The next morning, Lionel borrowed the family's gentle pack horse from his father and set off along the familiar mountain path, heading for "Rocher Farm."
That was Alice's home.
Lionel was not in a hurry to finish "My Old Home"; he needed to deepen his feelings for this land.
Two hours of riding revealed magnificent mountain scenery and fresh air, but the mountain path was rugged and uneven.
Lionel also saw abandoned fields and dilapidated farmhouses, which made his mood grow increasingly heavy.
"Rocher Farm" was situated on a sunny hillside, even more dilapidated than Lionel remembered.
The stone walls needed repair, the wooden fences were askew, and even a corner of the cowshed roof had collapsed.
Étienne Rocher was milking cows in the cowshed. Hearing the hooves, he looked up, his face full of surprise:
"Lionel? The Sorel family's son?"
He stood up, wiping his hands on his coarse trousers:
"I heard you made a name for yourself in Paris."
Madame Rocher came out of the house upon hearing the commotion, her apron stained with flour.
Seeing Lionel, she nervously straightened her hair and clothes, as if a nobleman had suddenly arrived.
Lionel dismounted, exchanged a few brief pleasantries, and then the conversation turned to Alice—he didn't rashly reveal that Alice was with him.
Madame Rocher's tears fell silently:
"It's been more than half a year! Not a single word! That accursed parish priest!
Saying the Virgin Mary had appeared and cured my illness, insisting we send one of our daughters to become a nun... We were truly bewitched back then! We thought it was God's will!"
Étienne painfully clutched his hair:
"She must have met with something terrible, otherwise, why would there be no news at all... or... or she might just have..."
He couldn't continue.
The thought that his daughter might be dead or have fallen into disgrace filled him with paralyzing fear.
Lionel kindly comforted them while observing their expressions, then said earnestly:
"Monsieur and Madame Rocher, please don't lose all hope. I know some people in Paris, and perhaps... perhaps I can gather some information. I will do my best to find out Alice's whereabouts."
These words were like a faint glimmer, instantly illuminating the couple's grim faces:
"Really? You... you are really willing to help?"
Lionel nodded solemnly:
"I will do my best. However, to make it easier to search for her, I need some documents to prove Alice's identity, such as her birth certificate, baptismal records, and so on. The more detailed, the better. With these, it will be easier to ask people for information."
Étienne quickly said:
"Yes! Yes! I'll go get them for you right away!"
He soon returned, holding an old wooden box, carefully containing Alice's birth certificate and baptismal certificate.
Étienne carefully handed these documents to Lionel, as if entrusting him with his daughter's future.
Étienne's voice was full of humility and pleading:
"Please, Lionel..."
Lionel solemnly took the box, nodded, and swung onto his horse, not daring to look again at those two pairs of hopeful eyes, and rode away.
----
Lionel acquiring Alice's identity documents naturally had a significant purpose.
His visit to Alice's home today also stirred up his thoughts—not only about the farm's dilapidation but also that Alice's two elder brothers and one younger brother were all absent from home.
The farm was still fertile, but it could no longer sustain a family of six.
Almost all the boys had gone to "the city"—the furthest in Lyon, the closest in Gap.
Lionel gained a more concrete understanding of France beyond Paris.
Away from the plains, the lives of farmers became exceptionally difficult; these places, as the mayor said, "were dying."
Thus, the tone of "My Old Home" gradually shifted from the joy of childhood to something more somber and low-spirited—
[At that moment, my heart was stirred, yet I didn't know where to begin, only managing to force out a sentence:
"Ah! Rentu!—It's you! You've come..."
Immediately afterwards, I wanted to ask about the old days: trout, mushrooms, badgers, wild boars, grapes... but all the words were stuck in my throat, only churning in my mind, not a single one could be uttered.
He stopped, an expression of both joy and bitterness simultaneously appearing on his face; his lips moved a few times, but he said nothing.
Finally, his demeanor became respectful, and he distinctly called out:
"Master..."
I shuddered; I knew that a lamentably thick barrier had already formed between us.
I could say nothing else.]
Although Rentu called him "young master" yesterday, in the context of the novel, "I" is older, in the prime of life, so "Master" is more fitting and has more impact.
[He turned around and scolded the one behind him:
"Pierre, come here and greet the Master!"
Then he pulled out a timid, hiding child from behind him.
That was Rentu exactly twenty years ago, only his complexion was even more sallow and gaunt, and he didn't have that small copper Virgin Mary statue around his neck.
"This is the fifth child, he hasn't seen much of the world, always so timid and cowering..."]
If there was anything in "My Old Home" that filled one with despair yet also with hope, it was the children.
The older generation instilled strict class concepts in their children; yet, between children themselves, there was still genuine affection.
That's why we must "save the children."
In France today, even in Paris, where republican ideals are strongest, many still long for nobility.
And in rural areas, many "gentlemen" with "de" in their names still held important positions.
Only through the gradual influence of one generation upon another could these ideas slowly fade away.
[Rentu merely shook his head in silence; the deep wrinkles etched on his face by the stove fire, mountain winds, and sorrow were like stone.
He probably only felt bitter, yet couldn't find any words to describe it.
After a long silence, he took out the small clay pipe from his waist and silently began to smoke.
...
Rentu left with his child.
My mother and I couldn't help but sigh at his plight.
"Alas... child after child is born, but there's only so much land, which gets thinner with each division;
Last year's rye harvest was already poor, and the mill's loan interest is frighteningly high;
Government tax bills keep coming, with more and more categories;
I hear new recruits are being conscripted again, who knows if it will be his eldest son's turn... and that new tax collector, even harsher than the last... These things, one after another, have truly tormented him into a soulless puppet."
My mother whispered, her eyes filled with pity and helplessness.]
What caused "Rentu's" suffering were precisely those "gentlemen" in Paris—they were arrogant, conceited, incompetent... then they lost wars and plunged the country into chaos.
But it was these silent farmers who ultimately bore the consequences.
Lionel sighed, then suddenly thought of the recently passed education bill, the ongoing debate over the free compulsory primary education bill, and Alice, whose eyes lit up at the mention of a women's normal school...
And suddenly, he felt that the future was not so bleak.
But how long would the night last before the dawn arrived?
Lionel moved his quill, writing the final lines of text—
[In a haze, a terraced vineyard on a hillside unfolded before my eyes, with a golden full moon hanging in the deep blue sky above.
I thought: hope is like a road on the ground; in reality, there was no road, but when many people walk on it, it becomes a road.]
----
The next morning, Lionel went to Lalagne with two envelopes, intending to send them via the fastest postal express to Paris.
One thick envelope was for Alice at "Villa Meudon"; he believed that once she copied its contents, she would feel much relieved;
The other thin envelope was for Sophie, who was still working at "Orby Trading Company"; she would surely be happy when she saw it...
As for Lionel, he hired a guide to take him to a remote place where Lalagne's oldest convent was located—Notre-Dame de Lourdes.
That was where Alice had originally "entered the convent."
(End of chapter)
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