"I am delighted at what has happened. If we had sold a hundred copies it would trouble me far more than the fifteen hundred now on our hands; that's what I call hanging fire; whereas this insignificant sale only proves that the edition will go off like a rocket."

"But when?" asked Thuillier, who thought this view paradoxical.

"Parbleu!" said Barbet, "when we get notices in the newspapers.

Newspaper notices are only useful to arouse attention. 'Dear me!' says the public, 'there's a publication that must be interesting.' The t.i.tle is good,--'Taxation and the Sliding-Scale,'--but I find that the more piquant a t.i.tle is, the more buyers distrust it, they have been taken in so often; they wait for the notices. On the other hand, for books that are destined to have only a limited sale, a hundred ready-made purchasers will come in at once, but after that, good-bye to them; we don't place another copy."

"Then you don't think," said Thuillier, "that the sale is hopeless?"

"On the contrary, I think it is on the best track. When the 'Debats,'

the 'Const.i.tutionnel,' the 'Siecle,' and the 'Presse' have reviewed it, especially if the 'Debats' mauls it (they are ministerial, you know), it won't be a week before the whole edition is snapped up."

"You say that easily enough," replied Thuillier; "but how are we to get hold of those gentlemen of the press?"

"Ah! I'll take care of that," said Barbet. "I am on the best of terms with the managing editors; they say the devil is in me, and that I remind them of Ladvocat in his best days."

"But then, my dear fellow, you ought to have seen to this earlier."

"Ah! excuse me, papa Thuillier; there's only one way of seeing to the journalists; but as you grumbled about the fifteen hundred francs for the advertis.e.m.e.nts, I did not venture to propose to you another extra expense."

"What expense?" asked Thuillier, anxiously.

"When you were nominated to the munic.i.p.al council, where was the plan mooted?" asked the publisher.

"Parbleu! in my own house," replied Thuillier.

"Yes, of course, in your own house, but at a dinner, followed by a ball, and the ball itself crowned by a supper. Well, my dear master, there are no two ways to do this business; Boileau says:--

"'All is done through the palate, and not through the mind; And it is by our dinners we govern mankind.'"

"Then you think I ought to give a dinner to those journalists?"

"Yes; but not at your own house; for these journalists, you see, if women are present, get stupid; they have to behave themselves. And, besides, it isn't dinner they want, but a breakfast--that suits them best. In the evening these gentlemen have to go to first representations, and make up their papers, not to speak of their own little private doings; whereas in the mornings they have nothing to think about. As for me, it is always breakfasts that I give."

"But that costs money, breakfasts like that," said Thuillier; "journalists are gourmands."

"Bah! twenty francs a head, without wine. Say you have ten of them; three hundred francs will see you handsomely through the whole thing.

In fact, as a matter of economy, breakfasts are preferable; for a dinner you wouldn't get off under five hundred francs."

"How you talk, young man!" said Thuillier.

"Oh, hang it! everybody knows it costs dear to get elected to the Chamber; and all this favors your nomination."

"But how can I invite those gentlemen? Must I go and see them myself?"

"Certainly not; send them your pamphlet and appoint them to meet you at Philippe's or Vefour's--they'll understand perfectly."

"Ten guests," said Thuillier, beginning to enter into the idea. "I did not know there were so many leading journals."

"There are not," said the publisher; "but we must have the little dogs as well, for they bark loudest. This breakfast is certain to make a noise, and if you don't ask them they'll think you pick and choose, and everyone excluded will be your enemy."

"Then you think it is enough merely to send the invitations?"

"Yes; I'll make the list, and you can write the notes and send them to me. I'll see that they are delivered; some of them I shall take in person."

"If I were sure," said Thuillier, undecidedly, "that this expense would have the desired effect--"

"_If I were sure_,--that's a queer thing to say," said Barbet. "My dear master, this is money placed on mortgage; for it, I will guarantee the sale of fifteen hundred copies,--say at forty sous apiece; allowing the discounts, that makes three thousand francs. You see that your costs and extra costs are covered, and more than covered."

"Well," said Thuillier, turning to go, "I'll talk to la Peyrade about it."

"As you please, my dear master; but decide soon, for nothing gets mouldy so fast as a book; write hot, serve hot, and buy hot,--that's the rule for authors, publishers, and public; all is bosh outside of it, and no good to touch."

