It's not just swindlers who need elaborate disguises to win hearts, but also holy priests.
On the solemn podium of the last National Assembly before the Easter holiday, Gariel Maurel, Archbishop of Paris, stood in solemn ceremonial robes, his expression grave.
He stood on the sacred main podium of the National Assembly, his face filled with compassion, and his voice, honed by forty years of preaching, was exceptionally solemn at this moment: "Gentlemen, esteemed members of parliament!
While you are here, tirelessly working for the prosperity of the nation, the perfection of its laws, and the welfare of its people, a dark undercurrent from the abyss, a toxic mist capable of corrupting the very foundations of our national soul, is quietly spreading through the heart of France—Paris!
And it has even flowed out to our vast territories beyond Paris!"
His voice was loud and infectious, reverberating through the assembly hall; his gaze swept across the room, catching the curious, solemn, or uneasy expressions of the members.
After a slight pause, he continued to sound his resounding gong: "What I speak of is not an invasion by foreign enemies, nor a natural disaster or famine, but a more hidden, more malicious, and more destructive spiritual plague!
A publication titled 'the decadent city'—especially its certain derivative work—like a meticulously woven net by Satan, is spreading at an alarming rate among citizens, and even among our young students!
I believe many of you esteemed members have already heard of this book!"
A stir went through the room. Bishop Gibert pounded the podium with a pained expression, emitting a dull thud: "What does it depict?"
His voice suddenly became sharp: "It depicts how money trumps the law! It depicts how sacred duties are shamelessly bought! It depicts how the temple of faith is defiled in an orgy of lust!
It uses flowery language to cloak the most despicable bribery in a veneer of legitimacy; it uses vivid details to trample sacred vows into worthlessness; it uses tempting narratives to disguise a decadent lifestyle as the highest spiritual enjoyment!
Gentlemen, I ask you, when our young people idolize the protagonist in the book who rises to prominence through bribing clergy, scorning sacraments, and indulging in personal desires, to which side will the scales of justice in their hearts tip?
How much reverence for the law will remain? What contempt will they harbor for the will of the great God—the cornerstone of French morality and spirit for centuries?"
Gibert sighed: "This is by no means an exaggeration! As the president of the 'Paris Good Books Association,' I receive countless letters daily from anxious parents, upright clergy, and responsible teachers!
They weep to me, telling me that their children, their parishioners, their students, after encountering this poisonous book, become dispirited, speak frivolously, and lose the proper reverence for sacred things! The future of France is being eroded by this silent toxic mist!"
After laying a sufficient foundation of fear and anger, he finally revealed his true fangs: "But this publication actually obtained copyright registration from the 'Bureau of Books and Library Management'—
But if 'the decadent city' itself still exercises some restraint over its filthy content; that 'supplementary reading material' derived from it is truly hellfire! Yet it is very difficult for us to trace their origins!
This warns us how fragile and powerless secular laws are in resisting this subtly packaged spiritual corruption! Even the Holy See is concerned about this. For this reason, he has dispatched Cardinal Raphael Montelli to deliver the Holy See's edict."
An old man with white hair, dressed in more magnificent ecclesiastical robes than Bishop Gibert, had already arrived at the center of the podium as Gibert spoke.
Bishop Gibert quickly yielded his position to him.
Cardinal Raphael Montelli straightened his body, the gold threads on his robes shimmering in the gaslight, as if bathed in holy light:
"First, we hope that the Assembly can grant the Church, especially local parishes, greater and more proactive power in supervising book content!
The Church has the right to recommend, inspect, and report on all books in schools, public libraries, public reading rooms, and rural libraries!
We have churches throughout cities and villages, and clergy who are proficient in doctrine and discerning of right and wrong; they are most sensitive to detecting anomalies! This is the first, and most effective, line of defense against such spiritual plagues!
This is not interfering with citizens' freedom to read, but rather to protect a more precious freedom—the freedom of the soul!"
"Second, we earnestly request the Assembly to consider greatly strengthening the education of doctrine and moral courses in public schools not affiliated with the Church! Let our children discern right from wrong and revere the sacred from a young age!
