The letter only contained a partial character introduction and plot summary, but it was enough to captivate Gabriel.
Only when the last line of text passed before his eyes did he reluctantly put down the manuscript.
Gabriel initially thought that An Honest Parisian wrote pure erotica, like Marquis de Sade's 'Justine' or 'Juliette,' which were full of curiosity and immorality.
He never expected it to be such a grand work, conceived almost as a 'critical realism' piece. Even without the erotic descriptions, he was sure it wouldn't be a mediocre novel.
Gabriel became even more convinced that the young man in front of him was merely an agent for the true author.
Gabriel tried his best to control his expression, complimenting him indifferently: "The idea is good, but it's just an idea... I can't promise anything until I see the complete manuscript."
Lionel sincerely said "thank you" to Gabriel, then swiftly put the letter and envelope away, stood up, and prepared to leave.
Gabriel was caught off guard and quickly stood up, almost knocking over his chair, a large chunk of cigar ash falling off: "Hey... hey... what do you mean by this?"
Lionel looked confused: "Don't you want the complete manuscript? I don't have it right now! Let's meet again when I do!"
Gabriel's face became uglier than a dead man's.
In his expectation, today, facing him would be a middle-aged or elderly man who had sneaked in from the back kitchen of the cafe, with his trench coat collar high, his voice low, and wearing a clumsy fake mustache or even a mask.
The two of them would be evenly matched, bargaining back and forth through mutual pulling and probing, finally reaching terms that satisfied both parties.
Having once harbored literary dreams himself, he even fantasized that they could become "old friends" through this method... what a special friendship...
As it turned out, the other party sent such a naive young man who had no understanding of the "art of negotiation"! And no "patience for negotiation" whatsoever!
Helpless, Gabriel could only grit his back teeth and say: "Please sit down! Even without the complete manuscript, we can still talk!"
Lionel didn't object, sitting down readily, then staring at Gabriel with direct, unblinking eyes: "Go on, how much are you willing to pay?"
Gabriel didn't answer, but instead countered: "How much does An Honest Parisian want?"
Lionel tilted his head, thought for a moment: "Of course, the more the better!"
Gabriel almost spat out a mouthful of old blood on the spot. He had been in this business for 20 years and had never heard an author speak like that.
He tried to suppress the anger in his heart, trying to calm himself down: "You know, publishing this book, for me—in fact, for all publishers—is a huge risk!"
Lionel didn't respond, but looked at Gabriel with the clear eyes characteristic of university students, as if to say, "It's just a novel, is it that big of a deal?"
Gabriel couldn't be sure if Lionel had read the novel, or even if Lionel was literate—perhaps he was just a factory worker or workshop apprentice An Honest Parisian had paid 2 francs to find.
In that case, explaining the risks of publishing the book to him would be like talking to a brick wall.
He now understood why An Honest Parisian would send such an inexperienced young man to negotiate with him—the other party didn't want to negotiate at all, nor did he want to reveal his identity.
Gabriel took a deep drag from his cigar, then slowly exhaled a pale blue smoke, creating a hazy barrier between the two of them: "Tell me, Mr. An Honest Parisian, how much does he want for this novel?"
Lionel lowered his head slightly, as if recalling something, but quickly looked up: "20,000 francs, cash, no drafts; half prepaid within two days, the rest upon submission."
Gabriel was startled: "Is he crazy? Who does he think he is? Mr. Dumas fils?"
Lionel still had a confused expression, seemingly not even knowing who "Dumas fils" was: "An Honest Parisian believes this novel is worth that price.
If you agree, he can deliver the manuscript to you before Ascension Day!"
Ascension Day is 40 days after Easter, approximately between May and June.
Gabriel repeatedly refused: "Impossible, impossible, that price is too insane! Besides, I don't even know who he is, he doesn't show up, I can't even sign a publishing contract. What if he takes the money and runs?"
Lionel stood up again: "Alright then, let's talk when the novel is finished."
Gabriel almost collapsed, having mentally sent An Honest Parisian to the guillotine a thousand times!
He certainly wouldn't wait four months for the so-called "complete manuscript"; who knew what changes might occur during that time?
Talented writers, like porcelain from the Far East before the 19th century, changed in price daily, sometimes even by the boatload.
Before the premiere of Victor Hugo's play 'Hernani,' his entire fortune was less than 100 francs; but after the third act of 'Hernani' concluded, a bookseller pulled him into the theater corridor, offering to buy the play for 5,000 francs.
Hugo asked why he wouldn't wait until the entire play was over? The bookseller explained fiercely: "At the end of the second act, I thought I should give you 2,000 francs; at the end of the third act, I felt I should at least give you 4,000 francs; I'm afraid that by the time I've seen the whole thing, I'll have to give you 10,000 francs!"
An Honest Parisian undoubtedly had immense potential, and Gabriel even suspected he was already somewhat known in literary circles, only writing erotic works because he needed money.
What if he became famous one day? This was probably also why he insisted on not showing his face.
Gabriel stopped Lionel again: "I can't give 20,000 francs; the risk is simply too great. Even if he were Mr. Dumas fils, it would be the same!"
Lionel didn't sit down, asking directly: "Then how much will you give?"
Gabriel's mind raced, and finally, he gritted his teeth and named a price: "A fixed price, 5... 6,000 francs..."
Lionel's answer was decisive: "Deal!"
Gabriel: "...!!!???" He could hardly believe his ears, but then immediately realized he had been tricked.
An Honest Parisian's initial bottom price for the young man in front of him was this figure, or possibly even lower; he might have been able to close the deal by offering "5,000 francs" or even "4,000 francs."
Gabriel hurriedly added: "I haven't finished yet. 3,000 francs prepaid, of which 1,500 francs is cash, and 1,500 francs is a draft, payable in 3 months; the rest will be paid upon submission..."
Lionel nodded: "No problem, please pay within two days."
Gabriel: "..." Did he rush his offer again?
He gazed intently at the young man in front of him, his mind in a whirl, unsure whether all of this was within An Honest Parisian's expectations or a spontaneous improvisation by the young man.
But the words were out, and he couldn't take them back: "...Please tell An Honest Parisian to send me a letter by tomorrow so we can confirm the details."
Lionel readily agreed: "Alright!" With that, he prepared to leave "Café de Flore."
Gabriel was a little unwilling and called out to him: "Did Mr. An Honest Parisian tell you what this novel is called?"
Lionel didn't turn his head: "I think it's called 'the decadent city.'"
"How fitting..." Gabriel savored the meaningful pseudonym, watching Lionel's figure disappear around the street corner.
At this moment, a shifty figure walked from the other end of the cafe to Gabriel's side and whispered, "Should I follow him?"
Gabriel said bitterly: "A puppet, follow what? You go keep an eye on the post office on Saint Martin Boulevard!"