Albert de Rohan returned home in a daze.
After a moment of hesitation, he entered his father's study.
Count Rohan was signing documents.
Seeing his son's dispirited appearance, he merely raised an eyebrow.
The Count's tone was calm and emotionless:
"Have all the manuscripts been submitted?"
He was so indifferent it was as if yesterday's outburst of rage had never happened.
"Yes, Father, they have,"
Albert replied in a low voice.
He hesitated, then gathered his courage and recounted Lionel's words from the cafe, almost verbatim.
As he spoke, he carefully observed his father's reaction.
The Count's hand, holding the pen, paused only slightly before continuing to write, his face devoid of any surprise.
After Albert finished, a long silence filled the study, broken only by the scratching sound of the quill on paper.
Finally, the Count put down his pen, looked up, and met his son's gaze.
He spoke slowly:
"Albert, remember my words today—
No matter what happens in the future, whether the Rohan family and Lionel Sorel are on the same side, or even if one day we turn against each other and completely break ties, you must do your best to maintain your private friendship with him.
Unless he betrays you first!"
Albert looked at his father in shock:
"W-why, Father?"
Count Rohan's gaze became somewhat distant:
"Because his value is far beyond just a few novels; you will understand in the future...
In short, with a man like Lionel, even if you cannot become allies, you must never become mortal enemies.
Maintaining a private channel of communication is beneficial at all times, do you understand?"
Albert nodded, half-understanding.
He vaguely felt that his father and Lionel seemed to be operating on a level that he couldn't fully comprehend.
He suddenly remembered Lionel's words and couldn't help but ask,
"Father, why didn't Lionel come directly to you?"
The Count said faintly:
"Of course he couldn't come directly to me. If he personally came to me, what would that mean?
It would mean he actively pulled me into this mad plan, and we would become accomplices. I couldn't possibly accept that.
But he also needed my tacit approval, while not wanting to be too tightly bound to me...
So this had to be an 'accident,' an exchange that happened 'within the family.'
He subtly used our father-son relationship to achieve an extremely effective, low-risk transmission of information.
Albert, do you understand now?
He doesn't distrust me; on the contrary, this is precisely a sign of his extreme clarity and maturity.
He knows where the boundaries of self-interest lie and how to operate safely.
This grasp of propriety is far more formidable than those fools who only talk about loyalty or betrayal."
Albert stood there dumbfounded, feeling that all the social etiquette and political common sense he had learned over the past twenty years had been completely overturned and reshaped on this day.
He felt like a newborn learning to walk, dazedly watching two giants playing chess with rules and language he couldn't fully comprehend.
On one side was his farsighted father, and on the other, his seemingly calm and gentle friend.
And he—Albert de Rohan—had become an unwitting chess piece between them.
For the first time, he so clearly sensed that too many dark and convoluted undercurrents lay hidden beneath the surface of this world.
Albert's face was filled with bewilderment and fatigue:
"I... I feel like my brain isn't quite enough, Father."
Count Rohan, for once, didn't reprimand him. Instead, he walked over, patted his shoulder, and softened his tone:
"Learn slowly, Albert.
Realizing that your 'brain isn't enough' is the beginning of progress. Remember what I and Lionel have said; it will benefit you in the future.
Now, go out. I have many other matters to attend to."
Albert exited the study as instructed, then leaned against the cold wall of the corridor and let out a long sigh.
He felt he needed a strong drink to properly digest everything he had experienced in this single short day.
——————
While Albert was still dazed and confused, the "bombshells" he had submitted began to explode successively in Paris's major newspapers.
First, Le Journal des Débats published an anonymous letter about "Lionel's works becoming French diplomatic gifts" in an inconspicuous section.
Although the editor handled it relatively cautiously, the content itself was shocking enough.
Immediately afterward, Le Temps reported, in a more eye-catching manner, the bizarre revelation from a "court lady" that Lionel was the "literary advisor to the Tsar."
Then, several smaller street tabloids, always known for sensationalism, went into a frenzy!
They unreservedly used the largest fonts and the most exaggerated headlines to vie in reporting the most preposterous news:
"Shocking! Sorel's Portrait Might Be Printed on New Stamps!" — Le Polichinelle
"Inside News: Lionel Sorel Nominated for Lifetime Membership in the French Academy!" — L'Écho
"Rewriting the Bible? Archbishop Gibot Secretly Meets Sorel!" — Le Nouveau Tapage
The last rumor infuriated His Eminence the Archbishop, who had only just reconciled with the conservatives, causing him to smash his coffee cup.
If the initial "four pieces selected" rumor from Le Gaulois had left people half-believing, then this subsequent explosion of rumors thoroughly dumbfounded readers in Paris.
In taverns, salons, and public carriages, people held various versions of newspapers, looked at each other, and then burst into uproarious laughter.
"Hahahaha! Look at this! The Tsar's literary advisor? Is he going to help the Sultan of Turkey write harem novels too?"
"The Sultan's harem novels? He might as well help 'An Honest Parisian' continue writing The Decadent City! I'm still waiting for the last two parts!"
"Printing stamps? Next, will his profile replace Marianne's on banknotes?"
"Lifetime academician? Hahahaha, those old fuddy-duddies in the French Academy might have a collective stroke!"
"Crazy! Everyone's gone mad! These newspapers will invent any nonsense for sales!"
The public's mood quickly shifted from initial shock and anger to a playful mockery and ridicule of onlookers.
They no longer believed any reports about Lionel Sorel and the French Reader, whether good or bad.
All related news was labeled "absurd" and "incredible."
The initial rumor, which seemed "most likely to be true"—the "three pieces selected" or "four pieces selected"—also collapsed in credibility amidst this collective mockery.
It was no longer seen as a "scandal" to be taken seriously but became a ridiculous beginning, a source of jokes proving that all media outlets were fabricating stories.
"I knew it! How could a young man possibly have three or four articles in the reader? Turns out Le Gaulois was spreading rumors and causing trouble from beginning to end!"
"Le Gaulois is getting more and more despicable! They've lost all shame just to sell newspapers!"
"They are the source of the rumors! Wasting my emotions!"
The spearhead of anger quickly turned, pointing at Le Gaulois, which had first ignited the affair.
Readers felt their intelligence and sympathy had been insulted, and they wrote letters of reprimand, with some even threatening to cancel subscriptions.
Mr. Arthur Meyer, editor-in-chief of Le Gaulois, was truly panicking now.
He had only intended to seize the initiative in public opinion but never expected things to escalate to such an uncontrollable degree.
He tried to defend himself, claiming he was also a "victim" and had published "reader letters."
But by now, no one believed him.
Anyway, all anonymous submissions were untraceable, and Le Gaulois's image as the instigator was deeply ingrained in people's minds.
Protesters gathered outside the newspaper office, and Le Gaulois's sales began to decline.
Just as this public opinion storm was completely overturned and the public's emotions needed a new outlet, Le Petit Parisien seized the opportunity and made its move!
On a Sunday morning, Le Petit Parisien dedicated an entire front page to an editorial personally signed by editor-in-chief Paul Pigout, with an extremely striking title:
"Why Shouldn't Lionel Sorel's Works Be Included in the Reader? — Questioning the Bias and Cowardice Behind the Rumors"
(End of chapter)