But if all of them turn out badly;or if,for his misfortune,the publisher-bookseller happens to bring out some really good literature which stays on hand until the right public discovers and appreciates it;or if it costs too much to discount the paper that he receives,then,resignedly,he files his schedule,and becomes a bankrupt with an untroubled mind.He was prepared all along for something of the kind.So,all the chances being in favor of the publishers,they staked other people's money,not their own upon the gaming-table of business speculation.
This was the case with Fendant and Cavalier.Cavalier brought his experience,Fendant his industry;the capital was a joint-stock affair,and very accurately described by that word,for it consisted in a few thousand francs scraped together with difficulty by the mistresses of the pair.Out of this fund they allowed each other a fairly handsome salary,and scrupulously spent it all in dinners to journalists and authors,or at the theatre,where their business was transacted,as they said.This questionably honest couple were both supposed to be clever men of business,but Fendant was more slippery than Cavalier.Cavalier,true to his name,traveled about,Fendant looked after business in Paris.A partnership between two publishers is always more or less of a duel,and so it was with Fendant and Cavalier.
They had brought out plenty of romances already,such as the Tour du Nord,Le Marchand de Benares,La Fontaine du Sepulcre,and Tekeli,translations of the works of Galt,an English novelist who never attained much popularity in France.The success of translations of Scott had called the attention of the trade to English novels.The race of publishers,all agog for a second Norman conquest,were seeking industriously for a second Scott,just as at a rather later day every one must needs look for asphalt in stony soil,or bitumen in marshes,and speculate in projected railways.The stupidity of the Paris commercial world is conspicuous in these attempts to do the same thing twice,for success lies in contraries;and in Paris,of all places in the world,success spoils success.So beneath the title of Strelitz,or Russia a Hundred Years Ago,Fendant and Cavalier rashly added in big letters the words,"In the style of Scott."Fendant and Cavalier were in great need of a success.A single good book might float their sunken bales,they thought;and there was the alluring prospect besides of articles in the newspapers,the great way of promoting sales in those days.A book is very seldom bought and sold for its just value,and purchases are determined by considerations quite other than the merits of the work.So Fendant and Cavalier thought of Lucien as a journalist,and of his book as a salable article,which would help them to tide over their monthly settlement.
The partners occupied the ground floor of one of the great old-fashioned houses in the Rue Serpente;their private office had been contrived at the further end of a suite of large drawing-rooms,now converted into warehouses for books.Lucien and Etienne found the publishers in their office,the agreement drawn up,and the bills ready.Lucien wondered at such prompt action.
Fendant was short and thin,and by no means reassuring of aspect.With his low,narrow forehead,sunken nose,and hard mouth,he looked like a Kalmuck Tartar;a pair of small,wide-awake black eyes,the crabbed irregular outline of his countenance,a voice like a cracked bell--the man's whole appearance,in fact,combined to give the impression that this was a consummate rascal.A honeyed tongue compensated for these disadvantages,and he gained his ends by talk.Cavalier,a stout,thick-set young fellow,looked more like the driver of a mail coach than a publisher;he had hair of a sandy color,a fiery red countenance,and the heavy build and untiring tongue of a commercial traveler.
"There is no need to discuss this affair,"said Fendant,addressing Lucien and Lousteau."I have read the work,it is very literary,and so exactly the kind of thing we want,that I have sent it off as it is to the printer.The agreement is drawn on the lines laid down,and besides,we always make the same stipulations in all cases.The bills fall due in six,nine,and twelve months respectively;you will meet with no difficulty in discounting them,and we will refund you the discount.We have reserved the right of giving a new title to the book.We don't care for The Archer of Charles IX.;it doesn't tickle the reader's curiosity sufficiently;there were several kings of that name,you see,and there were so many archers in the Middle Ages.If you had only called it the Soldier of Napoleon,now!But The Archer of Charles IX.!--why,Cavalier would have to give a course of history lessons before he could place a copy anywhere in the provinces.""If you but knew the class of people that we have to do with!"exclaimed Cavalier.
"Saint Bartholomew would suit better,"continued Fendant.
"Catherine de'Medici,or France under Charles IX.,would sound more like one of Scott's novels,"added Cavalier.
"We will settle it when the work is printed,"said Fendant.
"Do as you please,so long as I approve your title,"said Lucien.
The agreement was read over,signed in duplicate,and each of the contracting parties took their copy.Lucien put the bills in his pocket with unequaled satisfaction,and the four repaired to Fendant's abode,where they breakfasted on beefsteaks and oysters,kidneys in champagne,and Brie cheese;but if the fare was something of the homeliest,the wines were exquisite;Cavalier had an acquaintance a traveler in the wine trade.Just as they sat down to table the printer appeared,to Lucien's surprise,with the first two proof-sheets.
"We want to get on with it,"Fendant said;"we are counting on your book;we want a success confoundedly badly."The breakfast,begun at noon,lasted till five o'clock.
