Le Figaro has always been known for its conservative political stance, and this position permeated its current affairs and literary reviews.
Clearly, Lionel and his The Peculiar Case of Benjamin Boudon were not to their liking.
However, Lionel wondered if this might be related to his two rejections of Le Figaro's commissions.
But whether it was a good review or a bad one, a novel appearing in Le Figaro meant that its author was officially recognized as part of the French literary scene.
Professor Hippolyte Taine looked at Lionel with a complex expression:
"If you need any help, you can come to me."
With that, he put on his hat and left the classroom.
Albert, however, was very excited:
"Leo, congratulations, this is Le Figaro! —Let's go, I'll treat you to 'Foyot'!"
The 'Foyot' restaurant, located near the Luxembourg Palace, is a mid-to-high-end establishment, where the cost per person per meal would not be less than 5 francs.
Lionel's attention temporarily shifted from Le Figaro, as he looked at the noticeably overenthusiastic Albert:
"What's on your mind?"
Seeing that Lionel had seen through his intentions, Albert didn't prevaricate, but candidly admitted:
"Indeed, I have some thoughts, but I think it's more suitable to discuss them at the dinner table."
Lionel thought for a moment and didn't refuse:
"Let's go tonight; I have my lunch with me for noon."
Albert was a little surprised, as it was more common for Parisian students and office workers to eat out at noon; only the working class would regularly bring simple "lunch boxes," mostly just bread, cheese, and cold cuts.
The main reason was that Paris's public catering industry was well-developed and relatively affordable; in an average commoner's restaurant, a full meal could cost as little as 10 to 15 sous.
Lionel had clearly moved beyond his past "poor student" status; even without the patronage of a lady, his writing fees alone were enough for him to spend several francs at public dining tables every day and eat and drink heartily.
Was he going to gnaw on bread as hard as stone and excessively salty cold cuts, like those uncouth workers and country bumpkins?
Under the puzzled gazes of Albert and other classmates, Lionel first walked to a well-lit and airy seat by the window and sat down.
Then he pulled out an oval picnic lunch box wrapped in canvas from his bag; it was tin-plated and quite exquisitely made.
He placed it on the table with a crisp sound.
Next, Lionel lifted the lid, and the scent of bread and cheese immediately wafted out—the warmth from the oven was still there, and the toasted aroma of the bread crust filled the air.
The first layer of the lunch box contained three small round loaves; one had its core hollowed out and was filled with foie gras pâté, with a sprinkle of chopped walnuts on top;
The other two were paired with different fillings: one with smoked ham slices and fig jam, the other with Brie cheese and fresh radish slices.
Half of the second layer consisted of three pieces of cold-fried salmon, the orange-pink fish meat appearing particularly appetizing with the vibrant green herbs;
The other half was a spring vegetable salad made of tender peas, white asparagus tips, and shredded radishes, dressed with lemon olive oil.
Finally, Lionel also pulled out a small slice of cherry pie wrapped in patterned wax paper from his bag, and a small bottle of elderflower cordial.
Albert's eyes widened:
"Is this... this made by your family's cook?"
Lionel nodded:
"Now that the distance to school is too far for me to go home for lunch, she simply prepared a little something for me."
Albert's eyes sparkled with jealousy; coming from an aristocratic family, he knew that a cook with such skill would cost at least 100 francs a month.
It's true that lunch boxes weren't popular in Paris at noon—but that depended on what kind of lunch box it was!
Parisians would bring lunch boxes and baskets for picnics, and the wealthy, of course, would go to great lengths to make them abundant and luxurious, as if they wanted to move their entire kitchen onto the grass.
But that was more of a social tool than an everyday practice.
The one Lionel held was not only exquisite and abundant, but also subtly conveyed a sense of superiority, implying "restaurants outside are not as good as my kitchen at home."
This feeling was the most devastating blow to the dandies of the Sorbonne!
Their families also had cooks, but they served their parents and families, and wouldn't bother preparing elaborate meal boxes for them.
Even if they made such a request, they would most likely be politely refused by the cook or butler, who might even complain to their parents:
"Young master has been getting into bad habits recently..."
So they were accustomed to eating out and competing with each other by visiting different expensive restaurants—until Lionel showed them another possibility for living.
Lionel, however, hadn't expected that a simple lunch box would completely change the perceptions of Albert and the other Sorbonne dandies; he simply enjoyed Petty's culinary skills to himself.
Different fillings brought different layers of texture to the rolls, the salmon still retained its pan-fried crispness, the vegetable salad was refreshing and delicious, and finally, eating the cherry pie and drinking all the sweet elderflower cordial...
His empty stomach, having been so since morning, was completely satisfied.
It was then that he noticed Albert was still beside him, and couldn't help but ask, somewhat strangely:
"Why aren't you eating?"
Albert shook his head:
"I have no appetite..."
Then, he shamelessly asked:
"Could you ask your cook to make an extra portion? I'm willing to pay double the price..."
"No!" Lionel flatly refused.
He had originally just intended to eat some bread and salted meat for lunch every day, but Petty insisted on getting up an hour early to prepare his lunch box, and he certainly didn't want to increase Petty's workload further.
Immediately, Lionel asked Albert:
"What did you want to say? You might as well say it now—I'm not really interested in going to restaurants lately."
Albert hesitated, then nodded:
"Let's go to the small garden to talk."
The small garden was located in the center of the Sorbonne, dating back to the seminary era, with tall hedgerows trimmed into a labyrinthine pattern, and a public fountain in the center.
Lionel also needed to go to the public fountain to wash his lunch box, so he agreed to accompany Albert.
Once there were no other classmates around, Albert quietly said to Lionel:
"My father, Count Louis-Philippe de Rohan, will return to Paris in a few weeks."
Lionel showed no surprise, merely asking flatly:
"What position has he been promised?"
Although Count Rohan, who had served as Undersecretary of Finance, had once fallen out of favor, the Rohan family was deeply rooted and powerful; they had recovered even after losing over a dozen heads during the Revolution, let alone today.
Albert smiled:
"The Ministry of Public Instruction and Fine Arts, probably still as Undersecretary."
Lionel was a little surprised now:
"Count Rohan's methods are truly extraordinary!"
Although the Republican government was not without royalist elements, departments with strong ideological leanings like the Ministry of Public Instruction and Fine Arts were usually kept out of their grasp.
Albert explained proudly:
"My father has always been open-minded and tolerant in culture and education, and he is now an active supporter of the republican system."
Lionel: "...So what do you want me to do?"
Albert considered his words carefully:
"Although the promise has been made, we must also be prepared in public opinion."
Lionel: "And then?"
Albert glanced at Lionel:
"My father plans to host a grand ball upon his return and before taking office, inviting artists who symbolize progress and democracy.
Leo, you're high on the list now!"
(End of Chapter)
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