Lionel, Petit, and Alice ultimately did not make it to the Seine River.
As the weather warmed, two more spring rains fell, washing all of Paris's accumulated grime out.
For the past two days, most sections of the Seine have been covered with feces, sewage, garbage, and even corpses accumulated throughout the winter.
The river water had turned a terrifying yellowish-brown and emitted a dreadful stench.
Even the parks and forests along the river became impossibly foul-smelling.
The tap water connected to 12 Antin Street, where Lionel now lived, came from a relatively clean upstream section of the Seine, but even it now had a strange odor.
Discerning middle-class residents had to buy clean water for 10 sous a bottle, said to be "Evian" spring water, the same brand even the rich drank.
Of course, the wealthy had all fled to their villas in the provinces or simply traveled abroad.
The middle class with some means took their families to vacation homes in the countryside or by the sea; in short, they couldn't stay in Paris.
This bustling city suddenly became much quieter; 12 Antin Street was also nearly half-empty, but this came with a short-term surge in prices.
Le Figaro was clearly very dissatisfied with the Parisian municipal government's measures to manage the Seine, directly criticizing it on the front page headline:
The Sewage of Paris is Not Only in the River, But Also in the City Hall
[Officials debate "freedom" and "order" in parliament, yet forget that the children daily drink a concentrated broth of germs brewed with freedom.
A reporter questioned a city hall official, who said:
"Yes, we know the river water is murky, but the budget has not arrived."
Ah, the budget has not arrived?
Cholera, however, might arrive very punctually.
We suggest that if councillors were compelled to brew their daily tea with water from the Seine, perhaps the budget would arrive on time.
Paris can tolerate artistic radicalism, but not foul-smelling drinking water.
How can a nation unable to cleanse its water sources speak of washing its soul?]
Le Petit Journal's headline was even more sarcastic:
Paris City Hall Solemnly Declares: The Odor is Harmless
[Yesterday, the Seine sent off another three thousand dead fish, the unidentified remains of a pig, and a milkman poisoned after drinking the water.
Of course, our mayor still tells the public:
"The stench on the Seine is harmless to human health, and if you ignore it, boating on the Seine can still be romantic!"
…]
Lionel flipped through several newspapers, annoyed, then grabbed the bottle on the table and drank the 5-sous worth of clean water in one gulp.
According to expert predictions, the water quality of the Seine would take at least three more days to recover—by then, the melting snow from the Langres Plateau and clean rainwater falling along the way would flush all the pollutants of the Seine downstream, along the Rouen channel to Le Havre, and finally into the sea.
He quickly made a decision, calling out to Petit and Alice:
"Ladies, let's go on an overseas holiday!"
Two heads quickly popped out from the kitchen and bedroom doors respectively, their disappointed expressions turning into a mix of joy and confusion.
Lionel held up a newspaper, pointing to a small block of text:
"Jersey Island, a 3-day, 2-night trip, with festival discounts and round-trip ticket offers, 120 francs."
"Jersey Island" is British territory but very close to France; historically, it was a famous place of exile, but now it is a good tourist destination.
English and French are spoken on the island, prices are not expensive, and it is the cheapest place for French people who want to experience "exotic customs."
Alice jumped out of her room:
"Léon, you're crazy, 120 francs for 3 days..."
Lionel picked up the empty bottle and shook it:
"This bottle of water alone costs 10 sous.
How many bottles will the three of us drink in three days?
I'll drink at least four bottles a day.
And that doesn't count the water needed for cooking.
And Petit, tell her how much a dozen eggs cost recently?
Alice, if we stay here, not only will we have to endure expensive drinking water and terrible prices, but we might also catch cholera at any time.
The water in the Alps is sweet and clear, but we can't go back there!"
Hearing about not being able to return to the Alps, Alice sadly lowered her head, but still stubbornly retorted:
"I'll be fine drinking tap water, as long as it's boiled..."
Petit also nodded repeatedly:
"Young master, have you forgotten?
We used to drink directly from the neighborhood's public well, and it tasted just like the tap water these past two days..."
Lionel: "..."
Petit's hygiene awareness still needs work!
However, he was the head of the household, and since he had made a decision, the other two could only obey.
Lionel wondered if he should invite Sophie, but then he suddenly realized that he didn't know exactly where Sophie lived, only that it was on Rue de Lancry in the 10th arrondissement, so he regretfully gave up the idea.
——————
The three of them didn't have many clothes, so they quickly packed their bags and took a public carriage to Paris's "Saint-Lazare Station."
Alice wore a black veil, covering most of her face, but this was a common attire for women of that era and did not attract attention.
Like Petit, she had never ridden a train; their last trip to Paris was also by the church's long-distance carriage, so she seemed a little excited.
"Saint-Lazare Station," as France's largest railway station and transportation hub, was even more crowded during the holidays.
In this era, France's railway system was already very developed, with train stations in all major cities nationwide.
Fares were approximately 8 centimes per kilometer, and discounts were often offered to attract passengers.
A ticket to the port city of "Le Havre" cost 15 francs per person, while Petit's ticket was only 8 francs, but someone else would have to squeeze in next to her.
Lionel had traveled between Paris and the Alps by train before, so he skillfully bought the tickets and led the two women onto the train.
He bought the cheapest third-class seats, which had only a wooden board and a thin, negligible fabric cushion.
Every wear and tear, every joint on the tracks, could be perfectly felt through one's backside.
Moreover, the third-class carriage was very close to the locomotive, and thick smoke and coal ash occasionally drifted in; if the windows weren't closed in time, one's face would inevitably be covered in black.
Of course, there was also the piercing train whistle – a sound that was melodious and romantic from afar, but only made one's ears ring up close.
But for Alice and Petit, all of this seemed insignificant amid the novelty of riding a train and admiring the scenery outside the window.
Outside the window, it was initially the familiar cityscape of Paris, with the slowly receding Parisian rooftops and church bell towers.
After more than an hour, continuous apple orchards and sheep appeared—they peacefully grazed on the green grass, like those French country folk who never questioned their fate.
Next came Norman villages with black roofs and granite chimneys standing side by side, and children occasionally chased the train along the railway tracks.
After nearly 7 hours of travel, the train finally arrived at "Le Havre" station at 4 PM.
The three got off with their luggage, then went to the station restroom to wash off the coal ash stuck on their faces and clothes, before arriving at the port presentably to queue for the ferry.
As it was the Easter holiday, many French tourists were there.
The three queued for over half an hour before boarding the "Saint-Michel" steamship.
Lionel bought tickets for the ordinary cabin at 5 francs per person; superior cabins with shaded decks or private compartments cost 12 to 20 francs per person.
This was also Alice and Petit's first time on a large ship.
Soon after setting sail, they both clung to the railing, vomited to their heart's content, their faces green, and then retreated to the cabin to rest.
Lionel, however, stood on the deck, thoroughly enjoying himself—the sea churned with pale golden waves, gulls circled overhead, their cries piercing the air, and the sea breeze was refreshing and invigorating.
Having been in Paris for so long, he had almost forgotten what clean air smelled like.
No wonder the first thing Parisians did when they had money was to buy or build their own resorts in the suburbs or countryside.
Just then, a familiar voice drifted over:
"Ladies, how about I treat you to some oysters?"
(End of this chapter)
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