Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 481 Baroness Alexievna's Decision!

"Give the Sherbatov family a chance?"

Sofia was stunned.

She anticipated Lionel's various reactions—insincere politeness, sharp retorts, or even an attempt to seek some kind of reconciliation—

But I never expected it to be such a direct and almost rude "give me a chance".

This is completely out of step with the refined social etiquette of Parisian salons, and is still full of Lionel's personal style.

Her pride made her want to immediately call for someone to throw him out, but the remaining rationality in her mind held her back.

Lionel Sorel's current influence in Paris is something she cannot completely ignore, even if she is unwilling to accept it.

Lionel put the hat he had just taken off back on and turned to leave.

Sofia immediately shouted, "Stop!"

She then realized her voice was a bit sharp and softened her tone: "Since you're here, explain yourself before you leave. What opportunity?"

Lionel stopped and turned to look at her. "Where would you like to talk? Or, right here, with your servants listening?"

Sofia bit her lip: "Let's go to the study." Then she walked first toward the double doors on the other side of the living room, and Lionel followed.

The study is more compact than the living room, and the bookshelves are crammed with French books, many of which still have brand new gold foil on their spines.

A huge mahogany desk stood in the center, with letters, ledgers, horse racing tickets, and theater tickets scattered on it.

Sofia didn't sit behind the desk, but instead chose a high-backed armchair, deliberately keeping her distance from Lionel.

She raised her chin: "Tell me, what opportunity? Don't forget, we're not even friends yet."

Lionel sat down opposite her and said without beating around the bush, "I need the Sherbatov family to do one thing for me—"

Remove a name from the Ministry of Internal Affairs or the Siberian convict list in Oklana this month.

Sofia's brow furrowed immediately: "Exile list? Siberia? Are you crazy? Those are political prisoners, dangerous elements!"
Although our Sherbatov family has some influence in Moscow and St. Petersburg, we are not omnipotent!

Don't you know what the new Tsar's attitude is? Because of the assassination attempt, His Majesty Alexander III deeply despises any opposition!

Intervening in such a case at this time, if not handled carefully, could be seen as sympathizing with rebellion and challenging imperial authority! "You want to kill us?"

Her reaction was expected by Lionel, so he patiently explained: "He is not a political prisoner, at least not entirely."

His name is Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, a student at the Moscow State Medical School, who writes little things in his spare time.

He was simply caught up in a case involving an underground book club, framed, and ended up taking the blame.

Sofia thought for a moment and realized she had no recollection of him: "Chekhov? I've never heard of that surname before. He certainly isn't from a prominent family. Was he just a commoner student?"

Her resistance became even more obvious: "Then it's even less worth the risk! To use precious personal connections and risk offending His Majesty for an unknown nobody?"

Lionel, have you lost your mind from writing novels?

Lionel looked at her, a slight smile playing on his lips: "Offend the Tsar? Then the Sherbatov family will transfer their wealth and even their offspring to Paris or even New York—"

"Isn't this risky? Aren't you afraid of angering your sensitive Tsar?"

Sofia's expression changed abruptly; her anger was replaced by panic. It was common knowledge that her family had moved their wealth to Paris, but New York…

But she quickly composed herself: "What nonsense are you talking about! What's wrong with this? These days, which prominent family in St. Petersburg doesn't have some property in Paris?"
Half of the luxury homes sold on the Champs-Élysées and Rue Saint-Honoré last year were bought by my compatriots! This is normal; it's a form of...asset allocation!
His Majesty wouldn't concern himself with such trivial matters!

Lionel's gaze was fixed on her: "A trivial matter? You consider it a 'trivial matter' to uproot your family from Russian soil and move it to France?"
Sofia Ivanovna, are you really so sure that the turmoil in your escaped 'homeland' will never catch up with you?

"And will the 'paradise' you've sought refuge in always offer you a safe haven?"

He paused, his tone turning cold: "Think about those French nobles who fled to England less than a hundred years ago—"

Did the Count of Provence, later Louis XVIII, think he could rest easy after moving the crown, jewels, and private property to London? And what happened?

The British gave him living expenses, but demanded that he use the customs duties of future royal lands as collateral, and the interest was astronomical!

His jewelry was even pawned at a low price by London banks, causing him to suffer huge losses! You can certainly buy respect and security in Paris with money now.

But if one day the situation really changes, will Parisians still view you 'rich Russians' the same way they do now?

Is your wealth truly so secure in other countries? There's an old Chinese saying I think you should listen to—

"Others are the knife and the chopping board; I'm just the fish and meat on the cutting board."

Sofia's face turned completely pale; Lionel's words struck at her deepest unease.

She personally participated in the transfer of family assets and enjoyed the glamour of Paris, but when she was alone at night, she was often overcome by a sense of rootless anxiety.

She had witnessed the superficial enthusiasm and underlying contempt of Parisian high society, and knew that the only reason her family was still accepted was because of money.

