Chapter 31: A Moment of Journalistic Brilliance

Mr. Dunn held no teaching position and possessed no particular understanding of literature; it was solely due to the "de" in his name that he had managed to serve as the registrar at the Sorbonne for many years. However, with the aristocracy losing its prestige, he was forced to heed the whims of the Dean—especially with Dean Henri Patin being such an overbearing figure.

After obtaining the manuscript of Léonard’s novel, he hurried to the editorial office of the Sorbonne Faculty of Letters’ journal. At that time, the Sorbonne was responsible for editing and publishing three significant academic journals: the monthly *Bulletin of the Faculty of Letters*, the annual *Annals of the Sorbonne Faculty of Letters*, and the quarterly *Review of Public Education*. These were the vital bastions through which the Sorbonne maintained its enduring academic reputation, and as such, they were staffed by a wealth of talent.

Gaston Boissier, a Latin scholar and member of the Académie Française, served as editor-in-chief. The editorial board included the classical philologist and Greek expert Émile Egger, the renowned philosopher and ethics professor Paul Janet, and, naturally, Hippolyte Taine.

When Dunn arrived at the office, the principal editors, including Gaston Boissier, were present, discussing which works should be featured in the March issue of the *Bulletin of the Faculty of Letters*. Among the twelve issues published annually by the Sorbonne, the March issue was the most closely watched. Because of the tradition of holding a "Poetry Gala" on the last weekend before Easter, the readership of the March *Bulletin* included not only scholars, students, and literary enthusiasts, but also aristocrats and wealthy merchants who enjoyed receiving invitations to the gala and posturing as patrons of the arts. Everyone wanted to see the caliber of the young talents from the Sorbonne who would be attending the gala, and to have topics for conversation during the event. If they encountered a young person they admired, these generous patrons were not averse to spending several thousand francs to publish their poetry collections or donating a substantial sum to the Sorbonne. Therefore, the March issue required special consideration not only for the literary quality of the works but also for the tastes of its readers; it usually required a supplementary issue, otherwise, it could not accommodate everyone's submissions.

Seeing Dunn enter, Gaston Boissier frowned. He did not care for this aristocratic academic bureaucrat, yet a veneer of civility had to be maintained. "Good morning, Mr. Dunn. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit to the editorial department?"

As the registrar, Dunn’s work had nothing to do with the faculty’s journals, and his appearance here was indeed a first. Dunn did not dare display any aristocratic arrogance in front of these professors. He took out Léonard’s manuscript and said with great caution, "This is a novel submitted for the journal. It is my hope that it might be published in the March issue."

Several editors laughed. Paul Janet remarked with heavy sarcasm, "Since when has our office mailbox been moved to the door of the registrar’s office? I do not recall receiving any such notification."

Émile Egger was equally blunt in his mockery: "Mr. Dunn, when did you begin lecturing to students of the Faculty of Letters? I must certainly apply to audit your course."

Dunn had been navigating the academy for over a decade; he was well aware of the professors’ biting wit. His expression remained unchanged, and his tone remained steady. "My apologies, I did not explain myself clearly. It is the Dean—the Dean wishes for this manuscript to appear in the March *Bulletin*. Of course, if its quality is truly lacking, please provide your editorial suggestions, and I shall see to it that the student makes the necessary revisions."

This statement caused the editors to drop their mocking expressions. They had initially assumed the registrar had lost his mind, believing he could interfere with the journal's editorial process, but they had not expected this to be the wish of Dean Henri Patin.

Gaston Boissier, being the most experienced, knew that Henri Patin would not intervene personally unless there was something peculiar involved. He instructed Dunn to leave the manuscript, promising that he and the others would review it and discuss the matter. Dunn bowed to Boissier, left the manuscript, and departed.

As the office door closed, Gaston Boissier picked up the manuscript under the curious gaze of his colleagues and read the title and author's name aloud: "'The Old Guard,' by Léonard Sorel, second-year student of the Faculty of Letters."

Upon hearing the name, the others were momentarily blank, but Professor Hippolyte Taine slammed his hand against the table. "So it is him? It is indeed him!"

The loud bang and Taine’s emotional outburst startled everyone, leaving them baffled by his intense reaction. Professor Taine gritted his teeth. "Henri asked me about him previously, and I have already made my stance clear—Léonard Sorel is a pretentious, despicable scoundrel who slanders others to elevate himself! His work must never be chosen for the *Bulletin*! We must not allow the work of such a person to stain the sacred academic halls of the Sorbonne simply for the sake of some petty patronage!"

The other editors were even more confused. "Pretentious," "despicable," "slanders others," "scoundrel"—were these labels truly appropriate for a student barely in his twenties?

Gaston Boissier quickly pacified his old colleague. "My dear Hippolyte, we have not yet reached a decision. There is no need for such excitement." He carefully searched his memory, but he had never heard of any scandal involving a student named Léonard Sorel; in his impression, aside from his poverty, Léonard was merely an ordinary Sorbonne student.

Émile Egger asked curiously, "What exactly has this student, Léonard, done?"

Hippolyte Taine turned his head away with a huff, unwilling to offer any further explanation.

It was Paul Janet who, after thinking for a long while with his hand to his forehead, suddenly exclaimed in realization, "Ah, so that is how it is..."

Seeing all eyes turn toward him, Paul Janet offered a sheepish smile. "I recall an anecdote I heard recently at Madame Fresnel’s salon, which seems to involve Léonard..."

Seeing the spark of gossip in everyone's eyes, Paul Janet turned to Taine. "Hippolyte, may I speak?"

Hippolyte Taine knew that without an explanation, he could not convince the others, but it was far too undignified for him to recount the event himself. He gave a reluctant nod.

Reassured, Paul Janet began to speak in a tone as calm, objective, and devoid of mockery as possible: "Recently, in the salons of Paris, there has been talk of a Sorbonne student named Léonard who stood up to a professor who was reprimanding him..."

Gaston Boissier looked at him, then at Taine, perplexed. "He merely stood up to him? That does not seem particularly serious."

Hippolyte Taine let out a "Hmph," while Paul Janet sighed and added the "details": "...Madame Fresnel said the professor, unable to endure such humiliation, jumped up and slapped Léonard twice..."

The others: "...!?" *They could not imagine Taine having such a volatile temper; how terrifying!*

Paul Janet had not finished his details: "Léonard then leaped into the air and kicked the professor twice..."

The others: "...!!??" *They could not imagine Taine being in such good physical shape; how enviable!*

Paul Janet delivered the final blow: "...The students were cheering on the sidelines. Later, the old professor even had to take a week off because of it..."

Hippolyte Taine could no longer bear the strange looks from his colleagues and roared, "I took leave because I had a cold! A cold! A cold! That scoundrel Léonard—it was he who was late that day! This is retaliation! It is slander! We must never let such a person appear in the *Bulletin*!"