At daybreak he again sallied forth to obtain a “Vie Francaise.” He opened the paper feverishly; his article was not there. On entering the office several hours later, he said to M. Walter: “I was very much surprised this morning not to see my second article on Algeria.” The manager raised his head and said sharply: “I gave it to your friend, Forestier, and asked him to read it; he was dissatisfied with it; it will have to be done over.” Without a word, Duroy left the room, and entering his friend’s office, brusquely asked: “Why did not my article appear this morning?” The journalist, who was smoking a cigar, said calmly: “The manager did not consider it good, and bade me return it to you to be revised. There it is.” Duroy revised it several times, only to have it rejected. He said nothing more of his “souvenirs,” but gave his whole attention to reporting. He became acquainted behind the scenes at the theaters, and in the halls and corridors of the chamber of deputies; he knew all the cabinet ministers, generals, police agents, princes, ambassadors, men of the world, Greeks, cabmen, waiters at cafes, and many others. In short he soon became a remarkable reporter, of great value to the paper, so M. Walter said. But as he only received ten centimes a line in addition to his fixed salary of two hundred francs and as his expenses were large, he never had a sou. When he saw certain of his associates with their pockets full of money, he wondered what secret means they employed in order to obtain it. He determined to penetrate that mystery, to enter into the association, to obtrude himself upon his comrades, and make them share with him. Often at evening, as he watched the trains pass his window, he dreamed of the conduct he might pursue.
|