Chapter 521: Paradise
As night fell, the Parisian streets were illuminated as brightly as day by the gas lamps. Pedestrians streamed ceaselessly, making it even livelier than during the day—many workers didn't finish until 8 PM. Only then could they finally catch their breath, go out to buy daily necessities, and stroll around to relax their bodies, weary from a full day's labor.
However, the dilapidated shantytown outside Antoine Town remained pitch black, with only occasional screams or curses indicating that people still lived there.
Nevertheless, this was considered a relatively decent area in the Parisian suburbs, as it wasn't far from Antoine Town, which was lined with workshops. Residents here could easily find work in town, and while the income was low, it was just enough to fill their stomachs.
At this moment, inside a small hut built of makeshift wooden planks, a woman in her forties, her head wrapped in a graying cloth headscarf, wearing a long, coarse gray linen dress mended countless times, was vigorously scrubbing clothes in the dim starlight filtering through the window. Her hands were rough and swollen, her lips chapped with dead skin—she looked like a working-class woman who toiled all day just to make ends meet.
"Domi, go hang these up. Remember not to put them too close to Frank's clothes, or his wife might take them again."
She lifted a black formal jacket from the basin and handed it to a boy of about ten years old. Then, she put her swollen fingers into her mouth, allowing the warmth of her mouth to slightly ease the intense pain.
She looked at the figure on the bed nearby, hesitated for a moment, then withdrew her fingers and said, "Paul, did you hear? The government says we can go to the Tax Bureau to appeal against unreasonable taxes from the past..."
The man on the bed tried to roll over to face her but was too exhausted to move a single finger. He only mumbled, 'Hmm, Mr. Pierre mentioned it during the day.'
The woman, somewhat agitated, rose and walked towards the bed. Suddenly, she felt something soft underfoot, and a "Squeak!" immediately echoed in the dim room as a mouse shot out the window.
"Oh, God..."
She fumbled with her hands to set the tub upright, only to find little water left inside. She began to murmur tearfully, "It's over, all over. I won't be able to finish these clothes tonight..."
If she couldn't deliver the cleaned clothes on time, she would be docked 5 sous. This meant two children would go without breakfast tomorrow morning, or she and all her children would only get half their usual bread.
Hearing the commotion, the man on the bed struggled to sit up. He reached out and found the dining table, and after orienting himself, quickly walked over to support his wife, gently rubbing her back to comfort her. "It's alright, dear. We'll go to the Tigny River for water right away; we should still have time."
He felt for the wooden tub, lifted it with effort, and turned to call out to the boy outside, "Domi, look after your brothers! Your mother and I will be back soon!"
"Got it."
A moment later, four small boys, ranging from four to ten years old, leaned on the creaking doorframe, watching their parents' retreating figures disappear into the night.
Madame Leonor, carrying the large wooden basin, followed behind her husband, timidly whispering, "I'm so sorry, Paul... This won't affect your work tomorrow, will it?"
The man silently shook his head. Losing these three hours of sleep would certainly make it difficult for him to recover his strength tomorrow, but he didn't want to say so, lest his wife worry.
At worst, he would voluntarily 'go down into the pit' tomorrow, allowing him to carry a few fewer loads of earth. Although it wasn't his day to 'go down into the pit', a few days of nausea and vomiting were better than having his wages docked.
They walked in the darkness for a while. Madame Leonor then remembered their earlier conversation and said to the figure beside her, "Paul, perhaps we should try at the Tax Bureau. I still have all the old receipts and penalty documents. If it really could..."
Leonor sighed, wearily, "It's no use. Those are just ways for bureaucrats to show off their achievements. Lord Pélier paid the King his contracted tax amount; how could the gentlemen at the Tax Bureau possibly offend him?"
After another period of silence, the woman looked up at the starry sky and slowly said, "Children's father, do you remember our old Sophie?"
Sophie was their old horse. Of course, that was five years ago.
"That year, she kept passing gas and wouldn't eat anything, so weak she could barely stand. You said we should just sell her to the butcher, but I insisted you didn't. Later, I nursed her for half a month, feeding her oats, and she actually recovered! The next year, with her help, we harvested a full 270 bushels of wheat! Do you remember that year we danced around the threshing floor? I was pregnant with Yoann then..."
