Lionel was both embarrassed and had a headache, but at this moment, he couldn't ask Alice anything directly, so he just said, "Oh... did you get it? Let's have dinner first."
With that, he turned and closed the door, leaving. Immediately after, he heard a flurry of drawer opening and closing, and chair dragging sounds from the study.
A short while later, the three of them were seated at the dining table, Lionel at the head, Alice and Petty on either side.
The dinner Petty prepared was surprisingly rich and delicious for her age—the oxtail tomato soup Lionel smelled when he entered was the main course, placed in the center of the table, emitting a rich meaty aroma;
On the plate in front of each person was also a piece of pan-fried pork chop, slightly charred at the edges, but with an enticing golden color in the center. The sauce made from coriander and onions gave it a rich flavor;
The staple food was two slices of pre-cut baguette for each person, toasted golden brown and crispy on the surface, with a fragrant wheat aroma, and Camembert cheese sandwiched in the middle;
The dessert was the lemon honey custard baked pudding Lionel had bought on the way home.
Since it wasn't a holiday or weekend, no red wine was prepared; instead, each person had a glass of low-alcohol apple cider.
Lionel couldn't help but praise Petty again: "Your culinary talent is too high. In a few years, you might be able to open a restaurant on the Champs-Élysées."
Petty, flattered, held her head high: "That's also because of how well you, Young Master Sorel, taught me!" After months of good food and drink, Petty's face had visibly become rosier, her cheeks like two small blooming flowers.
Alice, however, was preoccupied with heavy thoughts and only managed a forced smile along with the two of them.
Before they officially started eating, Alice and Petty clasped their hands in front of their chests for a pre-meal prayer; Lionel had long declared his atheist stance, but he waited for them to finish their prayer before picking up his knife and fork.
After dinner, Alice helped Petty wash the dishes and clean the kitchen, while Lionel returned to the study.
He quickly realized that today's awkwardness stemmed from him forgetting to lock the middle drawer. From beneath a stack of blank manuscript paper, he pulled out the manuscript of the decadent city that Alice had re-hidden, quickly flipped through it to confirm, and then slightly exhaled in relief.
Since he had only sent the manuscript of the first part to Gabriel a week ago, the drawer currently contained only the newly written sections.
He had only managed to write out the main plot of the novel; as for the "□□□ (XX lines deleted here)" within it, he had not yet begun to write.
So Alice... might not have understood it?
While he was troubled and guessing, there was a knock on the study door. Lionel quickly put the manuscript back into the drawer: "Come in."
Alice pushed open the door, her face red, and walked in: "Leon, I'm sorry, your drawer wasn't locked, and I was in a hurry to find paper... so I just..."
Seeing Alice nervously wringing her hands, Lionel could only sigh: "From now on, I'll put all the manuscript paper on the desk."
Alice was, after all, a "true 19th-century person," from a farm at the foot of the Alps. Although she later spent a year at the Notre Dame de Lourdes, it's likely she hadn't received this kind of personal conduct education closely related to city life.
It was already good enough that she recognized her mistake and apologized.
Alice, seeing that Lionel wasn't angry, also breathed a sigh of relief, then immediately looked puzzled: "Leon, is this how you earn money... by writing this kind of 'novel'?"
Lionel's expression turned serious upon hearing this: "This matter must never be known by anyone, understand?"
Alice nodded vigorously like a chick pecking rice, but then became worried: "Leon, is it really okay for you to write these things? The nuns at the convent said that people who read novels will go to hell... You even wrote about..."
Although Alice didn't want to be a nun, it didn't mean she didn't believe in God.
After all, she had experienced a year of convent life, with morning prayers and evening blessings every day, and even practicing copying the Bible. Some ideas were already ingrained in her mind.
In French society outside of Paris, reading novels, especially for women, was widely considered the beginning of moral decay.
Novels would give women too many romantic fantasies, just like Emma in madame bovary. She was educated at a school affiliated with a convent, but her favorite books were romance novels like "Paul and Virginia."
Finally, she had an affair with a philandering man who recited poetry to her daily—this philandering man was named Leon.
Lionel spread his hands: "Writing novels allows me to live in an apartment for 90 francs a month, to eat tonight's dinner worth 2 francs, and to take a public carriage to Sorbonne every day instead of walking for an hour in the cold, and of course—"
"It's the only way to possibly make up for the family's deficit. I send 150 francs to my father every month now."
Alice quickly waved her hands: "Leon, I'm not blaming you, but I'm worried..."
Lionel laughed: "Worried? Worried I'll go to hell? I told you, I'm an atheist now. I don't attend mass, nor do I go to church to confess. According to doctrine, even if I don't write novels, I'll still go to hell. I don't care."
Alice hurriedly denied again: "No, I'm not worried about that either..."
Lionel was also puzzled: "Then what are you worried about...?"
Alice's face turned red again, and after a while, she hesitantly said: "I'm worried about your health... after all, writing such stories every day..."
Lionel: "..."
He could only clear his throat awkwardly: "...Such stories... what do they have to do with health?"
Alice looked up with her charming Southern French face, and said seriously: "Although you deleted it all, I can guess... Don't forget, I have many livestock at home.
My father used to say, if bulls and boars..."
Lionel: "..." So embarrassed his toes wanted to dig themselves a two-bedroom, one-living-room apartment in the ground.
No wonder there were so many peasant girls in French novels rolling in hay with landlords; this still had a strong social basis.
Before Alice could utter the rest of her 'tiger and wolf' words, Lionel, disregarding her objections, pushed her out of the study: "Alright, you haven't finished copying Mr. Ragnier's 30-page ledger yet, and it's due the day after tomorrow..."
Only after the study door closed with a "bang" did Lionel breathe a sigh of relief, then he heard Alice burst into unrestrained laughter outside the door.
This girl from the Alps was finally showing a bit of her true personality.
Lionel had a terrible headache—he wasn't a saint, but he wasn't desperate to that extent either.
Alice's status as a novice nun was already a ticking time bomb, not to mention the relationship between two families and two generations; dealing with either one would be a huge hassle.
Lionel pressed his temples and slumped into his chair.
— — — — — —
A new week began, but Lionel wasn't the only man in Paris troubled by "women."
They were all eagerly searching for a mysterious novel, which was said to be able to bring men to the pinnacle of ecstasy.