Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 474 The Eliminated! (Fifth update, plus 17 bonus chapters for October)

In Gapu, turn right after two intersections north on Chestnut Street, and you'll see a three-story building with a red roof standing on the side of the street.

The light yellow stone walls, white windows and shutters create a fresh and natural ambiance.

There's a small yard in front of the gate, with a fig tree growing there. Right now, all the leaves have fallen, and the branches are bare.

This is the home of Joseph Sorel, now considered the "most distinguished person" in Gap.

It was already past three in the afternoon, and the living room on the first floor of the small building was bustling with activity.

Three young people were sitting on the sofa.

On the left is Adrian Lafont, the son of a court clerk, who just swaggered around in old Dubois's grocery store.

The fat man in the middle of the sofa is Gaspar Lefebvre, whose father is the owner of the Gapoda textile factory.

He had a round face, wore a brown plaid vest, his stomach was taut, and he would occasionally wipe the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

The tall, thin man on the right of the sofa is named Raphael Moreau. He was studying medicine in Lyon and had just returned for winter break.

There were three chairs opposite the sofa, and they were also full of people.

Philippe Durand, the son of a tax clerk, sat in the chair closest to the fireplace.

The person in the middle chair is Émile Blanc, the nephew of the notary Mr. Blanc, who is studying law at the University of Lyon.

The chair on the outermost side is Maxim Girard, whose uncle is the principal of Gapu High School.

That wasn't all—four or five people were standing in the space between the sofa and chairs.

Some were the sons of small business owners, some were the children of office workers, and two looked like students.

The living room was crammed with about ten people, and the air was thick with the smells of perfume, hair oil, and sweat, making it unbearably stuffy.

Everyone turned to Joseph Sorel—the old man with a worried expression, sitting by the fireplace as if he were about to faint.

Actually, they were using the excuse of watching old Sorel to look towards the stairs, hoping to catch a glimpse of that beautiful figure.

But almost an hour had passed, and Ivana still hadn't come down, nor had she made a sound that gave them pause for thought.

The conversation in the living room was buzzing. At first, it was relatively restrained, but it gradually loosened up and turned into everyone talking past each other and competing with one another.

Adrian Lafon put down his teacup: "Mr. Sorel, where was I? Oh right, we were talking about how our Lafon family will soon be working with your son, Mr. Lionel!"

He leaned forward, a smile spreading across his face: "My father has already written to Paris, applying for the exclusive agency rights for Mr. Sorel's typewriters and bicycles in the Hauts-de-Alpes region."

Just think, this is a huge business opportunity. Government offices, schools, post offices, and wealthy households throughout the province all need typewriters.

Needless to say, bicycles are all the rage now; they've been trending in Paris for over half a year, and Gapp will catch up sooner or later.

He paused, glanced at the others, and said with a hint of pride, "We've received an initial response, and they're very satisfied with us! The Lafont family will soon be Mr. Sorel's partners in the Alps."

By then, Mr. Lionel and I will be friends, and who knows, we might even be able to attend a salon in Paris together.

The fat man in the middle of the sofa, Gaspar Lefebvre, snorted: "Agency? Adrian, your father is a court clerk. He's good at handling documents, but doing business? Does he know anything about it?"

Adrian's expression changed: "What do you mean?"

Gaspar said slowly and deliberately, "What I mean is, doing business requires capital, warehouses, manpower, and distribution channels."

What do you have in your home? Just an office and a few desks. Our Lefebvre home is different.”

He turned to Joseph, forcing a smile: "Mr. Sorel, you know our family's textile factory, right? It's located outside Gap, covering twenty acres, and has more than two hundred workers."

We have warehouses, a fleet of vehicles, and a sales network; we have customers from Lyon to Marseille. If you entrust your typewriters and bicycles to us as agents, I guarantee we'll have them in Provence within three months!

He patted his chest, the buttons on his vest almost popping off: "Besides, my family is rich! We have real money! Unlike some people who just talk the talk."

Adrian's face flushed red: "Gaspar, you..."

Gaspar interrupted him: "What's wrong with me? I'm just stating the facts. What else does your Lafont family know besides a few people in the court? In business, you need strength, not connections."

At this point, Philippe Durand, who was sitting in a chair, interjected.

He adjusted his glasses and said seriously, "Gentlemen, allow me to say something. When it comes to agency rights, it's not just about financial resources, but also about reputation."

Our Du Lang family has been involved in taxation for three generations, always prioritizing integrity and never making a mistake. Furthermore, my father knows the provincial tax bureau chief; they have a very close relationship.

If Mr. Sorel entrusts his business to us, there will be many tax advantages. You know…”

He winked at Joseph Sorel.

Old Sorel remained expressionless, not even bothering to nod, and said nothing.

Emil Bou, the notary's nephew, also spoke up: "Well... my uncle said that the most important thing in doing business is to have complete legal procedures. Contracts and powers of attorney must be notarized to be valid."

Our firm can help and guarantee that everything is legal and compliant!

The principal's nephew, Maxim Girard, chuckled twice: "Law? Tax? Mr. Sorel, my uncle is the principal of Gapoh High School, he knows a lot of people."

He has connections with officials in the provincial education department and acquaintances in the Paris Ministry of Education. Just imagine, if Miss Ivana marries me, we'll be family.

