Flaubert's apartment in Paris was located at 240 Rue Saint-Honoré in the First District, a prime location near the Palais Royal and Saint-Roch Church.
Besides his villa in Croisset, Rouen, this was his only property; it also became the de facto heart of French literature for nearly 10 years due to the salon held there.
Lionel had received numerous salon invitations in recent weeks—not only from Stéphane Mallarmé but also from professors at the Sorbonne and Albert.
At the end of the 19th century, Parisian 'salon culture' was at its peak, with writers, artists, publishers, wealthy patrons, and aristocratic dilettantes ensuring that no evening in Paris was ever dull.
Therefore, choosing which salons to attend became a matter Lionel needed to approach cautiously.
Some salon hosts might be bitter rivals; some were petty; some salons were simply unspeakable parties...
The salons of Sorbonne professors were usually quite academic, and Lionel really didn't want to leave class only to attend another 'class' at a salon.
Albert's salons were either indulgent games among young aristocrats or a quest for patronage under the skirts of some noblewoman.
None of these fit Lionel's vision—the only one that initially seemed to fit was 'Mallarmé's Tuesdays,' but the participants of that gathering were mainly Symbolist poets, Impressionist painters, and rebellious musicians, and Lionel could imagine the scene with his eyes closed.
To some extent, being a writer or artist in 19th-century Paris meant that 'choosing a salon was choosing your faction.'
So when a bleary-eyed Maupassant abruptly appeared before him and said, 'Monsieur Flaubert hopes to see you at the salon on Sunday afternoon,' all other options vanished.
This was 'Flaubert's Sundays,' a topic covered in middle school Chinese language textbooks.
Later, Chinese students first encountered those names that shone brightly in literary history almost exclusively in this article: Gustave Flaubert, Ivan Turgenev, Alphonse Daudet, Émile Zola...
However, due to the middle school textbook compilers' tradition of extensive abridgment, Lionel only discovered upon arriving that there were other people present:
Edmond de Goncourt, one of the Goncourt brothers who established the 'Goncourt Prize,' the great publisher Charpentier, the naturalist Pouchet, who looked like a cavalry officer, and several young writers under 30 who were loyal followers of Zola...
There was even a Sorbonne professor, Professor Hippolyte Taine, who indirectly caused Lionel to attend this salon.
Lionel felt his scalp tingle...
After Maupassant introduced Lionel, all these people observed the newcomer who had 'intruded' into the salon with their own gazes, each with different thoughts.
'Is this 'Poor Léonard'? His jacket elbows aren't shiny from wear, are they?'
'Why doesn't he smell of the Eleventh District? Did Guy make him bathe before bringing him over?'
'Why does Professor Taine look so normal? Could the rumors be true—is he going to marry his daughter to Lionel?'
...
Lionel naturally couldn't hear these unspoken thoughts, only feeling that the gazes of these seniors and peers were somewhat... strange, but he still returned a smile, and at the same time, gave Maupassant a look full of gratitude: 'Thank you!'
Maupassant, feeling guilty, dared not respond and secretly hid himself at the very back of the crowd.
Flaubert, though a little surprised at how shy his most talkative disciple was tonight, still welcomed Lionel as the salon host.
Naturally, the conversation then focused on his 'the old guard.'
Everyone present had read the novel; some in the 'Sorbonne Faculty of Arts Bulletin' two weeks prior, others in 'Le Petit Parisien,' which had just been published yesterday.
Everyone was curious how a second-year Sorbonne student could write such a masterpiece.
So Lionel first explained the origin of the 'the old guard' character and his initial inspiration.
After listening, Flaubert fell into contemplation. A moment later, his deep voice broke the silence: 'Léon—please allow me to call you that—actually, when I read this novel, I was more intrigued by a theoretical curiosity.
Right here in this room—' He looked around, a smile on his face.
'Émile (Zola) advocates 'experimental novels,' placing literature within the laws of physiology and genetics; Edmond (Goncourt) prefers 'documentary' meticulous records; and I, I am a stubborn recorder of reality...
But you, Léon, your 'the old guard' seems different from all of us. From what creed was it born? Especially that narrator 'I,' the 'little fellow'—I've read your interrogation records at the Sorbonne, but I still have doubts.'
'How perceptive...' Lionel marveled inwardly.
As the foremost writer of his era, Flaubert's sensitivity to the art of the novel was unparalleled.
Although 'the old guard' was not significantly different in form from most 19th-century short stories—'weak first-person perspective' ('I' is only the narrator, not the protagonist), 'single-line narrative,' 'typical characters and typical environment'...
Its original version, however, was born in the 20th century, created by a master of the short story who is first-rate even on a global scale, naturally transcending the current era.
However, only a master like Flaubert could perceive this.
Lionel felt the pressure of the gazes focused on him and, after a moment of thought, slowly began to speak: 'Indeed, when creating 'the old guard,' I was inevitably influenced by people like yourself, Monsieur Zola, Monsieur Daudet, and Monsieur Goncourt.
Your works are all exemplary French novels, a path and a bridge that any Frenchman wishing to embark on the path of writing cannot bypass.'
What Lionel said was true and pleased Flaubert and the others—only Maupassant in the back row looked dejected.
'But once I entered the state of writing, I had no extra thoughts to consider whether this sentence was 'naturalism' or that sentence was 'realism'—so the birth of 'the old guard' did not stem from adherence to a predetermined 'creed.'
I chose the little fellow as the narrator not merely to 'record' the environment and its products. My true intention was to reveal how the environment shapes the act of 'watching' itself.
This 'little fellow' 'I,' he himself is one of the most 'successful' products of this environment!
He shaped his perceptions with the rules of the tavern—sensitivity to prices, vigilance against the possibility of 'watering down,' and the unspoken distinction between woolen coats and short coats.
His 'observation' of the old guard also carried the specific color imbued by the environment—a near-instinctive numbness, a sympathy dulled by the pressure to survive, and even a sense of participation in seeking temporary relief amidst the collective laughter.'
Every word Lionel spoke was not difficult to understand, yet they struck the listeners like thunder—'The environment not only shapes behavior but also shapes the mode of perception?'
No one present, including Lionel, realized that a literary storm, sweeping across Europe and even the entire world, had arrived thirty years early, quietly descending on 'Flaubert's Sundays,' on this most ordinary afternoon in 1879.