Archbishop Guibert sharply raised his head:
"Who? How dare he come here?!"
Rage instantly swept away his previous confusion; he was almost ready to immediately order this despicable opportunist to be expelled.
But then his expression began to change erratically, his hand crumpling the newspaper.
The study was silent, with only the crackling of burning wood in the fireplace.
A full minute passed before the intense emotions in Archbishop Guibert's eyes slowly subsided.
He finally took a deep breath, his voice authoritative:
"Take him to the small chapel. I will come over shortly."
"Yes, Your Grace," the assistant quietly withdrew.
Archbishop Guibert sat quietly in his chair for a moment longer, adjusting his scarlet stole and the cross on his chest.
Then, he rose and walked towards the small chapel used only for confidential discussions.
Pushing open the heavy oak door of the chapel, Archbishop Guibert saw a young man with his back to him, leisurely admiring the oil painting of the saints' suffering hanging on the wall.
The young man turned around, a relaxed, easy smile on his face.
He bowed slightly:
"Good day, Your Grace the Archbishop."
Archbishop Guibert's voice was icy:
"Monsieur Sorel, your audacity has exceeded my expectations—do you still dare to appear before me?"
He did not invite Lionel to sit down, instead walking directly to the cushioned kneeling bench in the center of the chapel, looking down at the other man.
Lionel paid no mind to his hostility:
"Why wouldn't I dare? I came to congratulate you, Your Grace.
You must have heard the deafening applause in the Richelieu Hall last night.
Paris is enchanted by you, Le Petit Parisien calls you 'the People's Bishop,' which is truly supreme glory."
The words were like a slap, sharply striking Archbishop Guibert's face.
The muscles in his cheek twitched, and his suppressed rage finally burst forth:
"Glory?! Lionel Sorel, how dare you play games before me!
You violated our initial tacit understanding! The Choir fabricated a disgraceful story, allowing the ignorant populace to ridicule the Church!
You have stained our reputation with an indelible black mark! Do you even know the nature of such an act?!"
His angry voice echoed in the small chapel.
However, Lionel merely listened quietly, and only when the Archbishop was breathless from shouting did he speak unhurriedly:
"Violated tacit understanding? Deception? Slander?
Your Grace, your words truly leave me feeling confused and wronged."
He spread his hands, an innocent expression on his face:
"I believe I have perfectly fulfilled our agreement. Please tell me, what was the consensus reached between Sister Anna Maria and me at the St. Martha's Convent?
Was it not to create a work that could 'promote traditional virtues, soothe people's hearts,' and 'demonstrate an understanding and even appreciation of the value of faith'?"
He took a small step forward, looking directly at the Archbishop:
"Has The Choir not achieved that?
The music, the music composed by Monsieur Debussy, especially 'The Night,' wasn't it sacred enough, wasn't it soothing enough, wasn't it sufficient to highlight the hope and light brought by faith?
When the pure voices of the children rang out, how many audience members in the Richelieu Hall shed tears of emotion?
Was there not even a hint of a stirring of faith in 'beauty' and 'goodness' within that?"
Lionel chuckled softly:
"Most importantly, Your Grace, please recall last night—when the curtain fell, didn't the entire audience rise to their feet and applaud, spontaneously and sincerely directing their applause towards you?
Was that applause not an expression of respect and gratitude to the Church—or more precisely, to you—from the people of Paris?"
Lionel's tone became firm and unquestionable:
"Is that not the ultimate manifestation of the 'friendship' and 'tacit understanding' that the St. Martha's Convent initially hoped for?
We succeeded, Your Grace!"
"..." Archbishop Guibert opened his mouth, but found himself unable to retort for a moment.
This speechless frustration made him even more furious, his face alternating between pale and flushed.
Lionel keenly caught the Archbishop's emotions, and his smile slightly faded:
"Your Grace, your vision should extend beyond the gains and losses of a single play. You are clearer than I am about the current plight of the Holy See.
