Some few days before Coralie’s first appearance at the Gymnase, Lucien and Hector Merlin went arm-in-arm to the Vaudeville. Merlin was scolding his friend for giving a helping hand to Nathan in Florine’s affair.
“You then and there made two mortal enemies of Lousteau and Nathan,” he said. “I gave you good advice, and you took no notice of it. You gave praise, you did them a good turn—you will be well punished for your kindness. Florine and Coralie will never live in peace on the same stage; both will wish to be first. You can only defend Coralie in our papers; and Nathan not only has a pull as a dramatic author, he can control the dramatic criticism in the Liberal newspapers. He has been a journalist a little longer than you!”
The words responded to Lucien’s inward misgivings. Neither Nathan nor Gaillard was treating him with the frankness which he had a right to expect, but so new a convert could hardly complain. Gaillard utterly confounded Lucien by saying roundly that newcomers must give proofs of their sincerity for some time before their party could trust them. There was more jealousy than he had imagined in the inner circles of Royalist and Ministerial journalism. The jealousy of curs fighting for a bone is apt to appear in the human species when there is a loaf to divide; there is the same growling and showing of teeth, the same characteristics come out.
In every possible way these writers of articles tried to injure each other with those in power; they brought reciprocal accusations of lukewarm zeal; they invented the most treacherous ways of getting rid of a rival. There had been none of this internecine warfare among the Liberals; they were too far from power, too hopelessly out of favor; and Lucien, amid the inextricable tangle of ambitions, had neither the courage to draw sword and cut the knot, nor the patience to unravel it. He could not be the Beaumarchais, the Aretino, the Fréron of his epoch; he was not made of such stuff; he thought of nothing but his one desire, the patent of nobility; for he saw clearly that for him such a restoration meant a wealthy marriage, and, the title once secured, chance and his good looks would do the rest. This was all his plan; and Étienne Lousteau, who had confided so much to him, knew his secret, knew how to deal a deathblow to the poet of Angoulême. That very night, as Lucien and Merlin went to the Vaudeville, Étienne had laid a terrible trap, into which an inexperienced boy could not but fall.
“Here is our handsome Lucien,” said Finot, drawing des Lupeaulx in the direction of the poet, and shaking hands with feline amiability. “I cannot think of another example of such rapid success,” continued Finot, looking from des Lupeaulx to Lucien. “There are two sorts of success in Paris: there is a fortune in solid cash, which anyone can amass, and there is the intangible fortune of connections, position, or a footing in certain circles inaccessible for certain persons, however rich they may be. Now my friend here—”
“Our friend,” interposed des Lupeaulx, smiling blandly.
“Our friend,” repeated Finot, patting Lucien’s hand, “has made a brilliant success from this point of view. Truth to tell, Lucien has more in him, more gift, more wit than the rest of us that envy him, and he is enchantingly handsome besides; his old friends cannot forgive him for his success—they call it luck.”
“Luck of that sort never comes to fools or incapables,” said des Lupeaulx. “Can you call Bonaparte’s fortune luck, eh? There were a score of applicants for the command of the army in Italy, just as there are a hundred young men at this moment who would like to have an entrance to Mlle. des Touches’ house; people are coupling her name with yours already in society, my dear boy,” said des Lupeaulx, clapping Lucien on the shoulder. “Ah! you are in high favor. Mme. d’Espard, Mme. de Bargeton, and Mme. de Montcornet are wild about you. You are going to Mme. Firmiani’s party tonight, are you not, and to the Duchesse de Grandlieu’s rout tomorrow?”
“Yes,” said Lucien.
“Allow me to introduce a young banker to you, a M. du Tillet; you ought to be acquainted, he has contrived to make a great fortune in a short time.”
Lucien and du Tillet bowed, and entered into conversation, and the banker asked Lucien to dinner. Finot and des Lupeaulx, a well-matched pair, knew each other well enough to keep upon good terms; they turned away to continue their chat on one of the sofas in the greenroom, and left Lucien with du Tillet, Merlin, and Nathan.
“By the way, my friend,” said Finot, “tell me how things stand. Is there really somebody behind Lucien? For he is the bête noire of my staff; and before allowing them to plot against him, I thought I should like to know whether, in your opinion, it would be better to baffle them and keep well with him.”
The Master of Requests and Finot looked at each other very closely for a moment or two.
“My dear fellow,” said des Lupeaulx, “how can you imagine that the Marquise d’Espard, or Châtelet, or Mme. de Bargeton—who has procured the Baron’s nomination to the prefecture and the title of Count, so as to return in triumph to Angoulême—how can you suppose that any of them will forgive Lucien for his attacks on them? They dropped him down in the Royalist ranks to crush him out of existence. At this moment they are looking round for any excuse for not fulfilling the promises they made to that boy. Help them to some; you
