Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 8 Crisis
The next morning, to avoid Mrs. Martin's nagging about raising the rent, Lionel left home at 7:30. He was going to walk to the Sorbonne to save his meager savings.

After all, five sous can now buy a whole half kilogram of baguette, plus a can of milk!
The skies over Paris in winter are always shrouded in a layer of haze and filled with the smell of coal smoke. The 11th arrondissement is downwind, so the air quality is even worse.

Lionel had barely walked a block when he was nearly hit by a carriage that sped out of an alley. The driver cursed, "You little brat, can't you watch where you're going?" and then smacked the horse's rump before galloping away.

Lionel then noticed the golden iris emblem on the carriage, indicating that it belonged to the city government; no wonder it was so arrogant.

However, it was just an ordinary cargo wagon, with something piled on it, covered with a black cloth, forming a small mound—upon closer inspection, several blackened feet were visible under the black cloth.

“Road collapsed…” Words from the Eastern homeland immediately came to Lionel’s mind.

These must be the homeless people or mentally ill people who froze to death in the streets and alleys last night.

Paris winter temperatures are not considered cold for a European capital, usually above 0°C during the day but dropping below zero at night. Coupled with the rampant pneumonia outbreak, it is extremely difficult for the poor, let alone the homeless.

This is also why Lionel was eager to make some "quick money" after discovering that his family was about to cut off his financial support.

110 francs could last for more than a month in Paris, and even two months if you lived frugally—provided there were no extra expenses, meaning you had no ability to withstand risks.

But if you're reborn in the 19th century with hardly any money, is becoming famous the most important thing? Of course not—it's about ensuring your survival!

There is no social security system like in later times here. Even a student from a prestigious university like him does not have student medical insurance. Living in the 11th District, where poor people are concentrated, he is constantly accompanied by pneumonia virus, influenza virus, E. coli, and even cholera and tuberculosis.

Coupled with a meager diet, their physical resistance was even weaker.

Moreover, even if one had the money to get into a hospital, in the days before penicillin was invented, the situation probably wouldn't have been much better—you should know that during the Great Paris Cholera, due to the large number of patients and the lack of disinfection and isolation measures in hospitals, the mortality rate was even higher than if one had stayed at home and endured it.

Thinking of this, Lionel couldn't help but shudder.

If you can't improve your economic situation as soon as possible, let alone grow your business and achieve greater success, a single illness could leave you dead on the street or cough yourself to death in your attic.

Even if I send a telegram home as soon as I need help, and everything goes smoothly, it will still take about a week to receive any actual assistance.

Add to that the fraud crisis facing the Sorel family, far away in the Alps...

Almost instantly, Lionel felt the weight of life pressing down on his shoulders.

As he passed by St. Martin's Boulevard, he turned into the post office on the side of the road.

Through the high iron fence, he said to the post office worker, "I need to activate a 'deposit and wait-to-collect' service." This is a service where the post office holds mail until the recipient comes to the post office to collect it.

"Anonymous?" The staff member asked without looking up.

What's the difference between using your real name and being anonymous?

"Real-name registration is free. We can hold your emails for 15 days. When you pick up your package, you just need to provide your identity verification and service password."

Letters can be kept anonymously for 30 days, but a fee of 2 francs per month applies. A registered name and password are required upon collection.

Considering the explicit content of his submission, Lionel didn't hesitate to choose "anonymously deposit and wait for collection," and reluctantly handed over a 2-franc note. The staff quickly handed out a registration form for Lionel to fill out.

Lionel quickly filled out the form and handed it back; less than three minutes later, a thick, yellowed piece of paper was passed out the window, and his "anonymous depositary" agreement with the Saint-Martin branch of the French post office was now established. Next, he directly attached his registered pseudonym and post office address to the end of the manuscript he had written the night before, then stuffed it into an envelope, sealed it, added a stamp, and put it in the mailbox along with the letter he was sending home.

After finishing this important task, Lionel looked up and it was already 8:20. Not wanting to be late again, he quickly left the post office.

After passing Place de la République, turn onto Rue de la Temple, and then cross Pont Saint-Michel—from which you can vaguely see the Notre Dame Cathedral's iconic Gothic spire—you arrive at the Left Bank of the Seine, then cross two blocks, and finally stand at the entrance of the Sorbonne at just before 8:50 a.m.

By this time, other students and teachers had also arrived one after another, making the school gate very lively.

Elegant four-wheeled carriages, light two-wheeled carriages, and public carriages disembarking all huddled together here, turning the unpaved ground into a muddy mess.

Lionel immediately spotted his "old acquaintance," Albert de Rohan.

He nimbly jumped down from a small four-wheeled carriage pulled by a single horse, then casually tossed the reins to the school worker waiting at the gate, and tossed him a few copper coins.

The school janitor thanked him and happily led the horse to the school's public stables.

Albert spotted Lionel immediately, along with the white mist rising from his head and the mud spots on his trousers.

He couldn't help but laugh: "It seems Mr. Sorel's legs are more reliable than his hooves! Next time we should tie you to the front of the carriage, then no passenger on the public carriage will be late."

Albert deliberately raised his voice, which immediately attracted the attention of many people.

Many people noticed Lionel's "disarray" at that moment; those with good manners merely smiled slightly, while those with poor manners burst into laughter.

Lionel, however, showed no embarrassment whatsoever, his expression remaining unchanged: "Mr. Lionel, why didn't you bring your pacifier to school today?"

Albert was stunned for a moment upon hearing this, then his face turned deathly pale, before flushing red: "You...you..."

The surrounding students, who were known for their harsh criticism, laughed even louder, and some even shouted, "Well said!"

This lively scene immediately attracted everyone's attention, even the teachers turned their heads to look at it.

It turns out that the carriage Albert rode in was called a "baggi," which was one of the standard accessories for Parisian playboys (there was also a two-wheeled convertible type). It only required one horse, which he could drive himself. It was inexpensive and still respectable.

Because of its small size, it also has the slang meaning of "baby carriage" or "puppy carriage"—Lionel seized on this pun to launch his counterattack.

This is undoubtedly much more elegant than Albert's blatant class discrimination, and it is more likely to win the applause of college students.

Lionel's words not only satirized Albert's naiveté but also exposed the fact that he relied on his father's legacy and actually had little money of his own.

Albert was enraged, but he couldn't actually go up and beat the other man in public. All he could do was huff and puff, "You dare to insult me? Do you know who my father is?!"

Lionel looked surprised: "What, didn't your mother tell you?"

The moment those words were spoken, the entire room fell silent.

(End of this chapter)