The air in Paris in early May was filled with the clean mist from the Seine and the fragrance of flowers everywhere, wafting through the entire city with the spring breeze.
But for the office of "Modern Life," the air was permeated with an unprecedented, almost anxious anticipation.
Monsieur Georges Charpentier stood by the window; he rarely came to this place, usually reeking of ink, sweat, and tobacco.
Beside him were Émile Bergerat, the editor-in-chief, and Pierre Renoir, who looked so haggard that his cheekbones were noticeably prominent.
Their gaze was directed downstairs, where they could see the entrance of the "Charpentier Bookstore" on the ground floor, and a newsstand across the street.
Today was the debut of "The Story of Benjamin Bouton."
It was also the moment for Georges Charpentier to see if his "grand gamble" would pay off.
———
Madame de Rothschild's mansion in the Saint-Germain district had always been a symbol of taste and style, though she only used it for parties and salons.
Here, velvet curtains hung low, soft light spilled onto Louis XV-style gilded furniture and Oriental rugs, and the air was thick with the sweet scent of fine cigars, expensive perfumes, and freshly baked madeleines.
Several exquisitely dressed ladies and two equally impeccably dressed gentlemen sat around a small circular table inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
In the center, instead of a tea set, were several freshly delivered copies of "Modern Life," emitting the clean scent of ink.
"Georges's taste is finally not bad this time; this 'Modern Life' finally has true 'modern life' in it,"
Madame de Rothschild's words elicited a chuckle.
She used a lace-gloved fingertip to open the newspaper.
The front page featured a novel titled "The Story of Benjamin Bouton."
Although she had already read it a week in advance, seeing "Lionel Sorel" as the author's name below the title, Madame de Rothschild felt both excited and proud, yet also a little aggrieved.
They had agreed that she would sponsor the publication of Lionel's first full-length novel, but he had effortlessly secured serialization in "Modern Life."
She recalled how, just over a month ago, in the small reception room at the Sorbonne, he was still so weak, so poor... yet also so confident, so proud, even to the point of arrogance.
Now, he had so quickly gained the confidence to support that arrogance.
Is this talent? As Madame de Rothschild thought this, her eyes became even more enchanted.
"This is the real Lionel, not that ridiculous impostor..."
A surge of pride swelled within her.
"What is this?"
A noblewoman exclaimed.
A small card, about five inches square, had fallen from the newspaper in her hand.
On it was a beautifully drawn, brightly colored print—
A dying old man lay on a sickbed, outside the window was the burning light of barricades, illuminating the horrified and sorrowful profile of a young woman.
This painting had distinct Impressionistic characteristics, using the interplay of light and shadow to weave together the gloom of death with the frenzy of war, full of tragic tension.
"Mine has one too,"
Another noblewoman exclaimed.
The painting in her hand was different from the previous one; it was a wicker basket, from which the swaddling clothes of a baby could vaguely be seen, and a thin, small hand reached out, as if calling for its parents, or perhaps accusing heaven of injustice...
The remaining few also flipped through their newspapers, but most of them were duplicates of the previous two, only one different color illustration was found:
A man looked back in terror, in the distance, a restless crowd and burning flames could vaguely be seen, as if a world-overturning tide of the era was about to engulf him.
A young lady covered her mouth with a fan:
"Holy Mary! It's so well painted! It's simply a work of art!"
Another gentleman echoed:
"The light and shadow, the colors, the composition... it's a complete masterpiece!"
It was then that everyone noticed a small note at the beginning of "The Story of Benjamin Bouton," stating that each issue of the magazine would randomly include one of these four illustrations!
Moreover, these four illustrations, when strung together, depicted the main plot of this installment of the novel.
The salon fell silent for a moment, then erupted in exclamations of sudden realization:
"Oh! My God! So, to collect a complete set of all four illustrations..."
Madame de Rothschild smiled:
"That's right, my dear, theoretically, you would need to buy at least four copies of 'Modern Life,' and pray your luck is good enough to get different illustrations. Or...
You'd have to have enough friends willing to exchange with you."
A subtle, competitive excitement spread through the salon; a certain flame deep within these gentlemen and ladies seemed to have been ignited.
A noblewoman of similar age to Madame de Rothschild showed a cunning smile:
"Four illustrations? There are only three here!"
Madame de Rothschild replied with an unshakeable tone:
"There will soon be four—I mean, everyone present will have a complete set of these illustrations!"
Immediately she called her coachman:
"André, go buy several more copies of 'Modern Life'—how many?
It doesn't matter, take 50 francs. Keep buying until we have a complete set of these illustrations for all of us!"
Then, Madame de Rothschild turned the newspaper back to the front page:
"Alright, the illustrations are for the sake of the novel—Georges wouldn't have spent such a large sum for a mediocre work, would he?"
It was then that everyone came to their senses.
Those four small, exquisite, "hunt-worthy" color illustrations, like the most alluring candies, had firmly captivated their desires, making them almost overlook the novel itself.
After being reminded, they realized this with a start, and turned back to the front page of the newspaper, beginning to read "The Story of Benjamin Bouton."
Soon, the novel's peculiar opening with its flashback technique, the dying wishes amidst the smoke of gunpowder, the terrifying infant against the backdrop of the Great Revolution, Father Luc de Bouton's choice to abandon him in fear and revolutionary fervor...
These plot points immediately captivated them.
The few of them occasionally exchanged whispered discussions about fate, time, paternal love, and fear...
The atmosphere of the salon also gradually intensified.
————
"Monsieur Charpentier, look, the carriages are already lining up!"
Émile Bergerat excitedly pointed downstairs.
Georges Charpentier nodded almost imperceptibly, trying to maintain his gentlemanly composure, but the curve of his lips was irrepressible.
"After today, who will dare to say I'm not as good as my father, that I'm a prodigal son?"
He, too, felt a surging emotion inside, which he couldn't vent in front of his subordinates.
Just then, there was a clatter on the stairs, and a young man ran up, panting:
"Sir... sir, the newspapers are sold out; all 2,000 copies prepared for the bookstore have been sold. What should we do?"
Georges Charpentier was about to say "reprint immediately," but he suddenly remembered Lionel's instructions.
He controlled his excitement and replied to the eager employee in a detached tone:
"Sold out? Then tell them it's sold out, there are no more."
The employee was stunned:
"Aren't we reprinting?"
Georges Charpentier gritted his teeth:
"No reprinting! This issue is all there is!"
Émile Bergerat and Renoir looked at him incredulously.
————
While stacks of "Modern Life" newspapers were laid before the ladies and gentlemen of high society, a thick stack was also laid before Lionel.
"Panama Canal Five-Year Bonds"
He spoke in disbelief and indignation:
"No, is he sick? Does he actually believe it?"
(End of Chapter)
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