It was already night when Lionel left "Charpentier's Bookshelf."
As he was about to publish his first novel independently, he was naturally quite cautious.
However, after reviewing numerous publishing contracts on the market, none of them quite met his expectations.
In 19th-century publishing, besides the most common buyout system, various peculiar contracts could be said to "bloom in profusion."
For example, Jules Verne signed a fixed-salary contract with "Hetzel Publishing House."
Hetzel paid him 500 francs per month, and he had to submit at least one full-length novel each year.
6,000 francs a year was considered an upper-middle-class life in France; Verne could live in a mansion and own a yacht in Nantes, living very comfortably.
But compared to the exorbitant incomes of other famous writers, often tens of thousands of francs per work, it seemed insignificant.
Although his salary increased several times later, Jules Verne never truly earned an income commensurate with his fame.
After becoming famous, Balzac and Hugo once demanded royalties based on "print run," which could be considered the embryonic form of a royalty system.
However, due to the lack of corresponding oversight methods, it led them into endless suspicion and lawsuits—Hugo later simply gave up on sharing profits based on print run.
After all, printing and selling books is different from theatrical performances—no matter how large a theater, seats are limited, and performances require prior announcement.
Attendance rates are also easy to track; you can get a rough idea by buying a ticket and taking a quick look inside.
Nevertheless, after careful consideration and repeated discussions with his "notary" Delacroix, Lionel decided to bring the "royalty system" onto the historical stage.
On the one hand, after the French Revolution, France had already established authors' property rights over their works through legislation.
By the mid-19th century, French judicial precedents further gradually strengthened the clause that "authors' rights cannot be indefinitely deprived."
The popularization of railways, newsstands, and subscription systems expanded book distribution; the public was also more willing to pay for best-selling novels...
Moreover, with fierce competition in the publishing industry, publishers naturally strived to establish long-term cooperative relationships with best-selling authors.
All of these elevated the status of writers and strengthened their ability to "contend" with publishers.
Incidents of concealing print runs still occur even in the 21st century, but one shouldn't stop eating for fear of choking.
The "royalty system" ultimately promoted a rapid increase in writers' incomes and was far more attractive to him than the buyout system.
Lionel also considered another factor: Once France's free compulsory education is rolled out, in the next ten to twenty years, the reading population is bound to experience explosive growth, and book sales will certainly rise accordingly.
If he doesn't seize this opportunity to implement and develop the "royalty system" now, it will be too late when the sales of a best-selling novel surge from tens of thousands to millions of copies.
Hopefully, Georges Charpentier can clearly understand the pros and cons; otherwise, he wouldn't mind cooperating with a different publisher.
---
Lionel pushed open the oak door of the apartment at 117 Boulevard Saint-Germain, shutting out the chill of the Parisian winter night.
The gaslight in the hallway cast a warm glow, casting his long shadow on the gleaming parquet floor.
A somewhat hesitant yet vibrant piano sound came from the living room, like a warm current, washing away his fatigue from the entire day.
He took off his heavy coat and hat, hung them on the coat rack by the door, and quietly walked towards the living room.
The flames in the living room fireplace crackled, and the dancing firelight bathed the entire room in a soft orange-red hue.
Debussy was focused, his fingers poised above the keys, and little Patty sat beside him.
The girl had taken off her faded apron and changed into an old but clean plaid dress.
Her small face was tense, fully concentrating on the keys, one finger carefully, note by note, tapping out a simple melody—it was "The Path to the Lookout," the most popular children's choir song from The Chorus.
Debussy's voice was gentle and patient:
"Yes, that's right, relax your fingers, Miss Patty... feel the melody, like ripples on the Seine as the wind blows..."
Lionel did not interrupt this heartwarming teaching scene; he leaned against the doorframe, quietly enjoying it.
He had promised to let Debussy come to the apartment to practice piano in the evenings as encouragement for the young musician.
As for letting Patty learn something, it was in hopes that she could have more future possibilities rather than just being a cook.
When the piece ended, Debussy was the first to notice Lionel:
"Good evening, Mr. Lionel."
Patty also turned her head, saw Lionel, and a brilliant smile immediately bloomed on her face.
She jumped off the piano stool and rushed over like a little bird:
"Master! You're back! Did you hear me play the piano?"
Lionel smiled and stroked her head:
"Yes, I heard it, you played wonderfully, Patty. You'll be a pianist very soon!"
Patty's face immediately turned red, and she shyly lowered her head.
Just then, Alice also came out of her room, with an expression mixed with excitement and a touch of showing off.
In her hands, she carried a rather novel and exquisite metal machine.
Alice's voice was full of cheer:
"Léon, come quickly! Look what Monsieur Zola gave me!"
Lionel glanced at it:
"Oh, a typewriter? Remington brand?"
Alice was surprised:
"You know this thing?"
Under the gaslight, the typewriter's black body and snow-white keys were particularly striking, filled with mechanical aesthetic beauty.
Of course, Lionel knew what it was, but in 1880, it should still be far from widespread.
Alice excitedly placed the typewriter on the round table in the living room:
"Yes! Monsieur Zola said he bought it to try and replace his quill pen, but after using it for a while, he just couldn't get used to it.
The sound of typing also annoyed him, always interrupting his thoughts. He found it too troublesome, and suddenly sent it to me today."
Lionel was a bit speechless.
He knew Alice had stayed at the Médan villa the longest and had an excellent relationship with the Zolas, but he hadn't expected Zola to be so generous with her.
This typewriter must have cost several hundred francs, and he just gave it away.
The Zolas had no children; they practically treated Alice as their own daughter.
Alice was still immersed in her excitement and handed Lionel a piece of paper:
"Look, this is what I typed with it!"
Lionel took the paper.
On the paper were the latest chapters of The Misadventures of Benjamin Bouton, typed with the machine.
The text was clear and uniform, each letter printed, completely free from the messiness of handwriting and the trouble of ink blots.
Only a few occasional spelling errors had been carefully crossed out and corrected by Alice with a pen.
Lionel hadn't expected Alice to get the hang of this new toy so quickly.
Lionel was filled with emotion at that moment.
This "Remington" certainly looked clunky and unwieldy in his eyes, but in the present day, it represented the most nimble and cutting-edge office technology.
From this point on, the production and reproduction of text would become increasingly rapid.
He was now accustomed to the feel of writing with a quill pen, and suddenly seeing something so "modern" truly made him feel a bit unaccustomed.
Lionel said sincerely:
"This truly is... a remarkable gift, Alice. This also means your work might become much easier in the future."
Alice smiled shyly:
"Yes! Although I'm still typing very slowly right now, and my fingers hurt a bit, I will practice diligently! In the future, I'll be able to transcribe your manuscripts faster and better!"
After dinner, Debussy returned to the piano; this time he played not an etude, but fragments of his own impromptu compositions.
The notes sometimes flowed as serenely as moonlight, and at other times carried a vague, elusive emotion.
After Patty and Alice finished clearing the dishes, they also sat nearby, listening quietly.
Lionel, meanwhile, poured himself a small glass of cider and then walked into his study.
He was going to start brewing his new full-length novel.
(End of chapter)