Montiel, an Alpine town usually so quiet that only cowbells and the wind could be heard, welcomed its most distinguished guests in its history on this day.
The peaceful streets were stirred by wheels and hooves, and the air was filled with tension and excitement.
A procession consisting of four-wheeled carriages, light two-wheeled carts, and mounted attendants grandly entered the town square.
At the heart of the procession was a four-wheeled carriage, adorned with the ministry's emblem and pulled by two tall Normandy horses.
Before the carriage had even come to a complete stop, Mayor Martino of Lalagne rushed forward, personally opening the door for the important figure inside.
The Undersecretary of the Ministry of Public Education and Fine Arts, Count Louis Philippe de Rohan, emerged with a reserved demeanor.
He was dressed in a well-tailored dark frock coat, the ribbon of his Legion of Honor medal meticulously in place, and bore the usual expression of a Parisian dignitary—a mix of pity and authority.
His gaze swept over the low-lying houses, the shrinking villagers, and the barren land, and he nodded slightly.
Mayor Martino's back was bent so low his head nearly touched the ground: "Your Excellency, Count, this is Montiel of Lalagne! You must be tired from your journey!"
Count Rohan gave a faint "Hmm" and extended his hand for the Mayor to offer a perfunctory support, his gaze, however, already searching past him for another key figure of this visit.
François Bertrand, the Mayor of Montiel, and Father Peltier almost scurried forward to greet him.
Mayor Bertrand wiped his hands on his coat before daring to extend one: "Min… Minister, Your Excellency… Welcome… I am Bertrand, the Mayor of Montiel…"
Count Rohan gently corrected him: "It's Undersecretary, Mr. Mayor." He then briefly touched his fingertips before releasing them.
Father Peltier made the sign of the cross: "May the Lord bless you, Your Excellency."
Mayor Martino hastily added from the side: "Your Excellency, Count, although Montiel is remote, I have always paid close attention to its… educational affairs…"
Count Rohan wasn't listening to the Mayor's self-praise at all; his gaze finally found Lionel Sorel, who stood a little further back in the crowd.
Lionel hadn't rushed forward like the others, simply standing calmly; but upon seeing him, Count Rohan's face showed a more genuine smile.
He took a few steps forward, extending his hand proactively: "Lionel! I didn't expect our next meeting to be in your hometown!
You have done something remarkable here!"
Lionel's demeanor remained neither humble nor arrogant: "Your Excellency, Count, welcome to the Alps. It was a long journey, you must be tired!"
Count Rohan shook Lionel's hand firmly: "For the future of France, this journey is nothing.
Your benevolence and foresight are a model of the civic spirit advocated by the Republic! Minister Ferry has also expressed his high appreciation for this!"
Seeing Lionel "chatting and laughing" with the unapproachable Count, the Undersecretary, Mayor Martino's heart was filled with mixed emotions.
He had indeed hoped Lionel could bring "Parisian connections," but he never expected it to be in the form of such a top-down, surprise inspection.
This completely disrupted his small plans, leaving him only with trepidation.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Count Rohan signaled for the ceremony to begin.
He was led to a slightly elevated stone in the center of the small square—the same spot where Lionel had recently announced the scholarship program.
Reporters' pencils flew across paper, and even a camera had been set up.
Almost all of Montiel's residents had gathered around the square.
Count Rohan cleared his throat, his voice becoming resonant and infectious: "Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of Montiel!
I have come here today from Paris, not merely representing the Ministry of Education, but also representing the government of the Republic—
A deep concern for the educational rights of every corner and every citizen of France!"
Mayor Martino led the applause.
Count Rohan paused before continuing: "In Paris, we discuss grand blueprints, the future of the nation!
But here, in Montiel, I see the cornerstone of that blueprint, and I see the hope for the future!
Mr. Lionel Sorel, your outstanding son, through his wise and generous actions, has taught us all a lesson—
Education requires not only national investment but also a high sense of responsibility and dedication from every citizen!"
...
After spending a lengthy 20 minutes praising Lionel, praising "Parisian friends," praising Minister Ferry, and subtly praising himself, Count Rohan finally delivered the most crucial message:
"...I hereby solemnly announce that the Ministry of Public Education and Fine Arts, and I personally, will closely monitor the use of this scholarship!
The education department of the Upper Alps, the school inspector of Gap, and even the Lalagne Municipal Government, must provide full support and cooperation to ensure that Mr. Lionel Sorel's wishes are carried out without fail!
This is not only respect for the donor but also a defense of the Republic's educational philosophy!
Any dereliction of duty, any attempt to profit from or obstruct it, is a crime against the nation and its future, and will never be tolerated!"
His words were decisive and brooks no argument.
Mayor Martino's face turned pale, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead; Mayor Bertrand and Father Peltier also instinctively straightened their backs.
The speech then concluded amidst applause. Lionel walked over to Count Rohan, and they posed for a photograph.
— — — —
Next, the main focus of the inspection was on Saint Joseph School.
The procession moved again, led by Mayor Bertrand, towards the schoolhouse converted from a dilapidated small chapel.
The sight before them was clearly worse than Count Rohan had anticipated.
Peeling plaster, a patched roof, a crooked main door, dim light, and the pervasive smell of mold…
Fortunately, it was summer vacation, so Count Rohan didn't ask to see the students.
Old Mr. Renault was so nervous he didn't know what to do with his hands and feet, his lips trembling.
Count Rohan carefully inspected the classroom, flipped through the tattered textbooks, and even touched the cold stone walls and rough blackboard.
His expression gradually darkened, his brows furrowed, and he turned to the accompanying Ministry of Education officials and school district representatives: "Gentlemen, this is a part of our French Republic!
A teacher has served here for forty years! Forty years! And our children receive their primary education in such an environment!
Is this the education we promised our citizens?"
The officials looked embarrassed, murmuring in agreement; the reporters wrote furiously.
Then, Count Rohan walked up to old Mr. Renault and proactively shook his hand: "Mr. Renault, on behalf of the Ministry of Education, and on behalf of France, I extend to you our highest respect!
Your dedication is a treasure of the Republic!"
Old Mr. Renault trembled with emotion, unable to utter a single word, only nodding repeatedly, tears glistening in his cloudy old eyes.
Count Rohan seized the opportunity to turn to the group of reporters, his voice rising again: "Gentlemen, you have all seen it! This is why Minister Jules Feri and we are sparing no effort to promote free, compulsory primary education!
Only through national legislation and financial guarantees, only by truly considering education as a national responsibility—
Can thousands upon thousands of Saint Joseph Schools escape their predicament!
Can thousands upon thousands of Mr. Renaults receive the support they deserve!
Can every child of France enjoy equal and quality education!
This is the Republic's investment in the future, and an undeniable moral obligation!"
Listening to this, Lionel could only sigh inwardly, thinking that Count Rohan was indeed an old fox of the political arena, capable of turning every opportunity into his own political capital.
Next was the interview session with the reporters.
Teacher Renault was already too excited to speak coherently, only repeating: "Thank you, Your Excellency… Thank you, Lionel… For the children… For the children…"
Lionel, helpless, could only help him answer.
At this moment, a reporter from Le Petit Journal keenly asked: "What are the main sources of funding for the operation and teachers' salaries of church schools like Saint Joseph?
Is local support sufficient?"
Lionel glanced at Teacher Renault's coat, which was even shabbier than that of Poor Léonard, then looked at Father Peltier in his elaborate priestly robes, and a cruel smile appeared on his face.