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Updated: May 2, 2025
Paris smiled, for an hour or two, in the year 1801, when, amidst Napoleon's mighty projects for remodelling the religion and government of his empire, the ironical satirist, Sylvain Maréchal, thrust in his "Plan for a Law prohibiting the Alphabet to Women."
Four years ago, in the Restaurant Sylvain, the ingenuous and ignorant Sophia had shyly sat in awe of the resplendent courtesan, with her haughty stare, her large, easy gestures, and her imperturbable contempt for the man who was paying. And now Sophia knew that she, Sophia, knew all that was to be known about human nature.
Theophile Goujart and Sylvain Kohn took Christophe to the Opera Comique to hear Pelleas and Melisande. They were proud to display the opera to him as proud as though they had written it themselves. They gave Christophe to understand that it would be the road to Damascus for him. And they went on eulogizing it even after the piece had begun. Christophe shut them up and listened intently.
Next time he told Sylvain Kohn curtly that he would never again play in his rooms. Sylvain Kohn swore by all his gods that he would not invite anybody again. But he did so by stealth, and hid his guests in the next room. Naturally, Christophe found that out, and went away in a fury, and this time did not return.
"I can tell you about the young English lady if you will promise upon your honor that you will not betray me. I dare not come here again. I dare not even speak to you while the others are about. Go to the Café Sylvain to-night and order dinner in a private room. I will come at half-past seven. Duncombe drew a little sigh of relief. At last then he was to know something.
But Sylvain Kohn was no safer as a guide in that world than in the world of books, and, thanks to him, Christophe's first impression was almost as repulsive as that of his first essay in literature. It seemed that there was everywhere the same spirit of mental prostitution. The pleasure-mongers were divided into two schools. The other school was in the modern style.
A few minutes later they were seen making the first steps of the descent; then a cloud closed around them and hid them from view. Eight hours passed, the cloud still remained, night came, no one had returned to the Grands Mulets. Sylvain Couttet, keeper of the cabin there, suspected a misfortune, and sent down to the valley for help.
It seemed as though everybody wrote: men, women, children, officers, actors, society people, blackguards. It was an epidemic. For the time being Christophe gave it up. He felt that such a guide as Sylvain Kohn must lead him hopelessly astray.
"A Boileau?" said Sylvain quizzically. "A Boileau, perhaps, more than these artists of genius." "If we had a Boileau," said Sylvain Kohn, "no one would listen to him." "If they did not listen to him," replied Christophe, "he would not be a Boileau. I bet you that if I set out and told you the truth about yourselves, quite bluntly, however clumsy I might be, you would have to gulp it down."
In the end Diener had gone abroad for his education in business, and they did not see each other again: but Christophe had news of him from time to time from the people in the town with whom Diener remained on friendly terms. As for Sylvain Kohn, his relation with Christophe had been of another kind altogether.
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