The letter paper only contained a partial character introduction and story synopsis, but it was enough to captivate Gabryel.
It wasn't until the last line of text passed before his eyes that he reluctantly put down the manuscript.
Gabryel had initially thought that "The Honest Parisian" was writing pure erotica, much like the Marquis de Sade's Justine or Juliette, which delved into the bizarre and immoral.
He never expected it to be such an epic masterpiece, conceived almost as a work of "critical realism."
Even if the erotic descriptions were removed, he was certain it would not be a mediocre novel.
Gabryel became even more convinced that the young man before him was merely an agent for the true author.
Gabryel tried his best to control his expression and complimented nonchalantly,
"The idea is good, but it's still just an idea...
I can't promise anything until I see the complete manuscript."
Lionel genuinely thanked Gabryel, then swiftly gathered the letter and envelope, stood up, and prepared to leave.
Gabryel was caught off guard, hurrying to stand up with him, almost knocking over his chair, and a large chunk of ash fell from his cigar.
"Hey... hey... what do you mean by this?"
Lionel looked bewildered.
"Didn't you ask for the complete manuscript?
I don't have it now! Let's meet again when I do!"
Gabryel's face turned ghastlier than a dead man's.
In his expectations, the person opposite him today would be a middle-aged or elderly man who had snuck in from the cafe's back kitchen, with his trench coat collar pulled high, his voice kept low, and wearing a shoddy fake beard or perhaps a mask.
The two of them would be well-matched opponents, constantly bargaining through mutual pulling and probing, finally reaching terms satisfactory to both.
He, who once dreamed of a literary career, even fantasized that they could become "old friends" in this way...
What a unique friendship that would be...
But instead, the other party had sent such a greenhorn, who didn't understand "the art of negotiation" in the slightest!
And had no "patience for negotiation" whatsoever!
Helpless, Gabryel could only say through gritted teeth,
"Please sit down!
Even without the complete manuscript, we can still talk!"
Lionel didn't object, readily sat down, and then stared blankly at Gabryel.
"Talk, then.
How much are you prepared to pay?"
Gabryel didn't answer, but instead retorted,
"How much does Mr. 'The Honest Parisian' want?"
Lionel tilted his head and thought for a moment.
"Of course, the more the better!"
Gabryel almost spat out a mouthful of old blood on the spot; he had been in this business for 20 years and had never seen any author talk like this.
He tried to suppress the anger in his heart, doing his best to calm himself down.
"You must understand, publishing this book carries a great risk for me—and indeed, for all publishers!"
Lionel didn't respond, but looked at Gabryel with the clear, unique gaze of a university student, as if saying,
"It's just a novel, is it really that big a deal?"
Gabryel couldn't be sure if Lionel had read the novel, or even if Lionel was literate—perhaps he was just a factory worker or workshop apprentice whom "The Honest Parisian" had casually hired for 2 francs.
In that case, explaining the risks of publishing this book to him would be like "playing a lute to a cow" (talking to a brick wall).
He now knew why "The Honest Parisian" sent such an inexperienced young man to negotiate with him—the other party simply didn't want to negotiate, and even less wanted to reveal his identity.
Gabryel took a deep puff of his cigar, then slowly exhaled light blue smoke, creating a hazy barrier between them.
"Tell me, Mr. 'The Honest Parisian,' how much do you want for this novel?"
Lionel slightly lowered his head, as if recalling something, but quickly raised it.
"20,000 francs, cash, no drafts; half to be paid in advance within two days, the rest upon submission of the manuscript."
Gabryel was startled.
"Is he crazy?
Who does he think he is?
Monsieur Alexandre Dumas fils?"
Lionel still had a bewildered expression, as if he didn't even know who "Dumas fils" was.
"'The Honest Parisian' believes this novel is worth this price.
If you agree, he can give you the manuscript before Ascension Day!"
Ascension Day falls 40 days after Easter, roughly between May and June.
Gabryel refused repeatedly.
"Impossible, impossible, that price is insane!
What's more, I don't even know who he is, and he doesn't show up.
We can't even sign a publishing contract.
What if he takes the money and runs?"
Lionel stood up again.
"Alright then, let's talk again when the novel is finished."
Gabryel nearly collapsed; in his heart, he had already sent
"The Honest Parisian" to the guillotine a thousand times!
Of course, he wouldn't wait four months for the so-called "complete manuscript."
Who knew what might happen during that time?
Talented writers, like porcelain from the Far East before the 19th century, had a different price every day, or even a different price per ship.
Before the premiere of his play Hernani, Victor Hugo's entire fortune was less than 100 francs; but after the third act of Hernani concluded, a bookseller pulled him into the theatre corridor, offering to buy the script for 5,000 francs.
Hugo asked why he didn't wait until the end of the entire play.
The bookseller fiercely explained,
"At the end of the second act, I thought I should give you 2,000 francs; at the end of the third act, I felt I had to give you at least 4,000 francs; I'm afraid by the time I've seen the whole thing, I'll have to give you 10,000 francs!"
"The Honest Parisian" undoubtedly had huge potential.
Gabryel even guessed that he already had a minor reputation in literary circles and only wrote erotic works because he needed money.
What if he becomes famous one day?
This was probably also why he insisted on not showing his face.
Gabryel stopped Lionel again.
"I can't give 20,000 francs; the risk is simply too great.
Even if he were Monsieur Dumas fils!"
Lionel didn't sit down, asking directly,
"Then how much will you give?"
Gabryel's mind raced, finally gritting his teeth and naming a price,
"A firm offer, 5... 6,000 francs..."
Lionel responded decisively,
"Deal!"
Gabryel: "...!!!???"
He couldn't quite believe his ears, but immediately knew he had been tricked.
"The Honest Parisian"'s initial bottom price given to the young man was this figure, perhaps even lower; he might have even closed the deal by offering "5,000 francs" or even "4,000 francs."
Gabryel hurriedly added,
"I haven't finished speaking.
3,000 francs in advance, 1,500 francs of which will be cash, and 1,500 francs in a draft, to be honored after 3 months; the rest upon submission..."
Lionel nodded.
"No problem, please pay within two days."
Gabryel: "..."
Did I just bid too eagerly again?
He focused his gaze on the young man before him, his mind becoming confused.
For a moment, he didn't know if all this was part of "The Honest Parisian"'s plan, or a spur-of-the-moment idea from the young man.
But the words were out, he couldn't take them back.
"...Please convey a message to 'The Honest Parisian': send me a letter within tomorrow so we can confirm the details."
Lionel readily agreed,
"Okay!"
With that, he prepared to leave Café de Flore.
Gabryel was somewhat reluctant to give up and called out to him,
"Did Mr. 'The Honest Parisian' tell you what this novel is called?"
Lionel didn't turn his head.
"I think it's called Decadent Metropolis."
"How fitting..."
Gabryel savored the meaningful title, watching Lionel's figure disappear around the street corner.
Just then, a shifty figure walked from the other end of the cafe to Gabryel's side and whispered,
"Should I follow him?"
Gabryel said resentfully,
"A mere puppet, why follow him?
Go keep a close watch on the post office on Saint-Martin Avenue for me!"
(End of Chapter)
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