While the two were talking, Julien once more took up his pen.
“With monsieur’s permission. An article for the Morning Post. It must be ready within the next two hours.”
“Ah!—a treatise on health, doubtless.”
“A treatise on Louis Napoleon—ce scelerat!”
“My friend, take the advice of your sister’s venerable uncle; let that poor wretch alone. He’s about played out. At all events, you are out of his reach. Stick to your profession. Writing is fool’s business. ‘A jack at all trades is good at none.’”
“But monsieur knows one must find some way to kill time.”
“Ah? Pill-peddling is not a lively business nowadays, I take it.”
“Monsieur, I have set up shop in three cities, and in each have waited three months for a patient.”
“Whew! is that so? Why didn’t you tell me before?”