Gabriel disdainfully puffed out a cloud of cigar smoke, his surprisingly large belly protruding as he responded to Chief Gigo: "Come on, Jige, my old friend, you know how little Le Petit Parisien pays. How many sous can they give this poor young man per line?"
Chief Gigo didn't want to dwell on the issue. He pushed Le Petit Parisien aside, then pulled a thick, plain-covered booklet from his drawer and tossed it in front of Gabriel: "Let's talk about this, Gab."
Gabriel unhurriedly picked up the thick booklet from the table, glanced through it, then put it back down, spreading his hands: "Ah, the decadent city, what a marvelous title."
Chief Gigo was clearly not pleased with his attitude. Even though Gabriel gave him at least ten thousand francs in "sponsorship fees" annually, such perfunctoriness was unacceptable.
He abruptly stood up, leaned close to Gabriel's face, and warned him, enunciating each word: "Mr. Maurel, this book has attracted significant attention from Bishop Gibert, and he is preparing to present the matter to the Parliament. Do you still think you can escape with money or other means? I hope you give me a good reason!"
Gabriel only became slightly more serious upon hearing this, though he still seemed nonchalant—he donated more annually to the "Paris Society for the Promotion of Books"—he straightened up a little: "Yes, I published this book. And I've already registered the copyright with the Bureau of Books and Libraries; it's protected by the Law on Literary and Artistic Works of 1793."
Chief Gigo was somewhat surprised that Gabriel not only readily admitted it but also claimed that the decadent city had already been copyrighted.
He sat back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and thought for a moment before speaking again: "Don't you know it's a huge taboo to publish such a novel? Bishop Gibert demands that we immediately arrest the publisher and the author."
Since the 1810 Napoleonic Penal Code included provisions prohibiting "obscene" and "immoral" works, the Paris Police Department had a special division dedicated to "morality and discipline."
In 1857, Flaubert's madame bovary was accused of "insulting morality and religion," and even though he was ultimately acquitted, the process shook the literary world.
Times had changed. After the establishment of the Republican government in 1871, censorship of obscene books had relaxed considerably, but Gabriel, an openly active publisher and newspaper owner, was the first to dare to do something like this.
Gabriel laughed: "What crime has it committed that warrants such a fuss from you and Bishop Gibert?"
Chief Gigo angrily poked the cover of the decadent city with his finger: "I thought this was printed by those rats who only dare to hide underground, using your name as a pretense. I didn't expect you to admit it! Mr. Maurel, I've been very restrained about the jokes and scandals you publish in Le Tapageur—but this book, its obscene descriptions have crossed the line. If you're willing to tell me who this author is, well, 'An Honest Parisian,' perhaps your guilt could be lessened!"
Gabriel's smile did not diminish; instead, it grew brighter. With confidence, he opened the decadent city on the table again: "Obscene? My dear Jige, what are you saying? Can you find a single obscene word in here? Organs, actions, postures... Look closer!"
Chief Gigo was stunned. He looked at the glaring "□ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ (15 lines deleted here)" on the open pages and was at a loss for words.
Gabriel now adopted a serious expression, speaking with righteous indignation: "Respected Chief Gigo, it is precisely out of responsibility for the morality and souls of the people of Paris and France that those contents have been deleted, and they will never poison anyone! Although the decadent city has some debatable descriptions, it is in itself an excellent naturalistic novel! Just like what Mr. Zola writes. If it truly were a novel promoting obscenity, how could the Bureau of Books and Libraries have agreed to my copyright registration?"
Chief Gigo's face darkened. He pulled a thin booklet from his drawer and slammed it onto the table: "Deleted? Then what about this?"
Gabriel feigned surprise, picked it up, glanced through it, then threw it onto the table as if burned: "God! The devil! Only the devil would write such blasphemous words!"
Chief Gigo thought his acting was too clumsy, and he showed a look of disdain: "What, isn't this booklet sold in conjunction with the decadent city? You've printed all the deleted content in it! Damn it, the words in there will corrupt anyone who reads them!"
Gabriel made the sign of the cross over his chest, then cried out in protest: "God! I, Gariel Maurel, have always been a law-abiding businessman, never doing anything to exploit legal loopholes! You see, this booklet has no title, author, or publisher on its cover. It must be some underground rat, envious of our the decadent city, who hired some shameless, vulgar writer to do this. Please, you must bring them to justice!"
Chief Gigo was dumbfounded. He then picked up the booklet and flipped through it, finding indeed no information about the publisher or author.
His subordinates had presented both booklets to him simultaneously, and he had assumed they were a set; but with Gabriel's reminder, he realized that, theoretically, these two booklets, one thick and one thin, were completely independent.
Chief Gigo looked deeply at the half-smiling Gabriel opposite him, and with a helpless sigh, said: "I hope you can convince Bishop Gibert with that excuse!—But, who is 'An Honest Parisian,' you can at least tell me that, can't you?"
Gabriel shrugged: "I don't know either. He always submits anonymously, and we only communicate via mail."
Chief Gigo gave a mocking smile: "Oh? Our all-powerful Gariel Maurel doesn't know who he's paying large sums of manuscript fees to? Well, I hope Bishop Gibert believes that too." He then waved his hand, signaling Gabriel to leave.
Gabriel did not linger. He stood up, picked up his cane, bowed to Chief Gigo, and leisurely departed.
Watching Gabriel's broad back disappear into the police station, Chief Gigo suddenly remembered something and called out: "Claude, Claude!"
Soon, a man who appeared very shrewd and capable entered his office: "Director, your orders, please!"
Chief Gigo asked: "A while ago, that Sorbonne student accused the manager of Orby Trading Company of marriage fraud, swindling his family in the Alps out of 5,000 francs. How is that case progressing?"
Detective Claude scratched his head: "After all, that case happened in the Alps, and we can't be sure that the person really was the manager of Orby Trading Company..."
Chief Gigo knew his subordinate had buried the case under some pile of files, so he handed Le Petit Parisien to Detective Claude again: "I remember the person who reported the case was named Lionel Sorel, wasn't he?"
Detective Claude was a bit confused: "Yes..." He then saw the name in the newspaper: "Is... is it him?"
Chief Gigo nodded: "He has some influence now; you need to pay attention to that case. If he tells the reporters at Le Petit Parisien..."
Detective Claude immediately understood and bowed: "I will solve the case as quickly as possible!"
---- Downstairs at the Paris Police Department, Gariel Maurel boarded his waiting carriage, and only then did he truly breathe a sigh of relief.
Then he remembered the letter from "An Honest Parisian" that had arrived with the novel: "...I believe the decadent city should be sold in at least two versions..."
What a goddamn genius!
Just then, the coachman asked: "Sir, are we going home now?"
Gariel Maurel first grunted, then said: "To Notre Dame. I need to meet with Bishop Gibert!"