Lionel dared not hesitate and began searching for any office in the building that might have information about a person named Émile.
"Translation Department," "Insurance Affairs Department," "Shipping Routes and Maps Department," "Export Department," "Procurement Department," "Customs Affairs Department"...
These were all large departments with open doors, and Lionel got to see many interesting new things.
For example, on the large desk in the Procurement Department, a man with a small mustache inserted a transparent glass ball into the top of a black box, then pulled the lever on the box.
With a "sizzle," the glass ball lit up, emitting a dazzling, incandescent white light that was no less bright than the gas lamps on the wall.
"Wow!" the office exclaimed in admiration.
"This is called an 'electric light'!" the mustachioed man proudly began to explain, "It uses electric current to bring light to humanity, with no unpleasant odor, no choking smoke, and no need to add gas to it every day… "
Before he could finish, the electric light's brightness suddenly increased by several degrees, then flickered twice, and finally, with a "whimper," abruptly went out.
"No need to add gas every day, but you need to replace a bulb every day…" a clerk quipped.
Everyone else laughed, and the office was filled with a joyful atmosphere!
The mustachioed man showed no embarrassment; instead, he pushed his sales pitch even harder: "This is due to unstable current… In Professor Joseph Swan's laboratory in London, it can already emit stable light for hundreds of hours, and I believe that number will soon double… "
(Joseph Swan was one of the early inventors of the electric light, and later co-founded a company with Edison.)
Lionel suppressed the urge to shout, "It's not the current, it's not the current; it's the vacuum, it's the vacuum!" and continued to walk forward.
When passing the Sales Department, a man was pushing a strange two-wheeled vehicle, chattering incessantly: "Believe me, the British have fitted this 'bicycle' with a chain and sprockets, making it light and effortless to ride.
The 'bicycles' postmen ride now are as clunky as a dying old horse, and the government will soon replace them… as long as Orby procures a batch first… "
The staff in the Sales Department, however, were hesitant: "Too expensive, too expensive, you want to sell it for 600 francs with just two added devices? The government won't agree to issue them… "
Lionel again suppressed the urge to shout, "It's still missing rubber tires! It's still missing rubber tires!"
He suddenly had a feeling that although France in 1879 was a full 150 years removed from the era he was familiar with, in some ways, it was just "one kick away" from the "modern life" he knew…
Both the "electric light" and the "bicycle" in the modern sense were actually British inventions.
However, for the entire European, and even American and Asian markets, to accept these new things, whether they could first become popular in France, in Paris, was an important prerequisite.
If London was the "Capital of Creation" in this era, then Paris was the "Capital of Consumption" of the world.
Every inventor and adventurer yearned for the refined, vain, and pleasure-loving Parisians to be the first to use their new wares…
As he was thinking, the sign for the "Colonial Communications Office" appeared before him.
Considering that Émile boasted about having a farm in Guiana and also persuaded his family to invest in digging the Panama Canal, it suggested that his "business" was primarily overseas.
Lionel straightened his clothes, smoothed his hair with his hand, composed himself, and walked in.
It was a small office, with only one desk, and the three walls behind the desk were lined with tall, wide display cabinets, each with numerous small compartments, and each compartment had a brass nameplate.
Behind the desk sat a young woman, about 20 years old, with long black hair styled into a low bun, held firmly in place by a brown hairnet and silver hairpins.
She wore a stiffly ironed grey-blue cinched blouse, with cuffs that were faded from washing; the buttons fastened from her throat to her chest, more secure than a border defense line.
She looked up, saw a strange young man, and asked in an unruffled tone, "Good afternoon!"
Lionel showed a harmless smile: "Good afternoon—I would like to ask about sending a letter to Mr. Émile… "
The young woman's reply was still as calm as a lake: "Mr. Émile? We have many Mr. Émiles in our company, which one are you looking for?"
Émile was a common name in France, and Lionel indeed did not know his surname or middle name, so he could only try to prevaricate using the information from the family letter: "It's Émile who was previously in America… the manager of the South American branch, he might have gone to the Alps province recently… "
The young woman was clearly puzzled by his hesitation: "Didn't he give you a business card?" As the headquarters of one of France's largest trading companies, this building handled over a million francs in wealth daily, so she was accustomed to seeing many opportunists trying to gain advantage here.
She cautiously turned sideways, her hand resting on the call bell button.
Lionel secretly took a breath and carefully looked at the young woman in front of him, noticing that the stitching on the left shoulder of her jacket was slightly crooked, clearly sewn by herself or her mother.
In this era, it was still quite rare for literate women to "show their faces" in public.
They usually came from middle-class families, either taught to read by their fathers or having attended a convent school, and would choose to work due to poor family finances or to save for a dowry.
However, most in this group would choose to be governesses for wealthy merchants or nobles; working in such a bustling place was even rarer.
After all, the general expectation for women in this era was still "virtuous wife and good mother," and the Napoleonic Code (i.e., the Civil Code) further granted husbands absolute legal authority over their wives.
Lionel steeled himself, dropped his social smile, and said in a sincere tone, "My name is Lionel, Lionel Sorel, from the Alps, and I am currently a student at Sorbonne College."
Hearing Lionel say this, the young woman relaxed her guard slightly: "Then what do you want to do?"
Lionel looked into her eyes as gently and somewhat sadly as possible: "Actually, I am here for my family in the Alps."
Immediately after, he fully disclosed the situation with Émile, his family's circumstances, and his concerns, finally saying earnestly: "I'm sorry, I did lie just now… but I did it for my family, for my father who is almost blind from copying all day, for my mother who is already hunched from working every day;
And my sister, my poor sister Ivana, she longs for love so much that she has been swept away… "
At this point, he keenly noticed that there was already a glimmer of tears in the young woman's eyes, and he quickly added: "I don't want to gain any benefit from Orby; I just want my family far away in the Alps to be safe and sound…
Moreover, if this Émile is truly a swindler, then he is also tarnishing Orby's reputation, don't you agree?"
After listening to Lionel's explanation, the young woman pondered for a moment, then whispered to him, "There are too many people now… Wait for me at the 'Seine Sunset' café after work."
Lionel knowingly nodded and did not press further, but smiled again: "I thank you for your kindness on behalf of my family—oh, by the way, has anyone ever told you that your eyes are beautiful? Like the waters of Lake Geneva… "
The young woman's face immediately turned red, and she lowered her head, stammering, "…Someone has said that, how did you know?"
Lionel did not answer, but asked, "I still don't know your name?"
The young woman looked up, her beautiful brown eyes sparkling: "My name is Sophie, Sophie Denave."