Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 203 The Pope only has the Vatican, while you own all of Paris.
Archbishop Gibo suddenly looked up: "Who? How dare he come here?!"

His anger instantly dispelled his previous confusion, and he almost immediately ordered the despicable opportunist to be expelled.

But his expression immediately began to change, and he crumpled the newspaper in his hand.

The study was silent, save for the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace.

A full minute passed before the intense emotions in Archbishop Gibo's eyes subsided. He finally took a deep breath and said in a dignified voice, "Take him to the small prayer room. I'll be there shortly."

"Yes, sir." The assistant quietly withdrew.

Archbishop Gibo sat quietly in his chair for a moment, adjusting his scarlet sash and the cross on his chest.

Then he got up and walked toward the small prayer room that was used only for private meetings.

Pushing open the heavy oak door of the prayer room, Archbishop Gibo saw a young man with his back to him, leisurely admiring the paintings of the Passion of Saints hanging on the wall.

The young man turned around, a relaxed smile on his face.

He bowed slightly: "Your Excellency, good day."

Archbishop Gibbon's voice was icy: "Mr. Sorel, your audacity exceeds my expectations—you actually dare to appear before me?"

He did not invite Lionel to sit down, but instead walked straight to the cushioned kneeling stool in the center of the prayer room and looked down at him.

Lionel was unfazed by his hostility: "Why wouldn't I dare? I've come to congratulate you, sir."

You heard the applause in Richelieu Hall last night; it was deafening.

Paris is captivated by you; Le Parisien calls you 'the People's Bishop,' a truly unparalleled honor.

These words were like a slap in the face to Archbishop Gibo.

His cheek muscles twitched, and his anger, which he could no longer suppress, suddenly erupted: "Glory?! Lionel Sorel, how dare you play tricks on me!"

You have broken our initial agreement! "The Choir" has fabricated a shameful story for ignorant people to mock the church!

You've smeared our reputation with an indelible stain! Do you even know what kind of behavior this is?!

His angry voice echoed in the small prayer room.

However, Lionel listened quietly, and only spoke slowly when the Archbishop was out of breath: "Breach of agreement? Deception? Smear campaign?"
"Sir, your words have truly confused and upset me."

He spread his hands, looking completely innocent: "I believe I have perfectly fulfilled our agreement. Tell me, what was the consensus reached between Sister Anna Maria and me at the 'St. Martha's Guild'?"
Isn't the hope that I will create a work that can "promote traditional virtues and soothe people's hearts," and "demonstrate an understanding and even appreciation of the value of faith"?

He took a small step forward, looking directly at the archbishop: "Didn't the Choir do that? The music, the music composed by Mr. Debussy, especially the 'Night,' wasn't sacred enough, comforting enough, and enough to show the hope and light brought by faith?"
How many audience members in the Richelieu Hall shed tears of emotion when the children's pure voices rang out? Was there not even a trace of being moved by their faith in 'beauty' and 'goodness'?

Lionel chuckled: "Most importantly, sir, please recall last night—when the curtain fell, didn't the entire audience stand up and applaud, and spontaneously and sincerely give their applause to you?"

Wasn't that applause a sign of the Parisian people's respect and gratitude to the Church—or more accurately, to you?

Lionel's tone became firm and unquestionable: "Isn't that the ultimate embodiment of the 'friendship' and 'tacit understanding' that the 'St. Martha Society' originally hoped for?"

"We did it, sir!"

"..." Archbishop Gibo opened his mouth, but found himself unable to refute it for the time being.

This feeling of being speechless and frustrated made him even angrier, and his face turned pale and then red.

Lionel keenly sensed the archbishop's emotions, and the smile on his face faded slightly: "Your Excellency, your perspective should transcend the gains and losses of a play. You know better than I do the current predicament of the Holy See."

In 1861, most of the Papal States' territory was annexed by the Kingdom of Sardinia; in 1870, even Rome fell, and His Holiness the Pope's secular power is now confined to the walls of Vatican City.

The influence of the Holy See has declined in Europe and throughout the world; this is an undeniable fact.

Archbishop Gibo's eyes flickered, but he did not utter a word in rebuttal.

This is a sore spot that all high-ranking clergy members tacitly understand.

"Faced with such a great tide of the times, the old guard in the Vatican, who are still immersed in their past glory, are slowly sinking."

“But you are different. His Holiness the Pope only has the Vatican; but you, sir, you possess all of Paris!”

"The Vatican City is less than half a square kilometer in area, while Paris is thousands of times larger..." "The Vatican City has less than a thousand people, while Paris has two million!"

"You are the spiritual leader of more than two million believers in Paris!"

"You still have a place in the thoughts, culture, and public opinion of this city!"

"In fact, after last night, your influence has reached an unprecedented level."

"You are the people's bishop!"

—As Lionel spoke, the title "Bishop of the People" resounded once again in Archbishop Gibo's ears, carrying a moving echo.

Lionel's voice was seductive: "Why not look further ahead? Why must the Vatican lead Paris, and not Paris lead the Vatican?"
In this era of change, an archbishop who is popular, enlightened, and progressive wields far more influence than one who is conservative and closed-minded.

Archbishop Gibo's heart pounded violently.

Lionel's vision resonated strongly with his deep-seated lust for power and his yearning for empty fame.

But he still has one last, and most realistic, concern.

He took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure, but his voice was no longer as forceful as before: "You make it sound so easy, Mr. Sorel. If the Vatican is not pleased with my..."

"Innovation? They could easily summon me back to Rome with a single decree. Then, everything would be for naught."

Lionel seemed to have anticipated this question, and he immediately replied, "Recall you? My lord, the Vatican will not change the archbishop of the Paris diocese twice in such a short period of time."

Frequent changes in leadership only make the authority of the Papacy seem more frivolous.

He stepped forward, lowering his voice even further: "To put it another way, even if, I mean even if, they are truly so incompetent as to recall you."

You will not return to the Vatican alone then. You will return carrying the love and respect of two million Parisians!

You will be the 'Bishop of the People,' the leader who has created a miracle of public opinion in Paris! You are not fighting alone!
Don't forget, we French are the 'eldest daughter of the Church'! Our relationship with the Vatican is ancient and friendly for generations..."

This is an obvious implication—although France is the "eldest daughter of the Church," whether she is filial or not is another matter.

"The Pope only has the Vatican, but you have all of Paris... Go back with the love and respect of two million Parisians... You are not fighting alone!"

These three sentences, like a heavy hammer, completely shattered the last hesitation in Archbishop Gibo's heart.

His body swayed slightly, and he instinctively reached out to steady himself on the kneeling stool beside him.

All anger, humiliation, and inner turmoil were replaced by ambition at this moment.

Lionel stopped speaking and simply stood there quietly, watching the archbishop's face change drastically.

The fire in the fireplace cast the shadows of the two people having a private conversation onto the tapestry, making them appear longer and shorter, shifting and changing.

Finally, Archbishop Gibo slowly raised his head.

The anger and struggle in his eyes had completely vanished, replaced by a light entirely different from before—

It was a gleam that blended greed, ambition, and decisiveness.

He looked intently at Lionel and asked one last question: "What do you want?"

Lionel simply smiled slightly: "I just want to know, has our agreement been fulfilled?"

Archbishop Gibo, who was waiting for Lionel to make an outrageous demand, was taken aback: "Only...only this?"

Lionel nodded.

Archbishop Gibo took a deep breath: "...As you wished, it's done. Rest assured!"

Lionel gave a slight bow: "That's fine then. Goodbye, Your Excellency!"

After saying that, he turned and left the small prayer room.

(End of this chapter)