Although his body was screaming for rest, the tight schedule forced Lionel to struggle out of bed the next morning.
Outside the window, the sky over Saint Petersburg was still gray, the snow reflecting the faint daylight.
He had a simple breakfast in the hotel restaurant.
Secretary Ivanov was already waiting in the lobby, bringing him a carriage and a local guide.
Ivanov stated that during his time in Saint Petersburg, both the carriage and the guide were at Lionel's complete disposal.
Lionel did not hold back; he handed the address of the Yablochkov factory to the guide, named Sergei:
"Please take me here."
Yablochkov's factory was located on the edge of the city, in rather simple premises.
In the factory office, Lionel met the famous inventor.
He was under forty, with a thin face and eyes full of fatigue.
Pavel Yablochkov's French was not as "pure" as the others; it carried a Russian accent:
"Mr. Sorel, welcome. To be honest, I was very surprised to receive your telegram. Why are you interested in my 'electric candle'?"
Lionel said sincerely:
"More than just interested, Mr. Yablochkov. I urgently need your professional help to realize an artistic concept."
He once again outlined the script concept for Thunderstorm and the required lighting effects:
"...I need brief, intense, and repeatable strong flashes to simulate lightning. The brightness must be enough to instantly overpower all other light sources on stage, allowing the audience to see the terror on the actors' faces.
At the same time, I also need some softer light sources to create the stifling, suffocating atmosphere before the storm...
In short, I want the light and shadow in different spaces on the stage to have layers."
Yablochkov listened intently, his expression becoming increasingly complex:
"Dramatic lighting... that's a very interesting direction for application."
He pondered for a moment before continuing:
"You know, my 'candle' was originally designed for public illumination. It is stable and bright, but as you can see, controlling its precise on/off function, especially rapid flickering, is not easy."
Lionel pressed him:
"Can't this be achieved by controlling the circuit? For example, by rapidly connecting and disconnecting the current?"
Yablochkov nodded:
"Theoretically, yes. But a strong current surge will drastically shorten the life of the carbon rod and could also damage the regulator. Moreover, repeated rapid starts will cause the arc stability to degrade, making flickering and noise more noticeable."
He paused, looking at Lionel:
"So, what you need isn't a standard lighting product, but a custom special model, along with a matching controller."
Lionel affirmed:
"This is precisely why I came to visit. The Comédie-Française is willing to pay extra fees for such customization. I believe that if it can be successfully applied on a stage like the Comédie-Française, it will greatly promote your invention and showcase its artistic potential to all of Europe."
A spark flashed in Yablochkov's eyes.
He had been triumphant at the Paris Exhibition, but commercial promotion had not gone smoothly, and pressure from competitors was mounting.
He knew Americans and the British had developed cheaper electric lights; if his product wasn't rolled out soon, it might be phased out.
Opening up the high-end market of theatrical performance would undoubtedly be a new way forward—after all, there were over 3,000 theatres of various sizes in Europe.
Yablochkov finally broke into a smile:
"You have convinced me, Mr. Sorel. Yes, I can customize a batch of 'electric candles' for you. I will adjust the carbon rod formula and the electromagnetic structure to optimize its performance.
While I dare not promise perfection, it should achieve the dramatic effect you require. I can also design a manual quick-break switch, to be operated by dedicated personnel backstage according to command."
In the time that followed, the two engaged in a deeper discussion about technical details.
Lionel proposed requirements based on his advanced vision, while Yablochkov assessed feasibility from an engineering perspective.
They conversed very pleasantly, preliminarily confirming the custom specifications, quantity, and delivery time.
Leaving Yablochkov's factory, a great weight lifted from Lionel's mind.
The most critical issue of the technology supplier seemed to be resolved.
The rest involved the theatre renovation back in Paris and the design of the control system by Tesla.
With things going smoothly, Lionel felt much more relaxed.
The carriage carried him back towards the hotel, weaving through the streets of Saint Petersburg.
The snow-covered city possessed a unique charm, but he was eager to return home, wanting to conclude this cold journey as quickly as possible to throw himself into work back in Paris.
As they passed a bustling commercial street, a bookstore sign caught his eye—"The Paris Bookstore." The French sign stood out starkly in the Russian environment.
Lionel suddenly saw something and immediately rang the bell inside the carriage:
"Stop." This wasn't because he suddenly became interested in seeing which French authors were popular in Russia. It was because he noticed a poster pasted on the window glass of the bookstore, featuring the silhouette of a man's profile: a deerstalker hat, a cloak, and a long pipe.
The advertisement slogan on the poster was also in French:
"The Study in Scarlet: London Cases" Paperback Released Today!
Lionel was stunned.
The English serialization of A Study in Scarlet had only just finished last month, and the French version wasn't due out until the end of this month.
So, the paperback shouldn't even be on sale yet.
Where did this "Paris Bookstore" get a paperback? And what was this "London Cases" nonsense?
Putting on his fur hat, Lionel urgently dismounted the carriage and pushed open the door to enter the bookstore.
The "Paris Bookstore" was warm and quiet inside, with towering bookshelves, and indeed, the books were mainly in French, with occasional Russian titles.
Hugo, Balzac, Flaubert, Zola—the works of these French literary giants occupied the prominent spots.
However, when he reached one particular bookshelf, his steps stopped abruptly.
On the most conspicuous part of the shelf were several rows of uniformly bound novels with sensational titles:
The Study in Scarlet: London Cases, The Collected Detective Stories of Sherlock Holmes, Lionel Sorel's Collection of Thriller Stories...
The author listed on every single one, without exception, was "Lionel Sorel"
Lionel's breathing hitched.
He reached out, pulled a copy of The Study in Scarlet: London Cases, and flipped through it quickly.
The content was indeed the version he had serialized in Good Words magazine.
Even though the print quality was good and the paper was fine, it was clearly an unauthorized pirate edition!
He picked up the supposed Detective Stories Collection, which contained not only A Study in Scarlet but also some detective stories patched together from unknown sources.
The Thriller Stories Collection was even more ridiculous, arbitrarily categorizing his early works like The Old Guardsman and Old Man Milon, which had vastly different styles.
The cover designs were clearly those of cheap street pamphlets!
A surge of heat rushed to Lionel's head.
Royalties and author fees were his source of income!
"This is all my money!"
In Russia, these shameless booksellers were openly pirating, altering, and compiling his works to sell them in bulk.
And he hadn't received a single kopeck in royalties! He felt dizzy, not from fatigue, but from anger.
He clutched the poorly made copy of the Detective Stories Collection tightly; the warm air in the shop suddenly felt suffocating, making it hard to breathe.
"Sir, are you interested in this book?"
A clerk noticed him and came over to greet him, also speaking French.
(End of Chapter)