Lionel's oral examination undoubtedly received the "highest grade."
The "oral examination storm" at Sorbonne, with its dramatic process and epic ending, quickly swept across Paris.
The pages of major newspapers were almost entirely occupied by Lionel Sorel's name.
What was particularly surprising was that Le Figaro reported with a prominent headline: "'The Conscience of Sorbonne' Lionel Sorel Battles Baroness's Daughter, Upholding Academic Dignity."
The article described in detail the difficult additional questions, praising Lionel's answers as "demonstrating a rare philosophical depth and moral courage among the young generation of France" and a "deafening interpretation of the essence of literature."
Pierre, the journalist who wrote the report, even wrote sarcastically: "Miss Durova-Shcherbatova attempted to hijack Sorbonne's examination standards with rubles, but only exposed the shallowness of her own thoughts and the superficial arrogance of Russian nobility.
Mr. Sorel proved with his wisdom that true conscience cannot be bought with money, and true dignity stems from fearless courage."
Le Petit Journal's report focused more on the dramatic scenes during the oral examination, and its title was particularly "alluring" — "Exam Room Scandal! Sorbonne Talent Attracts Two Noblewomen in a Feud!"
The report vividly described Sofia's arrogance upon her intrusion, Madame Rothschild's chief lady-in-waiting, Lia's, nobility, and Lionel's sharp counterattack.
The article concluded with a gossipy speculation about Madame Rothschild's "special attention" to Lionel, accompanied by an exaggerated caricature:
Lionel, wielding a quill transformed into a sharp sword, shattered Sofia's waving money bag, while Madame Rothschild cast an approving gaze from the clouds.
La République's editorial, on the other hand, had a higher political and ideological stance — "Truth, Morality, and Freedom — The Victory of the Republican Spirit from the Sorbonne Examination Room."
The article elevated Lionel's arguments to the level of Republican values, praising him for embodying the Republican spirit of "not fearing power, pursuing truth, and independent thinking," calling it a resounding slap to those who attempted to interfere with academic freedom using money and privilege.
The article also subtly criticized some short-sighted individuals at Sorbonne who feared losing Russian "financial prospects."
Even the relatively conservative "Le Journal des Débats" had to admit: "Mr. Lionel Sorel's performance in the oral examination was exemplary. His discourse on literary truth and morality was thought-provoking, demonstrating solid scholarship and clear critical thinking.
The storm in the examination room ultimately concluded with the victory of academia itself."
Lionel's reputation, along with these reports, also soared, and incidentally boosted the sales of the two newspapers serializing "the extraordinary adventures of benjamin button."
Especially "Modern Life," Georges Charpentier, this second-generation fop, seemed to have truly had an epiphany from the shrewd tactics Lionel taught him, even learning to apply them by analogy.
He launched a booklet containing 20 pages of thick copperplate, with large blank spaces on each page, and only a few sentences at the bottom summarizing a plot segment from "the extraordinary adventures of benjamin button."
The blank sections were perfectly sized to paste in Pierre Renoir's illustrations.
The booklet was exquisitely produced, with a gilded border on the cover, and each copy sold for a high price of two francs, yet it immediately caused a scramble among high society.
Noblewomen who purchased the booklet stated that it not only provided a better way to store their collected illustrations but also served as a children's book, becoming a literary Enlightenment for their children.
Lionel was stunned after receiving the booklet — Mr. Charpentier had independently invented the modern sense of a comic strip, or serialized comic.
What should Pierre Renoir be called in the future? Impressionist pioneer, or father of comics?
However, Mr. Charpentier was always a man of principle; along with the booklet, he also sent him a new contract —
For every booklet sold, he would give Lionel, the original author, a 5 sou commission.
Lionel naturally had no objections, as this was unexpected income; however, after signing the contract, he also gave Mr. Charpentier a suggestion —
Why not publish the illustrations as a collection in the form of a booklet, using black and white printing only, with each copy priced at 15 sous.
After all this, Lionel's summer vacation officially began, from early July to late September, a full three months.
Lionel, at the center of the storm, could temporarily escape the hustle and bustle, and his strained nerves could finally relax a bit.
Just as he was enjoying the tranquility, an invitation with the scent of country soil arrived at 64 Lafitte Street.
The invitation came from Émile Zola. The great writer's country villa in Médan finally entered its busiest time of the year.
Every week, he would invite a few like-minded friends for a gathering, enjoying the peace away from Paris. The list of invitees included Guy de Maupassant, Paul Alexis, Henri Céard, Léon Hennique…
Of course, Lionel Sorel was also among them.
In the letter, Zola wrote enthusiastically:
[... My dear Lionel, the grapevines of Médan and the breeze of the Seine River can soothe all worries. Here, there is the finest wine, the freshest bread, the freest air, and the most sincere and unreserved close communication among friends.
We urgently need you to join us…]
— — — —
The Médan Villa in summer was full of pastoral charm.
Lush trees surrounded the spacious residence, flowers bloomed in the meticulously tended garden, and in the distance, the Seine River sparkled and flowed gently.
When Lionel arrived, it was already evening, and the golden glow of the setting sun cast a warm sheen on the villa's white walls and red tiles.
Maupassant, wearing only a pair of shorts and soaking wet, was the first to spot him: "Ha! Our 'Conscience' has finally arrived! The Parisian newspapers are practically hailing you as Socrates reborn!
Come in quickly, Mr. Zola's treasured Bordeaux is already decanted!"
Zola heard the commotion and also came out, putting his hunting rifle aside, and enthusiastically embraced Lionel.
He seemed particularly relaxed in this world that was entirely his own: "Welcome to Médan, Lionel. Here, there are no examiners, no Baroness and her spoiled daughter, only friends and freedom."
Paul Alexis and Henri Céard, along with other young people, also eagerly greeted Lionel, welcoming the friend who had given them a chance at fame.
Dinner was served in the villa's spacious dining room.
The long table was covered with a white linen tablecloth, laden with food: freshly baked bread, vegetable salad, beef stew, various kinds of cheese, and an assortment of wines from Zola's proud cellar.
After dinner, everyone went to the small pier in the yard, where there was a small boat named "Nana," which could be rowed to a small island in the river nearby.
Lionel followed Zola and a few others in rowing the famous small boat, while Maupassant and Paul simply took off their clothes and swam across the river.
A few minutes later, they reunited on the island, and Zola suddenly remembered something, speaking with a rare, almost heavy force: "Friends, we are enjoying good wine, friendship, and the tranquility of this summer night.
But do you remember that less than ten years ago, this land, this Seine River, and even the air we breathe at this moment, were filled with another sound —
It was the roar of Prussian cannons, the dying wails of French soldiers, the desperate groans of Paris under siege…"
Lionel suddenly looked up — was today the beginning of "les soirées de médan"?
Then he turned to Maupassant — dumpling?