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Updated: June 9, 2025
So one day early in January 1837, Madame Cardot and her daughter took a hackney coach and went to the Rue des Martyrs to return the parts of Gil Blas to Felicie's betrothed, both delighted at the thought of seeing Lousteau's rooms. These domiciliary visitations are not unusual in the old citizen class.
For two months Literature had meant a life of poverty and want; in Lousteau's room he had seen it at its cynical worst; in the Wooden Galleries he had met Literature abject and Literature insolent.
"No," she would say to herself, as she repeated the author's fateful words, "no, I will not 'give my requests the form of an order, I will not 'fly to tears as a means of revenge, I will not 'condemn the things I once approved without reservation, I will not 'dog his footsteps with a prying eye'; if he plays truant, he shall not on his return 'see a scornful lip, whose kiss is an unanswerable command. No, 'my silence shall not be a reproach nor my first word a quarrel. I will not be like every other woman!" she went on, laying on her table the little yellow paper volume which had already attracted Lousteau's remark, "What! are you studying Adolphe?"
Men, like women, have a stock in hand of recitatives, of cantabile, of nocturnes, airs and refrains shall we say of recipes, although we speak of love which each one believes to be exclusively his own. Men who have reached Lousteau's age try to distribute the "movements" of this repertoire through the whole opera of a passion.
Up to the time of his marriage, his life was one continual war, like Lousteau's, for instance. I was, and am still his solicitor." "And the first letter of his name is Maxime de Trailles," said La Palferine. "For that matter, he has paid every one, and injured no one," continued Desroches.
In the first case, no one but the publisher is any the worse; in the second, you do the public a service. Both methods, moreover, are equally serviceable in political criticism." Etienne Lousteau's cruel lesson opened up possibilities for Lucien's imagination. He understood this craft to admiration.
When she thus guessed the secret of many a writer's existence, she also guessed that Lousteau's pen could never be trusted to as a resource. Then her love for him led her to take a step she would never had thought of for her own sake.
These words, wrung from Madame de la Baudraye by her friend the lawyer, accounted for the existing state of things. The publicity of his triumph, flaunted by Etienne on the evening of the first performance, had very plainly shown the lawyer what Lousteau's purpose was. To Etienne, Madame de la Baudraye was, to use his own phrase, "a fine feather in his cap."
The porter at the front gate was not in; but his daughter, on being informed by the worthy lady that she was in the presence of Monsieur Lousteau's future mother-in-law and bride, handed over the key of the apartment all the more readily because Madame Cardot placed a gold piece in her hand.
"Well, then, yes! Never," she repeated vehemently. This final Never, spoken in the fear of falling once more under Lousteau's influence, was interpreted by him as the death-warrant of his power, since Dinah remained insensible to his sarcastic scorn. The journalist could not suppress a tear. He was losing a sincere and unbounded affection.
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