Chapter 46: Thousands of Women Are Looking Forward
"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed Madame Marcela de Peñafiel—when speaking of the eccentric, uninhibited young people in Paris, one absolutely must mention that Sorbonne student, Lionel Sorel!
Poor Léonard Sorel, from the Alps, wearing a coat with shiny elbows, who can only afford a five-sou public carriage ride each day, living in the smelly Eleventh District, yet always indomitable!"
Maupassant stood in the center of Madame Peñafiel's mansion parlor, gesticulating and narrating with dramatic flair.
Above his head was a velvet-covered ceiling, from which a giant brass chandelier hung in the center—though its candles were merely decorative, the true illumination came from the large gas crystal lamps in the four corners of the room.
The gods in the wall frescoes seemed to whisper with their expressions and faces; large and small golden Baroque frames displayed the visages of the family's ancestors; the long windows were half-closed, with curtains of fine Chinese red satin, adorned with phoenix tail embroidery, the craftsmanship of top Suzhou embroiderers.
The hostess of the salon—Baroness Marcela de Peñafiel—dressed in a deep blue velvet evening gown with silver fringe, sat in a high-backed chair by the fireplace, holding an ivory-handled feather fan in her right hand, slowly opening and closing it.
A subtle curve always played on her lips, neither intimate nor distant, as if waiting for a statement weighty enough to earn her nod.
Around Baroness Peñafiel were four or five young men—some with decadent expressions and vacant eyes; others with burning gazes full of admiration; still others leaned slightly forward, as if ready to listen to her every word.
In another corner of the parlor, several accompanying ladies sat around a tea table, some sipping absinthe, others, gloved, perusing the newly published Le Figaro. They occasionally whispered about whose daughter had married into a banking family, or whose footman had recently gotten into a fight at the market…
Maupassant was undoubtedly the center of attention in the room at that moment.
He paced back and forth in the center of the parlor, his face flushed, his voice high-pitched: "…Just this Monday, in the early morning, while the lazy Parisians were still curled up in their warm beds, he would stand before the Sorbonne's judgment seat, to endure cold, merciless interrogation like a sword!"
"Oh?" Baroness Peñafiel became interested and suddenly asked, "Last week… no, the week before, didn't Poor Léonard reconcile with Professor Hippolyte Taine? Why would the Sorbonne still interrogate him?"
Maupassant was momentarily stunned. Which version of the 'Legend of Poor Léonard' was this? He had never heard of it.
However, as the future 'King of Short Stories,' Maupassant quickly twisted the narrative: "It's not because of Professor Hippolyte Taine's matter, but… but…"
He tried to recall the fragments he had heard at Mallarmé's salon on Tuesday, but Mallarmé's voice was inherently languid and indistinct, and there was a young man playing the piano, so he could only remember a few keywords.
But a few keywords were enough for Maupassant to improvise. He quickly clarified his thoughts, and his voice regained its confidence: "It's because Mr. Victor Hugo wants to 'meet' this audacious young man who dares to challenge the authority of the academicians!"
The name "Victor Hugo" appearing in the salon finally made the young men who had been solely focused on the Baroness look at Maupassant.
One of them let out a sharp scoff: "Guy, shouldn't your novels be published in Le Figaro? Why are you bringing them here?
Mr. Victor Hugo going to the Sorbonne to interrogate a country bumpkin from the Alps? You might as well invent a story about Emperor Napoleon resurrecting to lead his Imperial Guard to occupy Berlin!"
Maupassant also grew annoyed and retorted with ringing conviction: "No, it is precisely because he is willing to come to the Sorbonne to witness the rise of a poor young man that he is Victor Hugo! Not a snobbish fool!"
The young man who was rebutted jumped up from his seat in anger, but was immediately pressed back down by a glance from the Baroness, only able to turn his head away, fuming.
Baroness Peñafiel was clearly very interested in the new story Maupassant brought about "Poor Léonard": "Go on, Guy."
Encouraged, Maupassant continued to embellish the incomplete secondhand information he had heard from Stéphane Mallarmé with his bold imagination, transforming it into a new legend of Lionel.
In this short play, Lionel jumped onto the table and righteously denounced the Sorbonne's rigid management system, outdated teaching content, and the pervasive culture of ostentation that permeated the entire university!
Both the Sorbonne's president and the professors present were captivated by this young man's courage and eloquence.
Mr. Victor Hugo, after Lionel's speech, firmly clasped his hands and announced to everyone present: "Suppressing and bullying talented young people is a debt owed by the Sorbonne, by France!
Gentlemen! Please remember this debt. Only by remembering can we be worthy of a future!"
Maupassant's final words were powerful and awe-inspiring, captivating everyone in the salon—such profound pronouncements indeed resembled Mr. Hugo's speaking style!
Oh my, Mr. Hugo actually believes the Sorbonne and France owe Lionel! What high praise!
Baroness Peñafiel's eyes were already glistening: "Oh, heavens, I never imagined that 'Poor Léonard' could move Mr. Hugo so much!
That such a talented young man should be mired in poverty should not happen on the soil of our France!
Guy, next time, could you bring 'Poor Léonard' to my salon?"
Only then did Maupassant realize he had gotten a bit carried away. Baroness Peñafiel seemed more interested in Lionel than in him, so he quickly added: "Your kindness brings glory to all of Paris!
However, Lionel is currently working on a masterpiece that will be published in the next issue of the Sorbonne Faculty of Arts Bulletin, so he is unavailable for salons; moreover, Lionel has, after all, never attended such a grand event…"
Upon hearing this, Baroness Peñafiel could only nod regretfully: "A masterpiece? I can't wait…"
Maupassant then wiped away a cold sweat. Seeing the Baroness in high spirits, he cautiously and reverently leaned closer to her, saying in a humble tone: "Dearest Marcela, my play 'Old Stories' will premiere at the 'Balande Theatre' on the 19th of this month…
If you could condescend to attend, it would be an honor for me, the theatre, all the actors, and the audience…"
Upon hearing this, the Baroness gave him a half-smile and asked languidly: "How much more sponsorship do you need?"
— — — — — — — — — —
The story of "Poor Léonard" and Mr. Hugo quickly spread throughout the aristocratic salons of Paris, and even reached the gatherings of pure artists.
The masterpiece "Poor Léonard" was creating also became the focus of these noblewomen—and the March issue of the Sorbonne Faculty of Arts Bulletin, which would publish it, was even more eagerly anticipated.
Professor Boissier felt a tingling in his scalp when he saw the large stack of additional subscription lists on his desk.