Alice had actually considered this question.
If this newspaper clipping had appeared half a year ago, she would have unhesitatingly chosen to return to Montiers, to the "Rorschach Farm" at the foot of the Alps.
But now, the situation was much more complicated...
Lionel suddenly asked,
"Alice, I remember you used to pay close attention to news about education—free primary education, women's normal colleges..."
Alice was taken aback, then became shy:
"Those were just wild thoughts... I only went to primary school in Montiers, what qualifications do I have to be a teacher?"
Lionel chuckled:
"You copied books for me for almost a year. I remember at first you'd ask me this and that, but later you even corrected my misspelled words."
Alice was still hesitant:
"That's... impossible, Léon. I haven't even completed my studies at the convent...
And who would hire a woman with an unknown background like mine as a teacher?"
Lionel's voice remained calm:
"What if there was a way? A path that could allow you to receive formal training and become a true female teacher?"
Alice looked at him, confused.
Lionel took out another envelope from his inside pocket.
This envelope was more elaborate, with an exquisite heraldic wax seal.
He solemnly handed it to Alice:
"Open it and see."
Alice took the envelope and carefully broke the wax seal.
Inside was a formal letter, printed on fine paper.
The letter recommended "Alice-Clémence Rorschach" for study at the "Lyon Women's Normal School."
At the bottom were the signature and seal of Count Louis-Philippe de Rohan.
Alice murmured the name:
"Lyon... Women's Normal School?"
Lionel explained:
"This is one of France's earliest and most renowned secular women's normal schools, completely government-controlled and independent of the church."
Alice's hand trembled so much she could barely hold the letter:
"Count Rohan? A Count? How could this be..."
Lionel simply said:
"Count Rohan is currently the Undersecretary of the Ministry of Public Education and Arts. Promoting secular education is his political stance.
Recommending a young woman with a keen interest in learning and a passion for education to a normal school is a win-win situation for him.
Crucially, this letter is valid. If you are willing, you can report to Lyon when school starts next spring.
The environment there is completely different; no one knows your past, and tuition, board, and lodging are entirely free. You won't have any worries."
Alice stared blankly at the letter of recommendation, then looked up at Lionel.
There was no joy in her eyes, only a complex, unreadable brilliance.
Seeing her hesitate to speak, Lionel could only sigh inwardly.
"Let's go back first; Patty is waiting for you."
——————
In Paris at the end of November, the festive atmosphere was gradually thickening.
The trees along the Champs-Élysées were adorned with colorful streamers, shop windows were filled with exquisite Christmas gifts, and the air carried the scent of roasted chestnuts and mulled wine.
For Parisian cultural circles and high society, the year's most important social season was reaching its peak.
The Christmas program announced by the Paris Opera and the Comédie-Française was undoubtedly the most anticipated cultural event of the season.
This beautifully printed program was posted on the Comédie-Française's notice board and distributed to major newspapers, clubs, and salons.
Normally, this program wouldn't bring many surprises—it was always a selection of time-tested classics, performed by the most renowned actors, to guarantee box office success.
People's eyes habitually searched for Molière's Tartuffe, Racine's Phèdre, Corneille's Le Cid, or Hugo's Hernani...
These names represented the glory and tradition of French theater, the very foundation upon which the theater thrived.
This year, however, as many people scanned the Comédie-Française's program, their eyes, without exception, paused on an "unfamiliar" name.
Amidst brilliant masterpieces like Molière's The Misanthrope, Racine's Britannicus, and Corneille's Cinna, a somewhat abrupt title and name were strikingly inserted:
["The Chorus," a five-act musical light comedy.
Playwright: Lionel Sorel.
Starring: Jean Mounet-Sully, François Jules Edmond Gotier-Luzarche
Special musical composition by: Achille-Claude Debussy
Performance dates: December 26th, 28th, 30th, and January 2nd, 4th]
Inside a Parisian salon.
An old gentleman, wearing a top hat and holding a gilded cane, frowned:
"Lionel Sorel? Who is this?"
His companion shrugged:
"He's a young writer, his novels are quite well-known—but I've never heard that he also writes plays?"
The old gentleman sighed:
"What's wrong with the Comédie-Française? To launch a new play by an unknown during the Christmas season?"
Another fashionably dressed lady half-covered her mouth with an ivory fan:
"The Chorus? That name doesn't sound very appealing. Is it about a choir?"
Someone noticed the cast:
"Look, the leads are Mounet-Sully and Gotier-Luzarche! These two are the pillars of the Comédie-Française!"
"To get both of them to perform, this play must have some backing, perhaps?"
"It must be sponsored by some noblewoman, right? That's how it was with Balzac back then..."
————
Whispers and conjectures rapidly spread through Parisian literary salons, cafes, and clubs.
Lionel was already somewhat known in literary circles, but novel readers and theater audiences didn't completely overlap; the barrier to entry for theater was much higher, and theater audiences were far more arrogant.
After all, the price of one theater ticket could buy a stack of novels.
But at the Sorbonne, this program list exploded like a stick of nitroglycerin dynamite invented by Nobel some years ago.
Lionel's classmates could hardly believe their eyes.
A student burst into the smoke-filled rehearsal room of the Sorbonne Drama Enthusiasts' Association, waving a newspaper.
"My God! Look at the Comédie-Française program announcement in Le Figaro!"
"Lionel Sorel! Is that our Lionel Sorel?"
"Which Lionel? Do we have another one in our academy?"
Another student snatched the newspaper, his eyes quickly scanning the page, then he gasped:
"The Chorus, Playwright—it really is him!"
"This is impossible! The Comédie-Française? That's the stage of Mounet-Sully and Gotier-Luzarche! What merit does he possess?"
"But it's printed in black and white! And look, there's also music composition... by someone named Debussy... never heard of him."
Shock, doubt, envy, disbelief... a medley of emotions intertwined among the drama club students.
Many of them were still racking their brains just to perform in an internal drama salon at the Sorbonne, while their classmate, without a word, had achieved such an astonishing leap—
bringing his play to France's highest theatrical institution, and during the most golden performance season of the year!
This was completely beyond their comprehension.
Publishing a novel could still be attributed to "talent"; but conquering the Comédie-Française required not just talent, but also status, connections, and unimaginable opportunities.
When Sophia heard the news, she was passing time with Louis-Alphonse and several hangers-on at Café de Flore.
Her first reaction was explosive fury; she smashed the coffee cup in her hand:
"That commoner! How could he possibly do that!"
Her wealth and status seemed particularly pale and powerless in the face of this commoner boy's astonishing rise.
She dared not even imagine what heights Lionel would reach if The Chorus truly succeeded.
Sophia ground out a few words through clenched teeth:
"I! Will! Never! Allow! It!..."
————
In Parisian media circles, this news also sparked a free-for-all.
However, in the midst of this melee, the stances of several newspapers underwent a staggering reversal...
(End of chapter)
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