Leonor grumbled, "Why bring that up?"
"That was the happiest time of my life!" The woman excitedly lifted the wooden basin high, just as she had once lifted their eldest son, Domi, to dance in the village threshing ground, her eyes welling with tears. "Let's just try it. Pélier shouldn't have taken our land, or poor old Sophie. If we can get them back, we can return to the village and continue..."
"Even if the gentlemen at the Tax Bureau really don't care, we won't be any worse off than we are now, will we?"
Leonor sighed softly, "But that would take up at least an entire day. When I passed Corse Street, I saw the Tax Bureau was swarming with people; a day of waiting might not even be enough.
"You know, if I miss a day of work, we'll have no bread. And I might even be penalized an extra day's wages, we'll be..."
"It's alright! I can take on ten more loads of laundry starting tomorrow. In just half a month, I'll have saved enough for a day's bread. Please, let's just try it!"
Leonor stopped, turned, and took his wife's hand, gently stroking the patches of redness, carefully avoiding two ulcerated spots.
"Look at your hands. You need rest, not more laundry."
During the day, she took on work making wicker baskets, often pricking her fingers with the bamboo strips. After dark, she transformed into a laundress, soaking her injured hands in icy water, causing the wounds to repeatedly swell and fester.
Leonor knew that the little finger and ring finger of her left hand had lost sensation. Father Hugo, from the parish, said it would be best to amputate them, otherwise her entire arm would rot.
But they had no money for the surgery at all.
Let alone the surgery cost, even if a doctor was willing to amputate for free, she wouldn't dare accept. Because after surgery, she wouldn't be able to do anything for at least a month, and with Leonor's meager wages alone, their children would likely starve to death.
"No! I'd rather let them all rot away!"
Madame Leonor suddenly pulled her hand back forcefully and exclaimed, "One day, at most two days, and perhaps we can get our land back!
"You'll never have to push that cursed dirt cart again, and you'll be far away from those toxic substances forever!
"Madame Frank told me that prolonged exposure to that stuff can cause blindness; one of her distant relatives went blind that way."
"Please, at most, we'll eat Mr. Maxence's bread for a while. But if it works, we'll return to Paradise!"
Maxence was the most unscrupulous baker in Antoine Town. At least half of his bread was sawdust, and sometimes it was even mixed with dirt. But it had one advantage: the price for four pounds of bread was one sou cheaper than anywhere else.
Paradise?
Leonor was stunned.
He used to be a farmer and had no other skills. After his land was mortgaged to Pélier, he could only come to Paris to do the cheapest, most undesirable jobs.
For instance, now he worked for a dye factory. Specifically, he pushed a cart to transport a type of earth containing some "alkaline substance" from three or four kilometers away back to the factory, then dumped it into a large vat to mix with highly toxic liquid.
It was said that the earth reduced the toxicity in the water. Aside from that, the job was alright, except every ten days he had to go down into the bottom of the vat and stir the dumped earth with a shovel. At that time, he would be very close to the toxic liquid, and after a day's work, he would inevitably feel dizzy, his eyes and lungs burning as if on fire...
In comparison, going to his own field every morning to turn the soil, water the plants, and returning at dusk, though still aching all over, and not much grain left after paying annual taxes, his whole family always had something to eat, and his wife's hands and his own eyes were still intact—it truly felt like paradise.
He realized he had almost forgotten that life.
Every day, crushed by over 14 hours of strenuous labor, his remaining energy focused solely on that small piece of bread; how could he think of anything else?
His wife continued to speak beside him: "Domi is ten years old and still can't read. Father Hugo says Marc can already go to church literacy classes, but now they have to clean chimneys every day.
"If they can't read, they won't be able to find higher-paying jobs later on...
"Oh, and Mr. Faustin from the laundry told me that the Crown Prince himself issued the order for the Tax Bureau to review tax accounts. Perhaps those bureaucrats wouldn't dare..."
A glint of light suddenly flickered in Leonor's cloudy eyes.
He clearly remembered that when he first moved to Paris, gangs ran rampant, and thieves were more numerous than summer mosquitoes. Every day, he had to walk home with ten or so fellow workers for safety.