Secular knowledge is important, but without the guidance of faith and morality, knowledge will only become a tool for wrongdoing!"
"Third, for those booksellers who dare to publish and disseminate such books that openly blaspheme God, corrupt morals, and endanger society, more severe penalties must be imposed! Let them know that the price for poisoning the soul of France will be an unbearable burden!
And the literati who write such works must be dragged to court, and their backsides worn raw on the prison floor!"
Many members present began to pound on their tables and shout…
— — — —
"Extra! Extra! The Holy See has dispatched a Cardinal to Paris, vowing to cleanse the publishing world of its cancerous tumors!"
The newsboy's cries outside the window hammered against the eardrums of Gariel Maurel, editor-in-chief of The Clamor, making his head spin.
He was currently holding a copy of Le Figaro, the very one the newsboy outside was hawking.
The report on the two religious figures' speeches in the National Assembly, every lead type, was like a red-hot needle, pricking Gariel Maurel's thick fingers.
"Gibert… you treacherous viper!" Garibuer squeezed out a growl through clenched teeth, his fingers almost crushing the newspaper.
On the newspaper, Bishop Gibert's hypocritical, compassionate, and nation-worrying expression on the parliamentary podium, and the Cardinal Raphael Montelli from Rome whom he introduced, all sent a chilling sensation through Garibuer.
He had thought that the ten-thousand-franc "donation" would buy him some breathing room, especially since Gibert's reluctant and hypocritical demeanor when receiving the money was still vivid in his memory.
According to their unspoken rules of the game, His Eminence the Archbishop would, as usual, "speak well" of him in front of the Cardinal, shifting all responsibility to "underground printing workshops" and that mysterious "An Honest Parisian."
Then he would hint that more "atonement money" could be extorted from him, Garibuer, to quell the situation.
But he was wrong, terribly wrong.
The three requests Cardinal Montelli made in the Assembly, especially the first and third points, were practically death warrants aimed directly at him, Garibuer, and The Clamor!
That scoundrel Gibert not only didn't cover for him but likely added fuel to the fire in front of the Cardinal!
That ten thousand francs was worse than feeding it to a dog! A dog would at least wag its tail!
However, he was only angry, not panicked; he had encountered such situations many times in his 30-year media career—back when The Clamor was still called "Parisian Ladies' Bulletin," he had been wanted by the court for reporting a scandal about one of Emperor Napoleon III's mistresses keeping a lover.
But he only hid in England for half a year, and after paying a fine, he returned to Paris.
The only thing that currently made him feel heartache was how well 'the decadent city' was selling; it was practically a mint operating within the newspaper office.
Thinking that there were two more parts to this novel, he salivated—even if he were driven out of London again this time, he could make a comeback with this.
After much thought, he pulled out a sheet of paper and wrote a Letter of Reminder to "An Honest Parisian":
"Mr. An Honest Parisian:
The first part of 'the decadent city' has sold exceptionally well, and readers are eagerly awaiting the publication of the second part. While I deeply understand that excellent works require time to mature, the readers of Paris cannot wait, and the readers of France cannot wait.
I implore you with the utmost urgency: within the next two weeks, deliver to me your completed or nearly completed manuscript for the second part! Even if a small portion remains unfinished, it would still be acceptable.
As a token of my sincerity: the final payment for the manuscript is ready, and will be immediately remitted upon receipt of the manuscript, without any delay!
Awaiting your good news, do not hesitate!
Your anxious collaborator G. M."
Garibuer read the letter over and over, and after confirming that it was foolproof, he slipped it into an envelope and licked the seal with his thick tongue, sealing the letter.
He didn't care if "An Honest Parisian" would be deterred by the report in Le Figaro; he believed that with enough temptation, that impoverished literati would definitely take the risk.
As for the third part of 'the decadent city'—hah, let's wait until both of them have overcome the current crisis.
At this thought, he shouted: "Pierre, you lazy ass, get in here now!"
After handing the letter to the other person, Garibuer instructed: "This time, you continue to wait outside the post office for me, follow that poor boy, and see where he goes and who he meets."