The less heartless you are, the higher and faster you’ll climb. The more ruthlessly you strike others, the more they will fear you. You must treat n and won like relay horses, ride them until they are exhausted, and then discard them at the station; only then will you reach the pinnacle of your desires.
— Balzac, "Father Goriot"
Arthur, seeing Balzac’s wary deanor, imdiately associated the relationship between the rotund Frenchman and another portly Frenchman with their abysmal rivalry.
Although Arthur hadn’t delved into the origin of their animosity, judging by the current state of overt and covert conflicts in the Parisian literary scene, he thought it rather difficult for these writers to coexist harmoniously.
They not only competed for theater audiences and newspaper readers, basked in vanity, but also differed politically.
Just like Balzac whispering to Mada Berny in the room, even if he wasn’t a Royalist, he was certainly an authoritarian. While the restless Dumas, even in a constitutionally monarchal country like Britain, intended to beco involved in the rebellion beneath the Tower of London, France under Louis Philippe was definitely an object of his extre aversion.
How exactly to draw closer to a person was a puzzling issue.
So sought fa, others wealth, so craved carnal pleasures, while others pursued indulgence. Of course, if you could, most people would gladly accept a sincere friendship.
It’s not easy for the average person to pick a correct answer from this multiple-choice question.
But for a diplomat informant like Sir Arthur Hastings, a single passionately sleepless night in the adjacent room had eliminated most of the wrong choices for him.
As Victor once said, Arthur wasn’t quite upper-class, nor did he seem interested in pursuing that status.
He didn’t keep seven or eight lovers, wasn’t keen on noble heraldry, and had no creditors.
However, Balzac was the opposite of Arthur; he possessed all those indispensable upper-class elents. Whatever he lacked, he was currently pursuing.
For instance, he currently had a fifteen-thousand-Francs debt.
Arthur, smiling, invited the guarded Balzac to sit down and warmly poured him a cup of coffee: "A distinguished work like ’The Count of Monte Cristo’ is certainly sothing the ’British’ are eager to collect, and not just ’The Count of Monte Cristo.’ On this visit to Paris, I also intend to discuss with Mr. Hugo the English-language distribution rights for ’Notre-Da de Paris’ in Britain."
I have always believed that considering novels a lower tier of art compared to poetry and drama is a profound mistake among the French. In Britain, although our public enjoys plays and poetry, they are equally passionate about novels. Admittedly, ’Blackwood’s’ remains the largest literary magazine in Britain, but the sales of ’The British’ are not far behind.
Each issue garners eighty thousand copies, and we’re not rely satisfied with that. We aim beyond London, wishing to expand our operations to Liverpool, to Manchester, to Edinburgh, to Glasgow. We hope that, in the near future, readers from all regions of Britain can read our latest publications simultaneously."
Hugo, hearing this, also played the role of a diator for Arthur: "Honoré, Sir Arthur Hastings is quite a good publisher. Do you rember Stendhal’s ’The Red and the Black’? The English translation was also published by ’The British.’"
Arthur, upon hearing this, joked: "Mr. Hugo, you can say that in Paris, but when you go to London, it’s best not to proclaim that ’The Red and the Black’ was distributed by us. For ’The Red and the Black’ has been banned in both France and Britain. It’s just that in the past, Scotland Yard was rather lenient in enforcing the ban."
Victor, catching the undertones of Arthur’s words, nudged him with his elbow: "Brother, cultured people are quite different. At the Great Paris Police Hall, I could only do shady work, while you, it turns out, had such a broad range of operations at Scotland Yard!"
Yet in a mont, Victor jokingly added: "But thinking about it, it makes sense, you made it to Assistant Commissioner, your status at Scotland Yard is certainly higher than mine in Paris."
Arthur also laughed and replied: "Stop complaining, when it cos to the police’s standing in the eyes of the governnt, Paris far outdoes London."
Hearing this, Balzac roughly guessed Arthur’s forr identity and couldn’t help but ask: "Do British police often abuse their power too?"
To Balzac’s inquiry, Arthur only responded with a smile, not giving a definitive answer.
And Victor, no longer in public service, cared little for the implications, casually exhaled smoke and said: "Honoré, this has nothing to do with whether it’s Britain or France. Whether on this side of the sea or that side, it’s the sa society of mutual exploitation; in this society, being honest and innocent is worthless. If you can’t blast your way in like a cannonball, you have to worm your way in like a plague. Society is both despicable and cruel; if you don’t want to be devoured, the only way is to fight back tooth for tooth. It’s not about abusing power; it’s rely a form of self-protection."
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