At dinnertime, in the first-class dining room of the "Perelle", Lionel, Zola, Maupassant, Daudet, Goncourt, Huysmans, and others were seated around a long table.
Waiters quietly moved back and forth, serving dishes.
This meal was more lavish than any before, reportedly specially arranged by the captain.
The conversation naturally revolved around the story Lionel had just told.
Zola, while cutting a piece of veal, exclaimed,
"Lionel, I must say it again, your improvisation skills astound me.
A pianist born on a cruise ship, who never set foot on land, self-taught in music... this concept is truly unique.
Especially how you linked him with Debussy, it added a sense of realism, brilliant!"
Daudet nodded, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin:
"Indeed. To construct such a complete and charming character in such a short time.
Oh, and that 'piano duel', it was so dramatic! I never thought a musical duel could be more exciting than a rapier duel!"
Goncourt's eyes also showed appreciation:
"What's even rarer is that this story has a poetic quality that transcends reality.
This '80 Years', his choice to stay on the ship, is itself a deviation from worldly rules.
No, it should be said, he was originally an outsider to rules, you didn't even bear to give him a true 'identity'."
Huysmans focused more on the details:
"You even thought of details like his adoptive father being a stoker who died under a hatch cover, as if this story had been alive in your mind for a long time."
Lionel simply smiled, forking a piece of asparagus:
"Lucky, just had some ideas."
Maupassant hadn't interjected much, but now he suddenly put down his wine glass, his mustache twitching:
"Friends, you've only seen the surface of the story, I'm thinking of something else!"
He looked at Lionel,
"Lionel, after we came back from the stinking steerage this afternoon, you said 'Paris isn't the whole world, nor is Europe.'"
Everyone quieted down, looking at Maupassant.
Maupassant's gaze became serious:
"I think that '80 Years', this genius pianist who refused to leave the ship his entire life, is like us, like many artists indulging in Parisian salons, cafes, and theaters.
We possess skill, we possess fame, our world seems to be Paris, because it's the cultural center of Europe.
But we might also be trapped in this 'corner', never having truly seen the whole world spiritually.
'80 Years''s ship was his entire world, and our 'ship', perhaps, is the banks of the Seine.
He dared not and would not set foot on real land, to feel its boundless expanse; what about us?
Do we also dare not and will not truly understand the new world beyond Paris and Europe?"
His words brought a temporary silence to the table.
Zola was the first to speak, agreeing:
"That makes sense! We often mock America as a cultural desert, but perhaps it is precisely this arrogance that blinds us.
Guy is right, Lionel is reminding us that the source of art is not only in Paris, but more so in the vast world.
Sticking to our own ways, even if our skills are superb, our spirit might be confined to a ship, just like '80 Years'."
Daudet sighed:
"Yes, aren't we going to America this time to step out of our 'ship'?"
Listening to their discussion, Lionel felt a little helpless and amused.
He had merely taken the opportunity to retell the story of "The Legend of 1900", but hadn't thought of so many profound metaphors.
These writer friends were simply too good at reading comprehension.
However, his companions being able to interpret these meanings on their own saved him some effort.
He raised his wine glass and said lightly,
"Once a story is told, it belongs to everyone. Any way you understand it is valid."
Dinner concluded amid continuous discussion, and as the group headed towards the entertainment room again, they were startled by the sight inside.
The not-so-large entertainment room was packed with people! Not only first-class passengers, but many second-class passengers had also managed to squeeze in.
There weren't enough chairs, so many people stood, or leaned against the walls, even lining up in the aisle.
Seeing Lionel and his companions enter, all eyes immediately turned to them, and a wave of excited whispers rose from the crowd.
"Mr. Sorel is here!"
"Quick, let him continue!"
"Good heavens, so many people..."
Lionel was also stunned by the scene.
Zola gently pushed him from behind, whispering,
"It seems your '80 Years' has captivated everyone."
There were no seats left, so Lionel, under everyone's eager gaze, walked towards the small stage.
The pianist, Jean Durand, saw him and immediately smiled.
Lionel stood still, cleared his throat, and the noisy entertainment room instantly fell silent.
He picked up from where he left off in the afternoon, beginning to narrate the second half of '80 Years''s life.
He spoke of '80 Years' refusing countless performance invitations from land, remaining on the "Perelle", accompanying wave after wave of transatlantic travelers with music.
His fame grew, becoming a legendary symbol on this ship.
Then, Lionel introduced a name that made all the passengers exclaim in admiration:
"Later, one day, a world-renowned music master boarded the 'Perelle', and he was Mr. Camille Saint-Saëns."
A low gasp and murmur rose from the crowd.
Camille Saint-Saëns had been hailed as a piano prodigy since he was 10, and was currently the most outstanding pianist and organist in the French music scene.
Presumably, more than twenty years later, his fame would be even greater.
"...It was during that private performance prepared for Mr. Saint-Saëns that '80 Years''s gaze, over the piano keys, fell upon a young lady accompanying him.
