There were some Auvergants there. Two. They hated each other. One had nicknamed the other "the melancholy tinker."
There was Sainte-Beuve, a distinguished but inferior man, having a pardonable fondness for ugliness. A great critic like Cousin is a great philosopher.
There was Troplong, who had had Dupin for Procurator, and whom Dupin had had for President. Dupin, Troplong; the two side faces of the mask placed upon the brow of the law.
There was Abbatucci; a conscience which let everything pass by. To-day a street.
There was the Abbé M——, later on Bishop of Nancy, who emphasized with a smile the oaths of Louis Bonaparte.
There were the frequenters of a famous box at the Opera, Montg—— and Sept——, placing at the service of an unscrupulous prince the deep side of frivolous men.
There was Romieu—the outline of a drunkard behind a Red spectre.
There was Malitourne—not a bad friend, coarse and sincere.
There was Cuch——, whose name caused hesitation amongst the ushers at the saloon doors.
There was Suin—a man able to furnish excellent counsel for bail actions.