Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

The Answer to Chapter 286

Lionel's proposal stunned everyone.

Yusman glanced at the sky outside the window: "Now? To see what?"

César asked curiously, "Leon, what are you up to?"

Although Zola did not speak, his eyes revealed a strong interest. He knew Lionel and knew that this young man never spoke without a purpose.

Lionel succinctly stated: "Go and see a possible answer."

He picked up his coat from the back of the chair: "It's in Paris. If we leave now, we can get there before evening."

This action completely piqued the curiosity of the group. They looked at each other and eventually stood up.

Zola took the lead in agreeing: "Alright, Leon, let's see what surprises you have in store for us."

The group put on coats and hats, boarded two carriages, and headed towards the city of Paris.

The carriage sped through brightly lit commercial districts, through dimly lit and quiet streets, and along the asphalt roads of Paris.

Inside the train carriage, several writers were still speculating about Lionel's destination—

Was it a salon that sponsored female artists? Or a new-style girls' school?

Lionel smiled without saying anything, only assuring everyone, "You'll see when we get there."

About an hour later, the carriage stopped in a rather chaotic neighborhood.

Lionel led them to a simple-looking building, which looked like a small warehouse or workshop, with bright gaslight shining from the windows.

Before they even entered the room, a strange, dense series of "click-click-ding" sounds reached everyone's ears.

The sound was rhythmic and continuous, like a symphony.

Maupassant pricked up his ears, looking puzzled: "What is that sound?"

Yusman looked around the building: "What is this place? A factory?"

Lionel did not answer, but simply pushed open the door to the "warehouse".

The sight inside the door made these well-traveled writers hold their breath in unison, their faces filled with astonishment.

This is a spacious hall with simply painted walls that make it look clean and bright.

Several gas lamps hung from the ceiling, illuminating the entire space as if it were daytime.

But what caught their attention most were the desks and typewriters neatly arranged in the center of the hall! Count them, a total of fifteen!
Behind each typewriter sat a woman.

They were of different ages, dressed simply, and focused, their fingers flying across the keyboard, making a "click-click-ding" sound.

Some people were already very skilled; their eyes swept over the manuscript, and their fingers smoothly pressed the corresponding keys as if playing the piano.

Some people were a little inexperienced and needed to look down at the keyboard from time to time, but their attitude was just as serious.

Besides the sound of keyboard typing, there was also the rustling of paper turning in the air.

Behind these "typists," a familiar figure stood there—Alice-Clemence Rorschach.

Alice at this moment was no longer the somewhat shy girl they remembered.

She was wearing a neat dark dress, her hair pulled back, holding a manuscript in her hand, leaning over and whispering instructions to a young girl.

She appeared calm and confident, occasionally pointing out certain mistakes with her finger.

"Relax your wrist, Angeliel, don't use so much force... Yes, that's it."

“Mrs. Duss, this line is a bit off. Next time, remember to check the position of the carriage before turning it back.”

Her voice was gentle, yet carried an unquestionable authority, befitting a true teacher instructing students.

Alice quickly noticed the commotion at the door. She looked up, saw Lionel and the others, and her face showed surprise before she smiled. She whispered a few words to Mrs. Lobel beside her, then hurried over to greet them.

Alice's voice was filled with surprise: "Leon! Mr. Zola, Mr. Maupassant, Mr. Huysmann, Mr. Céar... what brings you all here?"

Zola was the first to come to his senses and hugged Alice: "Alice, where is this..."

His gaze swept across the entire room, still filled with disbelief.

The impact of this scene on him was far more direct than reading any book.

Alice smiled and introduced the place with pride: "This is the 'Sorel-Rorschach Typing Cooperative'."

Huysman astutely grasped the essence of the term "typing cooperative?"

Alice nodded and briefly explained the whole story.

She led the group a few steps further in so they could see better.

Meanwhile, the explanation continued: how to approach business, how to allocate tasks, how to ensure quality, and how to distribute income...

Alice's face shone with an unprecedented radiance: "We have officially registered and now have thirty full-time and part-time typists."

Mr. De La Ruwak brought us many orders—we take on copying work for shops, offices, newspapers, and even some government departments in various districts…”

She pointed to the women who were working: "Among them are widows like Mrs. Lobel who are raising their children alone."

There were also young women hoping to earn some dowry for themselves; and others who used to do odd jobs like sewing and laundry...

But as long as you can read, you can learn to type here and then work using your skills.

Lionel remarked with some emotion, "When I came last week, there weren't this many units, were there?"

Alice nodded: "There were only 9 last week, but there were just too many people later..."

Zola was deeply moved as he watched Alice move freely and give instructions in this vibrant little "factory".

His gaze finally settled on the rows of working typewriters, and on the women with bright eyes and straight backs.

He couldn't have imagined that the Remington he had given to Alice would develop into such an unprecedented business.

Maupassant's mouth dropped open as he looked at the busy women, then at the confident and composed Alice, and finally at Lionel.

After a long pause, he murmured, "My God... this is... this is..."

The faces of César, Huysmann, and others were also filled with disbelief; the scene before them shattered their preconceived notions.

Zola patted Maupassant on the shoulder: "Guy, do you see? This is not the end of men, this is the beginning of the age of 'humanity'."

Only when women can achieve economic independence through work can they truly escape the fate of being treated as 'dolls'.

This is more realistic and more constructive than any romantic elopement or desperate revolution.

Lionel stood beside his friends, watching the changing expressions on their faces, and calmly asked, "What happened after Nora left?"

He pointed to the brightly lit typing factory: "This is one of the answers."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The group toured the site for a long time before reluctantly leaving.

They all assured Alice that they would mention this "decent job" in their future works, so that more women would know that there are such options in life.

Lionel and Alice watched the two carriages disappear from the doorway before he asked Alice, "How late are you going to work?"

Alice didn't answer the question, but instead said something that sent a chill down Lionel's spine:

"I met Miss Sophie today."

(End of this chapter)