Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 86 To catch someone in the act of adultery, you must catch them in the act.

Apart from Lucian occasionally dropping by, Lionel's current apartment has no other visitors.

Only a few newspaper editors knew this address, but they wouldn't bother to visit it in person.

Lionel walked to the door and looked through the brass peephole. He saw that it was not Lucien, but also no stranger. It was his neighbor next door, Mr. Greenheit.

The obese Schneider Electric salesman, under the gaslight of the corridor, had a face that was a mixture of worry, tension, and anger.

Lionel hesitated for a moment, then opened the door.

Before Lionel could even greet him, Greenheit practically shoved him aside and burst in, then quickly turned and closed the door, tossing a duffel bag beside it.

Lionel quickly waved to Alice and Petty, and the two wisely retreated back into their room.

“Mr. Greenheit…” Before he could finish speaking, the other man put his index finger to his lips, making a “quiet” gesture.

After Lionel fell silent, Greenheit pleaded in a low voice, "Mr. Sorel, please let me stay with you for a little while, just a little while, okay?"

Lionel probably guessed what was going on. He didn't say anything, just nodded, and went to the kitchen to pour Greenheit a glass of water.

Greenheit drank the water down in one gulp, like a camel that had just crossed the entire desert.

Seeing this, Lionel poured him another glass, which Greenheit downed in two gulps before collapsing into a chair in the living room, panting heavily.

Lionel sat down opposite him, about to offer words of comfort, when Greenheit began to sob softly.

He looked at Lionel with bloodshot eyes, his gaze unfocused, filled with disbelief, terror, and a near-collapse-like pain.

“She…she and Lucian!” Greenheit’s voice was terribly dry and hoarse, as if it were being squeezed out of a torn throat.

“My Petit…and that damned actor! Right there! Right in my bed! Right in the bed I paid for!” He pointed tremblingly at the wall separating the two rooms.

Lucian's flippant words and the image of him disappearing behind door 503 flashed through Lionel's mind like lightning. He wanted to offer words of comfort, but he couldn't utter a single word.

"I saw it!" Greenheit craned his neck, ready to roar, but immediately suppressed it.

He pounded his chest in anguish, making dull thuds: "Right downstairs! She drew the curtains... and that bastard was right behind her! Like a dog in heat!"

"My God! Why? The lark on the Langres Plateau is still on my sights! I rushed back because I was worried about her health!"

“I even…I even carried these things for two whole blocks just to save the money of hiring a carriage!”

He pointed to the dusty duffel bag by the door, his voice filled with absurd indignation.

From Mr. Greenheit's rambling, Lionel roughly understood the cause and effect:

During the Easter holiday, Greenheit and his friends went to Langler Plateau to hunt larks, but his wife, Petit, declined to go because she was feeling unwell.

He returned from the Langler Plateau ahead of schedule because he was worried about his wife's health, and then he witnessed the scene he just described.

Greenheit originally wanted to rush into the room and catch the two adulterers, but when he stood at the door, he didn't have the courage to face it all. Just then, he saw light coming from under Lionel's apartment door, so he knocked on it.

Greenheit stood up and paced back and forth in the living room like a wounded, trapped animal, his heavy footsteps making the floor creak.

“Mr. Sorel, tell me…”

He abruptly stopped, staring intently at Lionel, as if trying to find the answer in the young man's face:

"What have I done to wrong her? Hmm? I'm Schneider Electric's most diligent salesman, making five thousand francs a year! Five thousand francs!" "I let her live in the finest apartment on Rue Antanne, let her use Sèvres porcelain, and let her wear Roubaix linen dresses!"

"That new perfume shop on the Champs-Élysées, 'Madame Butterfly,' costs 120 francs for a small bottle! She only mentioned it once, saying it smelled like early spring violets..."

I didn't even flinch! Just before I set off to beat that damned Lark! Right now, isn't that damn perfume on that actor's neck?

Greenheit's face contorted in agony, and his voice cracked like a water glass falling from a rooftop onto the street.

“Every day when I get home, no matter how tired I am, I’ll make a detour to the Saint-Honoré market to buy the freshest roses! Even in winter, the greenhouse-grown ones are as expensive as gold! Just because she likes them!”

“She contracted pneumonia last winter, had a persistent high fever, and couldn’t sleep all night because of a cough… So I knelt by her bedside, held her hand, and prayed to the Virgin Mary, over and over again…”

"Is this my reward? In the home I've worked so hard to support, in the big bed I bought, I'm having an affair with that slick-haired, effeminate actor who only knows how to sweet-talk women?!"

His desperate murmurs did not end, but Lionel remained silent, quietly listening.

Greenheit clutched his already thinning hair in despair: "What is a man? Mr. Sorel! A man is a candle! He's burning from the day he's born!"

"Burning my own blood, burning my own sweat, burning my own life! For what? Just to illuminate the woman beside me! To make her shine, to make her feel warm, to make her live like a human being!"

"But what about women? Women are just a breeze! A light, carefree breeze! When they're happy, they dance around the candles, thinking the light is so beautiful..."

"If they're unhappy, or see a brighter candle nearby, or even just a glowing firefly... they'll just blow on it gently!"

At this moment, Greenheit puffed out his cheeks and blew hard into the air: "Pfft—! Your decades of burning, all your light, your accumulated heat... all gone in an instant! All that's left is an ugly, cold pool of oil!"

“Lucian…” Greenheit murmured the name, each syllable like chewing on a cold stone.

“That damned, hell-deserving actor! He ruined me! He's like a plague! Like a viper! He crawled into my home! With his honey-coated lips and those eyes that are only good for seducing women…”

"Who does he think he is? A lowly actor who puts on airs on stage and makes a living by pleasing others! What does he know about responsibility? What is family? What does it mean to swear to God to protect someone for life?"

"All he does is steal! He steals other people's most precious things like a rat! And then... he spits them out without a second thought, like spitting out a gnawed bone!"

Lionel suddenly felt a great unease and tried to reassure him: "Mr. Greenheit, please calm down! Perhaps... perhaps there is some misunderstanding?"

"Misunderstanding?" Greenheit turned his head sharply, staring intently at Lionel, a cruel, almost ferocious smile appearing on his face.

“What misunderstanding could be worse than what I’m suffering right now? My family is destroyed! My faith is destroyed!”

"My life is like being trampled into the mud like a complete fool! My dear neighbor, tell me, what should I do?"

"Am I supposed to cower in a corner like a castrated sheep, licking my wounds while they continue to revel in my house?"

Greenheit made up his mind.

He wiped his face, removing his tears, and his tone returned to calm: "Thank you, Mr. Sorel, you're a good man for listening to my rambling... Unfortunately, I have nothing to repay you with."

I can only pray that God will bless you!

Then he picked up the duffel bag by the door, left Lionel's apartment, and gently closed the door behind him.

Lionel walked behind the door and, through the brass peephole, saw Greenheit tiptoeing out his key and opening the door to apartment 503.

Before entering, Greenheit seemed to know that Lionel was looking at him through the peephole, and turned to give him a smile.

(End of this chapter)