After leaving the Périette mansion, Charles pulled a watch from his pocket to check the time.
It wasn't yet noon.
Hmm, he should still be there, Charles mused to himself.
The carriage arrived before a dilapidated little garret. This type of attic apartment was generally rented out by landlords to young men who had recently arrived in Paris, short on cash but determined to make a name for themselves. As such, the facilities were extremely poor, but the rent, of course, was also extremely low.
Climbing the creaking stairs and enduring a variety of strange smells, Charles made his way to a room in the corner of the fifth floor.
He knocked gently on the door.
No response.
"Albert, it's me!" Charles called out in a low voice.
The door was abruptly thrown open.
"Charles, it's you! I thought another debt collector had shown up..." A look of delighted surprise spread across Albert-de-Foix-Grailly's delicate, slender face.
Foix and Grailly were both ancient noble houses of France, their names having been joined as one through a marriage in 1398.
Even as a man, Charles had to admit that Albert was a dashingly handsome fellow.
His features were regular and gentle, his eyes a soft, pale blue. His forehead was exceptionally fair, and his brown hair fell in natural curls. In the light, his skin appeared white and almost translucent. His refined face, wreathed in a smile, looked utterly cheerful and was extremely infectious.
However, his personality was in complete opposition to this handsome, scholarly appearance. Charles had sensed this ever since they were schoolmates together at the Lycée Henri-IV.
In the 19th century, it was common for the French nobility and bourgeoisie to send their sons to the Lycée Henri-IV, an institution that had educated countless elites. To this day, it remains one of France's top-tier schools.
After graduating, Albert had chosen to lead a life of profligacy. Now, at his young age, he was already a notorious debauchee, having made quite a name for himself even within their circle of dissolute young men.
The nobility of the day had long since lost the drive and ambition of their ancestors. Under the relentless pressure of the nouveau riche, they were bewildered and inept, stumbling at every turn. They could do nothing but watch helplessly as their glory faded away.
The "Glorious Three Days" of July 1830 had driven out the Bourbon dynasty and officially heralded the arrival of a new era in France. The nobility first lost their political power, then their hereditary privileges, and finally, they couldn't even hold on to the Chamber of Peers.
During the three days of July 28, 29, and 30, 1830, a revolution erupted in Paris to resist the reactionary measures of the Bourbon dynasty, ultimately destroying it. These days became known as the Glorious Three Days.
The seats in the French Chamber of Peers had been hereditary, with the family names recorded in a golden book, passed down through generations. However, at the end of 1831, France abolished the hereditary nature of the peerage, changing it to a system of appointment by the king. At the same time, primogeniture—the system of the eldest son inheriting all noble property—was also officially abolished, replaced by equal division among all children.
These few reforms of the July Monarchy destroyed the very foundation of the French nobility. The stripping of their hereditary political status meant they were no longer naturally superior. The abolition of primogeniture meant their wealth diminished with each generation. Once deprived of the support of power and wealth, how much could a noble bloodline truly be worth?
Faced with the irreversible tide of the era, no matter how unwilling they were, the nobles had no choice but to accept it. If the spirits of France's shrewd, capable, and ambitious monarchs and ministers of old were watching from the heavens, they could probably only sigh and say: This great France of ours is probably done for...
As time went on, the once proud and arrogant French nobility, with the exception of a few clever individuals who could adapt to the times, gradually degenerated into two groups: one lived in seclusion, so miserly it was appalling, making the accumulation of wealth their final pleasure in life; the other was debauched and unrestrained, spending money like water, piling up mountains of debt, and living with a cynical attitude, never thinking of tomorrow.
Albert was one of the latter.
These profligate young men were bundles of contradictions. On the one hand, they were cynical and utterly irresponsible, viewing pleasure-seeking as the ultimate meaning of life. On the other, they were strong and bold enough to live carefree lives despite their crushing debts, and were capable of committing all sorts of shocking deeds.
However, these differences in character did not prevent Charles and Albert from becoming good friends. Perhaps it was precisely because their personalities were so different that they were drawn to each other.
"Oh, my friend, please come in," Albert invited Charles into his rented room.
The room was unbelievably squalid. There was no furniture, only a bed and a few trunks packed with belongings. The floor and walls were covered in stains, showing no sign of ever having been cleaned by their occupant.
