“But that costs money, breakfasts like that,” said Thuillier; “journalists are gourmands.”

“Bah! twenty francs a head, without wine.  Say you have ten of them; three hundred francs will see you handsomely through the whole thing.  In fact, as a matter of economy, breakfasts are preferable; for a dinner you wouldn’t get off under five hundred francs.”

“How you talk, young man!” said Thuillier.

“Oh, hang it! everybody knows it costs dear to get elected to the Chamber; and all this favors your nomination.”

“But how can I invite those gentlemen?  Must I go and see them myself?”

“Certainly not; send them your pamphlet and appoint them to meet you at Philippe’s or Vefour’s—­they’ll understand perfectly.”

“Ten guests,” said Thuillier, beginning to enter into the idea.  “I did not know there were so many leading journals.”

“There are not,” said the publisher; “but we must have the little dogs as well, for they bark loudest.  This breakfast is certain to make a noise, and if you don’t ask them they’ll think you pick and choose, and everyone excluded will be your enemy.”

“Then you think it is enough merely to send the invitations?”

“Yes; I’ll make the list, and you can write the notes and send them to me.  I’ll see that they are delivered; some of them I shall take in person.”

“If I were sure,” said Thuillier, undecidedly, “that this expense would have the desired effect—­”

“If I were sure,—­that’s a queer thing to say,” said Barbet.  “My dear master, this is money placed on mortgage; for it, I will guarantee the sale of fifteen hundred copies,—­say at forty sous apiece; allowing the discounts, that makes three thousand francs.  You see that your costs and extra costs are covered, and more than covered.”

“Well,” said Thuillier, turning to go, “I’ll talk to la Peyrade about it.”

“As you please, my dear master; but decide soon, for nothing gets mouldy so fast as a book; write hot, serve hot, and buy hot,—­that’s the rule for authors, publishers, and public; all is bosh outside of it, and no good to touch.”

When la Peyrade was consulted, he did not think in his heart that the remedy was heroic, but he had now come to feel the bitterest animosity against Thuillier, so that he was well pleased to see this new tax levied on his self-important inexperience and pompous silliness.

As for Thuillier, the mania for posing as a publicist and getting himself talked about so possessed him that although he moaned over this fresh bleeding of his purse, he had decided on the sacrifice before he even spoke to la Peyrade.  The reserved and conditional approval of the latter was, therefore, more than enough to settle his determination, and the same evening he returned to Barbet junior and asked for the list of guests whom he ought to invite.

Barbet gaily produced his little catalogue.  Instead of the ten guests originally mentioned, there proved to be fifteen, not counting himself or la Peyrade, whom Thuillier wanted to second him in this encounter with a set of men among whom he himself felt he should be a little out of place.  Casting his eyes over the list, he exclaimed, vehemently:—­