The news that Lionel Sorel refused to go to America and chose to return to Paris for trial shook the entire Parisian society.
Whether friends or foes, supporters or critics, almost everyone found it unbelievable.
In their understanding and past experience, if a writer had already gone into exile, the most reasonable and intelligent course of action would be to settle down peacefully abroad – especially in Britain, a country always keen to laugh at French jokes – just like Victor Hugo did back then.
Then, they would continue the struggle with pen and public opinion, patiently awaiting a shift in the domestic political climate.
Waiting for the Jules Ferry government to collapse due to the disastrous colonial wars and successive scandals.
Waiting for a relatively moderate Republican, like Léon Gambetta, to come to power.
At that time, under new political pressure, the Palace of Justice would naturally quietly withdraw those untimely indictments or arrest warrants.
This was a common unspoken understanding on the Parisian political stage, a decent "soft landing."
However, Lionel chose a completely different path.
Instead of waiting, he actively embarked on his return journey, heading straight for the court that was about to put him on trial.
This was tantamount to "walking into a trap," seen by many not only as reckless but even foolish.
At the salon, someone exclaimed in disbelief:
"Is he crazy? Doesn't he know the weight of the charge 'inciting military insubordination'?"
Others also began to chatter.
Everyone knew that behind this indictment, it wasn't just Jules Ferry's crumbling cabinet, but also involved the prestige of the military!
Jules Ferry was now struggling to protect himself and naturally dared not make any further moves, but what about those generals?
They had lost face in Tunisia and Tokyo, brimming with pent-up anger.
Who could guarantee they wouldn't seize this opportunity to retaliate against Lionel?
Public opinion was effective against the government, but it had little impact on the soldiers—they didn't rely on votes to get their positions!
Similar concerns permeated Parisian salons, cafes, and parliamentary corridors.
The military high command's attitude towards Lionel's remarks had always been ambiguous.
But even so, Lionel chose to return.
When the initial shock subsided, another stronger, complex emotion began to surge in the hearts of the Parisian public, quickly transforming into a bubbling public opinion.
People suddenly realized that Lionel's choice stripped away all political calculations and scholarly shrewdness.
He didn't hide abroad, sneering and waiting for political opponents to fall, as many had expected.
Instead, he bravely returned to face the charges directly.
He would defend himself and his ideals in court.
This showed that despite suffering injustice, deep down he remained a "patriot," and he still believed in French law—
—at least, he believed that the legal process itself should be respected and fulfilled!
This interpretation, combined with his previous deeds of helping the underprivileged in London's slums, elevated Lionel's image to a new height.
He was no longer just a talented writer, an anti-colonial fighter, but also a patriot who lived by his convictions.
On the streets, people excitedly shouted:
"He believes in France!"
"He's back! He'd rather face trial than stay away!"
"We must support him! We can't let the brave one face this alone!"
Among the populace, such calls grew louder and louder.
The public sentiment, originally suppressed by colonial failures and government scandals, seemed to have found an outlet.
A powerful wave rapidly formed in Paris and throughout France.
…
On the morning of August 31, 1881, London's Charing Cross Station was shrouded in a grey mist.
The platform was packed with a dense crowd.
The British police fulfilled their "duty," dispatching several plainclothes officers to "accompany" Lionel, ensuring he smoothly boarded the train to the port and left British territory.
However, they were almost submerged in the crowd of well-wishers.
Journalists from almost all major London media were present, cameras were set up, and flashbulbs flickered, recording this historic moment.
But more numerous than the journalists were the ordinary London citizens who came spontaneously to bid farewell, especially those underprivileged people whom Lionel had helped.
The old man who had asked Lionel to write a letter to his son serving in India tightly grasped Lionel's hand, choking back tears and unable to speak.
Tom, the newly engaged young apprentice, arrived with his fiancée, placing a bouquet of dewy fresh flowers into Lionel's arms.
Sean O'Mara, with several fellow workers from Whitechapel, gruffly expressed their support, repeatedly urging Lionel to take care.
There were even a few young, ragged newsboys who squeezed into the crowd, shouting loudly,
"Goodbye, Mr. Bond!"
—They might not understand complex politics, but they remembered that when this kind gentleman was in London, newspapers sold exceptionally well.
Lionel looked at these simple faces, listened to their sincere words, and the calm he had maintained finally broke.
He spoke a few brief words, thanking them for their friendship and wishing them all the best.
No passionate speeches, no complaints about the British government, just the simplest farewell between people.
The train whistle blew loudly, urging passengers to board.
Lionel, at the police's signal, waved one last time to the farewell crowd, then turned and stepped into the carriage.
The train slowly started, pulled away from the platform, leaving London's mist and hustle behind.
——————
A few hours later, Lionel and his party arrived at Dover port in England; on the pier, the scene was identical to the train station.
Many French expatriates living in Britain gathered there, waving small tricolor flags, singing the "Marseillaise," and shouting Lionel's name in their mother tongue.
For them, Lionel's choice was not just personal courage, but also an embodiment of the French national spirit.
His return seemed to bring a glimmer of glory to those who were drifting overseas.
"Long live France!"
"Sorel, you are excellent!"
"We are with you!"
Surrounded by the enthusiastic farewells of his compatriots and British police, Lionel boarded the ferry heading to the other side of the Channel.
The whistle blew again, and the ship cut through the blue-grey waves, heading towards France.
The destination of the voyage was Jersey Island; the British police's orders were only to escort Lionel there.
They would then watch Lionel board the ferry to Calais, France, and then their mission would be complete.
The remaining trouble could be left to the French.
And when the ship docked at Jersey Island, a breathtaking scene appeared—
On the pier, there was an even grander welcoming crowd—
Not only residents of the island, but also countless people, students, intellectuals who had traveled specially from mainland France, and Parisian journalists who had heard the news.
They held up placards, on which were written:
"Welcome home, Sorel!"
"Truth will prevail!"
"France awaits her son!"
Cheers, applause, and slogans surged like a tidal wave, almost drowning out the sound of the crashing waves.
"Lionel! Lionel!"
"Come back to Paris with us!"
"We'll go to court with you!"
People were passionately emotional, with many faces beaming with the excitement of participating in history.
Lionel looked at the dense crowd on the pier and knew that he was no longer alone.
At this moment, an old man pushed through the crowd and stood before him:
"Mr. Sorel, welcome back! The 'Saint Michel' will serve you!"
(End of chapter)