Lionel and Debussy both sighed in relief once they were in the hired carriage.
Debussy still had a lingering fear:
"My goodness, Mr. Sorel, you were truly... they almost rejected the ending!"
Lionel looked at the ever-receding headquarters of the "Sainte-Marthe Society" and shook his head:
"Achille, sometimes, the greatest danger is often wrapped in the sweetest sugar coating.
The 'friendship' they desire might just be the grave that buries this play. And we... we are merely doing our best to protect its true soul."
He turned around, his eyes filled with fighting spirit:
"Alright, the biggest obstacle has been temporarily cleared. Next comes the real hard battle—to get 'The Chorus' staged on schedule for Christmas!"
Debussy looked worried:
"Mr. Sorel, about the Comédie-Française... can the Church really persuade them?"
Lionel shook his head:
"I never placed all my hopes on them."
Debussy looked puzzled, and Lionel patted his shoulder, pulling an envelope from his pocket and handing it over:
"This is your payment!"
Debussy's eyes lit up:
"Thank you so much, Mr. Sorel!"
Lionel smiled as he looked at the young man, then thought for a moment before tentatively saying:
"If you have time in the evenings, you can come to my house to practice the piano."
Debussy looked at Lionel in disbelief:
"Really, Mr. Sorel?"
Lionel nodded:
"I don't play it anyway, so the piano is just sitting there. Oh, and also, try to avoid places like 'The Roserie'... Guy is a good man, but his lifestyle habits..."
Debussy was already so excited that he stammered:
"Don't worry... Mr. Sorel, I was only going there for the 15 sous a night... With these 200 francs, I won't have to go to 'The Roserie' anymore!"
Only then did Lionel relax.
Debussy was only 17 years old, and if he spent all his time at 'The Roserie', who knew where Maupassant might lead him astray.
The hired carriage drove on, dropping Debussy off at the Conservatoire de Paris, and then continued carrying Lionel to 77 Avenue des Champs-Élysées.
This was Count Rohan's mansion, where Lionel and Sophie had attended a ball once.
After being announced, Lionel entered the mansion smoothly and arrived at Count Rohan's private reception room.
Besides Louis Philippe de Rohan, there was an old man with white hair and a full beard, his face serious.
Seeing Lionel enter, Count Rohan stood up:
"Lionel, you're finally here. Let me introduce you— This is Émile Perrin, director of the Comédie-Française! I've just shown him your script for 'The Chorus'."
Émile Perrin also stood up and said to Lionel in a deep voice:
"Mr. Sorel, 'The Chorus' did indeed give me some surprises... However, I still have questions—Count Rohan says it's a play that advocates 'secular education', but I think..."
—————
A few days later, Gare de l'Est, Paris.
The steam locomotive spewed huge white smoke, roaring deafeningly.
Seven writers, along with an editor and a few servants sent by "Hugen & Mann Publishers" to accompany them, boarded a first-class carriage bound for Vienna.
Moscow in November was bone-chillingly cold; Lionel was still wary of London; as for Berlin, considering the theme of "A Night at Meudon"...
So, among the remaining choices, Vienna was the best.
Although political and military relations between France and Austria were very tense, in culture, art, and high society, Paris and Vienna still maintained active exchanges.
Viennese waltzes and operettas were very popular in Paris.
French artists and writers often traveled or performed in Vienna.
"Hugen & Mann Publishers" was generous, booking not only first-class seats but also spacious private compartments for their journey, for entertainment and relaxation.
Inside the compartment, the red velvet seats were soft and comfortable, the walnut table was polished to a shine, and thick curtains hung at the windows, providing both warmth and privacy.
Compared to the crowded conditions for ordinary travelers, this was practically a luxurious mobile living room.
As the train slowly started, the streetscape of Paris gradually receded.
After the initial excitement, the atmosphere in the compartment became lively.
Long journeys always required some diversion, and the best topic of conversation at hand was the stack of newspapers brought from Paris, featuring reviews of "A Night at Meudon."
While Zola maintained the composure of an elder, occasionally gazing out the window at the changing scenery, the others—especially Maupassant—almost immediately began to read aloud.
Maupassant waved the Le Figaro in his hand:
"Listen to this! Listen to this! 'Mr. Guy de Maupassant's Boule de Suif is like a flash of lightning across the night sky!
Its profound insight into human nature and its sharp satire make it this year's French short story! This young writer has shown astonishing maturity and extraordinary talent!'
My God! 'Of the year'! They said 'of the year'!"
Maupassant's voice even had a tearful quality, a sense of relief after being suppressed for too long.
Huysmans chuckled teasingly:
"Alright, Guy, your vanity is going to lift the roof off the carriage. Quick, see if there's any mention of the field hospital part I wrote? That was truly shocking."
Céard took another copy of Revue des Deux Mondes and adjusted his glasses:
"Don't rush, Huysmans—
'Émile Zola's The Attack on the Mill is filled with a tragic, epic grandeur. He intertwines the cruelty of war with the helplessness of individual fate in a deeply moving way.
Lionel Sorel's Father Milon, with a tone so stark it's almost cruel, explores the most primitive and unadorned form of patriotism, leaving one to ponder long after closing the book.'
See, Émile, Lionel, the critics are praising you both together!"
Alexis interjected:
"Hey! La République is even more direct, 'Zola's The Attack on the Mill and Sorel's Father Milon have finally made proud Parisians turn their gaze to the vast French countryside.
They saw how the peasants there, in their own silent and resilient way, guarded their deepest feelings for France.'
Well said! We always forget that France is not just Paris!"
Maupassant found another article and continued to read:
"'Lionel Sorel, with The Old Guard, Homeland, and now Father Milon, has quietly sketched a profound picture of French rural society.
The peasant characters in his writings possess rich inner worlds and complex humanity. This is a valuable literary concern.'
My heavens, Lionel, the critics are going to crown you 'the peasants' writer friend'!"
Lionel shook his head:
"I merely wrote about the 'people' I saw and understood; it just so happens they live in the countryside."
Maupassant slapped his shoulder forcefully:
"Come on, Lionel, don't be modest!"
The journey passed in such lively discussions, mutual banter, and anticipation of the upcoming trip to Vienna.
The train traversed the French countryside, passed through Strasbourg, entered the forests and hills of southern Germany, and finally crossed the border, heading into the heartland of Austria.
The nearly thirty-hour train ride, with companions, didn't seem terribly long at all.
(End of this chapter)
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