Later, it was the Crown Prince who launched a massive Police Reform. He personally watched as imposing police officers, shouting 'In the Crown Prince's name,' cornered batches of gang members with guns, then tied them all up and took them away.
Since then, their living environment had become much safer. Situations like going out for water past 10 PM, as they were doing now, would have been unthinkable just a few years ago.
And that miraculous medicine, the Crown Prince's Blessing, which could seemingly cure all illnesses. It cost only a few sous. Other remedies prescribed by town doctors easily cost one franc or more. Many of his and his neighbors' children had their lives saved by this medicine, especially for fevers; a few doses quickly made them better.
Leonor then recalled the magnificent spectacle of the Crown Prince, leading his triumphant army, parading through the streets of Paris at the beginning of the year. At that time, His Highness was like a god of war emanating golden light.
Perhaps those bureaucrats wouldn't dare perfunctorily handle the War God's instructions.
Thinking this, he instantly made up his mind and nodded to his wife. "Dear, then let's try it."
...
Paris.
Corse Street.
Leonor sat wearily on the ground, his stomach rumbling non-stop. Queuing didn't consume much physical strength, so he had only brought half a pound of bread as his day's ration.
Just then, a shout came from ahead: "Next!"
"It's your turn," someone reminded Leonor.
He instantly started, stood up, and walked towards the row of tables in front of the General Tax Bureau.
A young recorder looked up at him and asked, "What's your name, and what are you appealing?"
"I... I am Paul Gatien Leonor. I... I believe that five years ago, Tax Collector Lord Pélier said I owed taxes..."
Leonor swallowed nervously, then mustered his courage and said, "And fined me money. I want to ask if this was unreasonable..."
The General Tax Bureau recorder took several documents from his hand and nodded politely. "Could you tell me the specific circumstances?"
Leonor recalled the events that Mr. Pierre, the factory foreman, had helped him organize, and took a deep breath. "That spring was a bit cold. You know, that slows down the growth of wheat.
"Sure enough, the wheat only began to ear in May. Then Lord Pélier suddenly sent someone to notify the village that this year's taxes had to be paid early, by mid-June.
"In previous years, harvesting could begin by mid-June. But that year, the wheat didn't ripen until July.
"The tax collector came to my house three times to collect taxes and even beat me. But the wheat hadn't been harvested; I had nothing to give him. So, he said I was severely delinquent in taxes and imposed a fine of double the tax amount..."
Leonor's voice caught in his throat, his lips trembling as he managed to say, "At the time, to increase my spring planting, I borrowed a high-interest loan of 30 francs from Lord Pélier.
"I calculated that even if I sold all the harvest from my fields, it wouldn't be enough to pay taxes after repaying his loan..."
He sighed heavily again. "The tax collector tied me to a tree at the village entrance for two days and two nights. My wife was pregnant at the time, and she miscarried from the shock...
"God! I had no choice but to mortgage all my land and livestock to Lord Pélier. In the end, I still owed him 15 francs, which I only fully repaid the year before last."
Leonor looked at the recorder with red eyes. "Sir, you know that taxes were usually paid at the end of July. If they hadn't suddenly collected taxes early that year, I wouldn't have been fined; I would have been able to pay that money. I asked Mr. Pierre at the factory, and he said Lord Pélier couldn't arbitrarily change the tax deadline..."
The young recorder frowned as he wrote down everything Leonor said, then carefully asked a few more questions about the events before giving him a notice. "You may return home for now. As soon as we find a result, we will send someone to contact you immediately."
"Yes, yes. Thank you, sir!" Leonor nodded repeatedly, heading towards Antoine Town against the setting sun. Behind him, hundreds of others in similar situations were still waiting in an extremely long queue.
Three days later, a tax official, accompanied by two assistants, arrived at Leonor's home.
...
Tuileries Palace, second floor.
Goldsmid, with an expression of seeking praise, said to Joseph, "Your Highness, in addition to planning to halt trade for merchant caravans, they also intend to disrupt the normal flow of goods in and out of the Port of Marseille.
"I discreetly probed Pélier, and it seems they plan to put up a sum of money to instigate all the port stewards and workers to strike and go home."
Joseph's expression immediately turned cold.
These fellows truly didn't know what was good for them.
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