Sometimes, to the contrary, he would be seen walking with slow steps, his nose in the air, his eyes searching, following one side of the street then examining the other, not daydreaming, but looking at the signs. He was looking for names to christen his characters. He maintained with some justification that a name could not be invented any more than a word. According to him, names arose on their own like languages; besides real names possessed a life, a meaning, a destiny, a mystical significance, and it was impossible to place too much importance on their choice. Léon Gozlan has told in a charming way, in his Balzac en Pantoufles, how the famous Z. Marcas of the Revue Parisienne was found. A sign of a chimney man provided the name of Gubetta that had long been sought by Victor Hugo, who was no less careful than Balzac in the names of his characters. This demanding life of nocturnal work had, despite his strong constitution, left its traces on the features of Balzac, and we find in Albert Savarus a portrait of him, written by himself, that represents him such as he was at that time (1842), with some minor differences: "… A superb head, black hair already streaked with some white, hair like that of Saint Peter and Saint Paul in our paintings, with thick shining curls, stiff like horsehair, a round white neck like that of a woman, a magnificent forehead, divided by the powerful furrows that great projects, great thoughts, strong reflections inscribe on the the foreheads of great men; an olive complexion marbled with red marks, a square nose, eyes of fire, then the hollow cheeks, with two long lines full of suffering, a mouth with a sardonic smile and a small chin that was narrow and too short; crow's feet at his temples, sunken eyes, rolling under the eyebrow arches like two burning globes; but despite all of these signs of violent passion, a calm manner, profoundly accepting, the voice of a penetrating sweetness which surprised me with its facility, the true voice of an orator, sometimes pure and astute, sometimes insinuating, and thunderous when necessary, then pliant with sarcasm, and then becoming incisive. Monsieur Albert Savaron is of middle height, neither fat nor thin; finally, he has the hands of a prelate." In this portrait, which is incidentally very faithful, Balzac idealizes himself a little for the needs of the novel, and subtracts from himself a few kilograms of portliness, license which is certainly permitted to a beloved hero of the Duchess d'Argaiolo and Mademoiselle Philomène de Watteville. This novel of Albert Savarus, one of the least known and least quoted of Balzac, contains many transposed details on his habits of life and of work; one could even see there, if it was permissible to lift those veils, secrets of another kind.