My uncle will definitely do everything he can to get his typewriter and bicycle purchased by all the schools. This is a long-term business, not a one-off deal!

A young man named Antoine, standing in the open space, couldn't help but speak up: "You're all talking about business, but marriage is a matter between two people. Who Miss Ivana likes is what matters, isn't it?"

His father owned a hardware store, which was quite successful, but he lived a simple life, so his clothing was out of place compared to the glamorous appearance of others.

Adrian scoffed: "Antoine, does your father's hardware store earn ten thousand francs a year?"

Antoine blushed: "What's it to you?"

Adrian said, "Of course it's my business. Marriage isn't just about two people, it's about two families. It's about being well-matched, you know? Are you good enough for the Sorel family?"

Gaspar chimed in, "Exactly. Antoine, no offense, but your outfit... tsk, you should at least change into something decent." The others chuckled softly.

Antoine gritted his teeth and remained silent.

Raphael Moreau, a medical student, coughed and said, "Gentlemen, you are all too superficial! What is the essence of marriage? It is the union of two people, the harmony of their spirits, and their shared pursuits."

Miss Ivana needs a partner who understands and supports her, not a business partner!

He turned to Joseph and said sincerely, “Mr. Sorel, I am studying at the Lyon Medical School and will graduate next year. After graduation, I will return to the Gapkai Clinic.”

Furthermore, I love literature and have read all of Mr. Lionel's works. If Miss Ivana marries me, we will have common ground, and I will respect her interests and support her choice.”

Adrian curled his lip: "That sounds nice. But how are you, a poor student, going to support your family? Open a clinic? Do you know how much it costs to rent a shop and buy equipment?"

Raphael blushed: "I... my father will support me."

Adrian laughed even louder: "Oh, your father. Isn't your father the owner of that little pharmacy on Rue Saint-Michel? He probably doesn't make much money all year round, does he?"

In the living room, everyone was talking at once, trying to outdo each other. Their voices grew louder and their words became increasingly harsh.

"Your father's connections are only good enough to fool the country folk."

"Your family is rich? You're just nouveau riche, not respectable at all."

"The provincial tax bureau chief? My uncle even knows a minister in Paris!"

"Doctors? How old is Gap? How many doctors would he need?"

"Legal procedures? What businessperson doesn't understand that?"

Joseph Sorel sat by the fireplace, listening to the argument, his face growing increasingly grim.

The fire crackled and popped, its flames dancing on his face.

He recalled that just a few weeks ago, the house was quiet and peaceful.

Marcel Dubois would come over every Sunday, bringing some candy and coffee, and he would chat with Ivana in the living room, their laughter soft and gentle.

His wife was preparing snacks in the kitchen, while he was copying documents in the study—everything was simple and reassuring.

But now? The living room is crowded with strangers, all talking big and making empty promises.

They weren't talking about Ivana, or marriage; they were talking about business, relationships, and interests.

They saw the Sorel family as a piece of fat meat, and everyone wanted a bite, making them even more despicable than the swindlers of the past.

At least that conman at least disguised his true colors!
Joseph Sorel felt nauseous and stood up abruptly.

The living room fell silent instantly, and everyone looked at him.

Just as Joseph Sorel was about to ask him to leave, a commotion broke out outside the door.

"You, you can't go in! Our young master is inside!"

"Marcel, have you gone mad, you poor bastard? What kind of scoundrel are you bringing along!"

Then came the crisp sound of glass shattering as it hit the ground.

"Ha, you think you can see Miss Ivana with just a can of lousy coffee!"

"Our young master has sent us the finest perfume from Paris, 20 francs a bottle!"

Gaspar, the son of the textile factory owner inside the house, said, "He is my servant Pierre!"

Philip Durand of the tax office immediately added, "And my servant Jacob!"

Joseph Sorel, forgetting what he was about to do, hurriedly stepped out of the living room and into the yard.

The others in the room quickly followed.

In the courtyard, several grooms were seen working together to block two people who were trying to force their way into the house.

One of them is someone everyone knows, the unfortunate Marcel Dubois, who was originally Ivana's lover.

Ever since news broke that he was getting engaged to Ivana, he has drifted further and further away from her…

The other person was dressed in travel clothes, carrying a suitcase, wearing a hat and a scarf, clearly having gone on a long journey.

Although the man's face was half-covered by a scarf, old Sorel recognized him at a glance.

He said in a tearful voice, "Leon, you're finally back!"

Everyone in the courtyard, including Marcel Dubois, who had led him there, was stunned, staring incredulously at the tall man.

He put down his suitcase, then reached out and took off his scarf, revealing his handsome face with a gentle smile.

He first said to old Sorel, "Father, don't worry, I'm back."

He then turned to Marcel and said, "Didn't I say that if I wanted to come in, I could?"

Marcel's mind was blank; he had completely lost the ability to think.

Then Lionel pointed to the two most enthusiastic grooms: "Whose men are they?"

After a long silence, Gaspar and Philippe Durand slowly and laboriously raised their hands and waved them slightly.

Gaspar was about to say something when Lionel waved his hand to stop him.

"I don't want to know your names. Fine, neither of you are to ever show your faces at the Sorel's house again!"

(Fifth update complete, please vote with monthly tickets!)
　Gap was a small town at the time, with a population of less than 1, so these people really represented half of the town's young talents...

　　
　
(End of this chapter)