can't work well under such circumstances." He extinguished his light
and fell asleep.

He awoke early, and, rising, opened his window to inhale the fresh
air. In a few moments he seated himself at his table, dipped his pen
in the ink, rested his head upon his hand and thought--but in vain!
However, he was not discouraged, but in thought reassured himself:
"Bah, I am not accustomed to it! It is a profession that must be
learned like all professions. Some one must help me the first time.
I'll go to Forestier. He'll start my article for me in ten minutes."

When he reached the street, Duroy decided that it was rather early
to present himself at his friend's house, so he strolled along under
the trees on one of the boulevards for a time. On arriving at
Forestier's door, he found his friend going out.

"You here--at this hour! Can I do anything for you?"

Duroy stammered in confusion: "I--I--cannot write that article on
Algeria that M. Walter wants. It is not very surprising, seeing that
I have never written anything. It requires practice. I could write
very rapidly, I am sure, if I could make a beginning. I have the
ideas but I cannot express them." He paused and hesitated.

Forestier smiled maliciously: "I understand that."

Duroy continued: "Yes, anyone is liable to have that trouble at the
beginning; and, well--I have come to ask you to help me. In ten
minutes you can set me right. You can give me a lesson in style;
without you I can do nothing."