Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 323 Exclusive Authorization!

The name instantly reminded Lionel of that "Parisian bookstore" and the pirated books on the shelves bearing his name.

Lionel's face instantly darkened. He leaned against the doorframe, making no attempt to hide the sarcasm in his tone: "Ah, Mr. Márquez."

I've long admired your reputation. The beautifully printed and faithfully reproduced publications in 'Paris Bookshop' have left a deep impression on me.

Adolf Márquez initially looked surprised, but then smiled easily, clearly unconcerned about Lionel's sarcasm.

His tone made it sound as if Lionel were praising him: "You've been to the 'Paris Bookshop'? Ha, that's my honor!"

Mr. Sorel, I completely understand your anger. Any writer would be displeased to see this.

Lionel sneered: "Not happy? You're making it sound so easy."

Adolf Márquez shrugged, looking helpless: "Face reality, sir. That's just how it is in Russia."

The copyrights of any foreign author are not protected here. Even if I don't do it, plenty of people in St. Petersburg, Moscow, and even Kyiv will.

You can't stop me, and you can't stop them—that's the rule of the Russian Empire!

Lionel suppressed the urge to slam the door in his face: "So, Mr. Márquez, what brings you here today?"
Surely you didn't come here specifically to explain this glorious Russian tradition to me? Well, I've already seen that, please leave!

As he spoke, he was about to close the door.

Adolf Márquez leaned slightly forward, blocking the door from closing: "I'm here to offer you a solution—"

I hope to secure an exclusive license for all your works within the Russian Empire. Of course, as a condition, I need to receive your new works as soon as possible.

Lionel almost laughed in anger: "Exclusive license? Mr. Márquez, you just told me that foreign authors' copyrights are not protected in Russia."

What good is it for me to authorize you? Do you think other publishers will suddenly become law-abiding just because you have a contract in your possession?

Or are you suggesting I renounce my French citizenship and become a Russian citizen to enjoy the protections of Russian law?

Adolf Márquez's smile remained unchanged: "I have my own way of doing things—in Russia, some rules are above the water, and some are below the water."

If you are willing to dedicate your works published in Russia to His Highness Crown Prince Alexander Alexandrovich...

"Then I assure you, within Russia, there will be no other publisher that would dare to print and sell your work on such a large scale."

Lionel stared into Márquez's shrewd eyes: "Mr. Márquez, your 'kindness' is truly touching."

However, I will not use my name and works to serve as decorative candles for Your Highness the Crown Prince.

He took a step back, placed his hand on the doorknob, and gestured for the guest to leave: "Now, please leave!"

The smile on Adolphe Theodore Gabriel García Márquez's face finally vanished; he seemed not to have expected the young French writer to refuse so decisively.

He still tried to "make amends": "I also attended today's funeral—tomorrow, I will go to see Mrs. Anna."

"I would buy the copyrights to all of Dostoevsky's works. Guess how much I'm willing to pay for it?"

Lionel looked at him coldly, without asking any further questions.

Adolf Márquez was somewhat embarrassed, so he had to answer his own question, but his tone became lower and more tempting: "20 rubles! That's equivalent to 50 francs!"
Mr. Sorel, believe me, I am by no means a miser! Printing your book without permission was unavoidable—everyone was doing it.

"If I don't print it, it means I'll lose money! But if you're willing to give me an 'exclusive license,' you'll definitely get unexpectedly huge profits..." Lionel still didn't speak, but made a "please leave" gesture.

Seeing this, Adolf Márquez said nothing more, nodded, turned around, and left along the corridor, leaning on his silver-tipped cane.

Lionel slammed the door shut, shutting out the chill of St. Petersburg.

He didn't know whether Adolf Márquez was clever or foolish.

He actually encouraged himself, a French writer, to dedicate his work to the future Tsar of Russia in order to earn gold rubles...

He took a deep breath and thought of Paris, his desk, and the unfinished "Thunderstorm".

He had to leave in two days.

------

Lionel has not yet returned to Paris, but news about him has once again swept through the city.

His address at Dostoevsky's funeral had already spread rapidly through Parisian cultural circles via telegram and letter, even before Dostoevsky's.

First, Le Figaro published a lengthy full article about Dostoevsky's grand funeral and Lionel's eulogy.

Le Figaro even added an editor's note, lavishing praise on the eulogy:
[This is a powerful piece that transcends mourning itself, reaching the essence of literature and the spirit of the times.]

And believes that Lionel Sorel:
With its unique sensitivity and profundity, it paints a spiritual portrait of a Russian literary master that belongs to the entire civilized world.

French media outlets have also begun to discuss the "extraordinary" treatment the young writer received in Russia.

The warm reception from the Alexandrinsky Theatre and the adoration from St. Petersburg's high society were all explored and exaggerated.

But most of the discussion focused on the eulogy itself.

People are linking this speech to his remarks at Flaubert's funeral six months earlier, and a clear consensus is gradually forming:

The biggest difference between Lionel Sorel and other writers and critics of his time is that he can always express, with an almost prophetic tone, what kind of inspiration and value these deceased literary giants will bring to the "future," rather than simply praising their current achievements.

A commentary in the Debate newspaper stated:
Mr. Sorel seemed to be holding a telescope that could see into the future.

His analysis of Flaubert reveals the beginnings of 20th-century literature.

His mourning for Dostoevsky is a prelude to the human spiritual predicament.

He wasn't summarizing the past; he was interpreting the value of these souls for future readers.

The Age newspaper went even further, stating:

This young "conscience of the Sorbonne" seems to possess an innate ability to imbue "classics" with "contemporary relevance".

He made us realize that those great people who have passed away are not lying in coffins, but living on in the tomorrow we are about to enter.

These comments fueled the growing anticipation for Lionel's return throughout the Parisian salons.

(End of this chapter)