In 1861, the vast majority of the Papal States' territory was incorporated into the Kingdom of Sardinia; in 1870, even the city of Rome fell, and His Holiness the Pope's temporal power is now confined within the walls of Vatican City.
The decline of the Holy See's influence across Europe and indeed the entire world is an undeniable fact."
Archbishop Guibert's gaze flickered; he did not voice a rebuttal.
This was a tacitly understood pain among all high-ranking clergy.
"In the face of this tide of the times, the conservatives steeped in past glory in the Vatican—that ship is slowly sinking."
"But you are different. His Holiness the Pope has only the Vatican; but you, Your Grace, you have all of Paris!"
"The Vatican's area is less than half a square kilometer; Paris is a thousand times larger..."
"The Vatican has fewer than a thousand people; Paris has two million!"
"You are the spiritual leader of over two million Parisian faithful!"
"In terms of this city's thought, culture, and public opinion, you still hold a significant position!"
"Indeed, after last night, your influence has reached an unprecedented height."
"You are, the People's Bishop!"
—As Lionel spoke, the title "the People's Bishop" echoed in Archbishop Guibert's ears once more, with an evocative resonance.
Lionel's voice was filled with persuasive power:
"Why not set your sights further? Why must it be the Vatican leading Paris, and not Paris leading the Vatican?
In this era of change, an enlightened and progressive Archbishop, deeply beloved by the people, will have far greater influence than a self-important and conventional Archbishop."
Archbishop Guibert's heart pounded violently.
The picture Lionel painted resonated strongly with his deep-seated lust for power and his craving for empty fame.
But he still had one last, and most realistic, concern.
He took a deep breath, trying to maintain his last shred of composure, but his voice was already less assertive than before:
"You speak lightly, Monsieur Sorel. If the Holy See is displeased with my...
'reforms,' they can simply issue an order to recall me to Rome. Then, everything will come to nothing."
Lionel seemed to have anticipated this question, and he immediately replied:
"Recall you? Your Grace, the Holy See would not replace the Archbishop of the Paris archdiocese twice in a short period.
Frequent changes would only make the authority of the Holy See seem more like a joke."
He took a step forward, lowering his voice:
"Even if worst comes to worst, even if—and I mean even if—they are truly so muddled as to recall you.
At that time, you would not return to the Vatican alone. You would be returning with the love and respect of two million Parisians!
You would be 'the People's Bishop,' a leader who created a miracle of public opinion in Paris! You wouldn't be fighting alone!
Don't forget, we, France, are the 'Eldest Daughter of the Church'! Our relationship with the Vatican is long-standing and friendly for generations..."
This was an extremely clear hint—while France might be the "Eldest Daughter of the Church," whether she was filial or not was another matter.
"The Pope has only the Vatican, but you have all of Paris... returning with the love and respect of two million Parisians... you wouldn't be fighting alone!"
These three sentences, like a heavy hammer, completely shattered the last trace of hesitation in Archbishop Guibert's heart.
His body swayed slightly, and he instinctively reached out to steady himself on the kneeling bench beside him.
All anger, humiliation, and conflict were replaced by ambition at this moment.
Lionel said no more, simply standing there quietly, watching the intense changes in the Archbishop's expression.
The flames in the fireplace cast the shadows of the two confidential discussants onto the tapestry, lengthening and shortening, constantly shifting.
Finally, Archbishop Guibert slowly raised his head.
The anger and struggle in his eyes had completely vanished, replaced by a light utterly different from before—
It was a light mixed with greed, ambition, and determination.
He looked deeply at Lionel and asked one last question:
"What do you want?"
Lionel merely smiled slightly:
"I just want to know if our agreement is complete?"
Archbishop Guibert, who was waiting for Lionel to make a huge demand, was startled:
"Only... only that?"
Lionel nodded.
Archbishop Guibert took a deep breath:
"...As you wish, it is done. Rest assured!"
Lionel bowed slightly:
"That's good then. Goodbye, Your Excellency!"
With that, he turned and left the small chapel.
(End of chapter)
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