Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 473 A Divine Assist, A Guide to the Trap! (Fourth Update)

Adrian Lafont was not afraid at all; instead, he took a step forward and approached Marcel.

He continued his provocation: "I'm telling you, Marcel, you should have some self-awareness. The daughter of the Sorel family, is she someone a poor wretch like you can afford to marry?"
You should take a look in the mirror and see what kind of person you are. Have you been wearing that tattered coat for three years? The soles of your shoes are almost worn through.

"Someone like you wants to marry Miss Ivana? You're not on the same level; you have no right to even consider her!"

Marcel's breathing became heavy, and his eyes glared at Adrian as if he were about to breathe fire.

He took another step forward, raising his fist—

Old Man Dubois grabbed his son's arm and pulled him back forcefully.

"Marcel! Don't be impulsive!"

Marcel struggled, but his father's hands gripped him like iron clamps.

He was panting, staring at Adrian, his teeth grinding together.

Adrian wasn't afraid at all; instead, he laughed and said, "What, you want to hit me? Come on, hit me. If you punch me, I'll report you to the police."

Let's see if you, the grocery store clerk, are more capable, or my father."

Old Man Dubois pulled his son behind him and stood in front of Adrian.

The smile on his face disappeared, but he didn't get angry; he just looked at the other person calmly.

His voice was calm, neither angry nor humble: "Young Master Lafon, who Miss Ivana marries is not something you can decide by swaggering around in front of our little shop."

Adrian raised an eyebrow: "Oh?"

Old Man Dubois raised his finger and pointed to the other end of the street: "Just now, before you arrived, I saw at least four respectable young men carrying flowers and gifts heading towards the Sorel's house."

If you're truly interested in Miss Ivana, wasting your time here with us will only mean missing out on an opportunity that might go to someone else.

Adrian's expression changed.

He glanced across the street, then turned back to stare at old man Dubois with a gloomy look in his eyes.

Old Man Dubois continued, “I’m old. I’ve been running this shop for over thirty years. I’ve seen all kinds of people. Some things you can’t get by arguing.”

But some opportunities, once missed, are gone forever. What do you say, Mr. Lafon?

Adrian was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly sneered: "Old man, you've got a sharp tongue!"

He pulled his hat back up and straightened his collar. "But you're right, I should hurry up. After all..."

He paused deliberately, looked at Marcel, and then said, word by word, "After all, our Lafon family is about to obtain the exclusive agency rights for Mr. Sorel's typewriters and bicycles throughout the Alps."

"At that point, Lionel Sorel and I will be business partners. Isn't it obvious who Miss Ivana will choose?"

After he finished speaking, he turned and walked to the carriage, untied the reins, jumped onto the seat, cracked the whip, and the carriage drove away from the street, raising a cloud of dust.

The sound of horse hooves gradually faded away.

The area in front of the grocery store quieted down.

Old Man Dubois stood there, watching the direction the carriage had disappeared in, and after a long while, he let out a long sigh.

He turned around and saw his son still standing there, his fists clenched and his shoulders trembling slightly.

The old man called out, "Marcel!"

Marcel did not respond.

Old Man Dubois raised his voice again: "Marcel!"

Marcel then looked up, his eyes red.

Old Man Dubois walked over and patted his son on the back: "Come inside."

The two entered the store.

It wasn't time to turn on the lights yet, so the shop was a bit dimly lit, with coffee, spices, candles, pickles...

The shelves stretched from floor to ceiling and were filled with goods.

Flour, sugar, salt, coffee beans, tea leaves, candles, soap, needles and thread, buttons, notebooks, ink...

It had everything; sacks and wooden crates were piled up in the corner.

The counter was an old-fashioned wooden counter with a brass scale, a money box, and several account books on it.

The smells in the shop have always been complex, but today Marcel Dubois knows that the taste of life can be even more complex.

In fact, the Dubois family was not considered "poor" in Gap; in fact, they could be described as a relatively well-off middle-class family.

Old Man Dubois went behind the counter, took out two glasses from underneath, and then took out a bottle of cider. He poured two glasses and pushed one towards his son.

Marcel took the glass, but didn't drink from it; he just held it.

Old Man Dubois took a sip and then said, “Marcel, my dear child, it’s not that I don’t want Ivana to marry into our family.”

I like that girl too; she's reliable and not spoiled. If things work out, it will be a blessing for our family.

He paused, then lowered his voice: "But as you can see, we can't afford to mess with someone like Adrian Lafont."

His father is a court clerk and knows many people. It would be too easy for him to cause trouble for our small shop.

And those who fawned over Sorel's family, weren't they all from families with some connections?

Our family is just an ordinary family, running a small business and living a peaceful life.

Getting involved in this kind of thing won't do you any good!

Marcel stared at the golden liquid in his glass for a long time before finally saying in a hoarse voice, "I know." Old Man Dubois took another sip of his drink. "Good that you know. Some things can't be accomplished with just sincerity."

In this world, the saying "marrying someone of equal social standing" is unpleasant to hear, but it holds true. If the gap is too large, even if they force themselves to stay together, it will be difficult in the future.

