"To succeed by my own efforts in a year or two's time." "At what house?" "At the Théâtre-Français." "Ah! ah!--that would be a bad job." "At the Théâtre-Français?" "Yes." "For whom?" "For me." "Why?" "Ah! you have no idea of the difficulties they make over their tickets at that deuced theatre. Never mind! Authors' rights are good, and if you manage to get in there, why! you will do very well ... only, I warn you, it won't be an easy matter." "I know that well enough; but I know M. Talma slightly." "Oh! all right, then; that is equivalent to the Roman saying, I know the pope.' Good, excellent, magnificent! Go ahead ... but don't forget that your first transactions were with Porcher." "I will remember." "Have a good memory; people with good memories are generally good-hearted." "Monsieur, I think you are a living proof of your own statement." "Why so?" "Because you have mentioned the name of Mélesville three times." "Mélesville! Why, monsieur, I would kill myself for his sake." "I will not be so inquisitive as to inquire the reason of this devotion." "Oh, it is easily explained. I was a hairdresser and used to cut M. Mélesville's hair; he was in Fortune's good books, but that didn't matter! he wrote plays. Ten or twelve years ago that was, and then authors did not sell their tickets, they gave them away." "Monsieur Porcher, believe me, if I were richer I would give you mine with the greatest pleasure." "You do not understand: tickets, in those times, were given away, not sold. M. Mélesville, then, gave me his tickets; I went to see his plays with friends, and I applauded. He produced so many plays, and gave me so many tickets, that an idea came into my head; namely, instead of taking them and giving them away for nothing, to buy them from him, and sell them, so I proposed the business to him. 'You are a simpleton, Porcher,' he said to me. 'What the deuce could you make out of that?' 'Let me try.' 'Oh, try if you like, my dear fellow.' I tried it, monsieur, and it succeeded. From that time, I have carried on my little business, and if I ever acquire a fortune, it will be to M. Mélesville I shall owe it. Come home with me, and I will show you his portrait along with those of my wife and children." I have been several times to Porcher's home since then,--probably a hundred times to ask his help, once only to give him assistance,--and every time I have been there I have looked at Mélesville's portrait, raised by the gratitude of that worthy man to the level of those of his wife and children. Once, Porcher had something or other to ask of Cavé, when Cavé was Director of the Beaux-Arts. I took Porcher to Cavé's house, and I said to the latter-- "Look here, I am bringing you a man who has done more for literature during the past five-and-twenty years than you and your predecessors and successors have done, or will do, in a century."