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Pray put on your hat again, Nathan; you have written a great book, and the critic has only written a review of it." These thoughts set the blood tingling in his veins. Scarce a minute passed but some young author, poverty-stricken and shy, came in, asked to speak with Dauriat, looked round the crowded shop despairingly, and went out saying, "I will come back again."
Nathan will hug you and call you his best friend. Dauriat has been to see you; you have your three thousand francs; you have worked the trick! Now you want Nathan's respect and esteem. Nobody ought to be let in except the publisher. We must not immolate any one but an enemy.
"Contradiction is the life of literature, in fact," said Claude Vignon. "In art as in nature, there are two principles everywhere at strife," exclaimed Fulgence; "and victory for either means death." "So it is with politics," added Michel Chrestien. "We have a case in point," said Lousteau. "Dauriat will sell a couple of thousand copies of Nathan's book in the coming week. And why?
The terrible Dauriat's gorgeous raiment seemed in the provincial poet's eyes to add force to the man's remorseless logic. "What is it about?" he continued, addressing Lucien's protector. "It is a volume of magnificent poetry." At that word, Dauriat turned to Gabusson with a gesture worthy of Talma.
Dauriat was not disconcerted. "My boy, a publisher cannot pay a greater compliment than by buying your Marguerites unread. In six months' time you will be a great poet. You will be written up; people are afraid of you; I shall have no difficulty in selling your book. I am the same man of business that I was four days ago. It is not I who have changed; it is you.
I have taken it upon myself to introduce this gentleman to Dauriat, and you must incline his ear to listen to us." "What is on foot?" asked Finot. "A volume of poetry," said Lucien. "Oh!" said Finot, with a shrug of the shoulders.
Do you see that mark?" he continued, pointing to the manuscript of the Marguerites. "I have put ink on the string and paper. If Dauriat reads your manuscript, he certainly could not tie the string and leave it just as it was before. So your book is sealed, so to speak. This is not useless to you for the experiment that you propose to make.
Haven't you a poem that you thought a good deal of once, Lousteau?" inquired Dauriat, with a knowing glance at the other. "How should I be writing prose otherwise, eh?" asked Lousteau. "There, you see! He has never said a word to me about it, for our friend understands business and the trade," continued Dauriat.
Ladvocat the bookseller had opened a shop but a few days since in the angle formed by the central passage which crossed the galleries; and immediately opposite another bookseller, now forgotten, Dauriat, a bold and youthful pioneer, who opened up the paths in which his rival was to shine.
And I submitted it to a man of taste, a good judge; for I don't pretend to understand these things myself. I myself, my friend, buy reputations ready-made, as the Englishman bought his love affairs. You are as great as a poet as you are handsome as a man, my boy," pronounced Dauriat. You know your craft, in fact, one of the good points of the new school.
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