It was nine o'clock in the evening when he ran round to the office, found his associates, and read over his work to an attentive audience. Felicien said not a syllable. He took up the manuscript, and made off with it pell-mell down the staircase.
"What has come to him?" cried Lucien.
"He has taken your article straight to the printer," said Hector Merlin. "'Tis a masterpiece; not a line to add, nor a word to take out."
"There was no need to do more than show you the way," said Lousteau.
"I should like to see Nathan's face when he reads this to-morrow," said another contributor, beaming with gentle satisfaction.
"It is as well to have you for a friend," remarked Hector Merlin.
"Then it will do?" Lucien asked quickly.
"Blondet and Vignon will feel bad," said Lousteau.
"Here is a short article which I have knocked together for you," began
Lucien; "if it takes, I could write you a series."
"Read it over," said Lousteau, and Lucien read the first of the delightful short papers which made the fortune of the little newspaper; a series of sketches of Paris life, a portrait, a type, an ordinary event, or some of the oddities of the great city. This specimen—"The Man in the Street"—was written in a way that was fresh and original; the thoughts were struck out by the shock of the words, the sounding ring of the adverbs and adjectives caught the reader's ear. The paper was as different from the serious and profound article on Nathan as the Lettres persanes from the Esprit des lois.