Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 20 Elena

Gabriel Marel, the owner of The Buzz, has also been experiencing mixed feelings lately.

The good news was that the sales of Le Bourgeois were soaring, with each issue selling over 20 copies in Paris alone; and sales were also quite good in the provinces.

This is all thanks to the creation of the column "An Honest Parisian's Provincial Travels".

Although each issue only contains two or three short stories, sometimes as few as forty or fifty lines, it has become the biggest reason why Parisian readers buy Le Bourget.

Everyone is eager to see what adventures "an honest Parisian" will have in Burgundy, Brittany, or Provence.

In particular, the priests he depicted were no longer just stereotypical figures like rigid, lecherous, selfish, and hypocritical; they were elevated to another level, bringing whispers that could only be passed down orally to the forefront with a subtle humor.

Of course, not all the characters he wrote about were priests; there were also landlords, farmers, wealthy merchants, officials, beggars, prostitutes, and so on—all vividly portrayed and hilarious.

What's even more unbelievable is how "An Honest Parisian" manages to write about this little thing so vividly from such bizarre angles in every issue.

Worryingly, The Buzz also faced unprecedented pressure.

Bishop Gilbert Boan of the Paris region has petitioned the government three times to ban Le Bois and to bring its owner, Gabriel, and "an honest Parisian" to court—though Bishop Gilbert would prefer to send them straight to the guillotine.

But luckily, this is Paris, where nothing is impossible with money.

Bishop Gilbert's complaint was temporarily shelved after he sent valuable gifts to Ferdinand Hérold, a high-ranking official in the Seine region, Albert Gigo, the Paris police chief, and Lyon Seyy, the Minister of the Interior.

But this gave these big shots leverage to further blackmail The Buzz and themselves.

As for the payment for the article to that "honest Parisian" Sue Yihang, it was a drop in the ocean compared to the newspaper's overall revenue growth.

Each copy of the newspaper, "The Noise," sold for 3 centimes. After deducting costs such as paper, printing, labor, royalties, and distribution, it could bring him a net profit of half a centime. 20 copies would be 1000 francs.

But that's not the main source of his income—that's the ads for brothels, independent prostitutes (socialites), mistress agencies, and mummy aphrodisiacs...

This adds another 500 to 1000 francs to the income each issue, depending on the newspaper's circulation.

Of course, 20% to 30% of these profits need to be used to bribe those who reach out to them from above and below.

For Gabriel, as long as Le Bourgeois was still selling, it was a machine that kept printing francs, and he would make sure it never stopped working, no matter how much it cost.

As every morning, he arrived at the newspaper office early—a two-story building he had bought himself, located in a small alley on Saint Street in the Eighth District. The upstairs was the office, and the downstairs was the typesetting room and printing press. After sitting down, he took out a cigar he hadn't finished smoking yesterday from the drawer, lit it again, took a satisfying puff, and then began to look at today's submissions.

After throwing away more than a dozen junk manuscripts, an envelope signed "An Honest Parisian" appeared before him.

"Huh? Didn't they just send over this week's stories yesterday?" Gabriel was a little confused, but his hands didn't stop. Instead, he tore open the seal even faster and took out the two thin sheets of paper inside.

The first sheet of paper was filled with writing, and Gabriel was stunned after reading only a few lines—

[...The two arrived under the grape trellis, where a set of Spanish-style table and chairs were placed, along with a harp and a bow and arrow. Miss Elena sat down at the harp, gently stroking the strings, producing a melodious sound; Mr. Simmons, on the other hand, practiced archery. They agreed that for every arrow that hit the bullseye, Elena would drink a glass of wine with Simmons. Before long, Simmons had hit ten arrows, getting Elena drunk. At this moment, Elena's face was as radiant as a blooming rose, and her eyes as clear as the autumn waters of the Seine. Simmons took the wine to his room, poured mummy powder into it, and drank it all in one gulp. When he returned, Miss Elena was already under the grape trellis, having laid out a mattress and silk quilt, while he himself...□□□□□□□□ (two lines omitted here), lay supine on the mattress, only her red shoes visible, and a white gauze fan waving in her hand.] Simmons approached, and seeing that she wasn't moved, he, emboldened by his drunkenness, ...□□□□□□□□□□□□□□ (20 lines deleted here). He then tied Elena's feet to the grape trellis, hung her upside down, □□□□□□□□□□□□ (15 lines deleted here)... Simmons... □□□□□□□□□□□□□ (10 lines deleted here)... Elena lay on her back, ... □□□□□□□□□□□ (10 lines deleted here)... Simmons chuckled and said, "□□□□□□□□□□□□ (1 line deleted here)"... Elena □□□□□□□□□□□□□ (20 lines deleted here)... Only then did Elena fall into a deep sleep.

Gabriel: "..."

As the famous owner of The Noisy Newspaper and an unknown writer of vulgar jokes and erotic stories, he was quite well-read in this field, having read everything from Boccaccio's Decameron to the Marquis de Sade's The Philosopher in His Boudoir.

But he had never seen such exquisite, explicit, yet witty writing, especially the frequent use of “□ (delete XX lines here)”, which made him scratch his head in frustration.

I finally turned to the second page, only to find—that's it?
The text consisted of only one line: "Dear Mr. Gabriel, this is a section of my conceived novel. If you are interested, we can discuss its publication plans in more detail..."

Gabriel slammed the letter on the table: "Bastard... no, devil!"

A seemingly random and incomplete description had already ignited the fire within this successful man with a wife and several mistresses, to the point that he needed a glass of whiskey to calm down.

Back at his desk, he swept the other submissions aside and smacked his lips as he read through the first page of the letter.

"A masterpiece! A masterpiece! An unparalleled masterpiece!" At this moment, Gabriel was looking at the text with a completely appreciative eye, and naturally he appreciated its beauty.

The scene setting, visual imagery, action, and language descriptions are all captivating and unprecedented in European novels.

The only problem is that the content is too explicit. Once it is published, both the writer and the publisher will face enormous risks!

But once published, its sales and the resulting profits will likely be astronomical!
Ultimately, the desire for money overcame his fear of the court, and with trembling hands, Gabriel wrote a line at the bottom of the second sheet of paper:

Okay. But we need to meet in person to talk...

After finishing writing, he stuffed the letter into a new envelope, wrote down the address of the "Pending Collection" mailbox on Avenue Saint Martin, and then shouted, "Pierre, you lazy donkey, get in here right now!"

(End of this chapter)