When the train finally pulled slowly into Vienna Station, it was already evening on the second day.
On the platform, the head of "Hugue & Mann Publishers" had long been waiting with a small welcoming party.
They held conspicuous banners, on which was written in German and French: "Heartfelt Welcome to the Great Writers of 'The Métairie Night'!" Several Austrian girls in traditional attire also stepped forward to present flowers.
Except for Lionel, the others were all flattered.
Karl Hugue, the general manager of the publishing house, also spoke fluent French:
"Welcome to Vienna! On behalf of Hugue & Mann Publishers and all literature enthusiasts in Vienna, I extend my most sincere respects to you all! Your visit is a grand event for Vienna's cultural scene!"
The grand welcoming ceremony instantly washed away the fatigue of the journey for the writers, revitalizing them!
Soon, they were arranged into elegantly decorated carriages, heading to their hotel.
The carriages drove through Vienna's wide and clean streets, revealing a cityscape remarkably different from Paris.
The Ringstrasse was magnificent and imposing, lined with majestic buildings—the opera house, museums, parliament building—everywhere exuding the solemnity and splendor of an imperial capital.
This was Vienna!
The City of Lights, the City of Fountains, the City of Dreams and Illusions!
—————
The next day's signing event was scheduled in front of the largest bookstore under "Hugue & Mann Publishers".
In front of the bookstore, a signing table set up overnight was draped with a dark green velvet tablecloth, on which seven gilded fountain pens, meticulously prepared by the publishing house, were neatly arranged.
These were still a novelty—most people were still accustomed to writing with dip pens (such as quill pens).
However, "Hugue & Mann Publishers" had already let Lionel and the others try them out in advance.
With the experience from Paris, the organization in Vienna appeared even more orderly.
More than an hour before the scheduled start time of the signing, a long queue had already snaked out from the bookstore entrance, along the neatly paved sidewalk, turning the street corner and disappearing into the distance.
Unlike Paris, the readers waiting here were dressed more neatly and waited more quietly.
Many people not only carried The Métairie Night under their arms, but also Zola's The Assommoir, or Modern Life.
Evidently, the readers here were well-prepared and not unfamiliar with their works.
Local newspapers had long promoted this signing event as "a symbol of urban civilization and culture," proof of Vienna's status as a European cultural capital.
Attracting popular French literary stars itself was a testament to Vienna's cultural soft power.
The signing process was enthusiastic and orderly.
The writers were once again touched by the warmth and sophistication of the Viennese readers.
Many of them could communicate in French, expressing specific affections for certain stories, which made the writers feel particularly close to them.
"Monsieur Zola, Dominique's sacrifice broke my heart..."
"Monsieur Maupassant, the fate of Ball of Fat is a scourge upon us all!"
"Monsieur Sorel, your 'Father Milon' and 'Homeland' reminded me of my grandfather..."
Lionel particularly noticed that readers here seemed especially interested in his A Letter from an Unknown Woman.
Many ladies brought Modern Life for him to sign, their gazes at him exceptionally complex and ambiguous.
Monsieur Hugue moved among them, constantly directing staff to refill hot coffee for the writers and replenish books for signing.
The smile never left his face as he repeatedly whispered to Zola,
"Unprecedented success! An absolute sensation! Vienna hasn't been this crazy for literature in a long time!"
The entire day's signing event was once again a great success; not only were the 6,000 copies of The Métairie Night prepared in advance snatched up by readers, but it also spurred the sale of many other books in the store.
Moreover, with this signing, "Hugue & Mann Publishers" once again solidified its position as Vienna's premier bookstore.
Karl Hugue was beaming, constantly mumbling about "unprecedented success" and "historic days."
That evening, to celebrate the success of the signing, "Hugue & Mann Publishers" hosted a grand welcome ball at Vienna's most renowned ballroom.
Here, towering dome frescoes depicted the feast of the Olympian gods, while the surrounding walls were inlaid with colossal Venetian mirrors, repeatedly refracting the light of countless gas lamp candelabras, illuminating the entire space as if it were day.
Between the massive gilded colonnades, deep red velvet draperies hung, not only heavy and opulent but also absorbing the echoes of the clamor, preventing the bustling voices and orchestral performance from becoming noisy.
The air was filled with a rich aroma, a mixture of cigar smoke, ladies' perfumes, and the fragrance of champagne and cream desserts from the tables.
In the center of the dance floor, a sizable orchestra, dressed in crisp white tuxedos, skillfully played Johann Strauss's waltzes.
Austrian cultural figures, nobles, wealthy merchants, and diplomatic envoys gathered in full force.
In the magnificent, gilded hall, the orchestra played the light and graceful waltzes of the Strauss family.
...
For Zola, Lionel, Maupassant, and the others, this was another new experience.
Parisian salons were more intellectual gatherings, while Viennese balls perfectly blended socializing, art, and luxury.
Zola and Huysmans, among others, preferred to converse with local writers and critics.
Maupassant, however, was in his element, quickly inviting a beautiful noblewoman onto the dance floor, his dance steps elegant and attracting much attention.
Lionel, having just finished a round of pleasantries, quietly stood aside, sipping an Austrian wine, observing the glamorous feast.
Just then, a slightly plump, rosy-faced, impeccably dressed middle-aged gentleman smiled and walked towards him, accompanied by an extremely charming, gentle young lady.
The gentleman's French had a slight German accent, but his demeanor was polite:
"Good evening, Monsieur Sorel."
Lionel quickly returned the greeting:
"Good evening, sir."
The man smiled:
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Moritz Zweig, I run a 'small business,' mainly textiles. This is my wife, Ida."
Lionel: "..."
Moritz Zweig did not notice Lionel's momentary lapse:
"Monsieur Sorel, your The Métairie Night is absolutely brilliant, especially your 'Father Milon,' which possesses astonishing power. My friends and I have all read it.
We unanimously agree that it presents a rare portrayal of peasants in European literature, overturning the narrow, previous depictions of them as dull and ignorant."
Lionel finally collected himself and humbly replied,
"You flatter me, Monsieur Zweig."
At this moment, Madame Ida Zweig took a slight step forward.
Her eyes were very bright, carrying a sincere flame.
Ida gazed intently at Lionel and said softly,
"Monsieur Sorel, please forgive my presumption. But I must tell you personally, I read your A Letter from an Unknown Woman... I..."
She seemed a little too emotional, so she paused, and after a good while, she continued, blushing,
"...I think that is the most profound and touching love story I have ever read. It... it feels as if it wasn't written, but flowed from the deepest part of a woman's soul.
How... how could you understand so intimately a woman's silent, fervent, yet desperate love? It truly spoke to our hearts."
For the first time, Lionel didn't know how to answer a question about his work, and he discreetly glanced at Ida's abdomen...
(End of chapter)
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