“So there you are, mounted on our shoulders,” said a contributor whom Lucien did not know. “You will be the Janus of Journal——”
“So long as he isn’t the Janot,” put in Vernou.
“Are you going to allow us to make attacks on our bêtes noires?”
“Any one you like.”
“Ah, yes!” said Lousteau; “but the paper must keep on its lines. M. Châtelet is very wroth; we shall not let him off for a week yet.”
“What has happened?” asked Lucien.
“He came here to ask for an explanation,” said Vernou. “The Imperial buck found old Giroudeau at home; and old Giroudeau told him, with all the coolness in the world, that Philippe Bridau wrote the article. Philippe asked the Baron to mention the time and the weapons, and there it ended. We are engaged at this moment in offering excuses to the Baron in to-morrow’s issue. Every phrase is a stab for him.”
“Keep your teeth in him and he will come round to me,” said Finot; “and it will look as if I were obliging him by appeasing you. He can say a word to the Ministry, and we can get something or other out of him—an assistant schoolmaster’s place, or a tobacconist’s license. It is a lucky thing for us that we flicked him on the raw. Does anybody here care to take a serious article on Nathan for my new paper?”
“Give it to Lucien,” said Lousteau. “Hector and Vernou will write articles in their papers at the same time.”
“Good-day, gentlemen; we shall meet each other face to face at Barbin’s,” said Finot, laughing.