Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 309 The Moon and Sixpence (Bonus chapter for 17,000 votes in September)

December 20, 1880, Paris.

The air was filled with a unique atmosphere of the year's end: pine, roasted chestnuts, spices, and red wine...

Lionel Sorel stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting his bow tie.

The young man in the mirror was wearing a well-tailored black evening suit, which made his shoulders appear straight and his figure tall.

Sophie's voice came from behind: "Do you need my help?"

She walked over, wearing a dark blue velvet evening gown, simple in style but perfectly outlining her figure.

The neckline is adorned with tiny pearls, which complement the simple pearl earrings on her earlobes.

Lionel turned around and looked at her admiringly: "Beautiful."

He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "Ready, my lady? We're going to have to deal with a bunch of Englishmen tonight."

Sophie smiled slightly and took his arm: "As long as you don't get surrounded by noblewomen like you did at Count Rohan's house last time, that's fine."

Lionel picked up the invitation on the table and waved it: "I promise!" It was an invitation to the Christmas ball from the British Embassy in France.

The British Embassy, ​​located on Rue Forbes in the Saint-Honoré district, is an impressive mansion. The carriage stopped at the gate, and a uniformed servant opened the door.

In the brightly lit lobby, a warm atmosphere mingled with the aromas of perfume, cigars, and food.

Gentlemen conversed in hushed tones, and ladies rustled their skirts—a typical embassy social scene.

The appearance of Lionel and Sophie attracted some attention.

Several acquaintances from the French cultural scene nodded in greeting, while the British embassy staff cast curious glances.

The embassy counselor was the first to greet him: "Mr. Sorel! And this is?" He warmly shook hands with Lionel and bowed slightly to Sophie.

Lionel introduced his companion gently: "Ms. Sophie Deneuve."

The counselor greeted Sophie and then praised how "A Study in Scarlet" had become a sensation in London, with even the ambassador being a loyal reader.

During the pleasantries, the ambassador himself strolled over: "Ah, our young master of detective fiction!"

His voice boomed: "Your Sherlock Holmes has caused Scotland Yard quite a bit of trouble, but I like it!"

A polite chuckle rippled through the crowd.

Lionel smiled and replied, "I hope my novel will encourage them to become more efficient!"

The ambassador laughed and said, "Well said!"

After a brief conversation, Lionel and Sophie blended into the crowd at the ball.

He inevitably became the focus of social interaction among some British expatriates.

People were talking about the latest installment of "A Study in Scarlet" and speculating about the identity of the murderer;
Some people also asked him about his upcoming creative plans.

Just as Lionel was busy with his social engagements, a figure finally seized the opportunity and walked over.

The man introduced himself: "Excuse my intrusion, Mr. Sorel! I am Paul Gauguin."

Lionel looked at him in surprise. He had heard the Impressionist painters mention this "amateur painter" when they were in cafes.

I never expected to meet you here.

So he replied politely, "Renoir mentioned you, saying you have a bright future in painting!"

Paul Gauguin's face lit up with delight: "You're too kind. I'm mainly a stockbroker now; painting is just a hobby."

However, I am even more fascinated by your works, such as *The Old Guard*, *Letter from an Unknown Woman*, and now, Sherlock Holmes—I love them all!

Lionel introduced him to Sophie: "This is Mr. Gauguin, a painter with great potential!"

Sophie nodded to Gauguin, who awkwardly returned the greeting.

His attention quickly returned to Lionel: "Modern painting is too focused on superficial glamour and refinement, losing its more primal and authentic power."

Like Paris, draped in the glamorous coat given to it by Baron Haussmann, but inside…

For Paul Gauguin, meeting Lionel was an unexpected delight at attending the ball today.

He originally mingled at the dance with the intention of meeting more wealthy people and expanding his client list.

But Lionel's appearance made him forget his original intention.

The blood of a painter surged within him, but he also knew that once he embarked on this "path of no return," poverty would immediately follow him like a shadow.

Renoir was once so poor that he couldn't even afford paint, and could only hire models whose figures had changed.

But things are different now—this guy has not only rented a large studio, but can even afford to hire assistants. It's all thanks to the young man in front of him, so he's determined to seize this opportunity to showcase his artistic insights.

But their conversation was soon interrupted by a sudden commotion.

