Lionel watched Albert quietly, his expression calm and his eyes clear.
Albert's smile, which had almost reached his ears, gradually faded, replaced by mortified anger: "You..."
"So, you're still relying on such boring methods to prove your courage, are you?" Lionel closed his notebook.
Now it was Albert's turn to be stunned, then he showed the embarrassment of having his scheme seen through, but his aristocratic pride made him stubbornly meet Lionel's gaze.
Lionel shook his head and stood up.
He was already a few centimeters taller than Albert, and his shoulders were wider. Coupled with his position on the upper tier of the lecture hall, he had a somewhat condescending air: "In your world, is courage so cheap?
Is looking at a few immobile dead bones in the 'Old Mines' what you call courage?"
Albert's pale face flushed again, and he began to speak through gritted teeth: "What's the point of saying all this? Are you brave or not? Ha, you commoners..."
"I'll go. Just tell me a time." Lionel interrupted Albert's long speech, agreeing unexpectedly.
"But I have conditions," Lionel added in a flat tone, "After we go, I won't join you, and you won't bother me again."
Albert's face turned red again, his little schemes repeatedly exposed by Lionel. This feeling - who understands, my friends!
Now it was Lionel's turn to show a sneering smile.
How could he be fooled by the tactic of student groups in European and American universities 'recruiting' (actually PUAing) new members through 'courage tests'?
Given his previous experiences of not getting the better of Lionel, and owing him a favor from the Dean's office, Albert decided to 'generously' accept Lionel as his follower.
This would not only save face from his previous embarrassment but also allow him to display his 'aristocratic demeanor'.
While the tide of republicanism was sweeping across France, noble titles were not actually recognized by the government, nor did they hold any institutional privileges.
However, the long historical legacy continued to exert its enormous cultural inertia. Even if superficial differences in bloodline were denied, both nobles and commoners still generally acknowledged that the two parties were not on the same social stratum.
After being outmatched in wealth by the emerging bourgeois merchants, and also being surpassed in cultural creation by artists of commoner origin, nobles had few fig leaves left. 'Courage' was considered one of them.
They stubbornly believed that this virtue was not possessed by merchants and commoners - for example, they would not die for honor!
Therefore, even until the late 19th century, French people from noble families or those who yearned for 'aristocratic spirit' would still be keen on dueling, a barbaric tradition.
Albert could no longer stand this terrible conversational atmosphere and could only coldly drop a line: "Alright, Sunday morning at 10 AM, meet at Denfert-Rochereau Square in the Fourteenth Arrondissement."
This was originally a maintenance entrance for a stone quarry, managed by the Quarry Management Office, and the catacombs earned their nickname 'Old Mines' from this.
If one was a student, geology apprentice, doctor, or had connections, they could pay a small fee to enter semi-legally, but the scope of exploration was limited, and they would occasionally be driven out by patrolling priests.
"Or let's go at night, still 10 PM, Fourteenth Arrondissement, meet on 'Hell Street'." Lionel suddenly spoke as the other person turned to leave.
Albert whirled around, glaring fiercely at Lionel: "You think I don't dare? Do you think I don't dare?"
Lionel silently watched Albert, who was about to lose his temper, saying nothing, yet seeming to say everything.
'Hell Street' was an unusually narrow street in the commoner residential area of the Fourteenth Arrondissement, about 40 to 50 centimeters wide and nearly 3 kilometers long. The street was sandwiched by closely packed houses with almost no gaps, so one could only walk from one end to the other.
But many of these houses lining the street had narrow doors or small windows on their walls.
It was said that whatever you wanted, you could exchange for it through these narrow doors or small windows, making it one of Paris's most famous underground black markets.
Some of these houses had cellars dug through the quarry, allowing secret access to the catacombs.
Many Parisian occult enthusiasts and adventurers preferred to enter the underground from here to explore the broader netherworld.
Of course, there were other illegal entrances to the Paris catacombs, such as the Bièvre River's culvert, the Tomb-Issoire Street shaft, and so on. However, those places smelled terrible and lacked guidance, so only criminals and smugglers would choose to do business there.
Being a guide for the catacombs was considered a legitimate profession on 'Hell Street', so the danger factor was not high, but going at night was still too thrilling for 19th-century university students.
Albert's chest heaved rapidly a few times, finally managing to control his breathing: "Good, Sunday night at 10 PM, meet on 'Hell Street'." With that, he led his followers away.
Lionel nodded, then sat back down, completely unconcerned by the curious and awed gazes of his other classmates.
Although materialism was already quite mature in the 19th century, it was by no means the belief of the majority.
The populace - including most university students - still believed in the existence of God, angels, and devils, so ghosts and evil spirits naturally also existed.
That's why Albert chose exploring the catacombs as a 'courage test'. As long as Lionel, pale-faced and trembling-legged, begged for mercy, he would 'forgive past grievances' and rescue this poor commoner.
But he didn't expect Lionel to be even braver than himself, who had been to the catacombs several times...
Lionel wasn't thinking as much; he just wanted to quickly resolve the trouble Albert de Rohan was causing him, perhaps even once and for all, so it would no longer affect his life at Sorbonne.
After class in the afternoon, Lionel did not immediately return to his apartment. Instead, he first went to the post office on Saint Martin Boulevard to collect an advance of 3,000 francs in manuscript fees, sent by Gabriel to his anonymous account.
This was a huge sum, equivalent to a French middle-class family's annual income, and the largest amount of cash Lionel had ever encountered in his life.
The thin envelope contained two pieces of paper: one was an anonymous check worth 1,500 francs, and the other was a time draft also worth 1,500 francs.
Lionel tucked the two priceless thin slips of paper back into the envelope, then into his inner jacket pocket, and then took a public carriage to the Second District, where financial businesses were concentrated.
He nimbly found the check-cashing bank, 'Crédit Lyonnais', opened an account for himself, then deposited 1,500 francs into the account, and then withdrew 200 francs.
Of that, 100 francs were to be sent to the Sorel Family family in the Alps, making a total of 200 francs with the previous amount.
This money was a drop in the bucket for their losses, but continuously receiving small remittances would undoubtedly give the Sorel family more confidence in life and help them gradually emerge from the shadows.
The other 100 francs were for preparing to find a new apartment over the weekend. If a suitable place was found, he wouldn't mind paying a deposit immediately.
Feeling light after completing these tasks, Lionel took a public carriage back to Mrs. Martin's apartment. As soon as he entered, he smelled a rich aroma of stewed meat.
Petty, still wearing an adult apron, saw Lionel and quickly ran out: "Mr. Sorel, today I made mushroom duck stew, using the recipe you taught me before.
But the duck seemed to have a stronger gamey smell than chicken, so I used a bit more thyme and bay leaves. Do you think that's okay?"
Lionel smiled: "I can tell it's good from the smell. I'm hungry, let's eat quickly!"