Then Jory, embarrassed and stammering, in his turn flew into a rage.

’Ah! well, it’s the fault of that cursed Claude!  I don’t care to lose my subscribers simply to please you fellows.  It’s impossible to do anything for you!  There! do you understand?  You, Mahoudeau, may wear yourself out in producing pretty little things; you, Gagniere, may even never do anything more; but you each have a label on the back, and you’ll need ten years’ efforts before you’ll be able to get it off.  In fact, there have been some labels that would never come off!  The public is amused by it, you know; there were only you fellows to believe in the genius of that big ridiculous lunatic, who will be locked up in a madhouse one of these fine mornings!’

Then the dispute became terrible, they all three spoke at once, coming at last to abominable reproaches, with such outbursts, and such furious motion of the jaw, that they seemed to be biting one another.

Sandoz, seated on the sofa, and disturbed in the gay memories he was recalling, was at last obliged to lend ear to the tumult which reached him through the open doorway.

‘You hear them?’ whispered Claude, with a dolorous smile; ’they are giving it me nicely!  No, no, stay here, I won’t let you stop them; I deserve it, since I have failed to succeed.’

And Sandoz, turning pale, remained there, listening to that bitter quarrelling, the outcome of the struggle for life, that grappling of conflicting personalities, which bore all his chimera of everlasting friendship away.

Henriette, fortunately, became anxious on hearing the violent shouting.  She rose and went to shame the smokers for thus forsaking the ladies to go and quarrel together.  They then returned to the drawing-room, perspiring, breathing hard, and still shaken by their anger.  And as Henriette, with her eyes on the clock, remarked that they certainly would not see Fagerolles that evening, they, began to sneer again, exchanging glances.  Ah! he had a fine scent, and no mistake; he wouldn’t be caught associating with old friends, who had become troublesome, and whom he hated.

In fact, Fagerolles did not come.  The evening finished laboriously.  They once more went back to the dining-room, where the tea was served on a Russian tablecloth embroidered with a stag-hunt in red thread; and under the tapers a plain cake was displayed, with plates full of sweetstuff and pastry, and a barbarous collection of liqueurs and spirits, whisky, hollands, Chio raki, and kummel.  The servant also brought some punch, and bestirred himself round the table, while the mistress of the house filled the teapot from the samovar boiling in front of her.  But all the comfort, all the feast for the eyes and the fine perfume of the tea did not move their hearts.  The conversation again turned on the success that some men achieved and the ill-luck that befell others.  For instance, was it not shameful that art should be dishonoured by all those medals, all those crosses, all those rewards, which were so badly distributed to boot?  Were artists always to remain like little boys at school?  All the universal platitude came from the docility and cowardice which were shown, as in the presence of ushers, so as to obtain good marks.