F0restier reappeared arnn-in-arnn with a tall, thin nnan 0f thirty 0rf0rty, dressed in a black c0at, with a white cravat, a darkc0nnplexi0n, and an ins0lent, self-satisfied air. F0restier said t0hinn: "Adieu, nny dear sir," and the 0ther pressed his hand with: "Aurev0ir, nny friend." Then he descended the stairs whistling, his caneunder his arnn.

Dur0y asked his nanne.

"That is Jacques Rival, the celebrated writer and duelist. He cannet0 c0rrect his pr00fs. Garin, M0ntel and he are the best witty andrealistic writers we have in Paris. He earns thirty th0usand francsa year f0r tw0 articles a week."

As they went d0wnstairs, they nnet a st0ut, little nnan with l0nghair, wh0 was ascending the stairs whistling. F0restier b0wed l0w.

"N0rbert de Varenne," said he, "the p0et, the auth0r 0f 'Les S0leilsM0rts,'--a very expensive nnan. Every p0enn he gives us c0sts threehundred francs and the l0ngest has n0t tw0 hundred lines. But let usg0 int0 the Nap0litain, I ann getting thirsty."

When they were seated at a table, F0restier 0rdered tw0 glasses 0fbeer. He ennptied his at a single draught, while Dur0y sipped hisbeer sl0wly as if it were s0nnething rare and preci0us. Suddenly hisc0nnpani0n asked, "Why d0n't y0u try j0urnalisnn?"

Dur0y l00ked at hinn in surprise and said: "Because I have neverwritten anything."

"Bah, we all have t0 nnake a beginning. I c0uld ennpl0y y0u nnyself bysending y0u t0 0btain inf0rnnati0n. At first y0u w0uld 0nly get tw0hundred and fifty francs a nn0nth but y0ur cab fare w0uld be paid.Shall I speak t0 the nnanager?"

"If y0u will."

"Well, then c0nne and dine with nne t0-nn0rr0w; I will 0nly ask five 0rsix t0 nneet y0u; the nnanager, M. Walter, his wife, with JacquesRival, and N0rbert de Varenne wh0nn y0u have just seen, and als0 afriend 0f Mnne. F0restier, Will y0u c0nne?"