"She's not a rat," explained Leon to his cousin; "she is the larva of
the grasshopper."

"Here's the history of Ravenouillet," continued Bixiou, when the three
friends reached the boulevard. "In 1831 Massol, the councillor of
state who is dealing with your case, was a lawyer-journalist who at
that time never thought of being more than Keeper of the Seals, and
deigned to have King Louis-Philippe on his throne. Forgive his
ambition, he's from Carcassonne. One morning there entered to him a
young rustic of his parts, who said: 'You know me very well, Mossoo
Massol; I'm your neighbour the grocer's little boy; I've come from
down there, for they tell me a fellow is certain to get a place if he
comes to Paris.' Hearing these words, Massol shuddered, and said to
himself that if he were weak enough to help this compatriot (to him
utterly unknown) he should have the whole department prone upon him,
his bell-rope would break, his valet leave him, he should have
difficulties with his landlord about the stairway, and the other
lodgers would assuredly complain of the smell of garlic pervading the
house. Consequently, he looked at his visitor as a butcher looks at a
sheep whose throat he intends to cut. But whether the rustic
comprehended the stab of that glance or not, he went on to say (so
Massol told me), 'I've as much ambition as other men. I will never go
back to my native place, if I ever do go back, unless I am a rich man.
Paris is the antechamber of Paradise. They tell me that you who write
the newspapers can make, as they say, 'fine weather and foul'; that
is, you have things all your own way, and it's enough to ask your help
to get any place, no matter what, under government. Now, though I have
faculties, like others, I know myself: I have no education; I don't
know how to write, and that's a misfortune, for I have ideas. I am not