Lionel was also quite surprised.
Sorbonne University's management had always been relatively strict; visitors, unless they were riding in the dean's carriage, would always alight at the gate and hand their carriage over to a servant or gatekeeper for parking.
They would then walk into the campus with the students and teachers.
For this carriage to break the rules and enter directly, its occupants must be of no ordinary status.
Just then, someone leaned in beside him and said with an envious tone,
"How imposing..."
Lionel turned his head and saw that it was indeed Albert de Rohan—he had recently been sticking close to him for no particular reason—so he asked,
"Who is that?"
Albert shook his head:
"I'm not sure—but one can guess."
He then pointed to the departing carriage:
"Didn't you see the emblem on its carriage?"
By this time, the carriage had gone far, and Lionel, even without his 900-degree myopia from his previous life, couldn't see clearly.
Albert said somewhat smugly,
"A golden imperial eagle, crossed scepters, bees, a crown...
What do you say?"
Lionel was startled:
"The Napoleon family?"
What Albert had just described was exactly the national emblem of the "First French Empire," also known as the "Napoleonic Empire," and also the emblem of the Napoleon family.
Although the Third Republic government had tried its best to erase all traces of this emblem's existence after the "Second Empire" fell 10 years ago, unfortunately, 19th-century French history and the Napoleon family were inextricably linked, so this emblem was still everywhere.
However, using this emblem was another matter; perhaps only members of the Napoleon family would not be resented for it.
Lionel recalled for a moment, then said with some uncertainty, "Aren't Eugène Bonaparte and Empress Eugénie both in England? Can the Bonaparte family still appear so openly in Paris?"
Albert thought,
"Finally, it's my turn to show off."
And cleared his throat before beginning to enlighten Lionel:
"Although His Majesty Napoleon III fled to England with the Empress and the Imperial Prince, many other members of the Emperor's family still live here.
And in France, in Paris, there are still many supporters of the Napoleon family.
Under a republican system, as long as there are supporters, it's possible to gain votes; and with votes, one naturally gains status...
Perhaps some of them are living better than when the Empire was still around."
At this point, Albert couldn't help but sneer twice.
Indeed, many "fringe" members of the Napoleon family lived well after Napoleon III fled to England, some even becoming senators.
Lionel had no interest in the complex entanglements between French politics and the Bonaparte family.
He patted his clothes:
"Understood, thanks for the explanation.
Come on, let's go to class."
Albert didn't expect Lionel to react so calmly, so he quickened his pace to catch up with Lionel:
"Hey, Leon, you're still taking the 'public carriage' to the Sorbonne, that's really embarrassing for me.
How about starting tomorrow, you take my carriage to class?
I can have the coachman pick you up first..."
Lionel refused without thinking:
"The public carriage is fine, lots of people, warm!"
Albert didn't give up:
"It's spring now, the weather will get hot soon..."
Lionel:
"I can sit on the roof, enjoy the breeze, and stay cool!"
Albert had no choice but to awkwardly shut up.
Lionel glanced back at him, sighed inwardly, and finally offered an explanation:
"I'll buy my own carriage eventually."
Albert's eyes lit up, and he quickly chimed in:
"Are newspapers asking you for submissions now?
I heard Le Gaulois pays the most, 1 franc a line.
You just need to write another 'Old Guard' and you can...
Hey, wait for me..."
——————
Lionel's class didn't last long.
After the first lesson, he saw the familiar figure of Dean Duun:
"Leon, the Dean would like to see you in his office."
Lionel felt that more and more people were calling him by his nickname "Leon" recently...
He suddenly remembered something a celebrity from his previous life said:
"Don't blame yourself for not having good people around you; once you become famous, everyone around you is good!"
He was only mildly famous now, but the "good person content" from teachers to classmates was visibly increasing.
Following Duun's footsteps, he arrived at Dean Henri Patin's office—the last time he was here was over a month ago, and Albert was with him.
Mr. Duun knocked on the door, then pushed open the office door, and stepped aside to let Lionel enter.
As Lionel entered, he saw a man of about 20 sitting upright on the office sofa.
He had thick, slightly wavy black hair; a well-defined face, a prominent nose, thin but arrogant lips, and a slightly pointed chin, giving him an almost cold determination.
His figure was tall and upright, as if naturally suited for military uniforms and formal attire—he was indeed wearing a "semi-formal" suit with imperial characteristics, a dark blue military academy-style uniform with shining silver buttons and gold trim on the shoulders symbolizing honor.
On his left chest, he wore a bee-shaped brooch.
That was a secret family symbol passed down—the bee, a symbol of the Empire's immortality.
Dean Henri Patin introduced:
"This is the author of 'The Old Guard,' Lionel Sorel, from the Alps, one of the most outstanding second-year students in the Faculty of Arts."
Before he could introduce the young man on the sofa to Lionel, the latter stood up and extended his hand to Lionel:
"Napoléon Victor Jérôme Frédéric Bonaparte, son of Napoléon-Joseph Charles Paul Bonaparte, nephew of His Majesty Emperor Napoleon III, and cousin of His Majesty Napoleon IV."
The string of long names made Lionel's head spin, but he politely extended his hand to shake his:
"Good morning, Mr. Bonaparte."
He noticed that the young man's hand was unusually soft, hardly like a man's—"Looks like a pretty boy!" Lionel thought to himself.
Victor Bonaparte's brow subtly creased, seemingly displeased with the overly republican address
"Mr. Bonaparte" and Lionel's neither humble nor overbearing tone.
Dean Henri Patin added:
"Victor's father, Mr. Charles Bonaparte, is currently a senator.
He is here today because of your 'Old Guard' essay."
He then gestured for Lionel to sit down and took a seat in the armchair opposite the main seat.
Victor Bonaparte did not sit down.
He scrutinized Lionel from head to toe with a critical gaze, as if evaluating an unsatisfactory piece of merchandise just presented by a servant.
"Monsieur Sorel," his voice carried a deliberately condescending flatness, "your work, hmm, 'The Old Guard,' a... remarkable novel."
He picked up the opened copy of the Sorbonne Faculty of Arts Bulletin from the table, his fingertip gently tapping the title "The Old Guard": "Frankly, its literary value... well, Monsieur Hugo's assessment might be a poet's exaggeration.
But it cannot be denied that it has elicited certain... reactions."
Lionel remained silent, awaiting further remarks.
Dean Patin tried to ease the atmosphere:
"Victor, it truly is a masterpiece, your father also said..."
Victor Bonaparte raised a hand to interrupt Dean Henri Patin, his gaze sharply fixed on Lionel:
"The reaction, Monsieur Sorel, is the key.
The 'Old Guard' you depicted, though fictional, unexpectedly struck a chord with a group deliberately forgotten by the Republic—
Those imperial veterans who shed blood for the French eagle banner, but are now perishing in poverty and oblivion, especially the most elite of the Imperial Guard."
Lionel was noncommittal, leaning back slightly, showing no sign of surprise.
Victor Bonaparte suddenly stepped forward, approaching Lionel, and said in an irrefutable, yet condescending tone:
"In the name of the great Napoleon, you have won the friendship of the Bonaparte family!"
He then stared intently into Lionel's eyes, waiting for him to accept this "friendship" with an excited tone.
(End of chapter)
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