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.