beautiful friend

Chapter 7

"He is exactly the same as the miser in Balzac's pen. Let me tell you a story. One day, I was in his office. Besides me, there was the old fellow Nobel and Don Quixote. Rival. At this time, the administrative director of the newspaper, Monterland, came in with a fashionable goatskin briefcase. Walter looked up and asked him: "What's the matter?" The papermaker's thirteen thousand francs were paid off.' Our boss jumped up from his chair, startling us: 'What did you say?' 'I have already paid Monsieur Privat .'

'You are crazy! '

'why? , 'Why... why... why..., Walter took off his glasses, wiped the lenses, and a strange smile appeared on his thick cheeks.It was always that look whenever he was about to say something nasty.He said in a sarcastic and unquestionable tone: 'Why?Since we could have paid him four or five thousand francs less, M. Montrand asked in surprise: "But, Mr. Manager, all the accounts are in order, I have checked them carefully, and you have signed them... , the old man Walter scolded with a straight face, "You are so naive, Mr. Montland."Don't you know that if we go on and on, he always gives in? ,"

Speaking of this, Saint-Botain seemed to have seen everything through, shook his head, and said:

"Do you think he looks like the miser described by Balzac?"

Although Duroy has never read Balzac's novels, he still replied solemnly:
"Yes, that's right."

Then, St. Botain talked about Mrs. Walter, who is very stupid, and the old guy who has done nothing, Nobel?De Wallen and the down-and-out Rival from Fervak.Finally, he said of Forestier: "As for him, it was pure luck that he married a good wife."

Duroy hurriedly asked:
"What kind of person is his wife?"

Saint-Botin rubbed his hands and said: "Ah! This woman is not simple, she is very good at playing tricks. She is the mistress of the flamboyant Earl de Wardreck. The Earl provided her with a dowry and arranged for her to marry Forestier married."

Hearing this, Duroy suddenly shuddered, wishing to slap this rapper twice and scold him severely.But he didn’t do that after all, he just asked a question to prevent Saint-Potain from continuing:
"Is Saint-Botin your real name?"

Saint-Botin replied briskly:

"No. My name is Thomas. Saint-Botin was a nickname given to me by my colleagues at the paper."

After paying the bill, Duroy said:

"It's getting late, we still have to visit two distinguished adults."

When Saint-Botain heard this, he burst out laughing:

"You are too naive! Do you think I will really interview them about their views on the British government? I know the tastes of the readers of "French Life" better than they do. I have interviewed at least 5 Chinese, Persian People, Indians, Chileans, and Japanese. In my opinion, their answers are all the same. I just need to copy down the content of the last interview word by word, and then write down the appearance, name, and position of the interviewees. , age, and entourage. There is nothing wrong with these things, or you will be slammed by Le Figaro and Le Gaul. But you don't have to worry, we just have to ask Ask the porters at the Bristone Hotel and the Continental Hotel, and you can find out everything in less than five minutes. We can walk over while smoking a cigar. The return hall can also quote a one-hundred-sou fare. My dear, That’s what a practical person does.”

Duroy asked:
"So, there's still a lot of money to be made as a field reporter?"

Saint-Botin pretended to be mysterious and replied:

"Yeah, but it's nowhere near the guys who write social news, they have a lot of hidden advertising money."

After speaking, they got up and left the cafe and walked towards the Madeleine Church.At this moment, Saint-Botin suddenly said to his companion:
"If you have something to do, you don't have to come with me."

Duroy shook hands with Saint-Botin and left alone.

Thinking of the article he was going to write that night, he couldn't help but feel very troubled.As he walked, he thought and mixed various views, opinions, judgments, and anecdotes, and unconsciously walked to the end of the Champs Elysees.At this time, there were few pedestrians on the street.On a sultry summer day, the whole city of Paris seems to be empty.

Duroy ate dinner at a bistro near the Etoile, and walked slowly along the ring road home.As soon as he entered the room, he sat down at the table and prepared to work.

However, when his eyes fell on the white paper pushed away in front of him, the materials he had just collected disappeared in an instant.He rummaged and tried to grab some fragments to write down, but every time he tried to catch them, they slipped away;

After an hour of hard work, Duroy finally filled five sheets of paper, but they were all sentences with beginnings and no endings.He said to himself: "It seems that I am not familiar enough with this business, and I need to ask for advice." Thinking that he would soon be able to talk with Mrs. Forestier and spend a pleasant and warm morning, he thought Excited.He hurried to bed, afraid that he would be inspired and write a good article, so that he would not be able to realize his wish.

The next morning, he got up later than usual.Because he doesn't want the joy to come too quickly, and wants to savor it for a while.

At one past ten he rang the Forestiers' doorbell.

The servant said to him:

"Sir is working."

Duroy did not expect that Forestier would be at home, but he did not want to leave, so he said:
"Tell him that I have something urgent to see him."

Five minutes later the servant took him into the study where he had spent a good morning.

