Lucien took up the paper, and could not help laughing at Vernou’s extremely clever skit.
“They will capitulate soon,” said Hector Merlin.
Lucien merrily assisted at the manufacture of epigrams and jokes at the end of the paper; and the associates smoked and chatted over the day’s adventures, over the foibles of some among their number, or some new bit of personal gossip. From their witty, malicious, bantering talk, Lucien gained a knowledge of the inner life of literature, and of the manners and customs of the craft.
“While they are setting up the paper, I will go round with you and introduce you to the managers of your theatres, and take you behind the scenes,” said Lousteau. “And then we will go to the Panorama-Dramatique, and have a frolic in their dressing-rooms.”
Arm-in-arm, they went from theatre to theatre. Lucien was introduced to this one and that, and enthroned as a dramatic critic. Managers complimented him, actresses flung him side glances; for every one of them knew that this was the critic who, by a single article, had gained an engagement at the Gymnase, with twelve thousand francs a year, for Coralie, and another for Florine at the Panorama-Dramatique with eight thousand francs. Lucien was a man of importance. The little ovations raised Lucien in his own eyes, and taught him to know his power. At eleven o’clock the pair arrived at the Panorama-Dramatique; Lucien with a careless air that worked wonders. Nathan was there. Nathan held out a hand, which Lucien squeezed.
“Ah! my masters, so you have a mind to floor me, have you?” said Nathan, looking from one to the other.
“Just you wait till to-morrow, my dear fellow, and you shall see how Lucien has taken you in hand. Upon my word, you will be pleased. A piece of serious criticism like that is sure to do a book good.”
Lucien reddened with confusion.
“Is it severe?” inquired Nathan.
“It is serious,” said Lousteau.