Chapter 950: Schérer's Travelogue Part Three
Schérer was struck with amazement. Although the material used for those clothes was ordinary, they were clearly well-designed and expertly tailored. They had to be worth at least three to five florins—roughly ten francs.
The idea that the French government would provide such garments to workers for free was simply incredible.
'Was their King truly sent by God to save the French?'
Of course, Joseph wasn't actually trying to "save the world."
The clause he had included in the Labor Protection and Safety Act requiring the provision of work uniforms was entirely intended to support the textile industry in Lyon.
Indeed, factories could receive a government subsidy for these free uniforms—one franc and three sous per set—but the law required that they be custom-ordered from French textile mills.
Subsequently, the textile factories in Lyon vied for these massive orders, putting significant effort into design while driving prices as low as possible.
Ultimately, because the demand across France was so immense, the cost of production plummeted. A set sold for only three francs and three sous.
Furthermore, the uniforms weren't exactly gifts; if a worker resigned, they were required to return them to the factory.
In France's major cities, most workers continued to wear their uniforms even after their shifts to save money on their own clothes. This was why Mrs. Schérer had mistaken them for fashionable attire.
The Schérers stepped off the light carriage. Loath to spend money on the city's public horse-drawn buses, they carried their luggage and asked for directions along the way. Around three o'clock in the afternoon, they finally found their cousin's residence.
Baron Schérer looked at the rather cramped two-story house before him, feeling a sense of unease.
"Elijah's life doesn't seem as prosperous as he claimed," he whispered to his wife.
The latter nodded silently.
This house was far inferior to their residence in Vienna; it was the kind of place typically chosen by minor officials or small-time merchants.
It seemed their cousin Elijah had likely been bragging in his letters.
If that was the case, it would be difficult for him to spare 1,700 florins to lend them.
Baron Schérer took a deep breath. Since they had come all this way, they had to at least try.
He stepped forward and knocked on the door. After a long moment, the sound of footsteps descending the stairs echoed from within. A slightly plump, middle-aged man with small eyes and brown hair pulled open the door. "You are... Ah, my dearest sister, and Rabaud! What took you so long to get here?"
He hurriedly ushered them inside. "Old John isn't feeling well today and took the day off. I was just upstairs having a drink. Here, just leave the luggage to me."
As soon as Schérer stepped through the door, he was greeted by a rich, potent fragrance.
He turned to find the source and quickly spotted a dozen wooden crates stacked in the corner by the stairs, adorned with beautiful paper labels.
The scent was wafting from there.
"Sit down, sit down. I'll get you some wine," Elijah greeted them warmly. "Oh, it's a shame Old John isn't here today. It looks like I'll have to go out and buy dinner. Luckily, there's a decent restaurant nearby..."
Mrs. Schérer asked in confusion, "Is Irene not at home?"
Irene was her cousin's wife.
"She went to the opera," Elijah's voice called out from upstairs. "You know I have no interest in that sort of thing."
"But shouldn't you have gone with her?" Mrs. Schérer regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. She assumed her cousin was short on funds and couldn't afford two tickets, forcing his wife to go alone.
Elijah came back down with a bottle of wine, seemingly unbothered. "She has company, don't you worry about her."
"Oh? And who might that be?"
"Viscount Jonathan. They get along quite well."
The Schérers immediately exchanged looks, their faces masks of awkwardness.
"Well... you just let them... I mean, so casually..."
"What of it?" Elijah chuckled as he poured their wine. "This is France; you'll have to get used to it. Besides, I have my own Madame Hyguette."
Schérer quickly changed the subject. "I heard you're in the cosmetics business now?"
"That's right." Elijah gestured toward the crates in the corner. "Those right there. I was worried about thieves, so I kept the stock at home."
Schérer's heart sank even further.
If his brother-in-law's business only consisted of that small amount of stock, he certainly couldn't be making much money.
This trip was likely a waste of time.
Elijah suddenly asked, "By the way, how is young Lukas doing?"
Desperate to save her son, Mrs. Schérer cast aside her reservations and spoke plainly. "A charge of rebellion. However, if we can provide 3,000 florins for arrangements before next April, we can save his life."
Elijah nodded solemnly. "At least it's a problem that money can solve. How much are you short?"
Baron Schérer glanced at his wife, who squeezed the hem of her dress tightly. "We've scraped together 1,300 florins. Rabaud should be able to find work at a newspaper office, and we might save another 200 florins over the year, so..."
Elijah did a quick calculation and said, "Don't wait a year. Lukas's situation should be settled as soon as possible.
"It just so happens I collected a payment of 4,500 francs last week. I'll go to the bank and withdraw it for you tomorrow."
Schérer was stunned that he had actually agreed. He hurriedly added, "Such a large sum... are you truly going to... lend it to us?"
"Of course. My dear nephew is in danger, after all."
Schérer took a deep breath. Following the principles of a gentleman, he said, "This may be presumptuous of me, but you don't seem to be particularly wealthy. If such a large sum affects your business..."
Elijah blinked, then waved his hand with a laugh. "It's only four thousand francs. You needn't worry."
He pointed to the wooden crates by the stairs. "Look there. Once those goods are shipped to Damascus, they'll sell for over ten thousand francs."
"That much?!" Schérer gasped in shock. "Is that jewelry in there?"
"Of course not. As you know, I'm in the cosmetics trade. Those are bottles of Angel Water from Paris Angel, along with some face masks and the like. The noblewomen of the Ottoman Empire will fight over them like mad."
Elijah patted his brother-in-law's shoulder reassuringly. "I'm the secondary agent for Paris Angel in Damascus. I make the trip three or four times a year. The profit margin is over fifteen percent."
Schérer did some quick math in his head. According to his brother-in-law, those 4,000 francs were merely a single year's profit.
He looked at Elijah in disbelief. "I had no idea your business had grown so large."
Mrs. Schérer scanned the house from top to bottom, asking in confusion, "Then why do you live in such a... modest house?"
Elijah shook his head with a bitter smile. "This is a prime location in Reims, and property is incredibly expensive. I paid eighteen thousand francs for this shabby house."
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