But if the Tsarist regime in Russia were to be completely overthrown, or if Russia and France were to become enemies, the smiles of those Parisians would turn into gaping maws that devour people.

This is why she and her mother insisted on sending the largest sum of money to New York through a Jewish banker, no matter what.

She struggled to refute, but her momentum had already weakened: "You...you're exaggerating!"

Lionel leaned back in his chair, his tone relaxed: "You know perfectly well whether it's true or not. The 'homeland' you're so desperate to leave is your greatest asset."

Only a stable and strong Russia can guarantee the safety of your assets abroad—but today's Russia is certainly not stable, so how long can it remain strong?

Sofia fell silent; Lionel's words had struck a nerve with her concerns and ambitions.

She hated him, but had to admit he was very perceptive.

She finally spoke again: "Even if... even if what you say makes sense, it's still a risk. We need to use our connections, and it might come at a considerable cost."

You're just making this up and expecting our Sherbatov family to take risks for some friend who just popped up out of nowhere?

Lionel Sorel, you're not that important.

Lionel nodded, as if he had been waiting for her to say this: "Of course, there are conditions to a deal."

"I beg you to save Chekhov, and in return, I will give your Sherbatov family a promise."

Sofia immediately pressed, "What promise?"

Lionel looked at her, his eyes calm: "A promise for the future. No matter what happens in the future, no matter how the situation changes—"

"As long as a member of the Sherbatov family finds me, Lionel Sorel, whatever predicament he or she faces, I will do my utmost to save him."

Sofia froze, then a surge of humiliated anger welled up inside her, and her cheeks flushed red again—

"You...you're going to use such a vague 'promise,' one that may never be fulfilled, to exchange for the political risks we're about to take?"

Lionel! Are you mocking me? Do you think we're fools? Or do you believe the Shcherbatov family would ever need your 'saving' services?

She could hardly believe her ears. What kind of conditions were these? It was like the worst kind of con artist writing a blank check to a fool!
What makes him think his promise is worth a fortune? And what makes him so certain that the Sherbatov family will face utter annihilation in the future?
This condescending prediction angered her more than direct contempt.

Lionel remained unmoved, offering not even a word in his own defense: "These are my terms. You can refuse."

But that's all I can offer, and what I consider an equivalent exchange!

Sofia jumped to her feet: "I refuse! Take your ridiculous promises and get out of my house! We, the Sherbatov family, don't need you—"

"Wait!"

A hoarse female voice came from the study doorway, carrying an undeniable sense of power.

Sofia felt as if she had been choked, and the rest of her words got stuck in her throat.

She turned her head in alarm and saw her mother, Baroness Alexievna, standing there unnoticed.

Baroness Alexievna remained as majestic as a mountain, dressed in her usual opulent attire, looking down at Lionel.

Sofia rushed forward, "Mother! What happened to you..."

The Baroness gently waved her hand, stopping her daughter from speaking: "Sophia, I am very disappointed in you."

Sofia panicked: "But Mother, this is simply—"

The Baroness ignored her and walked behind her desk, slowly sitting down: "I heard everything, Mr. Sorel."

Do you have more detailed information about the case of that young man you mentioned, Chekhov?

Lionel's heart skipped a beat, knowing that this lady was making a much calmer judgment than her daughter.

He nodded: "All I know is that he should be imprisoned in Moscow's Okrana prison now on charges of 'inciting subversion and harboring dangerous elements'."

His sentence was eight years of hard labor, and his destination was a mining area in Siberia, most likely in the Vladivostok or Nerchensk area.

The verdict was handed down in secret; there was no public trial. It is expected to take effect no later than the end of February or the beginning of March, so this needs to be completed within a month.

The Baroness listened in silence, then asked Lionel again for confirmation: "Are you sure he's worth all this trouble?"

Lionel nodded without hesitation: "I'm sure!"

The Baroness remained silent for a moment, the only sound in the room being the soft crackling of the fireplace wood.

Sofia stood to the side, anxiously watching her mother, then glaring at Lionel, but dared not interrupt.

Finally, the Baroness slowly spoke: "Very well. Mr. Sorel, on behalf of the Shcherbatov family, I agree to this deal."

We will use our connections in Moscow and St. Petersburg to try our best to get his name removed from the exile list.

And you, Mr. Lionel Sorel, please remember your promise today—we also believe in the promise of a French writer.

Lionel stood up and nodded solemnly: "I guarantee with my reputation as Lionel Sorel that I will do everything in my power to help you!"

Besides the Shcherbatov family, I will make other efforts to ensure that your favors are not used too much.

Without any unnecessary words or ceremonies, Lionel simply shook hands with the Baroness and left the excessively luxurious manor.

Despite having been out all day, he still had people to meet and things to do.

The Parisian sky remained gray, and the acrid smell of coal dust in the air persisted, as if reminding Lionel of this—

If it had been a day later, that future great writer might have died in the cold of Siberia.

(Second update, there will be another update tonight, it will be quite late, please vote with monthly tickets)

(End of this chapter)