance, Lucien heard that Finot had just left the place. Lucien,
at length tired out, began to regard Finot as a mythical and
fabulous character; it appeared simpler to waylay Etienne Lousteau at
Flicoteaux's. That youthful journalist would, doubtless, explain the
mysteries that enveloped the paper for which he wrote.

Since the day, a hundred times blessed, when Lucien made the
acquaintance of Daniel d'Arthez, he had taken another seat at
Flicoteaux's. The two friends dined side by side, talking in lowered
voices of the higher literature, of suggested subjects, and ways of
presenting, opening up, and developing them. At the present time Daniel
d'Arthez was correcting the manuscript of _The Archer of Charles IX._ He
reconstructed whole chapters, and wrote the fine passages found therein,
as well as the magnificent preface, which is, perhaps, the best thing
in the book, and throws so much light on the work of the young school
of literature. One day it so happened that Daniel had been waiting
for Lucien, who now sat with his friend's hand in his own, when he saw
Etienne Lousteau turn the door-handle. Lucien instantly dropped Daniel's
hand, and told the waiter that he would dine at his old place by the
counter. D'Arthez gave Lucien a glance of divine kindness, in which
reproach was wrapped in forgiveness. The glance cut the poet to the
quick; he took Daniel's hand and grasped it anew.

"It is an important question of business for me; I will tell you about
it afterwards," said he.

Lucien was in his old place by the time that Lousteau reached the table;
as the first comer, he greeted his acquaintance; they soon struck up a
conversation, which grew so lively that Lucien went off in search of the
manuscript of the _Marguerites_, while Lousteau finished his dinner. He
had obtained leave to lay his sonnets before the journalist, and mistook
the civility of the latter for willingness to find him a publisher, or
a place on the paper. When Lucien came h