The authors were born in the same
neighborhood which gave me birth: one is Desmoustiers, the other
Alfred Mousse. Maybe Arsene Houssaye would not be pleased, were I
to remind him of one of the _crimes_ of his youth, where one sees
for a frontispiece skeletons--'twas the heyday of the Romantic
School--playing tenpins with skulls for balls! The sale of 'De
Profundis' enabled us to visit Cafe Tabourey that evening. You
sold soon afterwards eighty cents' worth of books. Allow me to
record that they came from your library; my library remained
constantly upon the shelves; notwithstanding all your appeals, I
never sold any books, except the lamentable history of Alfred
Mousse. Monsieur Credit contrived to go to the tradesmen's with
imperturbable coolness; he went everywhere until the first of
December, when he paid every cent of debt. I have but one regret,
and this is, that the little account-book suddenly ceases after a
month; it contains only the month of November. This is not enough!
Had I continued it, Its pages would have been so many mementos to
recall my past life to me.
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