Lionel, Petty, and Alice ultimately did not make it to the Seine River.
As the weather warmed and two spring rains fell, all the accumulated grime of Paris was washed away.
For the past two days, most sections of the Seine River were filled with the faeces, sewage, garbage, and even corpses that had accumulated throughout the winter.
The river water had turned a terrifying yellowish-brown and emitted a dreadful smell.
Even the parks and forests through which this river flowed became unbearably foul-smelling.
The tap water at An Tan Street 12, where Lionel now lived, came from the relatively cleaner upstream areas of the Seine River, but even it had a strange smell at this time.
Fastidious middle-class residents had no choice but to buy clean water for 10 sous a bottle, said to be spring water from Evian, the same kind even the wealthy drank.
Of course, the wealthy had all retreated to their villas in the provinces or simply gone abroad for travel.
Middle-class families with some means took their entire families to country or seaside vacation homes; in short, staying in Paris was not an option.
The bustling city suddenly became much quieter, and An Tan Street 12 was half-empty, but this was accompanied by a short-term surge in prices.
Le Figaro was clearly very dissatisfied with the Paris city government's measures to manage the Seine River, directly criticizing them on the front page—
"Paris's Sewage is Not Just in the River, But Also in City Hall"
[Officials debate "freedom" and "order" in parliament, yet forget that what children drink every day is a concentrated soup of germs brewed with freedom. A reporter questioned a city hall official, who said: "Yes, we know the river is murky, but the budget has not arrived."
Ah, the budget has not arrived? Cholera, however, might arrive quite punctually. We suggest that if council members were required to brew their tea daily with water from the Seine River, perhaps the budget would arrive on time.
Paris can tolerate artistic radicalism, but not foul-smelling drinking water. How can a nation that cannot clean its water source hope to cleanse its soul?]
Le Petit Journal's headline was even more sarcastic—
"Paris City Government Solemnly Declares: The Odor is Harmless"
[The Seine River yesterday carried away another three thousand dead fish, an unidentified pig carcass, and a milkman who was poisoned after drinking the water. Of course, our mayor still tells the public: The odor on the Seine River is harmless to the human body, and if you ignore it, boating on the Seine River is still romantic!"
…]
Lionel flipped through several newspapers, feeling agitated, then grabbed the bottle on the table and drank down 5 sous worth of clean water in one gulp.
According to expert predictions, the water quality of the Seine River would take at least another 3 days to recover—by then, the melted snow from the Langres Plateau and the clean rainwater falling along the way would flush all the pollutants from the Seine River downstream, along the river channel through Rouen to Le Havre, and finally into the sea.
He quickly made a decision and called out to Petty and Alice: "Ladies, let's go abroad for a holiday!"
Two heads quickly emerged from the kitchen and bedroom doors respectively, their disappointed expressions turning into a mix of joy and confusion.
Lionel held up a newspaper and pointed to a small block of text on it: "Jersey, a 3-day, 2-night trip, with festival discounts and round-trip ticket discounts, 120 francs."
Jersey is British territory, but it is very close to France; historically, it was a famous place of exile, but now it is a good place for a tourist holiday.
English and French are spoken on the island, prices are not expensive, and it is the cheapest destination for French people who want to experience "exotic customs."
Alice jumped out of the room: "Leon, you're crazy, 120 francs, 3 days…"
Lionel picked up the empty bottle and shook it: "This bottle of water costs 10 sous. How many bottles will the three of us drink in three days? I, for one, need at least 4 bottles a day. And that doesn't even count the water needed for cooking.
And Petty, tell her how much a dozen eggs cost recently? Alice, if we stay here, we'll not only have to endure expensive drinking water and terrible prices, but we might also contract cholera at any time.
The water from the Alps is sweet and clear, but we can't go back!"
At the mention of not being able to return to the Alps, Alice lowered her head in dejection, but still stubbornly retorted: "I'll be fine drinking tap water, as long as it's boiled…"
Petty also nodded repeatedly: "Young Master, have you forgotten? We used to drink directly from the public well in the neighborhood, and it tasted the same as the tap water these past two days every day…"
Lionel: "…" Petty's hygiene awareness still needs work!
However, he was the master of the house, and since he had made a decision, the other two could only obey.
Lionel thought about inviting Sophie, but then he suddenly realized that he didn't know exactly where Sophie lived, only that it was on Lankelei Street in the Tenth Arrondissement, so he regretfully gave up the idea.
— — — — — —
The three of them didn't have many clothes, so they quickly packed their bags and then took a public carriage to Paris's "Saint-Lazare Station."
Alice wore a black veil, covering most of her face, but this was a common attire for women of that era and would not attract attention.
Like Petty, she had never ridden a train before; her last trip to Paris was on a long-distance church carriage, so she seemed a bit excited.
"Saint-Lazare Station," as France's largest train station and transportation hub, was even more crowded during the holiday.
At that time, France's railway system was already very developed, with train stations in all major cities nationwide. The fare worked out to about 8 centimes per kilometer, and to attract passengers, discounts were often offered.
A ticket to the port city of Le Havre was 15 francs per person, while Petty's was only 8 francs, but someone else would have to squeeze in next to her.
Lionel had previously traveled between Paris and the Alps by train, so he skillfully bought the tickets and led the two onto the train.
He bought the cheapest third-class seats, which consisted only of a wooden board and a thin, negligible cloth cushion; every abrasion and every joint on the tracks could be fully felt with one's backside.
Moreover, the third-class carriage was very close to the locomotive, and thick smoke and coal ash would occasionally drift over, inevitably leaving one's face black if the windows weren't closed in time.
Of course, there was also the piercing sound of the train whistle—a sound that was melodious and romantic from afar, but only made one's ears buzz up close.
But for Alice and Petty, all of this seemed insignificant amidst the novelty of riding a train and admiring the scenery outside the window.
Outside the window, at first, was the familiar cityscape of Paris, with the slowly receding Parisian rooftops and church bell towers.
After more than an hour, endless apple orchards and flocks of sheep appeared—they grazed peacefully, like the country folk of France who never questioned their fate.
Next came the Norman villages and towns with their dark roofs and granite chimneys standing side by side, and occasionally children would chase the train along both sides of the railway.
After nearly 7 hours of continuous travel, the train finally arrived at Le Havre train station at 4 PM.
The three of them got off with their suitcases, then went to the train station's restroom to wash off the coal dust clinging to their faces and clothes, and only then did they arrive at the port in presentable condition to queue for the ferry.
Since it was the Easter Holiday, there were many French tourists here. The three of them queued for over half an hour before boarding the "Saint-Michel" ship.
Lionel bought ordinary cabin tickets for 5 francs per person; superior cabins with sun decks or private compartments cost 12 to 20 francs per person.
This was also Alice and Petty's first time on a large ship. Soon after setting sail, both of them leaned on the railing and quickly vomited, their faces ashen, and retreated to the cabin to rest.
Lionel, however, stood on the deck, thoroughly enjoying himself—the sea was churning with pale golden waves, gulls circled overhead, their cries piercing the air, and the sea breeze was refreshing and invigorating.
Having stayed in Paris for so long, he had almost forgotten what clean air smelled like.
No wonder the first thing Parisians did when they had money was to buy or build their own holiday retreats in the suburbs or countryside.
Just then, a familiar voice came: "Ladies, how about I treat you to some oysters?"