Lionel knew the news would spread like a mountain wind, penetrating every corner of Lalagne and Montiel.
In such a poor and dilapidated region, twenty thousand francs was an astronomical sum, enough to change one's fate, and capable of igniting all desires and calculations…
Under the fervent gaze of the children, Lionel left Saint Joseph School.
He first returned home and found the atmosphere had already changed, even more complex than when he had first arrived a few days ago.
His parents' faces were a mix of pride, unease, and the bewilderment of being suddenly thrust into the spotlight.
Before he could even settle down, the postman from the Lalagne post office anxiously and respectfully urged him to come to the post office as soon as possible.
Lionel sighed, explained things to his family, mounted his horse, and headed to Lalagne.
When he arrived, the small post office was already packed with people.
Mayor Martino had already been waiting there with a group of city officials, and upon seeing Lionel enter, he instantly broke into a smile more enthusiastic than the sunshine:
"Ah! My dear Lionel! Welcome!"
The Mayor practically pounced on him, grasping Lionel's hands tightly and shaking them vigorously: "The benevolent 'Friend from Paris'! A generous act!
This is truly… truly manna from God for us!"
Beside him, the postmaster, Nicolas Bodin, a lean, balding middle-aged man, was laboriously counting banknotes.
Lalagne was a small place, and most remittances received did not exceed 200 francs, so they only had small denomination banknotes and coins.
Seeing Lionel, he wiped the fine sweat from his forehead: "Mr. Sorel, I'm truly sorry, twenty thousand francs… it's simply too large a sum.
We, uh, tried our best, even including our reserve vault, but only managed to gather twelve thousand francs exactly.
But rest assured! The remaining eight thousand francs will be transferred within two days at most!"
Lionel nodded calmly, his gaze sweeping over the pile of banknotes: "It's alright, I'm not in a hurry…
You don't need to count it yet; I won't be exchanging this money today."
Postmaster Nicolas Bodin breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing this.
Lionel was not crazy enough to carry 12,000 francs in cash back to Montiel.
His main reason for coming to the post office was to confirm who had sent him the money—
Accompanying the remittance slip was a registered letter, the wax seal bearing the Rothschild Family's mark.
After reading the letter, Lionel was touched by Mrs. Rothschild's enthusiasm, but on the other hand, he also felt that her donation had made his holiday unexpectedly complicated.
At this moment, the post office door was pushed open again.
This time, two well-dressed gentlemen entered. One was slightly plump, with a neatly trimmed beard, wearing a dark gray high-quality woolen suit.
The other was slightly younger, thinner, with sharp eyes.
Upon entering, both introduced themselves. The plump man was Alfred Charvet, the director of the "Lalagne Valley Savings and Mutual Aid Bank."
The other was his deputy and one of the bank's shareholders, Pierre-Henri Leclerc.
Pierre-Henri also served as the city's notary, with extensive connections.
Director Charvet opened his arms as if to embrace a long-lost friend: "Aha! My dear Lionel! Please allow me to address you as such!
We have long admired each other through the newspapers! Your piece, 'the old guard,' truly struck a chord!
My uncle was an Old Guard, and he was exactly as you described…"
Leclerc followed closely, his tone flattering: "Mr. Sorel returns with the glory and generosity of Paris; it is truly Lalagne's good fortune!"
Mayor Martino's expression darkened slightly, clearly displeased by their sudden appearance.
The atmosphere inside the post office instantly became even more subtle…
Mayor Martino spoke first: "Lionel, I have been Mayor of Lalagne for twelve years!
I know exactly where roads need repair, which village school roofs are about to collapse, and which small farmers don't have money for seeds…"
He patted his chest: "Your stage is in Paris; why bother with these trivial matters?
Just give me a general idea, and I, Martino, guarantee to satisfy you!
Think about it, when you return home next time, seeing brand new roads, repaired schoolhouses…
And those families saved by your generosity, offering you their highest respect…
How glorious that would be!"
Before he could finish speaking, Director Charvet immediately interjected: "Martino's suggestion is good! But for such a large sum of money, safety and appreciation are even more important!
Our 'Lalagne Valley Savings and Mutual Aid Bank' has a vault with twenty-four-hour surveillance.
More importantly, we can offer generous interest and reliable investment channels to make this charitable fund grow and last for a long time!"
Leclerc also added in due course: "The proper use of any charitable fund necessarily involves contracts, commitments, and authorizations.
As the city's only qualified notary, I can ensure the elimination of any possibility of malpractice.
This is both responsible to the 'Friend from Paris' and protects your reputation!"
Mayor Martino's expression grew even uglier.
Lionel gently interrupted their infighting: "Thank you very much for your concern and suggestions! However, I need some time to think carefully.
Blindly throwing money around will only breed new injustices!"
Mayor Martino immediately seized the opportunity: "Completely understandable! This is truly responsible! Lionel's consideration is indeed thorough!
How about this: tonight, at my humble abode, I have prepared some of the best local wine and some fresh wild game from the mountains. Please do me the honor of attending!
Privately, we can have a good chat, and I can give you a detailed report on the 'urgent needs'—
Also, my daughter, Fleurina, is a loyal reader of yours and hopes to meet you.
Fleurina just turned 18, and I'm not boasting, her beauty is in no way inferior to those beauties in Parisian high society…"
Director Charvet was not to be outdone: "Mr. Sorel is a renowned figure who has seen the grand scenes of Paris, and the 'cultured people' of Lalagne, especially the ladies who admire your talent, are also eager to have the honor of meeting you!
Tonight, we are hosting a cozy little ball in the bank's banquet hall!
I guarantee that the most beautiful and well-bred ladies of Lalagne will be present!
They are all eager to learn from you about the latest trends in Paris…"
After speaking, he gave Mayor Martino a slightly provocative look.
Lionel looked at Martino, then at Charvet, and suddenly laughed.
Twenty thousand francs was an astronomical sum for the common people here, but it wasn't enough to make them so attentive.
What they valued was his connection with Parisian "high society," fantasizing that he would lead them into this channel.
Lionel made no promises, merely offering a slightly weary smile: "Such enthusiastic invitations, I'm afraid I cannot accept.
I just finished teaching the Saint Joseph students today, and I also have matters to attend to at home. Tomorrow, I will give you both an answer tomorrow."
Although somewhat disappointed, Mayor Martino immediately nodded: "Ah! Of course, of course! You go ahead! Go ahead! Family matters are important! My door is always open for you!"
Director Charvet was also very understanding: "Understood! The time for the ball is also very flexible; it can start anytime—we await your good news."
…
It was already evening when Lionel returned to Montiel.
Normally, at this time, smoke would be rising from the chimneys of every household, and fragrant aromas would waft from under the doors.
But as Lionel walked along, hardly a single house had light shining from its windows.
A great unease welled up in his heart.
From afar, Lionel finally saw his familiar house and then knew where all the people of Montiel had gone.
Neighbors, townsfolk, some vague faces from his memory, and even complete strangers he didn't recognize, were densely gathered outside the door and beyond the yard fence.
Their "buzzing" discussions merged into a tumultuous wave, making the air almost boil.
Lionel's father, Joseph, his hunched figure, paced anxiously on the porch.
His mother and sister Ivanna stood inside the door, their faces pale, their eyes filled with worry and helplessness.
Mayor Bertrand and Father Peltier stood guard at the door like sentinels.