Lemaitre was not deceived by the manager's sudden change of base. Three days afterward he revenged himself by a cutting bit of sarcasm. It was in Harel's own office. A young and well-dressed man presented himself, carrying a roll of manuscript. At sight of Lemaitre he drew back modestly, but Harel bade him remain, and asked him if he brought a drama. "Yes," answered the young man.--"Your own?"--"Yes."--"Then you have a reputation, doubtless?"--"No, it is my first piece."--"Ah," said the manager, who had taken note of the fact that the young author was far from shabby-looking, "in that case you are no doubt aware of the conditions. The essential thing with us managers always is to raise the receipts over the expenses."--"I understand that, sir."--"We prudent managers are obliged to refuse the pieces of all authors who have not yet achieved success, unless they will guarantee us the expenses that the rehearsal of the piece will entail upon us."--"That is my intention," was the young man's reply.--"Then we shall be able to understand each other. Your piece is in five acts?"--"In three, sir."--"Five acts would not have cost you a sou more." The conversation continued in this strain until the young author had signed a contract to pay ten thousand francs. With the spirit of a Shylock, Harel made out an account of actors, actresses, costumes, musicians, etc. that would have given gooseflesh to a less anxious and less wealthy author. Lemaitre remained sitting in a corner of the room until the manager arose to conduct the young man to the door: then he went up to them, laid his hand on Harel's shoulder, and said, "Why do you let him go? He has got his watch yet."