Forestier, in pajamas, slippers, and a bonnet, sat in the same chair as he had been.And his wife was still wearing the white dressing gown, leaning against the fireplace with a cigarette in her mouth, dictating something to him.Duroy stopped at the door and said timidly, "I'm sorry to disturb you."

Forestier turned his head and complained in a low voice with an unhappy expression on his face:

"What's the matter with you? Come on, we're busy."

Durova was taken aback, and stammered:
"No...nothing...sorry."

When Forestier heard this, he was furious:

"Damn! Speak straight and don't waste your time. You didn't come to my house just to say hello to us, did you?"

Duroy panicked and said tremblingly:
"No...well...that's it...I came because...I didn't know how to write that article about Algeria...Thanks to you...your help...that's why I ventured... hope……"

Forestier interrupted him:

"What do you think of me? Do you think I can do your job and you only need to get paid every month? No! Money is not so easy to earn!"

Madame Forestier continued to smoke without saying a word.There was an elusive smile on her face, as if to hide the sarcasm inside.

Duroy blushed and said vaguely:

"I'm sorry... I thought... I wanted to..." But suddenly, his voice became clear:

"Madam, please forgive my presumptuousness. The article you helped me write is very wonderful. I came here to express my sincere thanks to you."

He bowed, and said to Charlie:
"At three o'clock in the afternoon, I will arrive at the newspaper office on time." After finishing speaking, he walked out.

Duroy strode home, muttering incessantly:

"Okay, I'll write it myself and let them see..."

As soon as he entered the house, he began to write vigorously.

Following the clues that Mrs. Forestier had laid for him, he listed a large number of stories with exaggerated and bizarre plots that often appeared in newspaper serial novels, using the bad style of middle school students and the harsh tone of soldiers.In less than an hour, he had finished this nonsense and a mess of articles, and then, carrying it confidently, he walked towards the office of the "French Newspaper".

Duroy first met Saint-Botin.When the latter saw him, he stepped forward and held his hand tightly, saying:

"Did you read my article about interviewing Chinese and Indians? It's funny, all Paris is talking about it, and I haven't even met them."

Duroy had not read the article, so he picked up the newspaper and quickly scanned the long treatise entitled "India and China".Saint-Botin kept pointing out interesting passages to him.

At this moment, Forestier ran up from downstairs in a panic, and said out of breath:

"Great! You are all here, and I happen to have some things for you to do."

So, he explained a few important political news that he had to get that night.

Duroy handed him the article and said:

"This is the second article on Algeria."

"Very good, give it to me. I'll send it to the boss right away."

That's all for their conversation.

Saint-Botin led his new colleague forward, came to the corridor, and asked Duroy:

"Have you been paid yet?"

"no, what happened?"

"What's the matter? Hurry up and get it. You don't know, we always get the salary in advance. No one can predict what will happen in the future."

"Then... of course I can't ask for it."

"I'll take you there now. It's not difficult, and they're quick to pay."

As a result, Duroy received a salary of two hundred francs and 28 francs for the contribution of yesterday's article.The money I received yesterday at the railway bureau was only a little spent, and with the money I just received, the total was 340 francs.

Duroy had never had such a large sum of money, and he felt that he was so rich that he would have nothing to worry about in the future.

Saint-Botin took Duroy to several other newspapers, hoping that someone had collected the news they needed.With his three-inch tongue, he will definitely be able to get relevant information out of his colleagues.

In the evening, Duroy again had nothing to do.He suddenly remembered the "Shepherdess Playground", walked there on foot, and boldly introduced himself to the ticket inspector:
"I am Georges Duroy, editor of Le Vie de France. I was here with M. Forestier a few days ago. He told me that I would not have to buy a ticket to come here. I don't know if he has Haven't told you?"

The ticket inspector checked the list, but did not find Duroy's name, but he said kindly:
"Sir, please come in. You tell the manager about your situation, and he will definitely arrange for you."

Duroy went in and immediately saw Rachel, the woman he took away from here that night.

The woman came up to him and said:

"Hello, my kitten. How are you doing these days?"

"Good, How about you?"

"Well, I'm not too bad. You don't know. Since that day, I've dreamed of you twice." Duroy smiled and said happily, "Ah! What does this mean?"

"Fool, it means that people like you. When is it convenient for you, let's get together again."

"Today, if you want."

"Of course I would."

"Very good, but..." He hesitated slightly, as if it was difficult to say what to say next, "I just came out of the club, and I spent all my money, not even a sou."

Rachel looked him in the eyes and knew it was a lie, with instinct and long experience with men who were cunning and calculating.Therefore, she said:
"Don't be kidding! You are too mean to come with me."

Duroy smiled awkwardly and said, "I only have ten francs with me. I wonder if it's enough?"

Rachel put on the air of a high-class courtesan, as if she had a whim and didn't care about money at all.She said delicately:

"My dear, as long as you like it, you know, it's you who I like."

She looked at Duroy's beard affectionately, took his arm, and leaned affectionately on his side, and said, "Let's go have a glass of pomegranate juice first, and then go around. I think that's it, go with you Opera House, let's show you. After that, we'll go home early. How about it?"

