“Let us go into my study,” Vernou said, rising from the table; “you have come on business, no doubt.”

“Yes and no,” replied Etienne Lousteau.  “It is a supper, old chap.”

“I have brought a message from Coralie,” said Lucien (Mme. Vernou looked up at once at the name), “to ask you to supper to-night at her house to meet the same company as before at Florine’s, and a few more besides—­Hector Merlin and Mme. du Val-Noble and some others.  There will be play afterwards.”

“But we are engaged to Mme. Mahoudeau this evening, dear,” put in the wife.

“What does that matter?” returned Vernou.

“She will take offence if we don’t go; and you are very glad of her when you have a bill to discount.”

“This wife of mine, my dear boy, can never be made to understand that a supper engagement for twelve o’clock does not prevent you from going to an evening party that comes to an end at eleven.  She is always with me while I work,” he added.

“You have so much imagination!” said Lucien, and thereby made a mortal enemy of Vernou.

“Well,” continued Lousteau, “you are coming; but that is not all.  M. de Rubempre is about to be one of us, so you must push him in your paper.  Give him out for a chap that will make a name for himself in literature, so that he can put in at least a couple of articles every month.”

“Yes, if he means to be one of us, and will attack our enemies, as we will attack his, I will say a word for him at the Opera to-night,” replied Vernou.

“Very well—­good-bye till to-morrow, my boy,” said Lousteau, shaking hands with every sign of cordiality.  “When is your book coming out?”

“That depends on Dauriat; it is ready,” said Vernou pater-familias.

“Are you satisfied?”

“Yes and no——­”

“We will get up a success,” said Lousteau, and he rose with a bow to his colleague’s wife.

The abrupt departure was necessary indeed; for the two infants, engaged in a noisy quarrel, were fighting with their spoons, and flinging the pap in each other’s faces.

“That, my boy, is a woman who all unconsciously will work great havoc in contemporary literature,” said Etienne, when they came away.  “Poor Vernou cannot forgive us for his wife.  He ought to be relieved of her in the interests of the public; and a deluge of blood-thirsty reviews and stinging sarcasms against successful men of every sort would be averted.  What is to become of a man with such a wife and that pair of abominable brats?  Have you seen Rigaudin in Picard’s La Maison en Loterie?  You have?  Well, like Rigaudin, Vernou will not fight himself, but he will set others fighting; he would give an eye to put out both eyes in the head of the best friend he has.  You will see him using the bodies of the slain for a stepping-stone, rejoicing over every one’s misfortunes, attacking princes, dukes, marquises, and nobles, because he