“But to-day I have something special to say to you.... I think you know an individual of the Hebrew persuasion, called Dhurmer? Isn’t he one of your schoolfellows?” “I have just this moment left him.” “Ah! You see a good deal of each other?” “Yes. We met at the Louvre to-day to talk about a review of which he is to be the editor.” Robert burst into a loud, affected laugh. “Ha! Ha! Ha! the editor!... He’s in a deuce of a hurry.... Did he really say that to you?” “He has been talking to me about it for ever so long.” “Yes. I have been thinking of it for some time past. The other day I asked him casually whether he’d agree to read over the manuscripts with me; that’s what he at once called becoming editor--not even sub-editor; I didn’t contradict him and he immediately.... Just like him, isn’t it? What a fellow! He wants taking down a peg or two.... Don’t you really smoke?” “After all, I think I will,” said Olivier, this time accepting. “Thank you.” “Well, allow me to say, Olivier ... you don’t mind my calling you Olivier, do you? I really can’t say Monsieur; you’re too young, and I’m too intimate with your brother Vincent to call you Molinier. Well then, Olivier, allow me to say that I have infinitely more confidence in your taste than in Mr. Solomon Dhurmer’s. Now would you consent to taking the literary direction? Under me a little, of course--at first, at any rate. But I prefer not to have my name on the cover. I’ll tell you why later.... Perhaps you’d take a glass of port wine, eh? I’ve got some that’s quite good.” He stretched out his hand to a kind of little side-board that stood near and took up a bottle of wine and two glasses, which he filled. “Well! What do you think?” “Yes, indeed; first-rate.” “I wasn’t talking of the port,” protested Robert, laughing; “but of what I was saying just now.” Olivier had pretended not to understand. He was afraid of accepting too quickly and of showing his joy too obviously. He blushed a little and stammered with confusion: “My examination wouldn’t....” “You have just told me that you weren’t giving much time to it,” interrupted Robert. “And besides, the review won’t come out yet awhile. I am wondering whether it wouldn’t be better to put off launching it till after the holidays. But in any case I had to sound you. We must get several numbers ready before October and we ought to see each other a great deal this summer so as to talk things over. What are you going to do these holidays?” “I don’t know exactly. My people will probably be going to Normandy. They always do in the summer.” “And you will have to go with them?... Couldn’t you let yourself be unhitched for a bit?...” “My mother would never consent.” “I’m dining to-night with your brother. May I speak to him about it?” “Oh, Vincent won’t be with us.” Then, realizing that this sentence was no answer to the question, he added: “Besides, it wouldn’t do any good.” “Well, but if we find a good reason to give Mamma?”