. He has lost his lawsuit."

"I have lent him ten thousand francs; if _Calas_ succeeds, it will repay
the loan, so I have been organizing a success. Ducange is a clever man;
he has brains----"

Lucien fancied that he must be dreaming when he heard a _claqueur_
appraising a writer's value.

"Coralie has improved," continued Braulard, with the air of a competent
critic. "If she is a good girl, I will take her part, for they have got
up a cabal against her at the Gymnase. This is how I mean to do it. I
will have a few well-dressed men in the balconies to smile and make a
little murmur, and the applause will follow. That is a dodge which makes
a position for an actress. I have a liking for Coralie, and you ought to
be satisfied, for she has feeling. Aha! I can hiss any one on the stage
if I like."

"But let us settle this business about the tickets," put in Lousteau.

"Very well, I will come to this gentleman's lodging for them at the
beginning of the month. He is a friend of yours, and I will treat him as
I do you. You have five theatres; you will get thirty tickets--that
will be something like seventy-five francs a month. Perhaps you will be
wanting an advance?" added Braulard, lifting a cash-box full of coin out
of his desk.

"No, no," said Lousteau; "we will keep that shift against a rainy day."

"I will work with Coralie, sir, and we will come to an understanding,"
said Braulard, addressing Lucien, who was looking about him, not without
profound astonishment. There was a bookcase in Braulard's study, there
were framed engravings and good furniture; and as they passed through
the drawing room, he noticed that the fittings were neither too
luxurious nor yet mean. The dining-room seemed to be the best ordered
room, he remarked on this jokingly.

"But Braulard is an epicure," said Lousteau; "his dinners are famous
in dramatic literature, and they are what you might expect from his
cash-box."

"I have good wine," Braulard replied modestly.--"Ah! here are my
lamplighters," he added, as a sound of hoarse voices and strange
footsteps came up from the staircase.

Lucien on his way down saw a march past of _claqueurs_ and retailers of
tickets. It was an ill smelling squad, attired in caps, seedy trousers,
and threadbare overcoats; a flock of gallows-birds with bluish and
greenish tints in their faces, neglected beards, and a strange mixture
of savagery and subservience in their eyes. A horrible population lives
and