“And he will take the four Boulevard theatres.  See that nobody sneaks his boxes, and that he gets his share of tickets.—­I should advise you, nevertheless, to have them sent to your address,” he added, turning to Lucien.—­“And he agrees to write besides ten miscellaneous articles of two columns each, for fifty francs per month, for one year.  Does that suit you?”

“Yes,” said Lucien.  Circumstances had forced his hand.

“Draw up the agreement, uncle, and we will sign it when we come downstairs.”

“Who is the gentleman?” inquired Giroudeau, rising and taking off his black silk skull-cap.

“M.  Lucien de Rubempre, who wrote the article on The Alcalde.”

“Young man, you have a gold mine there,” said the old soldier, tapping Lucien on the forehead.  “I am not literary myself, but I read that article of yours, and I liked it.  That is the kind of thing!  There’s gaiety for you!  ‘That will bring us new subscribers,’ says I to myself.  And so it did.  We sold fifty more numbers.”

“Is my agreement with Lousteau made out in duplicate and ready to sign?” asked Finot, speaking aside.

“Yes.”

“Then ante-date this gentleman’s agreement by one day, so that Lousteau will be bound by the previous contract.”

Finot took his new contributor’s arm with a friendliness that charmed Lucien, and drew him out on the landing to say:—­

“Your position is made for you.  I will introduce you to my staff myself, and to-night Lousteau will go round with you to the theatres.  You can make a hundred and fifty francs per month on this little paper of ours with Lousteau as its editor, so try to keep well with him.  The rogue bears a grudge against me as it is, for tying his hands so far as you are concerned; but you have ability, and I don’t choose that you shall be subjected to the whims of the editor.  You might let me have a couple of sheets every month for my review, and I will pay you two hundred francs.  This is between ourselves, don’t mention it to anybody else; I should be laid open to the spite of every one whose vanity is mortified by your good fortune.  Write four articles, fill your two sheets, sign two with your own name, and two with a pseudonym, so that you may not seem to be taking the bread out of anybody else’s mouth.  You owe your position to Blondet and Vignon; they think that you have a future before you.  So keep out of scrapes, and, above all things, be on your guard against your friends.  As for me, we shall always get on well together, you and I. Help me, and I will help you.  You have forty francs’ worth of boxes and tickets to sell, and sixty francs’ worth of books to convert into cash.  With that and your work on the paper, you will be making four hundred and fifty francs every month.  If you use your wits, you will find ways of making another two hundred francs at least among the publishers; they will pay you for reviews and prospectuses.  But you are mine, are you not?  I can count upon you.”