A summer night in Villeneuve on the Seine should have been quiet and lazy, with only the gurgling of the river and the rustling of wind through the poplars.
But on this night at the end of July 1881, Lionel's villa was surrounded by a restless clamor.
Lights converged from across the river and the end of the road, not gas lamps from carriages, but dozens, even hundreds, of portable windproof oil lamps and torches.
In the swaying halos of light, young and agitated faces were illuminated.
Most of them wore uniforms from Saint-Cyr Military Academy or other Parisian officer schools, while some wore military casual wear without rank insignia; there were at least a hundred people by estimation.
They did not attempt to charge the fence, but loosely surrounded the villa like well-trained soldiers, forming an encirclement.
"Sorel, get out here!"
"Traitors must face judgment!"
"The glory of France must not be tarnished!"
"Without war, where is the glory!"
Chaotic yet hostile slogans replaced the chirping of insects on the summer night, making the air tremble.
Behind the gap in the curtains of the study on the second floor of the villa, Lionel calmly observed everything downstairs.
Sophie stood beside him, her face pale; Alice and Patty also looked down in terror at the flickering flames and figures below.
Patty's voice was tearful:
"They… what do they want?"
The twelve-year-old girl couldn't understand the scene before her.
Lionel's voice remained calm:
"They are military academy students; don't worry too much. They care a great deal about their future and won't do anything truly foolish."
Alice turned to run downstairs:
"I'll go out and call the police!"
Lionel stopped her:
"It's no use, Alice. They are currently only gathering and shouting slogans on a public road; they haven't crossed any boundaries or damaged property.
Even if the police come, they can only try to disperse them, and they clearly won't listen. Furthermore, for them to have the audacity to do this, they must have received some kind of tacit approval."
Sophie's eyes were full of worry:
"What about you then? They don't seem like they'll leave easily."
Lionel adjusted his shirt collar:
"They've come for me. Hiding is not a solution; I'll go out and talk to them. The three of you, stay inside, lock the door, and don't come out no matter what you hear."
Sophie eagerly grabbed Lionel's arm:
"Lion! Don't…"
Lionel gently freed himself from Sophie's hand and offered reassurance:
"Don't worry, this is France, not Russia; they wouldn't dare to lynch me. At least not in plain sight."
He took a deep breath, walked down the stairs, crossed the foyer, opened the villa's heavy front door, and stepped into the front yard.
Outside the door, a louder clamor and whistling suddenly erupted, like hounds catching the scent of blood.
Lionel stood alone in the light of the courtyard gate, facing the dense crowd and flickering flames, his back held straight.
His voice was not loud:
"Good evening, gentlemen. In my hometown, the Alps, visiting neighbors is usually done during the day, and with prior notice. Has Parisian fashion evolved to night-time socializing with torches?"
A burst of laughter rippled through the crowd, but it was overshadowed by angry shouts.
"Shut up, Sorel!"
"We're not here to socialize with you!"
"You traitor to the homeland!"
A tall young man, dressed in the cavalry uniform of Saint-Cyr Military Academy, stepped forward from the crowd.
He had a neatly trimmed golden beard, his chin slightly raised, and his eyes were full of contempt and arrogance.
He used a gesture to silence the clamor of his companions behind him, clearly holding considerable authority among the group.
He deliberately drew out his words with an aristocratic nonchalance:
"Monsieur Lionel Sorel?"
"That's me."
Lionel looked at him calmly.
"And you are?"
"Charles de La Rochefoucauld-Liancourt!"
The young man announced a surname that resonated strongly in French history and politics.
The surname La Rochefoucauld-Liancourt held an extremely high status in the history of French nobility.
La Rochefoucauld itself was one of France's oldest aristocratic families, and Liancourt was one of its most influential branches, playing a highly symbolic role during the transitional period of the Enlightenment and the Revolution—
The 7th Duke of La Rochefoucauld was both a representative of the aristocracy and a pioneer of social reform and philanthropy.
