Chương Chương 4 · DUROY LEARNS SOMETHING

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DUROY LEARNS SOMETHING

Georges Duroy did not sleep well, so anxious was he to see his article

in print. He rose at daybreak, and was on the street long before the

newsboys. When he secured a paper and saw his name at the end of a

column in large letters, he became very much excited. He felt inclined

to enact the part of a newsboy and cry out to the hurrying throng: "Buy

this! it contains an article by me!" He strolled along to a cafe and

seated himself in order to read the article through; that done he

decided to go to the railroad office, draw his salary, and hand in his

resignation.

With great pomposity he informed the chief clerk that he was on the

staff of "La Vie Francaise," and by that means was avenged for many

petty insults which had been offered him. He then had some cards

written with his new calling beneath his name, made several purchases,

and repaired to the office of "La Vie Francaise." Forestier received

him loftily as one would an inferior.

"Ah, here you are! Very well; I have several things for you to do. Just

wait ten minutes till I finish this work." He continued writing.

At the other end of the table sat a short, pale man, very stout and

bald. Forestier asked him, when his letter was completed, "Saint-Potin,

at what time shall you interview those people?"

"At four o'clock."

"Take Duroy, who is here, with you and initiate him into the business."

"Very well."

Then turning to his friend, Forestier added: "Have you brought the

other paper on Algeria? The article this morning was very successful."

Duroy stammered: "No, I thought I should have time this afternoon. I

had so much to do--I could not."

The other shrugged his shoulders. "If you are not more careful, you

will spoil your future. M. Walter counted on your copy. I will tell him

it will be ready to-morrow. If you think you will be paid for doing

nothing, you are mistaken." After a pause, he added: "You should strike

while the iron is hot."

Saint-Potin rose: "I am ready," said he.

Forestier turned around in his chair and said, to Duroy: "Listen. The

Chinese general Li-Theng-Fao, stopping at the Continental, and Rajah

Taposahib Ramaderao Pali, stopping at Hotel Bishop, have been in Paris

two days. You must interview them." Addressing Saint-Potin, he said:

"Do not forget the principal points I indicated to you. Ask the general

and the rajah their opinions on the dealings of England in the extreme

East, their ideas of their system of colonization and government, their

hopes relative to the intervention of Europe and of France in

particular." To Duroy he said: "Observe what Saint-Potin says; he is an

excellent reporter, and try to learn how to draw out a man in five

minutes." Then he resumed his work.

The two men walked down the boulevard together, while Saint-Potin gave

Duroy a sketch of all the officials connected with the paper, sparing

no one in his criticism. When he mentioned Forestier, he said: "As for

him, he was fortunate in marrying his wife."

Duroy asked: "What about his wife?"

Saint-Potin rubbed his hands. "Oh, she is beloved by an old fellow

named Vaudrec--he dotes upon her."

Duroy felt as if he would like to box Saint-Potin's ears. To change the

subject he said: "It seems to me that it is late, and we have two noble

lords to call upon!"

Saint-Potin laughed: "You are very innocent! Do you think that I am

going to interview that Chinese and that Indian? As if I did not know

better than they do what they should think to please the readers of 'La

Vie Francaise'! I have interviewed five hundred Chinese, Prussians,

Hindoos, Chilians, and Japanese. They all say the same thing. I need

only copy my article on the last comer, word for word, changing the

heading, names, titles, and ages: in that there must be no error, or I

shall be hauled over the coals by the 'Figaro' or 'Gaulois.' But on

that subject the porter of the hotels will post me in five minutes. We

will smoke our cigars and stroll in that direction. Total--one hundred

sous for cabfare. That is the way, my dear fellow."

When they arrived at the Madeleine, Saint-Potin said to his companion:

"If you have anything to do, I do not need you."

Duroy shook hands with him and walked away. The thought of the article

he had to write that evening haunted him. Mentally he collected the

material as he wended his way to the cafe at which he dined. Then he

returned home and seated himself at his table to work. Before his eyes

was the sheet of blank paper, but all the material he had amassed had

escaped him. After trying for an hour, and after filling five pages

with sentences which had no connection one with the other, he said: "I

am not yet familiar with the work. I must take another lesson."

At ten o'clock the following morning he rang the bell, at his friend's

house. The servant who opened the door, said: "Monsieur is busy."

Duroy had not expected to find Forestier at home. However he said:

"Tell him it is M. Duroy on important business."

In the course of five minutes he was ushered into the room in which he

had spent so happy a morning. In the place Mme. Forestier had occupied,

her husband was seated writing, while Mme. Forestier stood by the

mantelpiece and dictated to him, a cigarette between her lips.

Duroy paused upon the threshold and murmured: "I beg your pardon, I am

interrupting you."

His friend growled angrily: "What do you want again? Make haste; we are

busy."

Georges stammered: "It is nothing."

But Forestier persisted: "Come, we are losing time; you did not force

your way into the house for the pleasure of bidding us good morning."

Duroy, in confusion, replied: "No, it is this: I cannot complete my

article, and you were--so--so kind the last time that I hoped--that I

dared to come--"

Forestier interrupted with: "So you think I will do your work and that

you have only to take the money. Well, that is fine!" His wife smoked

on without interfering.

Duroy hesitated: "Excuse me. I believed--I--thought--" Then, in a clear

voice, he said: "I beg a thousand pardons, Madame, and thank you very

much for the charming article you wrote for me yesterday." Then he

bowed, and said to Charles: "I will be at the office at three o'clock."

He returned home saying to himself: "Very well, I will write it alone

and they shall see." Scarcely had he entered than he began to write,

anger spurring him on. In an hour he had finished an article, which was

a chaos of absurd matter, and took it boldly to the office. Duroy

handed Forestier his manuscript. "Here is the rest of Algeria."

"Very well, I will hand it to the manager. That will do."

When Duroy and Saint-Potin, who had some political information to look

up, were in the hall, the latter asked: "Have you been to the cashier's

room?"

"No, why?"

"Why? To get your pay? You should always get your salary a month in

advance. One cannot tell what might happen. I will introduce you to the

cashier."

Duroy drew his two hundred francs together with twenty-eight francs for

his article of the preceding day, which, in addition to what remained

to him of his salary from the railroad office, left him three hundred

and forty francs. He had never had so much, and he thought himself rich

for an indefinite time. Saint-Potin took him to the offices of four or

five rival papers, hoping that the news he had been commissioned to

obtain had been already received by them and that he could obtain it by

means of his diplomacy.

When evening came, Duroy, who had nothing more to do, turned toward the

Folies-Bergeres, and walking up to the office, he said: "My name is

Georges Duroy. I am on the staff of 'La Vie Francaise.' I was here the

other night with M. Forestier, who promised to get me a pass. I do not

know if he remembered it."

The register was consulted, but his name was not inscribed upon it.

However, the cashier, a very affable man, said to him: "Come in, M.

Duroy, and speak to the manager yourself; he will see that everything

is all right."

He entered and almost at once came upon Rachel, the woman he had seen

there before. She approached him: "Good evening, my dear; are you well?"

"Very well; how are you?"

"I am not ill. I have dreamed of you twice since the other night."

Duroy smiled. "What does that mean?"

"That means that I like you"; she raised her eyes to the young man's

face, took his arm and leaning upon it, said: "Let us drink a glass of

wine and then take a walk. I should like to go to the opera like this,

with you, to show you off."

* * * * * * *

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.