Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 38 Where did Lionel go? (Seeking monthly votes)
In France during that era, few people introduced themselves using their full names. For example, when Lionel introduced himself, he would only say "My name is Lionel Sorel" instead of "My name is Lionel Joseph Étienne Sorel".

However, this surname caught Lionel's attention, and he asked with some curiosity, "You and Mr. Jules Verne are...?"

Upon hearing the question, Michel Verne did not answer, but instead gave a dismissive "humph" and turned his head away.

However, Albert proudly introduced, "Michel is Mr. Verne's only son, and he will soon be our classmate. Mr. Verne thinks our Sorbonne..."

Michel Verne interrupted Albert: "Stop talking about that money-grubbing old bastard! I don't care where he wants me to go! He brought me to Paris but only gave me 300 francs a month; he just wants me to starve to death in Paris!"

Lionel: "..." 300 francs is enough to support a large family in Paris, living in a nice apartment with a maid from Brittany.

However, it seems that Jules Verne and his only son did not have a very good relationship. 300 francs a month is a huge sum of money for ordinary people, but it is just a drop in the ocean for him.

Jules Verne became a disciple of Alexandre Dumas père through his connection with Alexandre Dumas fils, and with the help of his "master," he successfully entered the literary world.

Therefore, his creative philosophy comes entirely from Alexandre Dumas—in Dumas's eyes, "What is history? It's just nails to hang my novels!"—while for Verne, it can be summarized as, "What is science? It's just nails to hang my novels!"

In any case, his writing was very successful. In 1863, he signed a twenty-year contract with the famous publisher Hesel Book Company, in exchange for providing Hesel Book Company with three books each year, Hesel Book Company would pay him 500 francs per month.

As Jules Verne's fame and sales grew, the amount of money also increased tenfold, reaching the original contract value.

By the 1870s, Jules Verne's novels had sold as well as his mentor Alexandre Dumas, making him one of the most beloved novelists in France, and of course, one of the wealthiest writers.

It seems that how to educate children has been a common concern for famous figures throughout history.

Lionel thought to himself that since you weren't his father, you were just a spoiled brat, so he stopped asking and instead asked Albert directly, "Are you ready?"

Albert chuckled strangely and took the lead, guiding the group into the narrow "Hell Street".

Hell Street originated in the 13th century and evolved from fortifications built during the reign of King Philip Augustus. It has survived numerous wars and fires, as well as the large-scale land expropriation in the 1860s, and has stubbornly survived to this day.

It is also one of the few streets in Paris that is still mainly made of wood. Many of the buildings have dark exterior walls, and the lights can't reach them, which adds to the sense of oppression.

Most of the fun-loving students in Paris have come here to satisfy their "adventure desires," but this is the first time for everyone to come so late.

The group walked in a line, like a gleaming centipede, through "Hell Street." Many people who traded there late at night, upon seeing them, either covered themselves with cloaks or lowered their hats and turned up their collars.

Not far into the alley, Albert stopped under a window. He reached out and knocked on the glass, and the window was quickly opened, revealing a pale, withered hand.

Albert slipped 10 sou coins into the hand and casually asked, "We'd like to go 'down the well' to take a look."

The pale, withered hand was withdrawn, and a moment later a slip of paper was handed out, accompanied by a hoarse, indistinct male or female voice: "Take this slip to number 109, knock slowly twice, wait a few seconds, and then knock quickly three times."

Following instructions, Albert led the group forward for a few more minutes until they finally saw a narrow gate with the number "109" hanging on it.

Albert knocked on the door as instructed, and soon a small window in the narrow door opened. Albert handed the note through it; about half a minute later, the narrow door finally opened completely.

A thin, short man who looked like a goblin looked up at Albert, Lionel, and the others, and gave them a lewd smile: "College students?" Before Albert and the others could react, he turned to the side: "Come in. As long as you're not police officers, it doesn't matter who you are."

Lionel took a deep breath and followed Albert and the others through the narrow door.

Surprisingly, the space inside was quite large, but it was empty and devoid of any furniture. Gas lamps were lit on the walls, and although the brightness was average, it was no longer as eerie and terrifying as the outside.

The goblin stretched out his hand: "'Going down the well' costs 2 francs per person; if you need a guide, it's 4 francs per hour; the 'well opening' will be open for 1 hour. If you don't return after 1 hour, you'll have to wait for the next guest, or you'll get an extra 2 francs per person; if you don't want a guide, we will not be responsible for getting lost or any accidents."

Albert glanced back at Lionel, who shrugged: "I don't care, but I'm not going to pay those two francs."

Albert was taken aback and could only turn back to the "goblin" speechlessly, taking out 12 francs and handing them to him: "We don't need a guide."

The goblin took the money, nodded, and then picked up a crowbar from a corner of the room. He pried open the edge of the floor with the gap, and a dark hole appeared.

The goblin dragged over another ladder and lowered it down into the cave, explaining, "There are only three main tunnels below. No matter how far you go, as long as you follow the widest path, you will definitely be able to get back here."

"Of course, if something else happens, then I can't guarantee whether you'll be able to come back..." He then began to laugh sinisterly.

Albert was a little creeped out by the laughter. Just as he was about to say something, he saw Lionel already climbing down the ladder first, so he could only shut his mouth and grit his teeth to follow.

The shaft wasn't very high, only about 5 meters. We quickly reached the bottom, where it was pitch black except for the gas lamp in our hands.

The air inside the tomb instantly gripped them. It wasn't the coolness of the ground, but a thick, icy stillness, carrying with it years of dust and some indescribable, savory, decaying sweetness.

Albert's last foot touched solid ground, and the ladder was swiftly pulled away by the "goblin" above. The last glimmer of light from the ground was completely swallowed up, as if a tomb door had slammed shut above their heads.

Absolute darkness, so thick it was impenetrable, like cold grease coating everyone's eyes, nose, and mouth. Only the heavy, tense breathing of each other echoed in the narrow shaft, sounding particularly jarring and helpless.

"Light it up! Quickly!" Albert's voice trembled almost imperceptibly, sounding unusually abrupt in the absolute darkness.

The others quickly gathered their gas lamps together and held them high, illuminating their surroundings—they stood at the entrance to a low-ceilinged tunnel, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. The tunnel walls and dome were not made of mud or bricks, but of countless, densely packed, layered, endless human bones.

The femurs were neatly stacked like firewood to form the foundation of the wall; the tibias, fibulas, and humeral bones filled the gaps in a crisscross pattern; but what was most terrifying and chilling was the skull, densely embedded in the bone wall, like wallpaper from hell.

Thousands upon thousands, boundless.

This wasn't Albert's first time visiting the catacombs; some of them had even been "recruited" by Albert in this way.

But at 10 p.m., in a private shaft, without a guide... it was the first time for everyone, and seeing the scene before them, they couldn't help but swallow hard.

Even the sound of Adam's apple bobbing sounded unusually jarring at this moment.

Suddenly, Michel Verne's voice rang out: "Where did that Lionel go?"

(End of this chapter)