At 6 AM, Lionel watched the carriage, bearing the emblem of Necker Children's Hospital, gradually recede until it completely vanished into the faint dawn light and thick morning mist, before he finally withdrew his gaze.
He took a 5-franc silver coin from his pocket and handed it to the assistant of Dr. Adolphe Pinard, the pediatrician who stood with him at the door.
Dr. Adolphe Pinard reassured Lionel, "Don't worry, I've already written a short note for them to deliver to the director of Necker. I'm sure Petty will receive the best care."
Lionel nodded, "I hope so."
Dr. Adolphe Pinard had a good impression of this young man who was so generous towards his maid.
He had been a doctor for over 10 years and had never seen an employer willing to pay the exorbitant price of 3 francs a day for a little girl, with whom he had no blood relation, to stay in a private room at Paris's earliest, most professional, and most expensive children's hospital.
On the contrary, he was accustomed to parents abandoning their children because they didn't want to bear the cost of treatment. Approximately half of the patients who died in Paris each winter were children.
Yet, this poor university student, living in a slum apartment in the Eleventh District, immediately paid 100 francs to pre-pay for the hospital room. His quality could no longer be described as merely "generous" or "kind."
He couldn't even imagine how tight Lionel's finances would be in the coming days.
Dr. Adolphe Pinard patted Lionel's shoulder, "Dr. Jacques-Joseph Grancher of Necker Children's Hospital is a good friend of mine. He is very skilled in treating childhood pneumonia and tuberculosis.
Besides, Petty hasn't been diagnosed with tuberculosis—perhaps it's just common pneumonia? That's more common in winter."
At this moment, Lionel was also helpless. Although he possessed some medical knowledge beyond this era, the lack of modern medicines, equipment, and concepts meant that most of this knowledge was practically impossible to implement.
He certainly couldn't tell the doctor in front of him, 'You can extract penicillin from a certain mold, purify it, give Petty an injection, and she'll be fine…'
Lionel asked one last question, "When can I visit Petty?"
Dr. Adolphe Pinard thought for a moment, "Necker Children's Hospital will first disinfect and isolate all children with potential infection risks, and then proceed with treatment after diagnosis.
So you'll need a few more days to see her—but by this weekend at the latest, it should be possible."
After a few more exchanges, Dr. Adolphe Pinard concluded his special house call and boarded his carriage, leaving the neighborhood that made him feel quite uncomfortable.
A charcoal stove was lit inside the carriage, making it as warm as spring. The assistant then complimented, "Sir, you are truly too generous, making a midnight house call and then waiting until the Necker carriage arrived to pick up the patient… We should have charged an extra 5 francs!"
Dr. Adolphe Pinard glanced sideways at his assistant, who knew he had said the wrong thing and quickly shut his mouth.
After a while, Dr. Adolphe Pinard finally said, "This Lionel Sorel is a truly humanitarian person. In his eyes, a maid from the slums is no different from a young lady from a noble family.
Did you notice the way he cooled down that poor child when we arrived…"
The assistant was stunned, and after a moment, he stammered, "You mean those towels…"
Dr. Adolphe Pinard sighed, disappointed, "Didn't you notice the placement of those cold towels? He already has more common sense than half the students in medical school!"
The assistant was scolded into silence, not daring to speak again.
Dr. Adolphe Pinard then turned to look at the scenery outside the window and happened to see a bronze statue of the Virgin Mary, holding the Holy Child, looking with compassionate eyes at the passersby and carriages on the road.
........
Lionel saw Dr. Adolphe Pinard off and returned to the apartment with complex emotions.
He was met with the almost fawning smiles of Petty's parents, as well as Mrs. Martin, and the curious gazes of a crowd of apartment neighbors watching the commotion.
Petty's mother stammered, asking him, "Thank you for your generosity… Petty is saved! But, but…"
Lionel knew what this woman was thinking and said directly, "As long as Petty is alive, you will not miss out on 15 francs each month."
This single sentence put Petty's parents' minds at ease.
They knew that if Petty truly had tuberculosis, she wouldn't just be unable to work as a maid; she would become a burden—their greatest fear was that Lionel would want to "return" her.
The concern they showed when Petty first developed a fever had now turned into calculation.
Petty's parents' love for her was not entirely absent, but it was certainly not much—of course, the emotional display when they knocked on Lionel's door was already the most extravagant emotional expenditure of their lives.
But Lionel hadn't finished speaking, "However, the daily 3 francs hospitalization fee will be deducted from her future wages—so you'd best pray Petty gets better soon."
When his words fell, Petty's mother's face froze. If Petty stayed in the hospital for a month, would that mean she wouldn't receive that money for half a year?
At this moment, Petty's rarely seen, always-drunk father suddenly approached with a fawning smile, "Actually, you don't need to spend 100 francs on her; just give it to us, and we can take care of her just as well, as long as… as long as…"
Lionel recoiled from him in disgust, not saying a word, and turned directly upstairs. Petty's parents dared not say more, only watched Lionel's back disappear around the corner of the stairs.
Petty's sudden illness was a heavy blow to him.
What he had always feared had finally "come true" with Petty, giving Lionel an even greater sense of urgency that time was running out.
On the desk lay the manuscript Petty had only copied a little over a page of, her handwriting childish, yet each stroke was earnest and meticulous, without the slightest carelessness or perfunctoriness.
He took out new manuscript paper and, with over an hour left before school, continued writing the rest of the old guard.
Only this time, he suddenly found himself empathizing with the characters in the novel, especially the last line of Kong Yiji—
[I still haven't seen him to this day—perhaps Kong Yiji truly died.]
It seemed to transform into a dark, oppressive cloud, shrouding Lionel's heart.
........
Another day of classes ended, and Lionel, who had been diligently writing even during lessons, finally finished the old guard, though it needed to be transcribed cleanly.
After all, it was a submission for the Sorbonne Journal, not a tabloid like The Clamor, so the viewing experience of the old professors had to be fully considered.
After doing all this, Lionel did not return to the apartment, nor did he go to a public eating house for dinner, but went directly to the Sorbonne University Faculty of Arts building at 12 Saint Jacques Street.
By this time, most of the professors in the building had already left work or gone to dinner, with only a few students and teaching assistants still toiling in the laboratories.
Following a rumor he had heard today, Lionel navigated the twists and turns of the Faculty of Arts building and finally found a room with a sign that read "Physics Laboratory."
Lionel knocked on the door, and a thin-faced, deep-set-eyed young man opened it. He looked even younger than Lionel, yet a "Teaching Assistant" badge was pinned to his chest, indicating he should at least have a master's degree.
Lionel offered a harmless smile, "Excuse me, are you Mr. Pierre Curie? I am Lionel Sorel, a student from the Faculty of Arts."
Pierre Curie looked puzzled, "Lionel Sorel? Do we know each other?"
Lionel thought, 'I don't particularly know you, but I know your future wife!'