On July 14, 1789, after revolutionaries stormed the Bastille, he warned Louis XVI:
"No, Your Majesty, this is not a revolt, but a revolution."
This statement later became a classic opening line for historians describing the French Revolution.
This young "Charles" seemed very proud of his surname.
Immediately after, Charles La Rochefoucauld announced his other identity:
"I am also the provisional convener of the 'Youth Guard of the French Republic'."
Lionel nodded:
"Monsieur La Rochefoucauld, and members of the 'Youth Guard,' what are you here to defend at my home?"
Charles de La Rochefoucauld scoffed:
"Sorel, drop your literary slick talk! You know perfectly well why we're here!"
He took a step forward, the torchlight dancing on his young and handsome face:
"We hear you are preparing to follow your 'predecessors' into exile abroad! Do you think you can escape the judgment you deserve for your crimes against the French Republic?"
Lionel raised an eyebrow:
"I've committed a crime? That's certainly fresh news. I wonder if it's an exclusive from Le Figaro or Le Gaulois?"
Charles snapped:
"Don't play dumb! You oppose the nation's colonial policy and slander our righteous actions in Tunisia and Tonkin! Your words have emboldened our enemies and undermined national morale! This is treason!
We must ensure that 'anti-French elements' like you cannot escape the arm of the law!"
The youths behind him burst into enthusiastic agreement, and the slogans erupted once more.
Lionel waited for the sounds to subside slightly before slowly speaking:
"If the judiciary believes my statements have violated the law and brings a lawsuit against me, I will naturally appear in court.
But this requires due legal process, not a trial conducted outside my private residence by a group of youths calling themselves a 'Guard'."
Charles scoffed:
"Legal process? Who knows if you'll sneak away before the trial begins? We lack confidence in the efficiency of the judiciary.
Therefore, the 'Youth Guard' has decided to exercise its right to citizen oversight! We will 'accompany' you here until the day you stand in the dock!"
Lionel's gaze turned cold:
"Are you saying you intend to place me under house arrest?"
Charles waved his hand, a false smile on his face:
"Oh, no! How could we do anything illegal like that? France is a country of law.
You have complete personal freedom; you can leave whenever you wish, and go anywhere you desire—such as a café, the theater, or, well, a station or a pier.
We simply happen to enjoy going to those places too, and we happen to like being in the same place at the same time as you.
The law doesn't forbid us from being in the same public place as you, does it? This is merely a 'chance encounter' between citizens."
This was harassment and deterrence exploiting legal loopholes, as unpleasant as being infested with fleas.
They would follow Lionel like shadows, using their presence, their gazes, and their slogans to crowd his space and torment his nerves.
They wanted to announce to all of Paris that he was under the surveillance of 'patriotic youth'.
Lionel was silent for a moment, knowing it was futile to argue with these young people, who were dominated by fanatical emotions, about whether "colonial policy was correct".
He looked into Charles de La Rochefoucauld's eyes, ignited by ambition, and knew that nothing would come of this night.
He finally asked a question:
"What about my family and friends? Will you follow them too?"
Charles shrugged:
"We're not ruffians or thugs; they can go anywhere they like, except for you.
But don't think you can slip away, especially by hiding in a carriage to escape! So, we'll keep a close watch on them too. Rest assured, we are all gentlemen!"
However, despite his words, the threat in his eyes did not diminish; the several young men behind him also chuckled strangely a few times.
Lionel nodded, then offered a smile:
"I understand. Thank you for your 'enthusiasm' and 'company'—
If you are indeed set on doing this. However, I am going back to rest.
As for appearing in court—I will be there on time on September 1st.
Now, please excuse me. I wish you all, heh heh, a pleasant guard duty!"
After speaking, he ignored the fresh wave of insults and taunts erupting behind him, turned, and calmly walked back into the villa, closing the door and shutting out the clamor and torchlight.
(End of Chapter)