anding at the
parting of two distinct ways, between two systems, represented by the
brotherhood upon one hand, and journalism upon the other. The first way
was long, honorable, and sure; the second beset with hidden dangers,
a perilous path, among muddy channels where conscience is inevitably
bespattered. The bent of Lucien's character determined for the shorter
way, and the apparently pleasanter way, and to snatch at the quickest
and promptest means. At this moment he saw no difference between
d'Arthez's noble friendship and Lousteau's easy comaraderie; his
inconstant mind discerned a new weapon in journalism; he felt that he
could wield it, so he wished to take it.

He was dazzled by the offers of this new friend, who had struck a hand
in his in an easy way, which charmed Lucien. How should he know that
while every man in the army of the press needs friends, every leader
needs men. Lousteau, seeing that Lucien was resolute, enlisted him as a
recruit, and hoped to attach him to himself. The relative positions of
the two were similar--one hoped to become a corporal, the other to enter
the ranks.

Lucien went back gaily to his lodgings. He was as careful over his
toilet as on that former unlucky occasion when he occupied the Marquise
d'Espard's box; but he had learned by this time how to wear his clothes
with a better grace. They looked as though they belonged to him. He wore
his best tightly-fitting, light-colored trousers, and a dress-coat.
His boots, a very elegant pair adorned with tassels, had cost him
forty francs. His thick, fine, golden hair was scented and crimped into
bright, rippling curls. Self-confidence and belief in his future lighted
up his forehead. He paid careful attention to his almost feminine hands,
the filbert nails were a spotless pink, and the white contours of his
chin were dazzling by contrast with a black satin stock. Never did a
more beautiful youth come down from the hills of the Latin Quarter.

Glorious as a Greek god, Lucien took a cab, and reached the Cafe Servel
at a quarter to seven. There the portress gave him some tolerably
complicated directions for the ascent of four pairs of stairs. Provided
with these instructions, he discovered, not without difficulty, an open
door at the end of a long, dark passage, and in another moment made the
acquaintance of the traditional room of the Latin Quarter.

A young man's poverty follows him wherever he goes--into the Rue de la
Harpe as into th