Albert de Rohan clutched the stack of hot, still-wet manuscripts to his chest, like a package of dynamite with a lit fuse.
He watched Lionel, Maupassant, Huysmans, and the others turn the street corner amidst laughter and lively chatter, disappearing from view.
A cold wind swept over his face, but it couldn't cool the burning sense of panic within him.
His hand unconsciously tightened its grip on the manuscripts, Lionel's words, calm to the point of madness, echoing in his ears—
"Explosive firefighting method"?
And the unbridled laughter of Maupassant, Huysmans, and the others, and the rustling sound of their pen tips scratching paper.
It all went far beyond his imagination.
He had originally thought Lionel would seek help from his father, or even Minister Ferry;
Or at least some more dignified way of retaliation, not this almost self-destructive nonsense!
Reason and worry gradually regained the upper hand in Albert's mind.
The content of each of these manuscripts was more absurd and malicious than the piece in "Le Gaulois", more like a frantic attempt to slander Lionel himself...
And of course, his father, Count Rohan, would certainly be implicated.
Once they were really released to the public, what would public opinion turn into?
Albert dared not imagine the consequences.
Albert muttered to himself,
"For father, for the Rohan family... I must let him know."
He finally found a reason to convince himself, abruptly turned around, jumped into his carriage, and instructed the coachman:
"Go, home."
…
Count Rohan's study was permeated with the scent of cigars and old books, and it felt even heavier, suffocating, due to his own suppressed anger.
The Count stood before the fireplace, his brows tightly furrowed, staring at the dancing flames, clutching a freshly delivered newspaper that was once again filled with questions and even insults directed at him.
Albert almost held his breath as he stumbled through his narration of everything he had heard in Maupassant's apartment, including the appalling "explosive firefighting method."
His voice grew softer as he spoke, finally almost trembling as he presented the stack of manuscripts to his father.
Albert's voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz, and he dared not look up at his father's expression:
"He... he said that only this way, could... could the great fire be extinguished..."
Count Louis Philippe de Rohan silently took the stack of manuscripts, flipping through them one by one.
His expression, from initial shock, gradually turned into disbelief, finally congealing into a deep, almost emotionless pallor.
Only the crackling of firewood in the fireplace and the faint rustling of papers being turned remained in the study.
Time seemed to have stretched for ages.
Albert's heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would leap out of his chest.
Finally, Count Rohan put down the last manuscript.
He looked up, staring at his son, his eyes showing neither sudden realization nor approval.
Suddenly, the Count slammed the desk, letting out a loud "bang."
The Count's voice was like a clap of thunder:
"Nonsense! Utterly insane nonsense!
And you actually brought this... this filthy, disgusting stuff back? To show me?
Albert de Rohan, has your reason been eaten by dogs?!"
Albert was stunned, his face instantly turning pale:
"Father... I... I just thought you should know about Lionel's plan...
This is too dangerous, it might implicate..."
The Count interrupted him, his tone icy:
"Dangerous? Implicate? The first thing you should do right now is immediately take this rubbish and mail it to the proper postboxes!
I have never seen these things! Do you understand?!"
Albert was completely unable to understand the source of his father's fury.
He had expected his father to appreciate his "loyalty" and "discretion."
"But father... if these really get published, public opinion will completely spiral out of control, your reputation..."
"My reputation doesn't need you to protect it through such a foolish act of informing!
Do as I say immediately! Now! Get out!"
Albert was completely scared, fumbling to grab the stack of manuscripts, almost stumbling out of the study.
The heavy oak door closed behind him, shutting off his father's suffocating rage.
He stood in the hallway, his heart pounding wildly, his mind a mess.
Why was his father so angry?
Could Lionel's plan really be so absurd?
But if so, why did he order him to deliver them immediately?
He looked down at the stack of manuscripts in his arms, feeling incredibly confused and burdened.
Finally, Albert gritted his teeth and walked quickly towards the mansion gate—
Since even father didn't care, then let these manuscripts go to those damned newspaper offices!
Inside the study, hearing his son's retreating footsteps, Count Rohan's angry expression vanished instantly, replaced by an extremely complex look.
He slowly sat back in his armchair, remained silent for a moment, then pulled open a desk drawer.
Inside lay a draft of a statement he had already written.
In this statement, he carefully worded it to distance himself from Lionel Sorel, emphasizing the independence and impartiality of the drafting committee, implying that Lionel was too young to receive any "special" treatment—
This was a typical bureaucratic document for self-preservation under pressure.
He picked up the statement, used the flames of the fireplace to light it, and watched the paper curl, turn black, and turn to ash.
Then, he pulled out a fresh, blank sheet of letter paper, picked up a quill pen, dipped it full of ink, and began writing a brand new statement.
————
The next morning, Albert, sporting two dark circles under his eyes, finally made up his mind.
He had to go see Lionel, confess everything, and bear the consequences—even if Lionel angrily broke off their friendship, he deserved it.
His sense of noble honor would not allow him to hide with this guilt!
At noon, also at the "Cupid" Café, Albert looked at Lionel before him, took a deep breath, and was about to apologize.
But Lionel spoke first:
"What did Count Rohan say after seeing those manuscripts?"
Albert: "Ah...?"
Lionel ignored the dumbfounded Albert:
"He must have flown into a rage, didn't he? And accused you of being reckless, and me of being a madman.
And ordered you to deliver them immediately as planned, insisting he had never seen these manuscripts."
Albert: "How did you..."
Lionel shrugged:
"Albert, my dear friend, why do you think I specifically called you to Saint-Dominique Street?
And why did I eventually place these manuscripts in your hands, asking you to deliver them?"
Albert almost knocked over his coffee cup in panic:
"This... this was all part of your plan?"
A meaningful smile played on Lionel's lips:
"Otherwise, how could these manuscripts 'reasonably and logically' appear before His Excellency Count Rohan?"
Albert's mind buzzed, completely stunned.
He stammered his question:
"You... you did this on purpose? You knew I would tell my father?"
Lionel's smile remained:
"Not certain, but highly probable. You are the son of the Rohan family; in your heart, the honor of the family and your father's status naturally outweigh our private friendship."
Albert's ears immediately turned red, and he stood up abruptly, his lips trembling as he tried to defend himself, but ultimately couldn't utter a single word.
Lionel quickly urged him to sit down:
"Don't panic! I'm not angry—this is human nature, and also your responsibility.
If you didn't think at all about warning your father, then I would actually doubt if you were mature enough.
A person who doesn't understand their fundamental interests, and doesn't know how to prioritize relationships, will always mess things up at crucial moments."
He paused, looking at Albert's expression of shock to the point of a blank mind:
"I know where the initial rumors originated, and I understand the predicament Count Rohan was facing.
Since I, out of 'greed' for fame, chose to attend Count Rohan's ball, I wouldn't disregard his situation when acting."
Albert still hadn't reacted:
"Then my father's reaction..."
Lionel patted his shoulder:
"Because this is the most fitting course of action for Count Rohan's status and political wisdom.
Anger is an unconscious protective color; ordering you to deliver as usual and distance himself indicates that he has understood and tacitly approved my plan."
Albert was completely speechless, just staring blankly at Lionel, as if truly meeting this person for the first time.
Albert felt his worldview was greatly impacted:
"Why... why not talk directly to my father?
Why go through me like this... beating around the bush?"
Lionel smiled and said:
"Why don't you go ask Count Rohan?"
Albert shivered, seeming to see his father standing right before him, ready to reprimand his foolishness.
(End of this chapter)