Coulomb walked out by himself from the Palais des Tuileries South Hall, his loneliness stark under the dazzling light of the gas street lamps.
Celebrations were still ongoing in the hall behind him, with music and praises for the laureates echoing, but to Coulomb, they all sounded like merciless mockery.
"Mr. Monge should not have deceived me..."
He muttered, pulling up his collar and signaling to the servant waiting outside the door, "Martin, bring the carriage over."
Half a month ago, the French mathematician Monge, a member of the judging panel, had privately informed him that this year's physics award was essentially decided to be given to him.
Yet when Mr. Le Roy announced the "physics award" just now, he had already stood up, only to hear the name of that British individual!
The sound of hooves approached.
As Coulomb was about to get into the carriage, he heard someone call him from behind, "Mr. Coulomb, is that you?
