Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 76 Safety Measures Must Be Taken! (Third Update, Requesting First Subscription and Monthly Tickets!)
Half an hour later, Lionel practically "escaped" from the Sorbonne's small reception room, leaving behind a string of unrestrained laughter from Madame Rothschild.

Fortunately, it was Thursday, and there were hardly any people in the college this afternoon. The students were going to prostitutes in the fifth and ninth sections, while the professors were going to prostitutes in the second or fourth sections.

Although Madame Rothschild initially showed great interest in and even admiration for Lionel, she was, after all, a well-trained noblewoman, and soon began to try to "control" Lionel.

Lionel also expended a great deal of effort to resist the temptation and reach a tacit understanding with the other party that was not very deep but very friendly, which can be considered a good start.

He kept telling himself that this was for literature, for art...

Dean Henry Patan witnessed all of this through a window in the corner of his office. Seeing Lionel's expression, a smile of relief mixed with sadness appeared on his face.

He thought back to 40 years ago, when he was also a young and handsome man, and a noblewoman had taken an interest in his work... and he himself had become interested in it.

And then there's the warm, fragrant, and oriental-style reception room in the lady's house...

Apart from the fact that the lady was twenty years older than Mrs. Rothschild and had a waist two feet thicker, there was nothing else to regret.

Lionel didn't immediately return to 12 Antal Street, but instead went to the post office on St. Martin's Avenue; he had two things to do that day—

The first thing to do was to write a letter to Gabriel, politely declining his request to submit the manuscript in two weeks, but stating that he would deliver the remaining part of "Decadent City" to him 40 days after Easter, before "Ascension Day," as they had previously promised.

Also, effective immediately, I will suspend contributing to the "An Honest Parisian" column in Le Bourgeois.

The post office has small cubicles for people to temporarily open and reply to letters. They are covered with curtains and provide stationery and quills for just 1 su.

Lionel wrote the letter as quickly as possible, paid the 5 sous "same-day delivery" fee, and asked the post office to deliver it to the newspaper's mailbox no later than tonight.

The second thing is to cancel the previous "deposit pending collection" email address.

Although the French postal system is renowned for its independence, he could not be sure whether these employees could withstand pressure from the Paris police or the church.

Therefore, the best solution is to disappear temporarily.

The post office on St. Martin's Avenue is so busy that there are long queues every day for "deposit and wait" service, and after a while, no one remembers you anymore.

Anyway, there are plenty of post offices in Paris, so you can just register at another post office when you need to.

Surprisingly, he received a second letter from Gabriel urging him to finish the manuscript, which also included a draft for 300 francs.

However, all of this only made Lionel more vigilant—Gabriel was by no means a generous person, and the fact that he was willing to pay in advance to get the manuscript meant that the situation was more urgent than he had imagined.

Lionel hesitated for a moment, then decided to have the post office send the letter and money order back the way they came.

“With the support of a noblewoman, one’s back is certainly strong!” Lionel exclaimed.

If I hadn't had that friendly exchange with Mrs. Rothschild today and received the promise of funding, I might have really taken the risk to try and win that 3000 francs fee.

But now he is much more at ease.

Moreover, he also has a 1500 francs time draft, which will be fully cashed in mid-April, after the Easter holiday. He has enough cash on hand to last until the beginning of next year.

After finishing his two important tasks, he finally felt relieved and boarded a public carriage at the intersection, heading easily to 12 Antanne Street.

"Young Master Sorel, you're back!"

As soon as he entered the house, Lionel heard Petty's sweet voice.

This time, Lionel felt a little guilty, recalling his righteous words to Petty, and his face flushed slightly—but he comforted himself that he was still chaste and had not let Mrs. Rothschild "ruin" his innocence.

Alice heard the sound, put down her pen, and came out of the room to greet him.

After living with Lionel for nearly two months, Alice's tanned complexion from the farm in the Alps gradually faded, revealing her original fair skin, which Lionel could hardly bear to look at.

His complexion, which had looked terrible after a year of arduous training at Notre-Dame de Lourdes, has regained a healthy rosy glow thanks to the daily meals of at least 2 francs.

Aside from occasionally frowning because she was worried about her family, her mental state was much better than when she first arrived.

Lately, besides copying books, she also helps Patty with housework, so although the apartment houses three people, it doesn't look too messy.

It's important to know that there was no such thing as "household appliances" in the 19th century. Just doing laundry, cooking, and cleaning would take up a lot of time, in addition to a huge number of other trivial matters.

The higher your social status and the more social activities you have, the more miscellaneous tasks you will have, and the less time you will have to deal with them.

A typical middle-class family does not employ maids—if they do, it's only the cheapest Brittany maid, while the mistress does almost as much work as the maid every day.

Affluent middle-class families with an annual income of over 2 francs employ at least four servants, including a personal maid, a personal valet, a cleaning lady, and a cook, otherwise their lives would be in chaos.

Fortunately, Lionel is currently a happy bachelor and doesn't bring guests home, so Patty and Alice are able to manage.

Looking at the two busy figures in front of him, Lionel felt as if he had been transported to another world—he couldn't even explain why he had "taken in" them in the first place. Perhaps it was his naturally soft heart, or perhaps it was the intense loneliness he felt after being reborn that made him want to be bound by something.

Tonight's dinner included a new dish—mushroom and chicken puff pastry. It was a modified version of the "truffle and chicken puff pastry" that Lionel brought back a couple of days ago.

The expensive black truffles were replaced with cheaper mushrooms, and the chicken was changed from the fine Bresse chicken to a regular grey hen, but the proper use of spices, salt, and pepper did not diminish the dish too much.

Lionel thought of Petty working on the stove every day on a stool and sighed sincerely, "Petty, with your skills, I won't be able to afford you in a few years."

Petty's eyes crinkled with laughter upon hearing this; she knew that Young Master Sorel was joking.

In fact, Lionel's words were not unfounded. In Paris, a top-notch cook is something to boast about; a delicious dinner can be worth more than ten attempts at flattery and ingratiation.

Parisians are never stingy, never polite, and never lenient when it comes to food!
Therefore, hiring a good cook costs at least 200 to 300 francs per month, and you also have to allow them to take advantage of you when buying ingredients.

Petty, a cook who can prepare three meals a day, would earn no less than 50 francs a month—while Lionel only had to pay her parents 15 francs a month.

It's like having the enjoyment of a wealthy middle-class family with an annual income of 5000 francs. An accidental act of kindness yielded a generous reward, making it feel like finding a treasure.

After a satisfying meal, while Petty was tidying up, Lionel said to Alice, "Starting tomorrow, I will give you my novel manuscript, and you will help me transcribe it, still 10 sheng per page."

Upon hearing this, Alice's eyes lit up at first; then, as if she had thought of something, her cheeks flushed and she lowered her head.

(End of this chapter)