Marcel didn't say anything, but simply raised the glass to his lips and drank it all in one gulp.

The alcohol was a bit strong, and he choked and started coughing.

Old Man Dubois looked at his son, his heart conflicted. Of course, he wanted his son to be happy, but he wanted him to be safe even more.

As a father and head of the family, he had to make the safest choice.

The shop fell silent again. Only the wall clock ticked.

Outside the window, the sunlight slanted slightly.

Just then, the light at the shop entrance dimmed for a moment.

Someone was standing at the door.

Old Man Dubois looked up, and Marcel turned his head as well.

He was a young man, very tall, more than half a head taller than Marcel.

He was dressed in dark travel clothes, with some snow still on his shoulders, and carrying a heavy-looking suitcase.

Because of the backlighting, the store lights weren't on yet, and the stranger's scarf covered half his face, so it was impossible to see what he looked like.

The stranger's gaze swept around the shop before settling on old man Dubois.

He spoke up: "Excuse me, but could you tell me how to get to the Sorel residence?"

Dubois paused for a moment, and Marcel was also stunned.

Both of them stared at the stranger, momentarily stunned.

When they didn't answer, the stranger asked again, "I'm looking for Mr. Joseph Sorel's house. How do I get there?"

Another suitor? Or has he come from afar?
Marcel was extremely frustrated and didn't want to look at the young man anymore, so he turned around and went to organize the shelves.

Old Man Dubois then hurriedly said, "Go north along this street, turn at the second intersection, and there's a three-story building with a red roof. That's it."

The stranger thanked him and then asked, "I need to take some gifts with me. Do you have any recommendations?"

Even old man Dubois couldn't stand it anymore and muttered, "Who only remembers to buy a gift when they're almost at the door?"

The stranger scratched his head sheepishly: "I was in such a rush when I came that I forgot about it."

Old Man Dubois sighed, but still recommended, "We have some freshly arrived 'Réunion Bourbon Coffee,' 8 francs a kilogram."

The stranger frowned, seemingly dissatisfied: "No 'Yemeni Mocha' or 'Jamaican Blue Mountain'?"

Old Dubois replied in a muffled voice, "Sir, those are high-class drinks that only the gentlemen of Paris can afford. My little shop can't sell them."

The stranger chuckled, took out some money and placed it on the counter: "Then give me a kilogram of 'Réunion Bourbon Coffee,' and please pack it for me."

This is a gift for Miss Ivana, so wrap it up nicely!

There was a loud "clang" sound from the shelf; something had tipped over.

Old Man Dubois remained unfazed, turned around, opened a large bag, and weighed out one kilogram of "Réunion Bourbon Coffee" beans.

He took out a clean glass jar, carefully poured the beans in, and then handed it to the stranger: "Smell it."

The stranger took the glass jar, brought it close to his nose to smell it, weighed it in his hand, and said with satisfaction, "Good quality, very fresh! And the quantity is just right!"

Old Man Dubois's face showed a proud expression: "Our Dubois family has been in business on Chestnut Street for four generations. We never buy substandard products, and we certainly don't cheat people!"

The stranger handed the glass bottle back to old man Dubois, who skillfully sealed the bottle opening with a tin sheet and pliers, and then wrapped it in a beautiful silk cloth.

On the handle, Père Dubois sculpted a beautiful double floral knot, it's exquisite!

The stranger picked up the large glass bottle of coffee and examined it closely with satisfaction: "Your skills are truly excellent; even Parisian shop assistants are rarely this efficient."

Old Man Dubois's nose practically pointed to the sky: "When my father was here, the shop was only half the size it is now. It took me twenty years of hard work to get to where I am today."

"To do business, not only do the products have to be good, but they also have to make customers happy to look at them and feel respectable when using them..." He suddenly started talking and talked more and more.

The stranger didn't rush to leave; instead, he listened with great interest and nodded frequently.

After talking for a long time, old man Dubois finally took a breather and then remembered the other party's purpose.

He asked somewhat embarrassedly, "Sorry, I'm being too long-winded! Aren't you going to Sorel's house? It'll be too late if you stay any longer!"
They're so lively now, it's like a dance party every day. If you go late, you can't even get into the living room... By the way, you mentioned Paris, are you from Paris?

The news of Ivana's impending marriage has even reached Paris? My God, what's wrong with this world...?

The stranger shook his head: "No rush, I can come in anytime I go. What you just said was really interesting!"
"Old Man Dubois, you were a good father. Whoever has been your child is very lucky."

Old Man Dubois was taken aback, wondering where this seemingly random remark came from.

At that moment, the stranger suddenly called out, "Young Mr. Dubois, I overheard you outside the door, it seems you're also pursuing Ivana?"

"Want to come with me? I need someone to show me the way anyway."

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Meanwhile, Joseph Sorel's house was already in complete chaos.

The small living room seemed to be crammed with half of the young talents from Gapu.

(Fourth update, please vote with monthly tickets. There will be one more update later, but it will be quite late. You can read it tomorrow.)
(End of this chapter)