She was so beautiful, so serene, as if all the beauty in the world had converged in her."
His voice softened, and the pianist Durand also aptly made the melody exceptionally gentle and lingering.
"'80 Years''s heart seemed to be gently touched by something. He improvised a melody, one he had never played in his life, full of tenderness, longing, and a hint of timid desire.
That music seemed to tell of his first time longing for the world outside the ship—because she was there."
The listeners, especially the ladies, showed knowing smiles on their faces.
They exchanged glances, as if to say: Love, after all, had finally fallen upon this lonely genius.
"After the performance, Mr. Saint-Saëns was deeply moved. He walked up to '80 Years' and solemnly invited him, 'Come ashore with me. Your talent should not be buried on this ship.
I will take you on a tour across Europe, and you will become the most famous pianist of this era!'"
It was an irresistible temptation, and the passengers all held their breath.
"However, '80 Years' hesitated. This hesitation was not only because of the music master's invitation;
More importantly, it was the girl whose name he didn't even know; his gaze was always following her figure."
"Ah!"
Someone couldn't help but gasp, everyone thought that the power of love would ultimately overcome his dependence on the ship.
"The ship finally arrived in port. The spire of New York's 'Trinity Church' appeared in the passengers' field of vision."
Lionel's pace of speech slowed, becoming heavy:
"'80 Years' was wearing his best clothes, carrying a small suitcase in his hand.
He stood at the top of the gangplank, looking down at the land he had gazed at countless times but never set foot on.
He saw the girl appearing and disappearing in the crowd, then her figure gradually blurred, and finally disappeared completely."
The entertainment room was so quiet that one could hear the sound of waves lapping against the ship.
"He gazed at that unfamiliar land, hesitating for a long, long time. His foot lifted, then put down, put down, then lifted again.
Finally, to everyone's bewilderment, he abruptly turned around, carrying his luggage, and walked back onto the ship, step by step, resolutely.
He still didn't take that step."
"Alas—!"
A huge sigh erupted in the entertainment room, filled with disappointment, regret, and even indignation.
"This fool!"
"For what?"
"He could have had love and fame!"
Curses and murmurs buzzed, people felt he wasn't worth it, and were frustrated by his lack of ambition.
Lionel ignored these reactions, his voice taking on a sense of vicissitude:
"Many years passed, and in the blink of an eye, it was 1915. The 'Perelle' was old, outdated, and couldn't keep up with the times.
The shipping company decided to scrap it, blow it up, and replace it with a newer ship."
The listeners' hearts tightened again.
"All crew members received notification and gradually disembarked.
But no one found '80 Years', he seemed to have evaporated.
Some said he might have finally come to his senses and secretly disembarked, merging into the sea of people on land;
Others said he must still be hiding in some unknown corner of the ship—
No one knew the ship better than him, so if he didn't want to be found, no one could find him."
Passengers began to whisper, speculating about '80 Years''s fate.
"The day the ship was to be blown up drew nearer, and search teams swept through repeatedly, still finding nothing.
The shipping company's manager grew impatient. Waving his hand, he said, 'Stop! Don't look anymore! This person doesn't exist on any legal documents!
What if an non-existent person is blown up? Clear the area quickly!'"
"Bastard!"
"Cold-blooded fellow!"
The listeners erupted in angry condemnation of the manager.
"Finally, that day arrived. Everyone had evacuated, and the 'Perelle' lay isolated at sea.
With several deafening blasts—"
Lionel paused, as if he too heard the roar:
"Huge fireballs soared into the sky, and this cruise ship, which had carried countless stories, was blown into countless fragments, sinking into the cold seabed."
The story ended.
First, there was silence in the entertainment room, followed by low moans and sobs, especially from the emotional ladies, who continuously wiped their eyes with handkerchiefs.
"He just died like that?"
"Did he ever get off the ship?"
"Mr. Sorel, please tell us, was he on the ship or not?"
People were not satisfied, pressing for a definite answer.
Lionel, with a calm smile on his face, shook his head:
"Perhaps he was, perhaps he wasn't, I don't know the answer either.
Or rather, this answer lies in each of your hearts."
After he finished speaking, he bowed slightly, then stepped off the stage, walked through the crowd, and left the entertainment room directly, leaving behind a room full of listeners immersed in the story.
"This must be about the purity of art! He would rather be destroyed with his music than be defiled by the secular world!"
"No, I think it's love! He lost courage, missed love, and became disheartened!"
"It's just a unique life choice, isn't it? Everyone has the right to choose their own world, even if that world is just a ship..."
At this moment, Maupassant stepped forward again.
Stroking his carefully trimmed mustache, with a knowing smile that saw through everything, he raised his voice:
"Ladies and gentlemen, Lionel actually has another meaning..."
——————————
That night, in the dead of night, Maupassant, with a troubled expression, knocked on Lionel's cabin door.
"Lionel, help!"
He collapsed onto a chair as soon as he entered.
(End of Chapter)