Work seems to be going decently for Antoine. He has written six pages and felt pretty good about it.
He keeps wondering, though, about the subject of his work, the Marquis de Rollebon. He feels that this guy keeps eluding him, refusing to become a flesh-and-blood person. (It's kind of hard to do that when you've been dead for hundreds of years.)
Once again, he thinks that he'd do a better job if he wrote a novel about Rollebon.