"My dear Lucien, if celebrity is to result in separating us from our friends, we ought to shrink from it instead of longing for it. I fancy that mine hasn't yet acquired such dimensions as to make me a subject of envy." "Oh! pray don't think that I ever had a suspicion of that sentiment when I heard of your triumphs. On the contrary, I was always overjoyed, and said to myself: 'He, at least, is making his way!'" While this third member of the party was talking with Adhémar, the sandy-haired Philémon scrutinized him with unremitting attention, and the aspect of the threadbare coat and the cleaned hat did not seem to add great zest to his friendship; however, he too shook hands with Lucien, and said to him in an almost patronizing tone: "Good-afternoon, Lucien! how are you, my boy? Sapristi! you haven't put on much flesh since I saw you last!" "I can't say the same for you, Philémon, for you are almost the shape of a barrel." "Oh! a barrel; that's putting it a little strong; but, after all, I would rather resemble a barrel than the barrel of a gun." Instead of losing his temper at this comparison, Lucien laughed heartily, while Adhémar interposed with: "Well, well, messieurs, how's this? old schoolfellows meeting after five years, and making unkind remarks to each other! is that the way to meet after a lustrum has passed over our heads, and have you become so sensitive that you lose your tempers over a jest?" "Oh! I am not angry in the least," replied Lucien; "far from it; Philémon's remark made me laugh, as you see." "For my part," said Dubotté, "I confess that I can't endure being compared to a barrel; any sobriquet you please, except that. But I don't bear Lucien any ill will. Come, sit down here with us, my dear fellow, and take something." "Thanks; but we're not all here yet: someone is missing--Dodichet." "Oh! we can't count on him. Was Dodichet ever a man of his word? Why, he doesn't know what it is to keep a promise! He's a good fellow enough, but an erratic, rattle-brained creature, who always has a thousand schemes on hand, but never carries out one of them, and never remembers one day what he said the day before." "The devil! you judge him rather harshly, Philémon!" "I am simply telling the truth. However, I've seen very little of him for five years; he may have mended his ways." "No," said Adhémar; "Dodichet is just the same; I have happened to meet him several times, and I have been sorry to see that our old friend has not grown any more sensible. He was in a position to succeed, for he's not a fool, and he inherited some money from his parents; but he thinks of nothing but enjoying life, of making _bonnes blagues_, as he expresses it; and they don't always succeed; some of them have cost him dear. I believe that he is almost ruined now; and, unfortunately, he hasn't yet decided upon any profession." "Poor Dodichet!" said Lucien; "he must be very unhappy, then."