Duroy spent the night at Rachel's.When I went out the next day, it was already daylight.It occurred to him to buy a copy of La Vie Française.He tremblingly opened the newspaper, but couldn't find the article.So, he just stood motionless on the sidewalk, browsing every column anxiously, but in the end he found nothing When I got home, I fell asleep without taking off my clothes.

A few hours later, he arrived at the newspaper office, went straight into Mr. Walter's office, and asked:
"Sir, why isn't my second article in today's paper?"

Mr. Manager raised his head and said coldly:
"I have given your article to your friend Forestier to read. But he is not satisfied and thinks it must be rewritten."

The furious Duroy didn't say a word, walked out from the inside, rushed to Forestier's office, and asked:
"Why don't you publish my article?"

Forestier leaned back in his chair, smoking a cigarette, with his legs slung over the table, the heels of his shoes pressed against the paper he was just starting to write.He replied calmly: "The boss thinks the article is poorly written, so I'll give it to you to rewrite. Here, it's over there." His voice sounded so far away, as if it came from the depths of a cave like.Forestier pointed to several sheets of manuscript paper pressed with a ruler.

Duroy was speechless, he silently picked up the manuscript paper, folded it and put it in his pocket.Forestier went on to say:

"You go to the police station today..."

Then, he explained to Duroy where he was going today and the news he was going to collect.Du Luowa wanted to give him some words, but he couldn't say a word, so he left angrily.

The next day, he handed the revised article to Forestier, but unexpectedly it was returned.It was the same for the third time.Duroy finally realized that he had acted too hastily, and that without Forestier's help, he could hardly move forward.

Therefore, he decided to suspend his "African Service Random Notes" temporarily.Since this job requires him to be flexible and tactful, he must work on this aspect, and put his energy into the field reporter's work before a better opportunity arises.

Soon, he was familiar with the backstage of theaters, the antechambers and corridors of the Senate frequented by politicians.At the same time, he became very familiar with the important people in various departments and the doormen who liked to doze and frown every time they were woken.

He has a wide range of friends, whether they are princes, ministers, generals, policemen, ambassadors, porters, prostitutes, gamblers, bishops, brokers, coffee shop assistants, and foreign rich men of unknown origin.Moreover, these people are friends of interests on the scene.Duroy deals with all kinds of people every day, talking about things related to his industry; no matter who he treats, he shows respect and treats everyone equally, and never favors one person over another.He felt like a sommelier, tasting all kinds of wine glass after glass every day, and gradually he couldn't even distinguish the wines of Chateau Margaux and Argenteuil.

It didn't take long for Duroy to become an excellent field reporter. He was cunning and quick-witted, and he collected information accurately and quickly.As the veteran newspaperman Walter said, he is a rare talent for newspapers.

However, his manuscripts still cost only ten centimes a line, and his monthly salary was still two hundred francs.Due to his frequent visits to cafes and restaurants, he always felt short of money and couldn't make ends meet.

He was baffled when he saw that some of his colleagues always had pockets full of gold coins.He still couldn't understand why these people could live so richly.He thought that they must have a set of unknown and illegal tricks, secretly working for others, and tacit understanding with each other.Therefore, he must see through their secrets, infiltrate their group, and surprise his colleagues who share the spoils behind his back.

Often in the dead of night, Duroy would watch trains speeding by outside the window, while thinking about ingenious tricks to infiltrate this group.

Two months passed in a blink of an eye, and it was September.The overnight success that Duroy was looking forward to has never happened, but it seems to be in the foreseeable future.What worried him especially was that his humble status hadn't changed in any way, and he still didn't know what path he should take to get to the top of money and glory.

The mediocre position of a field reporter tightly bound him, preventing him from seeing his future.True, he was appreciated, but that appreciation was limited to his performance as a reporter.Even Forestier, who, in spite of Duroy's assistance to his old friend, never invited him to his house again.Although Forestier still refers to you as a friend, no matter what the occasion, he must put on a bossy air.

Now and then, Duroy publishes a short essay or two.Due to his frequent writing of social news, his writing level has improved greatly. Not only is his writing fluent, but his thinking has also broadened a lot. He will no longer be as unfamiliar and obscure as when he wrote the second Algeria memoir, and he does not have to worry about the manuscript being returned.But this is fundamentally different from writing one’s own thoughts in long articles or commenting on various political issues; just like driving on Boulogne Gardens, the state of mind of the driver and the owner is completely different.Duroy was especially frustrated by the fact that the doors of high society were closed to him, that he had no friends who were equals, no confidants of the opposite sex, although several famous actors sometimes showed him very affectionate.

Life experience told him that the enthusiasm shown by these women, whether they were ladies, ladies or actresses in song and dance, was just a momentary impulse and fleeting.As for a woman who can help him to become a successful person, he has never met one.Duroy felt like a wild horse bound by a rope, often feeling restless.

(End of this chapter)