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In the early morning of the next day, the streets of Paris were still wafting with a thin veil of light, but the bustle of Rue Saint-Anthony slowly opened its eyes after the morning fog.

Garion packed his briefcase and went out with bread in his mouth. He works a little far from St. Anthony Street, two blocks away. By the time he arrived at the customs office, the street behind him was already covered with golden colors.

"Today is another sunny day."

Garion took a friend's letter of introduction to the officer's office, glanced at the letter, and led him down a hallway to the office at the end of the hallway.

Garion looked up and saw that there were a few words written on it.

The head of the office took him to the customs document processing department, and then introduced him to a bearded man with a meaty face, gave him a casual advice, and left with a few words.

After the head of the office left, the bearded man turned his head and looked at the immature Garion with serious eyes.

"I'm your supervisor, you can call me Sebas."

The bearded man glanced at the young man in front of him, put on a leader's posture, and said sternly, "From today onwards, you will work on documents here, take an hour off at noon, and leave work at six o'clock in the evening. ”

He took out his tawny pocket watch, pointed to the hands on it at nine o'clock, and said, "Since you go to work, I want you to see your fingers stained with ink and keep moving." ”

"Any comments?"

Garion looked around the office, less than twenty square meters were piled up with all kinds of papers, three or four small clerks were drowning in papers, and the sound of fingers tapping on the typewriter kept rattling, like the buzzing of mosquitoes in his ears, mixed with the smell of paper and ink, rushing into his nostrils.

After getting acquainted with the environment, he finally focused his eyes on the big fat man chattering in front of him, shook his head silently, and said, "Of course there is no opinion, Director." ”

"Good."

The supervisor raised his eyebrows commandingly, nodded with satisfaction with the young man's sensibility, pointed to an empty seat and said, "You just sit there, and you will officially go to work after nine o'clock." ”

With that, he turned and walked towards his office. The buttons of the shirt inside were tightened, and every step felt like it would be crumbling and splashing out.

Garion found his place and sat down, and by the way, he said hello to his colleagues around him. The rest of the veteran staff only nodded perfunctorily, and only the younger staff sitting next to Garion smiled warmly at him.

"You can call me Russell."

A young man sitting next to him smiled and held out his hand. And Garion also reached out. He observed the man in front of him - a dark gray coat over a white shirt. The dark brown hair, which is like a pigeon's nest, and the smile is honest and shy, which is in line with the honest and cowardly image of the low-level clerks in French society.

Garion also stretched out his hand generously, smiled at him and said, "Hello, my name is Garion. ”

"That's what our leadership is."

Facing the newcomer, Russell showed a friendly and timid smile and said, "Don't worry too much, sometimes we can't do anything about him." ”

Garion looked at the other party flipping through the newspaper in his hand with relish, and asked curiously, "Russell, what are you looking at?" ”

"Le Figaro."

Russell raised the newspaper in his hand and said, "It's interesting to have recently published a novel called 'The Tavern.'" I suggest you can check it out as well. ”

Garion smiled and didn't speak. Of course, he wouldn't tell the other person that the person who wrote the novel was his friend.

He turned his head, ready to get to work for the day, but heard Russell whispering something behind him.

"Meanness is the pass of the mean, and nobility is the epitaph of the noble. Behold, the gilded sky is full of the figures of the dead......"

Garion was stunned, he turned his head, looked at Russell behind him, and asked with a slight frown, "Russell, can I read this poem you read?" ”

"Of course, my friend."

The other party generously handed the newspaper to Galion. At this time, Garion saw that the literature section above was published with two poems written on the wall!

It's just that the name is abbreviated to a letter, G.

Russell asked curiously, "Do you like literature too?" ”

"Sort of."

Garion smiled and handed the newspaper back to Russell, thinking about the two strangers he had met that day. Apparently these two poems were published in the newspapers.

It seems that when the time comes to go to Baudelaire's literary salon, he will also ask Baudelaire if he knows the two men who stood in front of the white wall that day to protest.

Unbeknownst to Garion, his poetry had already made waves in the Parisian literary and artistic circles, and the aftermath of "Afternoon of the Faun" had not yet dissipated, followed by the impact of "Questions and Answers" and "A Generation" on the entire Parisian poetry scene.

The first to bear the brunt is naturally Sainte-Beuve, who has a long reputation in the literary and artistic circles.

Sainte-Beuve, as usual, after breakfast, looked through the newspaper to see the literary reviews he had published, and Le Figaro had generously reserved a column for him, although the general public was not interested in the analysis of literature and art.

Then his smile froze on his face.

The column position that was supposed to be his own was replaced, replaced by two never-before-seen poems. This is completely different from what was previously discussed.

Sainte-Beuve, feeling that his dignity had been trampled upon, slammed the door in anger. And the direction of the destination is Wilmesan's office.

He needed to talk to the editor-in-chief of Le Figaro about what was going on!

"What's going on!"

Sainte-Beuve almost threw the newspaper in the editor-in-chief's face, and he said angrily, "Why was my literary review column cancelled at the last minute!" Replaced with these two poems! This is not what we said before! ”

"Calm down, Your Excellency Saint-Beuve."

Wilmesan said helplessly, "This is just a temporary small change, and we will fill in your column tomorrow." ”

However, the haughty Sainte-Beuve could not accept this answer, and he pointed to Vermesan and said in a threatening tone, "I must get a reasonable explanation, otherwise I will not publish any articles in Le Figaro from now on!" ”

The matter had reached this point, and Wilmesan could not continue to help cover it up, so he had to say honestly, "It was Baudelaire's strong request, and we can't help it." ”

"Baudelaire?"

Hearing what Wilmesand said, Sainte-Beuve was stunned, and he asked rhetorically, "Is it the damned Baudelaire?" ”

Wilmesan nodded helplessly, and said, "Yes, if there is anything, please find Mr. Baudelaire to solve it, and most importantly." ”

Wilmeisan picked up the pipe on the table, put on a capitalist face, and then said calmly to Sainte-Beuve, "It's not that I'm favoring anything, but Mr. Baudelaire's introduction has multiplied our newspaper sales several times, what about you, what about Monsieur Sainte-Beuve?" ”

"Can you do it?"