Monsieur Maurepas sniffed louder than ever, but did not pursue the objectionable subject. “Well,” he said, “I suppose Fontaine will give up journalism now?” “I don’t know,” responded Fontaine, dubiously; “I always liked my profession.” “In that case,” replied Maurepas, “I will make you an offer. I know what you can do.” Fontaine could not forbear remarking, “You used to say I couldn’t do anything!” “My dear fellow,” answered Maurepas, coolly, “that was before you were talked about. Now, as the most talked-about young man in Paris, your name is worth something to a newspaper, even if your ideas are not. I will make you this proposition. If you will give ‘La Lune’ three signed articles a week, of a thousand words each, I will give you five hundred francs a week. I make but one stipulation,--your name must be signed to them, but Marsac must write them.” Fontaine hesitated for a moment, but Marsac answered for him: “Done!” “And another thing. There is to be a great journalists’ dinner given on the 17th, and I want you, when called upon, to make a speech in the name of the younger members of the staff of ‘La Lune.’” “I couldn’t! I wouldn’t! I never made a speech in my life.” “But you could. What’s the matter with Marsac composing the speech, and your delivering it?” “None in the world,” answered Marsac, laughing. “So you can put him down for the 17th.” “And now about the Melun villa,” continued Maurepas, after making a memorandum in his note-book. “I dare not go home to my wife without the promise of that place. I told her I would see Monsieur Duval to-day, but I forgot it. I don’t know what you paid for it, but I will give you a hundred thousand francs for it.” The prospect of making a clear ten thousand francs delighted Fontaine so that he could not speak for a moment,--when, catching Marsac’s eye fixed upon him, he understood the signal, and gave an evasive answer, which Maurepas pooh-poohed. Marsac then interfered. “The fact is,” he said, with his most candid manner, “I am against you there, Monsieur Maurepas. I want Fontaine to keep the villa. He wants to buy a great hotel on the Avenue de l’Alma for seven hundred and fifty thousand francs. I tell him it is much too expensive for him, and I don’t think his Uncle Maurice would have approved of it.” Fontaine had never heard of the Avenue de l’Alma house, but he assented promptly. Maurepas, however, being intensely anxious for the villa, cut short the discussion about the Avenue de l’Alma house by offering one hundred and ten thousand francs for the villa. Fontaine, dying to accept, glanced at Marsac, who began to whistle softly. Maurepas, growing more eager, jumped his bid immediately to one hundred and twenty thousand francs. Fontaine thought Marsac crazy, when he rose, buttoned his coat, and said,-- “Pray excuse us, Monsieur Maurepas. We have an engagement at a little supper to-night at the Archbishop’s,--quite an informal little affair.” [Illustration]