Bel Ami

[...] "I manage the political department on 'La Vie Francaise'; I report the doings of the Senate for 'Le Salut, ' and from time to time I write for 'La Planete.' That is what I am doing." Duroy, in surprise, glanced at him. He was very much changed. Formerly Forestier had been thin, giddy, noisy, and always in good spirits. But three years of life in Paris had made another man of him; now he was stout and serious, and his hair was gray on his temples although he could not number more than twenty-seven years. Forestier asked: "Where are you going?" Duroy replied: "Nowhere in particular." "Very well, will you accompany me to the 'Vie Francaise' where I have some proofs to correct; and afterward take a drink with me?" "Yes, gladly." They walked along arm-in-arm with that familiarity which exists between schoolmates and brother-officers. "What are you doing in Paris?" asked Forestier, Duroy shrugged his shoulders. "Dying of hunger, simply. When my time was up, I came hither to make my[...].