"No need; I shall put your name down on my register, as I do M. Mélesville's and other authors'; but it is an understood thing, is it not, that you will always do business with me?"
"I agree, on my sacred honour."
Porcher went in, got fifty francs from the desk and handed them to me. I have experienced few sensations as delightful as the touch of the first money I earned by my pen: hitherto, what I had earned had been but for my orthography.
"Look here," he said, "be sensible, work hard, and I will introduce you to Mélesville."
I looked at Porcher: this was the second time he had pronounced the name in connection with which Rousseau had cautioned me particularly.
"Why should I make Mélesville's acquaintance?" I ventured to ask timidly.
"Why, to work along with him, to be sure. If you worked with Mélesville, your future would be assured."
I looked at Porcher.
"Listen, monsieur," I said; "lam awfully afraid that what I am going to say to you may displease you."