Because of his son's many misdeeds and his refusal to repent, Albert's father—who happened to be one of the first type of men described—had long ago cut off his financial support. And so, the direct descendant of one of France's most ancient houses was now forced to live in this hellhole.
"Please, have a seat," Albert said with the air of a king receiving a courtier, gesturing toward a trunk.
Charles obliged, plopping himself down on a dusty trunk. A sour smell wafted from under the bed into his nostrils; it seemed his friend had been drinking heavily again last night.
"You must have had a wild night again, my friend. Waiting until noon to get up every day."
At this, Albert perked up a little. "The girl last night was really something else. I didn't get back until two in the morning!"
"So how much more debt have you racked up recently?" Charles threw cold water on his enthusiasm.
"Only a few tens of thousands of francs, I think... I can't remember the exact number," Albert said, sitting on an adjacent trunk. He frowned as if trying to calculate the figure, then a moment later his brow smoothed out. "Who cares."
"Albert, don't keep living like this. you'll destroy yourself," Charles couldn't help but advise his friend softly.
"Living for the moment is the only life I want," Albert replied, still with a completely nonchalant air, directly refusing his friend's suggestion. "Alright, Charles, what wind blew you here today, coming straight to my door?"
"Nothing much. Just wanted to see you, and ask for a little favor while I'm at it."
"Wanted to see me? Well, you can see all there is to see now..." Albert stretched. "Poor old Albert is the same as ever..."
Charles shook his head with a wry smile, once again giving up on trying to persuade him.
"As for asking for a favor... of course, you can. Go on, what do you need Albert to do?"
Charles pondered for a moment.
"My cousin Charlotte, the granddaughter of the Duke de Tréville, is going to marry the son of the Marquis de Léaurand."
Albert didn't seem particularly interested, merely raising his long, thin eyebrows. "Oh. And?"
"My friend, you know how much it costs for a Duke to marry off a daughter these days. But no matter how much I ask around or investigate, no one can tell me the details of this marriage. Both families are being tight-lipped about it, and I can't get anything out of them. Normally, for an ordinary marriage, wouldn't both sides be loudly proclaiming how much they're spending, afraid that others might not know? It's as if..."
"As if there's something fishy going on?" Albert finished for him.
Charles nodded. "And, I heard that the Léaurand's youngest daughter was recently sent to a convent. When you put these two things together... it just doesn't feel right, does it?"
"Since you're here today, why don't we go for a walk in the Bois de Boulogne?" Albert said noncommittally. He stretched again and stood up. "I can catch a ride with you. I have an appointment there this afternoon anyway."
"Alright," Charles agreed. He was feeling a bit out of place here anyway.
Soon, the two were sitting side-by-side in Charles's light carriage, heading straight for the Bois de Boulogne.
The carriage sped along the road, and for a while, the only sound was the rhythmic beat of the horse's hooves. After some time, Albert suddenly asked.
"You seem very interested in this marriage. What's the matter, has your great-uncle the Duke managed to offend you again?"
"He hasn't offended me... but he has offended someone he shouldn't have, so I'm left running the errand," Charles replied, also teasingly.
"So what do you want me to do?"
Charles's expression grew serious, and he lowered his voice.
"My friend, I know you have a wide circle of friends and are well-informed. And you see, given the relationship between my family and the Duke de Tréville's, if I investigate myself, it will likely arouse suspicion... So, I was hoping you could help me find out what the inside story of this marriage is."
"Alright, no problem," Albert nodded without the slightest hesitation. "I'll find a way to get to the bottom of it."
"Thank you!" Charles reached out and grasped his friend's long, slender right hand. "I knew I wasn't wrong to ask you!"
"However, I am still a little curious. Why are you so invested in this? Is there some profit to be made? Or... were you commissioned by someone to save the poor Mademoiselle Léaurand?" Albert stared at Charles with great interest. "Charles, I know you too well. You're no hero who goes around doing good deeds for others. You don't like playing the knight-errant at all."
"Of course, it's for..." Charles had no intention of hiding it from him.
"Your sister, right?" Before Charles could answer, Albert quickly supplied the answer himself. "I knew it."