The king turned his back on M. de Montalivet and did not speak a word to him for a month after. What came of it? Versailles became more and more gloomy, and, after passing from melancholy to darkness, passed from darkness to funereal depths. As to Saint-Germain, I do not know what became of it; but I have been assured that, since my departure, it has been seized with the spleen and simply shakes with agony. Now it was the knowledge of this vivifying quality which attracted Doligny to Florence. He said to himself: As Dumas is in Tuscany, Tuscany must have again become the department of the Arno, and we shall laugh and earn money. Doligny was mistaken: people laugh all over Italy; but they do not laugh at all in Tuscany. As to earning money there, I only knew the Comte de Larderette who made a fortune there; but his speculation had nothing literary about it.... I listened to Doligny's exposition of plans with a growing melancholy which could not fail to have discouraged him. "Well," he asked me, "am I mistaken?" "In what?" "Do you not go to the court?" "As little as I can; but I do go." "Do you not go into society?" "As little as possible; but, of course, I do see something of it." "Have you no friends?" "As few as possible; I have some." "Do you think my actors are poor ones?" "I do not know them." "Do you not think the performance of your plays will pique people's curiosity?" "Yes, indeed." "Do you not believe, in short, that, thanks to all this, I can make money?" "I believe you can; but...." "But what?" "You must do it with other plays than mine." "Why so?" "Because they will not allow you to play them." "They will refuse to let me perform your plays?" "Yes." "What reason will they give for their refusal?" "They won't give any." "All the same, my dear friend, there must be some reason at the bottom." "No doubt." "Tell me what it is." "My friend, you are asking me to make a painful confession." "Tell me what it is." "I do not know how to tell you a thing that I am ashamed to confess even to myself." "Remember that my fortune depends on it!" "My friend, I am an immoral author." "Bah!" "Yes." "Who said so?" "_Le Constitutionnel_; so the thing has spread abroad from the east to the west, from the south to the north." "You fill me with dismay!" "What else can I do!..." "Still, I am going to send them your plays." "Send them, but it will be useless." "But surely when they have read them...." "Yes, but they won't read them." "Yet they will refuse?" "For the sake of appearances." "Well, I wish to have a clear conscience in the matter." "Have a clear conscience, my dear fellow; it will only cost you your expenses for hiring, if you have already hired the theatre." "Why of course I have hired it." "The deuce! Send the plays then." "This very day." "Go! only let me know of the refusal directly you receive it." "What's the good?" "Who knows? Perhaps I may then have some fresh idea."