“No.... So long as my garden isn’t trampled on.” “There’s enough to be done elsewhere ... _en attendant_. The moment is propitious. I know many a young man who is only waiting for the rallying cry; quite young ones.... Oh, yes, I know! That’s what you like; but I warn you they aren’t taking any.... I have often wondered by what miracle painting has gone so far ahead, and how it happens that literature has let itself be outdistanced. In painting to-day, just see how the ‘_motif_,’ as it used to be called, has fallen into discredit. _A fine subject!_ It makes one laugh. Painters don’t even dare venture on a portrait unless they can be sure of avoiding every trace of resemblance. If we manage our affairs well, and leave me alone for that, I don’t ask for more than two years before a future poet will think himself dishonoured if anyone can understand a word of what he says. Yes, Monsieur le Comte, will you wager? All sense, all meaning will be considered anti-poetical. Illogicality shall be our guiding star. What a fine title for a review--_The Scavengers!_” Passavant had listened without turning a hair. “Do you count your young nephew among your acolytes?” he asked after a pause. “Young Léon is one of the elect; he doesn’t let the flies settle on him, either. Really, it’s a pleasure teaching him. Last term he thought it would be a joke to cut out the swotters in his form and carry off all the prizes. Since he came back from the holidays he has let his work go to the deuce; I haven’t the least idea what he’s hatching; but I have every confidence in him, and I wouldn’t for the world interfere.” “Will you bring him to see me?” “Monsieur le Comte is joking, no doubt.... Well, then, this review?” “We’ll see about it later. I must have time to let your plans mature in my mind. In the mean time, you might really find me a secretary. I’m not satisfied with the one I had.” “I’ll send you little Cob-Lafleur to-morrow. I shall be seeing him this afternoon, and I make no doubt he’ll suit you.” “Scavenger style?” “A little.” “_Ex uno_...” “Oh, no; don’t judge them all from him. He is one of the moderate ones. Just right for you.” Strouvilhou rose. “A propos,” said Passavant, “I haven’t given you my book, I think. I’m sorry not to have a first edition left....” “As I don’t mean to sell it, it isn’t of the slightest importance.” “It’s only because the print’s better.” “Oh! as I don’t mean to read it either.... _Au revoir._ And if the spirit moves you, I’m at your service. I wish you good morning.” FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 7: In English in the original.] XIII EDOUARD’S JOURNAL: DOUVIERS’ PROFITENDIEU