Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 187 Departure, Vienna!

Lionel and Debussy both breathed a sigh of relief once they were seated in the taxi.

Debussy, still shaken, said, "My God, Mr. Sorel, you were really... they almost denied the ending!"

Lionel looked toward the receding St. Martha's headquarters and shook his head: "Ashir, sometimes the greatest danger is wrapped in the sweetest sugar coating."

The 'friendship' they desire might just be the grave that buries this drama. And we... we're simply trying our best to protect its true soul.

He turned around, his eyes brimming with fighting spirit: "Alright, the biggest obstacle has been cleared for now."

Next comes the real challenge—ensuring that "The Choir" is performed as scheduled for Christmas!

Debussy looked worried: "Mr. Sorel, at the Comédie-Française... can the Church really persuade them?"

Lionel shook his head: "I never placed all my hopes on them."

Debussy looked puzzled. Lionel patted him on the shoulder, took an envelope from his pocket, and handed it to him: "This is your payment!"

Debussy's eyes lit up: "Thank you so much, Mr. Sorel!"

Lionel smiled at the young man, thought for a moment, and then tentatively said, "If you have time in the evenings, you can come to my house to practice the piano."

Debussy looked at Lionel in disbelief: "Really, Mr. Sorel?"

Lionel nodded: "Anyway, I don't know how to play, so the piano is just sitting idle."

"Oh, and also, avoid places like 'Rose House'... Guy is a good man, but his lifestyle..."

Debussy was so excited he was almost incoherent: "Don't worry... Mr. Sorel, I'm actually just after the 15 sous per night..."

With this 200 francs, I won't need to go to "Rose House" anymore!

Lionel was relieved.

Debussy is only 17 years old now. If he spends all his time in "Rose Lane", who knows where Maupassant will lead him.

The horse-drawn carriage took Debussy back to the Paris Conservatory, and then carried Lionel to 77 Champs-Élysées.

This is the residence of Count Rohan. Lionel and Sophie once attended a ball here.

After being informed, Lionel entered the mansion without any trouble and arrived at Count Rohan's private reception room.

Besides Louis Philippe de Rohan, there was also an old man with a full head of white hair and a thick beard, whose face was serious.

Upon seeing Lionel enter, Count Rohan stood up: "Lionel, you've finally arrived. Let me introduce you—"

This is Émile Perrin, the director of the Comédie-Française! I've just shown him the script for your play, *The Chorus*.

Émile Perrin also stood up and said in a deep voice to Lionel, "Mr. Sorel, the 'Choir' did indeed surprise me..."

However, I still have doubts—the Count of Rohan said it was a play that promoted the 'secularization of education,' but I feel…”

-----

A few days later, at Paris Gare du Gare de l'Est.

The steam locomotive spewed out huge plumes of white smoke and roared deafeningly.

The seven writers, along with an editor and several servants from Hugh & Mann Publishing House, boarded the first-class carriage bound for Vienna.

November in Moscow was already bitterly cold; Lionel was still wary of London; and Berlin, well, considering the theme of "The Night at Médan"...

Therefore, Vienna is the best of the remaining options.

Although political and military relations between France and Austria were very tense, Paris and Vienna maintained active exchanges in culture, art, and high society. Viennese waltzes and operettas were very popular in Paris.

French artists and writers also frequently travel to Vienna for trips or performances.

Hugh & Mann Publishing House spared no expense, booking them not only first-class seats but also spacious private suites for entertainment and relaxation during their journey.

The red velvet seats in the private compartment were soft and comfortable, the walnut table was polished to a shine, and the windows were covered with heavy curtains, which were both warm and private.

Compared to the crowds of ordinary travelers, this place is practically a mobile luxury living room.

As the train slowly started moving, the street scenes of Paris gradually receded.

After the initial excitement, the atmosphere in the private room became lively.

A long journey always requires some entertainment, and their best topic of conversation was the stack of newspapers they had brought from Paris, which contained book reviews of "The Night at Médan".

Apart from Zola, who maintained a dignified composure and occasionally glanced out the car window at the changing scenery, the others—especially Maupassant—almost immediately began reading aloud.

Maupassant waved his copy of Le Figaro: "Listen to this! Listen to this! Guy de Maupassant's 'Boule de Suif' is like a lightning bolt piercing the night sky!"

Its profound insight into human nature and sharp satire make it a worthy contender for the best French short story of the year! This young writer has demonstrated astonishing maturity and extraordinary talent!

Good heavens! 'Annual'! They say it's 'Annual'!

Maupassant's voice even carried a sob, conveying a sense of relief that came after being suppressed for too long.

Yusman chuckled and teased, "Alright, Guy, your vanity is going to blow the roof off the carriage."

Check if any comments mention the field hospital section I wrote about. That's what you call truly shocking.

César took another copy of "Two Worlds Review," adjusted his glasses, and said, "Don't rush, Huysmann—"

Émile Zola's *The Battle of the Mill* is filled with a tragic epic quality. He weaves together the cruelty of war with the helplessness of individual fate in a way that is deeply moving.

Lionel Sorel's *Old Man Milon*, with its detached, almost cruel tone, explores the most primal and unadorned form of patriotism, leaving the reader with much to ponder.

Look, Emile, Léon, the critics are praising you both together!

Alexi chimed in: "Hey! The Republic put it more directly: 'Zola's Battle of the Mill and Sorel's Père Milon finally turned the proud Parisians' eyes to the vast French countryside.'"

They witnessed how the farmers there, in their own way, silently and steadfastly guarded their deepest feelings for France.

Well said! We always forget that France is more than just Paris!

Maupassant found another piece and continued reading: "'Lionel Sorel, with 'The Old Guard,' 'Hometown,' and now 'Old Man Milon,' has quietly sketched a profound picture of French rural society.'"

The peasant characters he portrays possess rich inner worlds and complex human natures. This is a valuable literary focus.

Good heavens, Leon, the critics are going to crown you 'the writer's friend of the peasants'!

Lionel shook his head: "I just wrote about the 'people' I saw and understood, who happened to live in the countryside."

Maupassant slapped him hard on the shoulder: "Come on, Leon, don't be modest!"

The journey was spent in such lively discussions, banter, and anticipation for the upcoming trip to Vienna.

The train traversed the French countryside, passed Strasbourg, entered the forests and hills of southern Germany, and finally crossed the border into the heart of Austria.

The nearly 30-hour drive didn't seem so long because I had a companion.

(End of this chapter)