“They are trying to find out whether it goes round in a circle, or makes some progress,” continued Blondet. “They were very hard put to it between the straight line and the curve; the triangle, warranted by Scripture, seemed to them to be nonsense, when, lo! there arose among them some prophet or other who declared for the spiral.” “Men might meet to invent more dangerous nonsense than that!” exclaimed Lucien, making a faint attempt to champion the brotherhood. “You take theories of that sort for idle words,” said Félicien Vernou; “but a time comes when the arguments take the form of gunshot and the guillotine.” “They have not come to that yet,” said Bixiou; “they have only come as far as the designs of Providence in the invention of champagne, the humanitarian significance of breeches, and the blind deity who keeps the world going. They pick up fallen great men like Vico, Saint-Simon, and Fourier. I am much afraid that they will turn poor Joseph Bridau’s head among them.” “Bianchon, my old schoolfellow, gives me the cold shoulder now,” said Lousteau; “it is all their doing——” “Do they give lectures on orthopedy and intellectual gymnastics?” asked Merlin. “Very likely,” answered Finot, “if Bianchon has any hand in their theories.” “Pshaw!” said Lousteau; “he will be a great physician anyhow.” “Isn’t d’Arthez their visible head?” asked Nathan, “a little youngster that is going to swallow all of us up.” “He is a genius!” cried Lucien. “Genius, is he! Well, give me a glass of sherry!” said Claude Vignon, smiling. Every one, thereupon, began to explain his character for the benefit of his neighbor; and when a clever man feels a pressing néed of explaining himself, and of unlocking his heart, it is pretty clear that wine has got the upper hand. An hour later, all the men in the company were the best friends in the world, addressing each other as great men and bold spirits, who held the future in their hands. Lucien, in his quality of host, was sufficiently clearheaded to apprehend the meaning of the sophistries which impressed him and completed his demoralization. “The Liberal party,” announced Finot, “is compelled to stir up discussion somehow. There is no fault to find with the action of the Government, and you may imagine what a fix the Opposition is in. Which of you now cares to write a pamphlet in favor of the system of primogeniture, and raise a cry against the secret designs of the Court? The pamphlet will be paid for handsomely.” “I will write it,” said Hector Merlin. “It is my own point of view.” “Your party will complain that you are compromising them,” said Finot. “Félicien, you must undertake it; Dauriat will bring it out, and we will keep the secret.” “How much shall I get?” “Six hundred francs. Sign it ‘Le Comte C, three stars.’” “It’s a bargain,” said Félicien Vernou. “So you are introducing the _canard_ to the political world,” remarked Lousteau.