Here am I a
journalist, sure of making six hundred francs a month if I work like a
horse. But I shall find a publisher for my two books, and I will write
others; for my friends will insure a success. And so, Coralie, '_vogue
le galere_!' as you say."
"You will make your way, dear boy; but you must not be as good-natured
as you are good-looking; it would be the ruin of you. Be ill-natured,
that is the proper thing."
Coralie and Lucien drove in the Bois de Boulogne, and again they met
the Marquise d'Espard, Mme. de Bargeton and the Baron du Chatelet.
Mme. de Bargeton gave Lucien a languishing glance which might be taken
as a greeting. Camusot had ordered the best possible dinner; and
Coralie, feeling that she was rid of her adorer, was more charming to
the poor silk-mercer than she had ever been in the fourteen months
during which their connection lasted; he had never seen her so kindly,
so enchantingly lovely.
"Come," he thought, "let us keep near her anyhow!"
In consequence, Camusot made secret overtures. He promised Coralie an
income of six thousand livres; he would transfer the stock in the
funds into her name (his wife knew nothing about the investment) if
only she would consent to be his mistress still. He would shut his
eyes to her lover.
"And betray such an angel? .
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