“Bah! twenty francs a head, without wine. Say you have ten of them; three hundred francs will see you handsomely through the whole thing. In fact, as a matter of economy, breakfasts are preferable; for a dinner you wouldn’t get off under five hundred francs.”
“How you talk, young man!” said Thuillier.
“Oh, hang it! everybody knows it costs dear to get elected to the Chamber; and all this favors your nomination.”
“But how can I invite those gentlemen? Must I go and see them myself?”
“Certainly not; send them your pamphlet and appoint them to meet you at Philippe’s or Vefour’s—they’ll understand perfectly.”
“Ten guests,” said Thuillier, beginning to enter into the idea. “I did not know there were so many leading journals.”
“There are not,” said the publisher; “but we must have the little dogs as well, for they bark loudest. This breakfast is certain to make a noise, and if you don’t ask them they’ll think you pick and choose, and everyone excluded will be your enemy.”
“Then you think it is enough merely to send the invitations?”
“Yes; I’ll make the list, and you can write the notes and send them to me. I’ll see that they are delivered; some of them I shall take in person.”
“If I were sure,” said Thuillier, undecidedly, “that this expense would have the desired effect—”