Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 30 I don't know you, but I know your wife.
At 6 a.m., Lionel watched the carriage bearing the "Necker Children's Hospital" emblem gradually disappear into the distance until it was completely lost in the dim light and thick morning mist before turning his gaze away.

He took a 5-franc silver coin from his pocket and handed it to the assistant of pediatrician Adolphe Pinal, who was standing at the door.

Dr. Adolf Pinal reassured Lionel, "Don't worry, I've written a short note for them to pass on to the director of 'Necker,' and I'm confident Petty will receive the best care."

Lionel nodded: "I hope so."

Adolf Pinar took a liking to the young man who was so generous to his maid.

He had been a doctor for over 10 years and had never seen an employer willing to pay the exorbitant price of 3 francs a day to allow a little girl who was not related to him by blood to stay in a private room at Paris’s oldest, most professional, and most expensive children’s hospital.

On the contrary, he was used to seeing parents abandon their children because they didn't want to afford the medical expenses. About half of the patients who died in Paris every winter were children.

The poor university student living in a slum in the 11th arrondissement actually pulled out 100 francs to prepay for the hospital room. His character can no longer be described as "generous" or "kind".

He couldn't even imagine how strapped for cash Lionel would be in the days to come.

Dr. Adolf Pinal patted Lionel on the shoulder: "Dr. Jacques-Joseph Grancher of Necker Children's Hospital is a good friend of mine. He is very skilled in treating pneumonia and tuberculosis in children."

Besides, Petty wasn't diagnosed with tuberculosis—she might just have ordinary pneumonia, which is more common in winter.

At this point, Lionel was helpless. Although he had some medical knowledge that was ahead of his time, he lacked the drugs, instruments and concepts of later generations, and this knowledge was almost impossible to implement.

He couldn't very well tell the doctor in front of him that they could extract penicillin from a type of mold, purify it, and give Petty an injection to cure her...

Lionel asked one last question: "When can I visit Petty?"

Dr. Adolf Pinal thought for a moment and said, "The Necker Children's Hospital will disinfect and isolate all children who are potentially at risk of infection, and then treat them after they are diagnosed."

So you'll need a few more days to see her—but at the latest, this weekend should be enough.

After exchanging a few more words, Dr. Adolf Pinal concluded his special house call, got into his carriage, and left the neighborhood that had made him feel rather uncomfortable.

A charcoal stove burned in the carriage, making it warm and cozy. The assistant then complimented, "Sir, you are far too generous. Making a midnight house call and waiting until the 'Necker's' carriage arrived to pick you up… We should charge an extra 5 francs!"

Dr. Adolf Pinar glanced at his assistant, who, realizing he had misspoke, quickly shut his mouth.

After a long pause, Dr. Adolf Pinar said, "This Lionel Sorel is a truly humanitarian man. In his eyes, a maid from the slums is no different from a young lady from a noble family."

Did you notice how he cooled down the poor child when we arrived...?

The assistant was taken aback, and after a moment he stammered, "You mean those towels..."

Dr. Adolf Pinal sighed in exasperation: "Didn't you notice where those cold towel pads were? He already has more common sense than half the students in medical school!"

The assistant was so reprimanded that he fell silent and dared not utter another sound.

Dr. Adolf Pinal turned to look out the window and saw a bronze statue of the Virgin Mary, holding the infant Jesus and looking at the passersby and carriages with compassionate eyes.

………………

After seeing Dr. Adolf Pinal off, Lionel turned and returned to his apartment with mixed feelings.

They were greeted by the almost fawning smiles of Patty's parents, Mrs. Martin, and the curious gazes of a group of apartment neighbors who had come to watch the spectacle.

Petty's mother stammered as she asked him, "Thank you for your generosity... Petty is saved! But, but..."

Lionel knew what the woman was thinking and said bluntly, "As long as Petty is alive, you will have 15 francs every month." These words put Petty's parents at ease.

If Petty really did have tuberculosis, she would not only be unable to work as a maid, but would also become a burden—their biggest fear was that Lionel would "return" her.

The concern I felt when I first discovered Petty had a fever has now turned into scheming.

Petty's parents' love for her wasn't entirely absent, but it was certainly not much—of course, the emotional outpouring they felt when they knocked on Lionel's door was the most extravagant emotional expenditure of their lives.

But Lionel wasn't finished: "However, the 3 francs a day hospital fee will be deducted from your future wages—so you'd better pray that Petty gets better soon."

The words had barely left her lips when Petty's mother froze. If Petty really had to stay in the hospital for a month, it meant she wouldn't receive that payment for six months?

At this moment, Petty's rarely seen, always drunk father suddenly approached with a fawning smile: "Actually, you don't need to spend 100 francs on her. Just leave her with us, and we can take good care of her. As long as... as long as..."

Lionel avoided him with disgust, without saying a word, and turned to go straight upstairs. Petit's parents dared not say anything more, and could only watch Lionel's figure disappear around the corner of the stairs.

Petty's sudden illness dealt him a heavy blow.

What he had been worried about had actually come true in Petty's case, making Lionel feel an even greater sense of urgency.

On the desk was a manuscript that Petty had only copied a little over a page of; the handwriting was childish, but each stroke was careful and meticulous, without the slightest carelessness or perfunctoriness.

He took out a new sheet of paper and, with more than an hour before school started, continued writing the rest of "The Old Guard".

This time, however, he suddenly found himself able to empathize with the characters in the novel, especially with the last line of "Kong Yiji"—

I haven't seen him yet—it seems Kong Yiji is indeed dead.

It seemed to have transformed into a dark, oppressive cloud, looming over Lionel's heart.

………………

Another day of classes has come to an end. Lionel, who was also working hard to create during class, has finally finished writing "The Old Guard," but he needs to make a clean copy of it.

After all, this is a manuscript for the Sorbonne Journal, not a tabloid like The Noise, so we need to take into full account the reading experience of the senior professors.

After doing all this, Lionel did not return to his apartment or find a communal dining table, but went straight to the Sorbonne University Faculty of Science building at 12 Rue Saint-Jacques.

By this time, most of the professors in the building had already left for the day or gone out for dinner, leaving only some students and teaching assistants still toiling away in the lab.

Based on the inside information he had gathered that day, Lionel wandered through the science building and finally found a room with a sign that read "Physics Laboratory".

Lionel knocked on the door, and a thin young man with deep-set eyes opened it. He looked even younger than Lionel, but he had a "Teaching Assistant" badge on his chest, so he must have at least a master's degree.

Lionel gave a harmless smile: "Excuse me, are you Mr. Pierre Curie? I am Lionel Sorel, a student in the Faculty of Arts."

Pierre Curie looked puzzled: "Lionel Sorel? Do we know each other?"

Lionel thought to himself, "I don't really know you, but I do know your future wife!"

　Adolph Pinard was a pioneer in French obstetrics and pediatrics, and invented a stethoscope for pregnant women that could hear the fetal heartbeat; another pioneer, Jacques-Joseph Grancher, was a doctor at the Necker Children's Hospital at the time, and a pioneer in tuberculosis prevention. Pierre Curie was born in 1859, received his master's degree from the Sorbonne in 1878, and stayed on as a teaching assistant in the school's laboratory.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)