Lionel knew the news would spread like a mountain wind, penetrating everywhere, quickly blowing across Lalanne and Montiel.
In such a poor and desolate region, twenty thousand francs was an astronomical sum, enough to change destinies, and to ignite all manner of desires and schemes…
Under the burning gazes of the children, Lionel left Saint-Joseph School.
He first returned home, finding the atmosphere already different, more complex than when he had first arrived a few days prior.
His parents' faces were a mix of pride, unease, and a bewilderment at being suddenly thrust into the spotlight.
Before he could even sit down, the postman from the Lalanne post office appeared at the door, anxiously yet respectfully requesting him to come to the post office as soon as possible.
Lionel sighed, explained the situation to his family, mounted his horse, and set off for Lalanne.
When he arrived, the small post office was already packed with people.
Mayor Martineau, along with a host of municipal officials, had been waiting there.
Seeing Lionel enter, he instantly broke into a smile more radiant than the sun:
"Ah! Dear Lionel! Welcome!"
The mayor practically pounced on him, grasping Lionel's hands tightly and shaking them vigorously:
"Our benevolent 'friend from Paris'! What a generous feat! This is truly… truly manna bestowed upon us by God!"
Beside them, the post office director, Nicolas Bodin, a lean, balding middle-aged man, was laboriously counting banknotes.
Lalanne was a small place, and most remittances received did not exceed 200 francs, so they only had small-denomination notes and coins.
Seeing Lionel, he wiped the fine sweat from his brow:
"Monsieur Sorel, I apologize, but twenty thousand francs… that's truly an enormous sum.
We, uh, have done our utmost, even including our reserve vault, and have only managed to scrape together twelve thousand francs exactly.
But rest assured! The remaining eight thousand francs will certainly be transferred within two days at most!"
Lionel nodded calmly, his gaze sweeping over the pile of banknotes:
"It's alright, I'm not in a hurry… You don't need to count them yet; I won't be exchanging this money today."
Director Nicolas Bodin breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing this.
Lionel wasn't so foolish as to carry 12,000 francs in cash back to Montiel.
His main purpose in coming to the post office was to confirm who had sent him the money— Along with the remittance slip came a registered letter, the wax seal bearing the Rothschild family crest.
After reading the letter, Lionel was touched by Madame Rothschild's enthusiasm, but on the other hand, he also felt that her donation had made his holiday exceptionally complicated.
At that moment, the post office door was pushed open again.
This time, two well-dressed gentlemen entered.
One was slightly plump, with a neatly trimmed beard, wearing a dark grey high-quality wool suit.
The other was somewhat younger, thinner, and had sharp eyes.
Upon entering, both introduced themselves.
The plump man was Alfred Charvet, the director of the "Lalanne Valley Savings and Mutual Bank."
The other was his deputy and one of the bank's shareholders, Pierre-Henri Leclerc.
Pierre-Henri also served as the town's notary, with extensive connections.
Director Charvet spread his arms as if to embrace a long-lost friend:
"Aha! Dear Lionel! Allow me to call you that! We have long admired each other through the newspapers!
Your piece, "The Old Guard," truly struck a chord! My uncle was an old Imperial Guardsman, and he was exactly as you described…"
Leclerc followed closely, his tone flattering:
"Monsieur Sorel's return, bearing the glory and generosity of Paris, is truly a blessing for our Lalanne!"
Mayor Martineau's expression subtly darkened; he was clearly displeased by their sudden appearance.
The atmosphere within the post office instantly grew more delicate…
Mayor Martineau spoke first:
"Lionel, I've been Mayor of Lalanne for twelve years! I know exactly where roads need repairing most, which village schools have crumbling roofs, and which small farmers lack money for seeds… I know it all like the back of my hand!"
He patted his chest:
"Your stage is in Paris, why distract yourself with these trifles? Just give me a general idea, and I, Martineau, guarantee you'll be satisfied!
Imagine, when you next return home in glory, seeing new roads everywhere, schools with repaired roofs… and those families saved by your generosity, offering you their utmost respect… How glorious that would be!"
Before he had finished speaking, Director Charvet immediately interjected:
"Martineau's suggestion is good! But with such a large sum of money, security and appreciation are even more important!
Our 'Lalanne Valley Savings and Mutual Bank' has a twenty-four-hour guarded vault.
More importantly, we can offer generous interest and reliable investment channels to make this charitable fund grow, ensuring a long-term benefit!"
Leclerc also added opportunely:
"The proper use of any charitable fund necessarily involves contracts, commitments, and authorizations.
As the town's only qualified notary, I can ensure the prevention of any possible malfeasance.
This is both responsible towards our 'friend from Paris' and protective of your reputation!"
Mayor Martineau's face grew even darker.
Lionel gently interrupted their scheming:
"Thank you all very much for your concern and suggestions! However, I need a little time to think things through carefully. Blindly scattering money will only breed new injustices!"
Mayor Martineau immediately seized the opportunity:
"Completely understandable! This is truly responsible! Lionel, you always think so thoroughly!
In that case, tonight, at my humble abode, I've prepared some of the best local wine and fresh game from the mountains. Please do us the honor of attending!
Privately, we can have a good chat, and I can give you a detailed report on the 'most pressing needs'— Also, my daughter, Freya, is a loyal reader of yours and hopes to meet you.
Freya just turned 18, and I don't mean to boast, but her beauty is by no means inferior to those Parisian social beauties…"
Director Charvet was not to be outdone:
"Monsieur Sorel is a renowned figure who has seen the grand scenes of Paris.
Lalanne's 'cultured folk,' especially the ladies who admire your talent, are also eager for the honor of making your acquaintance! Tonight, we are hosting a warm, intimate ball in the bank's banquet hall!
I guarantee that Lalanne's most beautiful and well-bred young ladies will be present! They are all eager to learn from you about the latest trends from Paris…"
After speaking, he cast a slightly provocative glance at Mayor Martineau.
Lionel looked at Martineau, then at Charvet, and suddenly smiled.
Twenty thousand francs was an astronomical sum to the common folk here, but it wasn't enough to make them this solicitous.
What they truly valued was his connection with Parisian "high society," fantasizing that he could lead them into that exclusive channel.
Lionel made no promises, merely offering a slightly weary smile:
"Such enthusiastic invitations, I'm afraid I cannot accept them at this moment.
I've just finished teaching the students at Saint-Joseph today, and I also have matters to attend to at home.
Tomorrow, perhaps; I'll give you both my reply tomorrow."
Though somewhat disappointed, Mayor Martineau immediately nodded:
"Ah! Of course, of course! You must attend to your matters first! Your household affairs are important! My door is always open for you!"
Director Charvet was also very understanding:
"Understood! The time for the ball is also very flexible; it can begin whenever—we await your good news."
...
It was already evening when Lionel returned to Montiel.
Normally, at this hour, smoke would be rising from every chimney, and the scent of cooking would waft from beneath doorways.
But as Lionel rode along, he saw hardly a single window with a light showing.
A great unease surged within him.
From a distance, Lionel finally saw his familiar house and realized where everyone in Montiel had gone.
Neighbors, townsfolk, some vague faces from memory, and even complete strangers he didn't recognize, were gathered in a dense crowd outside his door and beyond the garden fence.
Their "buzzing" whispers merged into a noisy wave, making the air almost palpable with tension.
Lionel's father, Joseph, a stooped figure, paced anxiously on the porch.
His mother and sister, Yvanne, stood just inside the door, their faces pale, their eyes filled with worry and helplessness.
Mayor Bertrand and Father Peltier stood guard at the door like sentinels.
(End of Chapter)
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