And as he had missed his thirty-seventh shot, he opened a cupboard in
which Duroy saw a score of magnificent cups and balls, arranged and
numbered like a collection of art objects. Then having put back the one
he had been using in its usual place, he repeated: "Where does this gem
hang out?"
The journalist replied: "At a box-office keeper's of the Vaudeville. I
will bring it you to-morrow, if you like."
"All right. If it is really a good one I will take it; one can never
have too many." Then turning to Duroy he added: "Come with me. I will
take you in to see the governor; otherwise you might be getting mouldy
here till seven in the evening."
They re-crossed the waiting-room, in which the same people were waiting
in the same order. As soon as Forestier appeared the young woman and the
old actress, rising quickly, came up to him. He took them aside one
after the other into the bay of the window, and although they took care
to talk in low tones, Duroy noticed that they were on familiar terms.
Then, having passed through two padded doors, they entered the manager's
room. The conference which had been going on for an hour or so was
nothing more than a game at ecarte with some of the gentlemen with the
flat brimmed hats whom Duroy had noticed the night before.
Monsieur Walter dealt and played with concentrated attention and crafty
movements, while his adversary threw down, picked up, and handled the
light bits of colored pasteboard with the swiftness, skill, and grace of
a practiced player. Norbert de Varenne, seated in the managerial
armchair, was writing an article. Jacques Rival, stretched at full
length on a couch, was smoking a cigar with his eyes closed.
The room smelled close, with that blended odor of leather-covered
furniture, stale tobacco, and printing-ink peculiar to editors' rooms
and familiar to all journalists. Upon the black wood table, inlaid with
brass, lay an incredible pile of papers, letters, cards, newspapers,
magazines, bills, and printed matter of every description.
Forestier shook hands with the punters standing behind the card players,
and without saying a word watched the progress of the game; then, as
soon as Daddy Walter had won, he said: "Here is my friend, Duroy."
The manager glanced sharply at the young fellow over the glasses of his
spectacles, and said:
"Have you brought my article? It would go very well to-day with the
Morel debate."
Duroy took the sheets of paper folded in four from his pocket, saying:
"Here it is sir."
The manager seemed pleased, and remarked, with a smile: "Very good, very
good. You are a man of your word. You must look through this for me,
Forestier."
But Forestier hastened to reply: "It is not worth while, Monsieur
Walter. I did it with him to give him a lesson in the tricks of the
trade. It is very well done."
And the manager, who was gathering up the cards dealt by a tall, thin
gentleman, a deputy belonging to the Left Center, remarked with
indifference: "All right, then."
Forestier, however, did not let him begin the new game, but stooping,
murmured in his ear: "You know you promised me to take on Duroy to
replace Marambot. Shall I engage him on the same terms?"
"Yes, certainly."
Taking his friend's arm, the journalist led him away, while Monsieur
Walter resumed the game.
Norbert de Varenne had not lifted his head; he did not appear to have
seen or recognized Duroy. Jacques Rival, on the contrary, had taken his
hand with the marked and demonstrative energy of a comrade who may be
reckoned upon in the case of any little difficulty.
They passed through the waiting-room again, and as everyone looked at
them, Forestier said to the youngest of the women, in a tone loud enough
to be heard by the rest: "The manager will see you directly. He is just
now engaged with two members of the Budget Committee."
Then he passed swiftly on, with an air of hurry and importance, as
though about to draft at once an article of the utmost weight.
As soon as they were back in the reporters' room Forestier at once took
up his cup and ball, and as he began to play with it again, said to
Duroy, breaking his sentences in order to count: "You will come here
every day at three o'clock, and I will tell you the places you are to go
to, either during the day or in the evening, or the next morning--one--I
will give you, first of all, a letter of introduction to the head of the
First Department of the Prefecture of Police--two--who will put you in
communication with one of his clerks. You will settle with him about all
the important information--three--from the Prefecture, official and
quasi-official information, you know. In all matters of detail you will
apply to Saint-Potin, who is up in the work--four--You can see him
by-and-by, or to-morrow. You must, above all, cultivate the knack of
dragging information out of men I send you to see--five--and to get in
everywhere, in spite of closed doors--six--You will have for this a
salary of two hundred francs a month, with two sous a line for the
paragraphs you glean--seven--and two sous a line for all articles
written by you to order on different subjects--eight."
Then he gave himself up entirely to his occupation, and went on slowly
counting: "Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen." He missed the
fourteenth, and swore, "Damn that thirteen, it always brings me bad
luck. I shall die on the thirteenth of some month, I am certain."
One of his colleagues who had finished his work also took a cup and ball
from the cupboard. He was a little man, who looked like a boy, although
he was really five-and-thirty. Several other journalists having come in,
went one after the other and got out the toy belonging to each of them.
Soon there were six standing side by side, with their backs to the wall,
swinging into the air, with even and regular motion, the balls of red,
yellow, and black, according to the wood they were made of. And a match
having begun, the two who were still working got up to act as umpires.
Forestier won by eleven points. Then the little man, with the juvenile
aspect, who had lost, rang for the messenger, and gave the order, "Nine
bocks." And they began to play again pending the arrival of these
refreshments.
Duroy drank a glass of beer with his new comrades, and then said to his
friend: "What am I to do now?"
"I have nothing for you to-day. You can go if you want to."
"And our--our--article, will it go in to-night?"
"Yes, but do not bother yourself about it; I will correct the proofs.
Write the continuation for to-morrow, and come here at three o'clock,
the same as to-day."
Duroy having shaken hands with everyone, without even knowing their
names, went down the magnificent staircase with a light heart and high
spirits.