"Your Excellency Goncourt, I will hand you the manuscript before I leave. Including that short story, if you think it's okay, you can publish it when the time comes, and you can slowly discuss the manuscript fee or something. By the way, I have only one request. ”

"I want my poems and manuscripts to be published word for word," said Goncourt. ”

Goncourt was embarrassed and said, "Do you want to change a word? ”

"Yes, not a word."

Garion didn't want Goncourt to change the words of the plot or the poems without permission, and all the sharp writing was a challenge to the tyranny of the Empire.

He is good at testing on the verge of breaking the law, and even if the Second Empire wants to attack it now, he must consider the popularity of the people.

Garion is now on the cusp of public opinion, and any curbing action the government wants will be seen as a challenge to public opinion.

Goncourt glanced at Baudelaire, and the other party also nodded, indicating that he had no opinion.

He could only nod and say, "Okay, Mr. Garion can bring me the manuscript tomorrow, and after confirmation, I will help you get the rest." ”

After saying goodbye to Baudelaire and the others, Galian and Zola got into the carriage and walked in the direction of Rue Saint-Antony.

I don't know how long later, with a neighing of horses, he suddenly opened his eyes. By this time the carriage had stopped at St. Anthony's Street, and he and Zola stood up and re-entered the familiar street.

When Mrs. Ferrorand saw that Garion had returned unharmed, she gave him a warm hug and asked him softly if he was injured.

"No, Madame Ferroland, all is well."

Garian comforted the landlord and said, "I'm fine, I just want to get some sleep." ”

After greeting Madame Ferrorant, Zola sent Garion to the door before saying goodbye to him.

Zola stood in the doorway, hesitated for a moment, and asked, "Will you continue to fight?" ”

Garion nodded vigorously and said, "I will not quit writing, we have an obligation to make the people clearly understand the exploitation and oppression of the Second Empire, and there is only one word between the lines of 'Long live the Empire' and 'Long live Bonaparte' that whitewash the peace." ”

The open window at the end of the hallway blew in a cold wind, and what Garion said next sent chills down Zola's spine.

"Cannibalism."

He didn't say anything at the end, just patted him on the shoulder, and then turned to leave.

After seeing Zola off, Garion walked into the living room. The furnishings of the home are still the same as they were four days ago, the clothes drying on the balcony are swaying in the breeze, and the unfinished dishes in the sink are covered in mold. Garian silently walked over to his desk, the open ink had dried up and turned into an unsightly stain.

Thinking that he had to work hard to complete four or five thousand words of manuscript tonight, he felt a headache, and even if he wrote silently, he was afraid that he would have to stay up until dawn.

Garion finally understands how hard it is to write a book, not to mention the fact that there is a group of readers behind him who are urging for updates.

Not everyone can be as comfortable as a rich thief.

"Novella, let me think about ......"

Garion closed his eyes, and an eerie text slowly appeared in his mind.

"In the backyard of the hospital, there is a small side house surrounded by dense burdock, nettles and wild marijuana. The tin roof of the house was rusty, the chimney was half collapsed, the steps in front of the door had long since rotted and grass had grown, and the mortar on the walls was only mottled with remnants. The side house faces the hospital in front and the field in the back; A gray fence with nails separates the side house from the field. The nails, the walls, and the houses themselves are all eerie and terrifying, and only our hospitals and prisons have this special appearance. ”

Garion, who was sitting in his chair, opened his eyes suddenly, this passage startled him, and at the same time gave him a hint of inspiration.

There are many articles criticizing autocracy, but this one, with a slight change in the background, is the most suitable for satirizing the French authorities.

He hurriedly picked up the water storage pen and said excitedly, "By the way, I know what to write!" ”

He began to write, and in the middle of the night, when the lights were out, only a lone lamp from Garion was still lighting up the desk where he was writing.

Zola had been sleepless all night when he returned to his rental house, and he felt a vague sense of unease, especially the words he had spoken to himself before parting.

"My friend, can't you stop for a moment?"

In the midst of repeated torment, the early morning sun filtered through the curtains and illuminated the gloomy room.

Zola, who had been sleepless all night, immediately got up and got dressed, and went to find Galion.

After a quick knock on the door, Garion, rubbing sleepy eyes, opened the door, saw Zola appearing at the door, and asked, "Is there something wrong?" ”

Zola said, "I was worried, I was afraid that something would happen to you, so I came to see it." ”

Garion yawned and said in a lazy tone, "I stayed up late to write the manuscript, and I wrote a poem along the way. The royal literati tried their best to belittle and suppress me, and of course I had to fight back. ”

Zola asked curiously, "My friend, what kind of poetry are you going to write?" ”

"A poem for His Excellency Mérimée."

Reflecting on the three days he spent in prison, Garian said thoughtfully, "I saw a lot of dark sides in prison, the violence and squalor hidden in the depths of the empire. What surprised me even more was that no one tried to make this filth public. If they don't want to make a sound, I'll do it. ”

He stood up, yawned, and handed the poem to Zola. After staying up all night and fighting, I rubbed my eyes with dark circles, and I was physically and mentally exhausted. He planned to hand over the 5,000-word passages and a poem he had written up all night to Goncourt, and in a few days he would have to leave Paris for a while to travel and take refuge in various parts of France.

Zola picked up the manuscript and glanced at it a few times before he realized that Garion was worthy of being a big troll in the Parisian literary world, and the title and writing were no less spicy than "To Monsieur Sainte-Beuve".

It is said that that poem directly caused Sainte-Beuve to have a shadow in his heart, and when he heard the name of Garion, he immediately became angry.

I don't know what Mr. Mérimée's expression will be when he sees this article.

Zola picked up Garion's manuscript and whispered, "Prisoner's Song—To Your Excellency Mérimée." ”

"The door for people to get in and out is locked,"

The hole for the dog to crawl out is open. ”

Your voice shouts: "

"Like me, climb out and give you freedom!"

"I long for freedom,"

"But I know deep down—"

"How can a human body crawl out of a dog's hole!"

"I hope one day,"

"Underground fire,"

"Burn me with this living coffin,"

"I deserve eternal life in fire and blood!"

Zola put down the manuscript, looked at Garion with a serious expression, and asked, "Your article...... Is it a metaphor for a dog? ”

I saw that someone in the comments wanted to write the Cthulhu Mythos that loves the craft, although I am also a fan of the Crafts + genuine victims, but during the Second Empire, the Catholic power was still very large, and Garion wrote the Cthulhu Mythos, I'm afraid the protagonist will really be cold. (Catholics were as extreme back then as green as they are now.) ）