Little François Belin froze in place like a statue, his lips trembling, yet unable to utter a sound.
It was as if he could already see that Two Children's Tour of France, which he had meticulously planned, invested heavily in, and was determined to make a success, would not only fail to bring the anticipated monopolistic profits, but might not even recover its capital.
The book he considered a goldmine instantly turned into a pile of waste paper, ignored by all and printable by anyone.
State acquisition?
Symbolic fee?
That might not even be enough to pay the author, Madame Augustine Fouillée, her writing fee!
Little François Belin finally squeezed out a sound from his throat, like broken porcelain:
"He... Count Rohan... how could he...
He's going to destroy the entire publishing industry! This is robbery!"
Charles Deblan walked back to the table, picked up his wine glass, and drained it:
"No, François, in the lexicon of politics, this isn't called robbery—this is called a 'necessary sacrifice'."
Despair and anger intertwined in little François Belin's heart:
"A necessary sacrifice? Necessary for whom? Why should my publishing house be sacrificed?
We invested so much! We followed your hints... we..."
Charles Deblan sharply raised a hand, stopping the words about to spill from Belin's mouth:
"Watch your words, Mr. Belin. There were no 'hints', only commercial decisions and the coincidence of political risks.
You made an investment you thought was correct, so now, you need to bear the risks it might bring."
His tone became indifferent again:
"Count Rohan's proposal follows procedures, holds the moral high ground, and caters to some deputies' desire to cut spending.
Prime Minister Ferry is currently busy dealing with the backlash from royalists and clericalists in parliament, and he may not refute his deputy minister on such 'details'.
After all, he is so 'considerate of the nation', and this proposal is flawless! Rohan hardly seems like a traditional aristocrat; he's more like... well, a thorough republican."
Little François Belin was utterly desperate:
"Then what... what about all the costs... we've paid out before?"
His voice was tearful, almost pleading:
"Charles, you can't just stand by and watch! You must stop this proposal!"
Charles Deblan was expressionless, as if looking at an ignorant child:
"Stop it? For what reason? To say it will harm the interests of the publisher 'Belin'?
Do you want me to state that in the National Assembly?"
Then, he lowered his voice further:
"Listen, François, if Count Rohan's proposal eventually passes, it will be an unstoppable trend.
You, and 'Hachette' over there, will have to learn to accept it. This isn't just about your publishing house; it's a 'necessity for reform'."
"But..."
"No buts!"
Charles Deblan interrupted him, his tone decisive:
"If you don't want to lose everything, find a way to recover your costs as quickly as possible before the proposal is fully passed.
Or, pray that Prime Minister Ferry sees the hidden dangers within and vetoes it. But either way—
This is a necessary sacrifice. For the Republic's education cause, someone always has to pay the price. Unfortunately, this time, it seems it's your turn."
Little François Belin repeated, distraught:
"A necessary sacrifice... a necessary sacrifice..."
As if all his strength had been drained, he staggered back two steps and bumped into the door frame.
Charles Deblan no longer looked at him, turning to pour himself another glass of wine:
"Good night, Mr. Belin. Remember, mind your tongue.
When the storm comes, bowing your head and enduring lasts longer than loud complaints."
Little François Belin didn't know how he left Deblan's mansion, or how he found himself on the deserted street.
The wind cut across his cheeks like a knife, but he felt no cold, only an icy chill spreading from the deepest part of his heart.
He looked up at the gray, starless night sky of Paris, the cruel verdict echoing repeatedly in his ears:
"This is a necessary sacrifice!"
------
The weather in Paris was still cold and gloomy, but inside "Charpentier's Bookshelf" publishing house, it was warm and cozy.
Georges Charpentier paced back and forth in his office, his expensive Persian carpet almost worn into a path by his steps.
The fire in the fireplace blazed, reflecting the intertwined excitement and elation on his face.
Georges Charpentier finally stopped, picked up the brandy from his desk, and took a large gulp:
"Lionel, my brother, Count Rohan's proposal...
My God, I almost gasped for breath when I heard the news! Unified copyright acquisition? Decentralization of printing rights?
This is practically going to overturn the entire publishing industry! But will such a proposal really pass?"
Lionel nestled comfortably on the sofa, admiring the gray sky outside the window, as if what Charpentier was saying had nothing to do with him.
After a while, he spoke, very calmly:
"Count Rohan's proposal is far-sighted, completely in line with the Republic's interests, saving the Ministry of Education a large sum of money, and also saving money for school children.
With such a 'correct and efficient' proposal, do you think Prime Minister Ferry would oppose it? Would the gentlemen in parliament, who constantly clamor for budget cuts, not support it?"
Georges Charpentier carefully chewed on Lionel's words:
"You're right! Lion, you're right!
If the proposal passes, copyright goes to the Ministry of Education, and printing rights are decentralized... this means a huge opportunity! A colossal opportunity!"
The immense business prospects made the publisher uncontrollably excited; he even began planning ahead:
"Yes! We must act immediately, to ascertain the preferences of educational administrators in each province, to establish connections in advance...
This will require a significant investment, but it's worth it! So worth it!"
The more he spoke, the more excited he became, as if he could already see countless printing orders flying towards his printing press.
He clapped Lionel's arm forcefully, making a generous promise:
"Lion! In a way, you created this opportunity!
If 'Charpentier's Bookshelf' truly gets a slice of the pie from this reform, I promise you, you'll get your rightful share, no less!
Although you don't want royalties for the textbooks, I can give you an additional 'consultant fee' or 'referral fee'; it's perfectly reasonable!
The figure will surely satisfy you!"
However, Lionel slowly shook his head:
"No, Georges. Thank you for your kindness, but I won't take this money."
Georges Charpentier was stunned:
"Why? This is different from donating your work! This is what you deserve!
Without you, I wouldn't have seen this opportunity at all..."
Lionel interrupted him:
"Precisely because I saw this opportunity clearly, I cannot take it.
Georges, you only see the huge market, but you don't see the bloody competition that's coming."
Georges Charpentier was quite confident in his own strength:
"Competition? 'Charpentier's Bookshelf' isn't afraid of competition!"
Lionel shook his head:
"Not the kind of competition from the past. Think about it, once printing rights are decentralized, every province, every district, even every school can choose their own printer.
What does this mean? It means a price war! A fierce and brutal price war that will sweep across the entire country!"
He began to analyze in detail:
"'Hachette' and 'Belin'—especially 'Belin'—they've invested too much and will never willingly be excluded.
They also have huge printing capacities and more mature educational market channels. To win back orders, they will slash prices like crazy! They will push profits to the absolute minimum!"
Georges Charpentier gasped:
"According to you, this isn't a good opportunity at all, but rather a quagmire?
Then why should 'Charpentier's Bookshelf' wade into these troubled waters?"
Lionel paused, revealing a sly smile:
"The 'cooperation' I truly want to discuss with you, or rather, the 'new business' that can really make us both a lot of money, isn't textbook printing."
Charpentier's attention was completely captivated:
"New business? Not textbook printing? What is it then?"
(End of Chapter)