"Suspense is the most primitive driving force of reading, and curiosity is its most wonderful seasoning."
Norman Macleod repeated the last sentence of Lionel's letter, took a deep breath, and finally made a decision.
He slammed his hand on the call bell on the table, and Will, his assistant who had just returned from the translation office, rushed over without stopping.
Norman Macleod's tone was decisive:
"Go tell the art department that the cover design originally scheduled for mid-June is cancelled!
And the one for the end of the month, that's cancelled too! I have new ideas!"
Will was stunned:
"Sir, the mid-term cover proofs have already…"
Macleod cut off his assistant:
"Redo everything! Also, notify the printing factory to reserve enough paper for additional print runs. I have a hunch we might need…"
Will said nothing more, only "Yes!" and exited the editor-in-chief's office.
——————
In mid-June 1880, Parisian readers welcomed the grand finale of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.
Benjamin Button left Daphne and their child because he knew he was growing younger by the day, eventually becoming a child, and even an infant.
He would not only be unable to watch his child grow up but would also be a burden to Daphne.
Benjamin sold the inheritance his father left him, gave all the money to Daphne, and one night, drove away alone in a carriage.
From then on, Daphne began to receive postcards and letters from Benjamin every year—addressed to their daughter.
Their daughter, Caroline, read a passage from a letter her father Benjamin sent her when she was 10, which seemed to summarize the entire novel:
[There's no time limit to becoming the person you want to be; you can start whenever you wish.
You can change from now on, or you can remain unchanged; you don't have to be restricted by any rules.
I hope you live a life you're proud of; I hope you see things that surprise you; I hope you feel things you've never felt before; I hope you meet people with a different point of view; I hope you live a life you're proud of.
If you find that you haven't, I hope you have the courage to start all over again.]
Benjamin traveled all over the world, staying as far as Africa and India; Daphne, meanwhile, married a merchant and opened a charm school.
One evening after class, Daphne saw Benjamin—his eyes still full of love for her, but he looked completely like a young man in his early twenties.
Daphne, however, was already over fifty, and time had left indelible marks on her; after they spent another night together, they said goodnight and quietly parted ways.
A few more years passed, and Daphne received a letter from the poorhouse, stating that a boy there had lost his memory but carried a notebook filled with her name.
Daphne came to the poorhouse and found it was indeed Benjamin, though he looked only twelve or thirteen, his face even covered in acne.
Daphne was by then already in old age but still took on the responsibility of caring for Benjamin.
Finally, Benjamin, who had become an infant, closed his eyes in Daphne's arms.
[The infant in her arms, Benjamin Button, listening to a familiar melody, slowly, peacefully closed his eyes.
His breath gradually weakened, and finally stopped.
The boat of life, which had traveled in reverse for nearly a century, finally returned to its harbor at this moment.
In the embrace of his first and final love, he found eternal peace.
Daphne felt the small body in her arms completely relax.
She didn't weep aloud, but only lowered her head, gently pressing her wrinkled cheek against the infant's still warm little face.
Outside the window, the Seine still flowed quietly, and the Parisian sky was vast and serene.
Time, in the end, lost to love.]
——————
Upon seeing this ending, both Paris and London were plunged into a complex emotion of wistful loss mixed with profound insight.
Madame de Rothschild held a "grand" reading ceremony for the final installment of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, inviting almost all her close friends.
After reading the last sentence, the salon was filled with the sobbing of the noblewomen.
Even Madame de Rothschild, who had read the ending long ago, was infected by the atmosphere, her voice filled with a sigh:
"Honestly, ladies, it has been years since I was so heartbroken by a novel.
How cruel and yet how romantic was Benjamin's fate! His final departure was a knightly sacrifice!"
However, she admired Daphne even more:
"This lady possesses unimaginable resilience and loyalty. Can you imagine? Raising her beloved, from his youth to infancy! This is a sacred emotion that transcends the mundane!"
Finally, she did not forget to comment on Lionel:
"He is undoubtedly a genius—his novel touches upon the eternal!"
——————
Madame Pauline, living in her apartment on Saint-Martin Boulevard, read about Benjamin leaving Daphne and couldn't help but gasp softly,
"No… he can't do this…"
She felt a pang of heartache for Daphne.
However, when she read Benjamin's passage to his daughter,
"I hope you live a life you're proud of… If you find that you haven't, I hope you have the courage to start all over again," her tears silently fell again.
She carefully cut out that newspaper issue and placed it under the glass top of her dressing table.
She felt these words were also a comfort and encouragement for her—a woman trapped in daily trivialities, occasionally longing for her pre-marriage dreams.
And in a smoky tavern on Rue Saint-Jacques, the carpenter Martin fell silent when he heard about the postcards Benjamin sent to his daughter from all over the world.
He murmured,
"His heart is bitter… he knows he'll become a burden."
Finally, when the reader read about Daphne finding teenage Benjamin in the poorhouse and eventually holding him like an infant as she bid him farewell, a hush fell over the tavern, with only heavy breathing audible.
After a long while, the old worker Joseph sighed, draining his glass of cheap wine:
"Damn… this world… But that woman, she's truly tough!"
To them, the story was bizarre yet real; it spoke of the unpredictability of fate, and even more, of the raw and powerful love between struggling people.
——————
The literary criticism scene was pushed to a climax by the conclusion of this work, with almost all major newspapers publishing lengthy reviews.
Le Figaro: "Lionel Sorel announces the birth of a true novelist with The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.… The passages where Daphne, in her old age, cares for 'teenage' and 'infant' Benjamin, make her one of the most moving women in French literature…"
Revue des Deux Mondes offered a broader analytical perspective:
"Monsieur Sorel has accomplished an extraordinary feat. This work skillfully weaves the grand history of France from the Revolution to the Third Republic.
Benjamin's life reflects the turmoil and changes of an entire century.
The ending suggests that no matter how eras change, humanity's most fundamental experiences—love, loss, memory, death—are eternal."
The Times Literary Supplement also gave high praise:
"This extraordinary book from France challenges our perceptions. Its ending rejects any form of sentimentality, presenting the unpredictability of fate and human dignity with an almost cruel tenderness.
We look forward with unparalleled anticipation, hoping this young gentleman will bring us new surprises!"
——————
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button finally drew to a close.
After the emotional surge, readers in both Paris and London began to feel an emptiness.
This "historical romantic novel" greatly raised people's thresholds; looking at other mediocre authors' serials now only made them feel more hollow.
Good Words magazine in Britain made a surprising move…
(End of Chapter)