Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 56 I Will Not Go to Hell

(The ending of the previous chapter has been revised to include more interaction with Patty. If you haven't read it yet, you can refresh the page to read it again.)
Lionel was both embarrassed and annoyed, but he couldn't ask Alice anything in person at the moment, so he could only say, "Oh... is it ready? Let's have dinner first."

He turned and left, closing the door behind him. Immediately afterwards, a flurry of sounds came from the study: drawers opening and closing, chairs being dragged around.

Before long, the three of them sat down at the dining table, with Lionel at the head of the table and Alice and Petty on either side.

Petty prepared a dinner that was richer and more delicious than his age would expect—the oxtail tomato soup that Lionel could smell as soon as he entered was the main course, placed in the center of the table, exuding a rich meaty aroma;
Each person also has a pan-fried pork chop on their plate, with slightly charred edges and an enticing golden-brown center, and a rich flavor from a sauce made with coriander and onions.
The main course was two slices of baguette per person, toasted until golden brown and crispy, with a fragrant wheat aroma, and Camembert cheese sandwiched in the middle.

For dessert, I bought a lemon honey custard pudding on my way to Lionel.

Since it wasn't a holiday or weekend, no red wine was prepared; instead, each person received a glass of low-alcohol cider juice.

Lionel couldn't help but praise Petty again: "Your culinary talent is so high, in a few years you might be able to open a restaurant on the Champs-Élysées."

Petty was praised so highly that he held his head high: "This is all because of how well you taught me, Master Sorel!" After months of good food and drink, Petty's face had become noticeably rosy, and his cheeks looked like two little flowers in bloom.

Alice, however, was lost in thought and only managed a weak smile along with the two of them.

Before they officially started eating, Alice and Patty clasped their hands together in front of their chests and prayed before cooking; Lionel had already declared his atheist stance, but he also waited until they finished praying before picking up his knife and fork.

After the meal, Alice helped Petty wash the dishes and clean the kitchen, while Lionel returned to his study.

He quickly realized that his embarrassment stemmed from forgetting to lock the middle drawer. Underneath a stack of blank manuscript papers, he pulled out the manuscript of "Decadent City," which Alice had hidden again, glanced at it briefly to confirm its contents, and then breathed a slight sigh of relief.

Since I sent the first part of the manuscript to Gabriel just a week ago, the drawer in front of me is full of the parts I've written recently.

He had just managed to write out the main plot of the novel, but he hadn't even started writing the "□□□ (delete XX lines here)" part yet.

So Alice... might not have understood?

Just as he was agonizing and speculating, there was a knock on the study door. Lionel quickly put the manuscript back in the drawer and said, "Come in."

Alice, blushing, pushed open the door and came in: "Leon, I'm sorry, your drawer wasn't locked, and I was in a hurry to find some paper... so..."

Seeing Alice fidgeting nervously with her hands, Lionel could only sigh: "From now on, I'll keep all my manuscript papers on the table."

Alice was, after all, a “true 19th-century person” who came from a farm at the foot of the Alps. Although she spent a year at Notre-Dame de Lourdes, she probably did not receive this kind of personal behavioral education that was closely related to city life.

It's already good enough that they can recognize their mistake and apologize.

Alice breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that Lionel wasn't angry, then looked puzzled: "Leon, is this how you make money... writing these kinds of 'novels'?"

Lionel became serious upon hearing this: "This matter must absolutely not be known to anyone, understand?"

Alice nodded frantically like a chick pecking at rice, but then her expression turned worried: "Leon, are you sure you're okay with writing all this? The nuns of Notre Dame said that people who read novels go to hell... and you've even written that..."

Although Alice did not want to become a nun, it did not mean that she did not believe in God.

After all, having experienced a year of nunhood, with daily morning and evening prayers and the practice of copying the Bible, some ideas had already been etched into her mind.

Outside of Paris, in French society, reading novels, especially for women, is widely considered the starting point of moral decay. Novels often evoke romantic fantasies in women, much like Emma Bovary in *Madame Bovary*, who, despite being educated at a convent school, loves reading romance novels like *Paul and Virginie*.

Finally, she had an affair with a philandering man during his daily poetry readings—this philandering man was named Leon.

Lionel shrugged: "Writing novels allows me to live in an apartment costing 90 francs a month, to have dinner that costs 2 francs tonight, and to take a horse-drawn carriage to the Sorbonne every day instead of walking an hour in the cold wind, and of course—"

It's the only way we can possibly make up for the family's deficit; I now send my father 150 francs every month.

Alice quickly waved her hand: "Leon, I'm not blaming you, I'm just worried..."

Lionel laughed. “Worried? Worried I’ll go to hell? I’ve said it before, I’m an atheist now, I don’t attend Mass, and I don’t go to church to confess. According to doctrine, I’d go to hell even if I didn’t write novels. I don’t care.”

Alice hurriedly denied it again: "No, I'm not worried about that..."

Lionel was also puzzled: "So what are you worried about...?"

Alice blushed again, and after a long while, she stammered, "I'm worried about your health... after all, you write stories like this every day..."

Lionel: "..."

He could only cough awkwardly: "...What does a story like this have to do with the body?"

Alice looked up at her pretty face, which had a southern French flair, and said seriously, "Even though you deleted them, I can still guess... Don't forget, I keep a lot of livestock at home."

My dad said, "If it's a bull and a boar..."

Lionel: "..." Embarrassed, he wanted to dig a two-bedroom apartment out of the ground with his toes.

No wonder French novels often feature peasant girls who fight with landlords rolling around in haystacks; it has a strong social basis.

Before Alice could finish her suggestive remarks, Lionel, ignoring her protests, pushed her out of the study: "Alright, you haven't finished copying Mr. Ranier's 30-page ledger yet, it's due the day after tomorrow..."

Lionel breathed a sigh of relief when the study door slammed shut, only to hear Alice burst into unrestrained laughter outside.

This girl from the Alps finally revealed a bit of her true nature.

Lionel was in a terrible predicament—he wasn't a saint, but he wasn't that desperate either.

Alice's status as a novice nun was already a ticking time bomb, not to mention the relationship between two families spanning two generations; dealing with either one would be a huge problem.

Lionel rubbed his temples and slumped back in his chair.

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A new week has begun, but it's not just Lionel who's suffering because of "women," but also half the men of Paris.

They were all eagerly searching for a mysterious novel that supposedly could bring men to the pinnacle of ecstasy.

(End of this chapter)