Froissart was a spiteful genius who possessed the unsavory humor of Papillard. No one had ever seen him, and his sole title to consideration lay in three malevolent articles leveled against De Brie and his political tendencies. They had been submitted to Pelisson by Gaillard, and so had found their way into the Débats. Pelisson, who noted down everything, had made a memorandum of this gentleman’s abilities. De Brie had done likewise, and though he hated this unknown journalist, he would have given a good deal to secure him as a member of his staff. He had expressed the desire in the hearing of Gaillard, and he might have obtained his wish, only that Froissart’s genius for malevolence was useless when expended against anyone else than De Brie.
Needless to say, there was no Froissart. He belonged to the shadowy band that included Fanfoullard, Mirmillard, Papillard, Églantine, and Angélique.
“This is a great nuisance,” grumbled Pelisson, rubbing his chin.
“What do you want of Froissart?”
“I am going to sack De Nani, and I want a man to take his place.”
Gaillard’s countenance became glorified.
“But, my dear Pierre, why seek for Froissart? Are there not plenty of men of ability in Paris to take the place of this silly old villain of a De Nani?”
“Hundreds, but no use to me. I don’t want one of your bright diamonds—I want a man in the rough; I don’t want an editor—I want a creature, a clever one, too, now: for, upon my soul, I am becoming exhausted between keeping Pantin and De Nani going at the same time. You said this Froissart was poor.”
“Frightfully.”
“That’s just what I want.”