At 6 AM, Lionel watched the carriage bearing the "Necker Children's Hospital" emblem gradually pull away until it completely disappeared into the faint dawn light and dense morning fog; only then did he withdraw his gaze.
He took a 5-franc silver coin from his pocket and handed it to the assistant of pediatrician Adolphe Pinard, who was also standing at the door.
Dr. Adolphe Pinard then reassured Lionel:
"Don't worry, I've already written a short note for them to pass on to the director of Necker. I believe Petti will receive the best care."
Lionel nodded:
"I hope so."
Adolphe Pinard had a very good impression of this young man who was so generous towards a maid.
He had been a doctor for over 10 years and had never seen an employer willing to spend the exorbitant daily price of 3 francs to have a young girl, with whom he had no blood relation, admitted to a private ward in Paris's earliest, and also most professional and expensive, children's hospital.
On the contrary, he was accustomed to parents abandoning their children because they didn't want to bear the treatment costs.
Among the patients who died in Paris each winter, about half were children.
And this poor university student living in a slum apartment in the 11th arrondissement actually pulled out 100 francs to prepay the ward fees.
His character could no longer be described simply as "generous" or "kind."
He couldn't even imagine how tight Lionel's finances would be in the coming days.
Dr. Adolphe Pinard patted Lionel's shoulder:
"Dr. Jacques-Joseph Grancher of Necker Children's Hospital is a good friend of mine. He is very skilled in treating childhood pneumonia and tuberculosis.
Besides, Petti hasn't been definitively diagnosed with tuberculosis. Perhaps it's just ordinary pneumonia? That's more common in winter."
At this moment, Lionel was also helpless.
Even though he possessed some medical knowledge beyond this era, the lack of future-era medicines, equipment, and concepts meant this knowledge was almost impossible to implement.
He couldn't very well tell the doctor in front of him,
"You can extract penicillin from a certain mold, purify it, give Petti an injection, and she'll be fine..."
Lionel finally asked a question:
"When can I visit Petti?"
Dr. Adolphe Pinard thought for a moment:
"Necker Children's Hospital will first disinfect and isolate all children with potential infection risks, and only then proceed with treatment after a diagnosis is confirmed.
So you'll need a few more days to see her—but it should be possible by this weekend at the latest."
After exchanging a few more words, Dr. Adolphe Pinard concluded this special house call and got into his carriage, leaving this neighborhood that made him feel rather uncomfortable.
Inside the carriage, a charcoal stove was lit, making it warm as spring. The assistant then complimented him:
"Sir, you are truly too generous. A midnight house call, and waiting until the Necker carriage came to pick them up... We should have charged an extra 5 francs!"
Dr. Adolphe Pinard cast a sidelong glance at his assistant.
The assistant knew he had said something wrong and quickly shut his mouth.
After a while, Dr. Adolphe Pinard finally spoke:
"This Lionel Sorel is a person with a truly humanitarian spirit. In his eyes, there is no difference between a maid from the slums and a young lady from an aristocratic family.
Did you notice, when we arrived, the way he was cooling down that poor child..."
The assistant was startled, and after a moment, stammered:
"You mean those towels..."
Dr. Adolphe Pinard sighed in disappointment:
"Didn't you notice where those cold towels were placed? He already has more common sense than half the students in medical school!"
The assistant was scolded into silence, not daring to speak again.
Dr. Adolphe Pinard then turned his head to look at the scenery outside the carriage window.
He happened to see a bronze statue of the Virgin Mary, holding the Holy Child, gazing with compassionate eyes at the pedestrians and carriages passing by on the road.
...
After seeing off Dr. Adolphe Pinard, Lionel turned and returned to his apartment, filled with complex emotions.
He was met by the almost fawning smiles of Petti's parents, as well as Mrs. Martin, and the curious gazes of the apartment neighbors who were watching the commotion.
Petti's mother stammered as she asked him:
"Thank you for your generosity... Petti is saved! But, but..."
Lionel knew what the woman was thinking, and said directly:
"As long as Petti is alive, you will not miss out on the 15 francs each month."
That one sentence put Petti's parents at ease.
One must understand that if Petti truly had tuberculosis, she wouldn't just be unable to do a maid's work; she would also become a burden.
What they feared most was Lionel "returning" her.
The concern shown when Petti's fever was first discovered had now turned into calculation.
It couldn't be said that Petti's parents had no love for her at all, but it was certainly not much—of course, the emotion they displayed at the moment they knocked on Lionel's door was already the most extravagant emotional expenditure of their lives.
But Lionel hadn't finished speaking:
"However, the daily hospital fee of 3 francs will be deducted from her future wages—so you'd best pray Petti recovers quickly."
As his words fell, Petti's mother's face froze.
If Petti really stayed in the hospital for a month, would that mean they wouldn't receive that money for half a year?
At this moment, Petti's rarely-seen, always-drunk father suddenly approached with a fawning smile:
"Actually, you don't need to spend 100 francs on her. Just give the money to us, and we can take good care of her, as long as... as long as..."
Lionel recoiled from him in disgust, said not a word, and turned to go straight upstairs.
Petti's parents dared not speak further, only watching Lionel's back disappear around the corner of the stairs.
Petti's sudden illness dealt a heavy blow to his heart.
What he had always worried about had actually "come true" in Petti's case, giving Lionel an even stronger sense of urgency, feeling that time was not waiting for him.
On the desk lay the manuscript that Petti had just copied a little over a page of.
Her handwriting was childish, but each stroke was meticulous and serious, showing no carelessness or perfunctoriness.
He took out new manuscript paper, and, with over an hour remaining before school, continued to write the rest of "The Old Guard."
Only this time, he could suddenly empathize with the characters in the novel, especially the last line of "Kong Yiji"—
[I have never seen him since—perhaps Kong Yiji really died.]
It seemed to transform into a heavy, dark cloud, shrouding Lionel's heart.
...
Another day of classes ended.
Lionel, who had also been diligently writing during class, finally finished "The Old Guard."
However, it needed to be copied cleanly.
After all, it was a manuscript for the Sorbonne Journal, not a tabloid like "The Tumultuous News."
The viewing experience of the old professors needed to be fully considered.
After finishing these tasks, Lionel did not return to his apartment, nor did he go to a public dining hall for a meal.
Instead, he went directly to the Sorbonne University Faculty of Science building at 12 Rue Saint-Jacques.
By this time, most of the professors in the building had already left work or gone to dinner.
Only some students and teaching assistants were still toiling away in the laboratories.
Based on the rumors he had gathered today, Lionel wound his way through the Faculty of Science building and finally found a room with a "Physics Laboratory" sign on it.
Lionel knocked on the door.
A thin-faced, deep-set-eyed young man came out and opened the door.
He looked even younger than Lionel, yet he wore a "Teaching Assistant" name tag on his chest, indicating he should have at least a master's degree.
Lionel showed a harmless smile:
"Excuse me, are you Mr. Pierre Curie? I am Lionel Sorel, a student from the Faculty of Letters."
Pierre Curie looked confused:
"Lionel Sorel? Do we know each other?"
Lionel thought to himself,
"Well, I don't really know you particularly, but I know your future wife!"
Adolphe Pinard was a pioneer in French obstetrics and pediatrics; he invented the fetal stethoscope, which could hear a fetal heartbeat.
The other, Jacques-Joseph Grancher, was a pioneer in tuberculosis prevention and control and was a doctor at Necker Children's Hospital at the time.
Pierre Curie was born in 1859, received his master's degree at the Sorbonne in 1878, and remained at the school's laboratory as a teaching assistant.
(End of this chapter)