A little boy, about six or seven years old, slipped past the adults' legs like an out-of-control marble and bumped headfirst into Lionel's leg.

The little guy was a bit dazed from the impact. He raised his head, revealing a mischievous and spirited face. His light-colored eyes showed no fear, only curiosity.

A voice filled with anxiety and apology followed immediately: "William!"

A man in his thirties strode over and grabbed the boy's hand: "I'm so sorry, sir! This child disappeared in the blink of an eye..."

William, quickly apologize to this gentleman.

The boy blinked and said obediently, "I'm sorry, sir."

Lionel crouched down, looked the boy in the eye, and smiled, "It's alright, did you hurt yourself?"

He then noticed that the boy's father was looking at him in surprise.

The boy's father asked, somewhat agitated, "You...you are Mr. Lionel Sorel?"

Lionel stood up and nodded: "Yes, I am."

The man extended his hand: "God, what an honor! Robert Maugham, the embassy's legal counsel."

My wife and I are both your loyal readers! Your "Letter from an Unknown Woman" made my wife cry so much that she soaked a handkerchief.

And *A Study in Scarlet*... Good heavens, my colleagues and I discuss Sherlock Holmes's deductions every single day!

Lionel shook hands with him and looked at the little boy beside him: "So, this must be Mr. Maugham?"

Robert Maugham affectionately patted his son's head: "William Somerset Maugham, you're very naughty."

Hopefully, he'll grow up to have half of Sherlock Holmes' composure.

Looking at the young Maugham before him and Gauguin beside him, Lionel felt a sense of absurdity, as if time and space were intertwined.

He asked the child in a casual tone, "So, William, what do you want to be when you grow up? A lawyer like your father?"

William Maugham tilted his head, thought seriously for a moment, and then answered in a childish voice, "I want...I want to be a pirate!"

This answer made the adults burst into laughter.

Lionel took his wallet out of his pocket, which contained a few coins he had left over from his last trip to England.

He picked out a sixpence coin and handed it to the little boy: "Very good answer, this is a reward for you! Remember what you said today."

William the Younger took the coin with delight, clutching it tightly in his hand, while Robert Maugham repeatedly expressed his gratitude.

Paul Gauguin, who was standing nearby, said jokingly, "Mr. Sorel, you are so generous to the children."

So, what would you use to encourage an adult like me who's still struggling between stocks and canvases?

Lionel turned his head and looked at Gauguin.

Then he raised his left hand and pointed through the tall glass window to the hazy night sky outside, to the cold winter moon that was faintly visible in the clouds.

Lionel said, "Moon, I give you this moon, Mr. Gauguin."

Paul Gauguin looked in the direction the finger was pointing, and the playful smile on his face slowly froze. He stared at the moon outside the window for a long time without saying a word.

------

On the carriage ride back, Sophie leaned on Lionel's shoulder and asked softly, "What did you mean when you pointed to the moon at Mr. Gauguin just now?"

Lionel looked out the window at the rapidly receding Parisian streetlights and said slowly, "It doesn't mean anything special."

I just feel that for some people, the best gift might be an unattainable dream.

And the moon will always be there.

Sophie didn't ask any more questions, but just snuggled closer to him.

The carriage moved forward in the night, carrying them away from the embassy's brilliant lights and into the boundless darkness and tranquility of the Parisian winter night.

Lionel closed his eyes, and the image of Maugham clutching the coin flashed through his mind, as did Gauguin's gaze at the moon...

　Somerset Maugham was born in the British Embassy in Paris. His father, Robert Ormond Maugham, was a lawyer who handled legal affairs at the British Embassy in Paris. Because French law stipulated that all children born in France could be drafted, he arranged for Maugham to be born at the embassy, ​​which, strictly speaking, meant he was born in Britain. His grandfather, Robert, was also a distinguished lawyer and one of the founders of the Law Society of England and Wales.

　　The sixpence was a coin that circulated in Britain, Ireland, and Australia. It was worth approximately 0.5 shillings. 240 pence equaled 1 pound, so this coin was equivalent to 0.025 pounds.

　　The sixpence began circulating during the reign of King Edward VI of England and continued to be minted until the reign of Queen Elizabeth II in 1967, a period of over four hundred years, from 1551 to 1967.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)