e office. Giroudeau immediately put a
couple of stamped agreements before Lucien.

"Sign your agreement," he said, "and the new editor will think the whole
thing was arranged yesterday."

Lucien, reading the document, overheard fragments of a tolerably warm
dispute within as to the line of conduct and profits of the paper.
Etienne Lousteau wanted his share of the blackmail levied by Giroudeau;
and, in all probability, the matter was compromised, for the pair came
out perfectly good friends.

"We will meet at Dauriat's, Lucien, in the Wooden Galleries at eight
o'clock," said Etienne Lousteau.

A young man appeared, meanwhile, in search of employment, wearing the
same nervous shy look with which Lucien himself had come to the office
so short a while ago; and in his secret soul Lucien felt amused as
he watched Giroudeau playing off the same tactics with which the old
campaigner had previously foiled him. Self-interest opened his eyes to
the necessity of the manoeuvres which raised well-nigh insurmountable
barriers between beginners and the upper room where the elect were
gathered together.

"Contributors don't get very much as it is," he said, addressing
Giroudeau.

"If there were more of you, there would be so much less," retorted the
captain. "So there!"

The old campaigner swung his loaded cane, and went down coughing as
usual. Out in the street he was amazed to see a handsome carriage
waiting on the boulevard for Lucien.

"_You_ are the army nowadays," he said, "and we are the civilians."

"Upon my word," said Lucien, as he drove away with Coralie, "these young
writers seem to me to be the best fellows alive. Here am I a journalist,
sure of making six hundred francs a month if I work like a horse. But I
shall find a publisher for my two books, and I will write others; for my
friends will insure a success. And so, Coralie, '_vogue le galere_!' as
you say."

"You will make your way, dear boy; but you must not be as good-natured
as you are good-looking; it would be the ruin of you. Be ill-natured,
that is the proper thing."

Coralie and Lucien drove in the Bois de Boulogne, and again they met the
Marquise d'Espard, Mme. de Bargeton and the Baron du Chatelet. Mme.
de Bargeton gave Lucien a languishing glance which might be taken as
a greeting. Camusot had ordered the best possible dinner; and Coralie,
feeling that she was rid of her adorer, was more charming to the poor
silk-mercer than she had ever been in