When la Peyrade was consulted, he did not think in his heart that the remedy was heroic, but he had now come to feel the bitterest animosity against Thuillier, so that he was well pleased to see this new tax levied on his self-important inexperience and pompous silliness.

As for Thuillier, the mania for posing as a publicist and getting himself talked about so possessed him that although he moaned over this fresh bleeding of his purse, he had decided on the sacrifice before he even spoke to la Peyrade. The reserved and conditional approval of the latter was, therefore, more than enough to settle his determination, and the same evening he returned to Barbet junior and asked for the list of guests whom he ought to invite.

Barbet gaily produced his little catalogue. Instead of the ten guests originally mentioned, there proved to be fifteen, not counting himself or la Peyrade, whom Thuillier wanted to second him in this encounter with a set of men among whom he himself felt he should be a little out of place. Casting his eyes over the list, he exclaimed, vehemently:--

"Heavens! my dear fellow, here are names of papers n.o.body ever heard of.

Where's the 'Moralisateur,' the 'Lanterne de Diogene,' the 'Pelican,'

the 'Echo de la Bievre'?"

"You'd better be careful how you scorn the 'Echo de la Bievre,'" said Barbet; "why, that's the paper of the 12th arrondiss.e.m.e.nt, from which you expect to be elected; its patrons are those big tanners of the Mouffetard quarter!"

"Well, let that go--but the 'Pelican'?"

"The 'Pelican'? that's a paper you'll find in every dentist's waiting-room; dentists are the first _puffists_ in the world! How many teeth do you suppose are daily pulled in Paris?"

"Come, come, nonsense," said Thuillier, who proceeded to mark out certain names, reducing the whole number present to fourteen.

"If one falls off we shall be thirteen," remarked Barbet.

"Pooh!" said Thuillier, the free-thinker, "do you suppose I give in to that superst.i.tion?"

The list being finally closed and settled at fourteen, Thuillier seated himself at the publisher's desk and wrote the invitations, naming, in view of the urgency of the purpose, the next day but one for the meeting, Barbet having a.s.sured him that no journalist would object to the shortness of the invitation. The meeting was appointed at Vefour's, the restaurant par excellence of the bourgeoisie and all provincials.

Barbet arrived on the day named before Thuillier, who appeared in a cravat which alone was enough to create a stir in the satirical circle in which he was about to produce himself. The publisher, on his own authority, had changed various articles on the bill of fare as selected by his patron, more especially directing that the champagne, ordered in true bourgeois fashion to be served with the dessert, should be placed on the table at the beginning of breakfast, with several dishes of shrimps, a necessity which had not occurred to the amphitryon.

Thuillier, who gave a lip-approval to these amendments, was followed by la Peyrade; and then came a long delay in the arrival of the guests.

Breakfast was ordered at eleven o'clock; at a quarter to twelve not a journalist had appeared. Barbet, who was never at a loss, made the consoling remark that breakfasts at restaurants were like funerals, where, as every one knew, eleven o'clock meant mid-day.

Sure enough, shortly before that hour, two gentlemen, with pointed beards, exhaling a strong odor of tobacco, made their appearance.

Thuillier thanked them effusively for the "honor" they had done him; after which came another long period of waiting, of which we shall not relate the tortures. At one o'clock the a.s.sembled contingent comprised five of the invited guests, Barbet and la Peyrade not included. It is scarcely necessary to say that none of the self-respecting journalists of the better papers had taken any notice of the absurd invitation.

Breakfast now had to be served to this reduced number. A few polite phrases that reached Thuillier's ears about the "immense" interest of his publication, failed to blind him to the bitterness of his discomfiture; and without the gaiety of the publisher, who had taken in hand the reins his patron, gloomy as Hippolytus on the road to Mycenae, let fall, nothing could have surpa.s.sed the glum and glacial coldness of the meeting.

After the oysters were removed, the champagne and chablis which had washed them down had begun, nevertheless, to raise the thermometer, when, rushing into the room where the banquet was taking place, a young man in a cap conveyed to Thuillier a most unexpected and crushing blow.

"Master," said the new-comer to Barbet (he was a clerk in the bookseller's shop), "we are done for! The police have made a raid upon us; a commissary and two men have come to seize monsieur's pamphlet.