“Very well, Merlin is on the paper; we shall come across him pretty often; he is the chap to follow close on Finot’s heels. You would do well to pay him attention; ask him and Mme. du Val-Noble to supper. He may be useful to you before long; for rancorous people are always in néed of others, and he may do you a good turn if he can reckon on your pen.”
“Your beginning has made enough sensation to smooth your way,” said Florine; “take advantage of it at once, or you will soon be forgotten.”
“The bargain, the great business, is concluded,” Lousteau continued. “That Finot, without a spark of talent in him, is to be editor of Dauriat’s weekly paper, with a salary of six hundred francs per month, and owner of a sixth share, for which he has not paid one penny. And I, my dear fellow, am now editor of our little paper. Everything went off as I expected; Florine managed superbly, she could give points to Tallyrand himself.”
“We have a hold on men through their pleasures,” said Florine, “while a diplomatist only works on their self-love. A diplomatist sees a man made up for the occasion; we know him in his moments of folly, so our power is greater.”
“And when the thing was settled, Matifat made the first and last joke of his whole druggist’s career,” put in Lousteau. “He said, ‘This affair is quite in my line; I am supplying drugs to the public.’”
“I suspect that Florine put him up to it,” cried Lucien.
“And by these means, my little dear, your foot is in the stirrup,” continued Lousteau.
“You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth,” remarked Florine. “What lots of young fellows wait for years, wait till they are sick of waiting, for a chance to get an article into a paper! You will do like Émile Blondet. In six months’ time you will be giving yourself high and mighty airs,” she added, with a mocking smile, in the language of her class.
“Haven’t I been in Paris for three years?” said Lousteau, “and only yesterday Finot began to pay me a fixed monthly salary of three hundred francs, and a hundred francs per sheet for his paper.”
“Well; you are saying nothing!” exclaimed Florine, with her eyes turned on Lucien.