Readers in Paris, who had been following this novel for almost a year, watching Benjamin Button and Delphine Villeneuve's constant breakups and makeups, had long been anxious about when they would truly be together.
Now, all expectations were met!
What could be more satisfying for a man and a woman who had spent half their lives missing each other than finally meeting and uniting in the prime of their lives?
Sales of Le Petit Parisien and La Vie Moderne suddenly surged by nearly 20%.
Many readers who usually only shared others' newspapers or "listened to books" in taverns flocked to buy this issue of the newspaper to keep at home as a collectible.
Paul Pigott and Georges Charpentier, however, felt bittersweet.
As the chief editors and owners of the newspapers, they naturally knew that The Curious Case of Benjamin Button was nearing its end.
Although Lionel had promised to start a brand new serialized novel in July, he had not revealed the specific theme or content.
This made them uneasy.
However, they couldn't demand more from Lionel.
Compared to the "bestselling authors" still active in the French literary scene, Lionel was practically diligent.
After all, not everyone could sleep by the printing press all day like Balzac or direct a team to write for him like Alexandre Dumas.
They could only choose to trust Lionel, as he had proven himself time and again.
------
Meanwhile, in the salons of Paris, the love story of Benjamin Button and Delphine Villeneuve once again captured the hearts of the ladies.
"Oh, merciful God…" the young Countess of Saint-Clair was the first to exclaim, her voice thick with emotion.
Her eyes and the tip of her nose were slightly red:
"They finally… finally waited for this moment! This is simply the most beautiful reward in the world!"
Her words drew a chorus of approving whispers.
The Baroness de Lengres choked out her agreement:
"Indeed, just think, Benjamin, he was born bearing such a curse…
And our Delphine, she struggled alone in Paris, experiencing the disillusionment of dreams and emotional setbacks…
They are like two stars thrown by fate into different orbits, who, after a long journey, finally converged! This is truly remarkable!"
Madame d'Anguinal, however, focused more on the details of the writing:
"Especially Benjamin looking at Delphine, as if to 'confirm the other's soul'—
Oh! What could better describe such a profound recognition that transcends time and appearance?
Their union is the mutual claiming of souls, irrespective of flesh!"
Her words resonated with the others, eliciting sighs of agreement.
Several ladies nodded again, their eyes red-rimmed.
The salon was filled with a sentimental yet contented atmosphere, with genuine joy for the two protagonists who had finally found happiness.
Just then, Madame de Rothschild slowly put down her teacup, the porcelain and silver saucer clinking softly.
She raised her eyes, sweeping over the ladies present, her voice almost detached:
"A reward of happiness? Yes, undoubtedly, they are happy at this moment.
But, ladies, have you not tasted a hint of… terrifying bitterness from this immense, sweet happiness?
Have you not heard, beneath this tranquil and happy melody, the drums of sorrow, predetermined by fate?"
The salon instantly fell silent, everyone displaying astonished expressions.
Madame d'Anguinal asked doubtfully:
"Bitterness? Drums? My dear, what do you mean?
They seem to be of comparable age now, deeply in love, and their lives are peaceful. What could be more perfect than this?"
Madame de Rothschild smiled reservedly:
"It is precisely this 'comparable age' that has blinded your eyes.
Ladies, remember the essence of Benjamin Button—he is 'growing in reverse.'
Every day, he grows younger than the day before. And our poor Delphine…
She, like all of us, follows the laws set by God and nature, aging day by day."
The ladies' expressions of emotion and contentment instantly froze.
This scene delighted Madame de Rothschild, who subtly adjusted her posture, crossing her legs and leaning back slightly against the sofa:
"Now, they stand at the same point on the clock, which seems like a gift from fate. But this is just a fleeting point of balance.
Imagine—a few years from now, when Delphine's eyes have more fine lines and streaks of silver appear in her hair, Benjamin will look like a handsome young man in his early thirties.
As they walk hand-in-hand down the street, what will outsiders think? Will they think she's his sister? Or his mother?"
The Countess of Saint-Clair clapped a hand over her mouth abruptly:
"Oh!"
She looked as if she had seen something terrifying.
Madame de Rothschild suppressed a tremor in her voice and continued:
"And what about further on? When Delphine becomes a middle-aged woman, Benjamin will still be in the prime of his youth.
When Delphine is old and gray, Benjamin—he will even become a budding teenager, an innocent child!
My God! Can you imagine that scene? An old woman, caring for her 'child' husband?
This is no longer a happy fairy tale, this is the cruelest tragedy!"
As her words fell, a deathly silence descended upon the salon.
The ladies, who had just been shedding tears for love, now had all color drained from their faces.
"Oh my God… Oh my God! We… we didn't think of that just now!"
"This… this is terrible! This fleeting happiness was actually a jest of fate!"
"Is this to make the coming separation even more painful?"
"Oh, poor Delphine!"
The Countess of Saint-Clair couldn't even help but burst into tears.
Madame de Rothschild concluded:
"She has just gained him, only to watch him 'leave'!
Not by death, but in a slower, more agonizing way…
Watching him grow younger and further from her… This is crueler than death!"
The Baroness de Lengres sighed, looking at Madame de Rothschild with a complex gaze:
"My dear, how can you be so clear-sighted?
You have peeled back the sweet coating, and shown us the bitter core within."
Madame de Rothschild nodded slightly:
"The value of literature, sometimes, lies in revealing the truth, no matter how uncomfortable that truth may be.
This foreshadowing laid by Lionel is where his true literary skill and profound meaning are revealed.
This is not simply a romantic story of lovers finally uniting; it is a war between man and time, destined to be a tragedy."
All the ladies in the salon looked at her with eyes full of admiration and worship, their envy shining through, especially when they heard the name 'Lionel'.
Madame de Rothschild stood up, smiling proudly:
"Ladies, if you'll excuse me for a moment… I have to attend to some, well, personal affairs."
With that, she swayed gracefully out of the warm living room.
------
Meanwhile, in the apartment at 117 Boulevard Saint-Germain, Lionel also stretched, put down his quill pen, and stood up.
The typewriter, along with the bicycle, had been moved to the small workshop leased for them by the Delacroix Notary Office, so he was back to using a quill pen.
Today, he officially finished the final ending of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, symbolizing the 'curtain falling' on his first full-length novel.
Next, Lionel's focus would be on writing A Study in Scarlet.
—And of course, his Sorbonne graduation exams!
(End of Chapter)