"
So two days after the loan was offered so graciously, Lucien repaid
it. Perhaps life had never seemed so bright to him as at that moment;
but the touch of self-love in his joy did not escape the delicate
sensibility and searching eyes of his friends.
"Any one might think that you were afraid to owe us anything,"
exclaimed Fulgence.
"Oh! the pleasure that he takes in returning the money is a very
serious symptom to my mind," said Michel Chrestien. "It confirms some
observations of my own. There is a spice of vanity in Lucien."
"He is a poet," said d'Arthez.
"But do you grudge me such a very natural feeling?" asked Lucien.
"We should bear in mind that he did not hide it," said Leon Giraud;
"he is still open with us; but I am afraid that he may come to feel
shy of us."
"And why?" Lucien asked.
"We can read your thoughts," answered Joseph Bridau.
"There is a diabolical spirit in you that will seek to justify courses
which are utterly contrary to our principles. Instead of being a
sophist in theory, you will be a sophist in practice."
"Ah! I am afraid of that," said d'Arthez. "You will carry on admirable
debates in your own mind, Lucien, and take up a lofty position in
theory, and end by blameworthy actions. You will never be at one with
yourself."
"What ground have you for these charges?"
"Thy vanity, dear poet, is so great that it intrudes itself even into
thy friendships!" cried Fulgence.
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