CHAPTER 1113: CHAPTER 103: MY STRUGGLE (PART 2)

Thirty ducats and a hundred thalers, plus a hundred pounds, if converted, this amounts to about 2500 francs, which anywhere in the world is not a small sum. Even in a place like Paris, this money is enough for a lady to live decently for three to four years.

However, this young man seemed completely indifferent to it, a stark contrast to his performance at the tavern that day.

Just how rich does one have to be to spend like him?

Or perhaps, he’s just pretending to be wealthy?

It’s not impossible, because Clara had seen too many of these types in Paris.

But Clara prided herself on her good judgment of people, and this young man, even if he were an English lord, couldn’t possibly be the wealthy kind, because his performance at the tavern that day was so natural, it was not something an inexperienced person could portray.

Clara sarcastically remarked, with some harshness: "Where did you get so much money? Have you paid off your ten thousand francs debt?"

Arthur heard this and knew this girl might be tactfully accusing him of lying that day.

He jested: "Of course, Miss. I teamed up with others for a business venture."

"Business?" Clara feigned ignorance: "What kind of business could a good-for-nothing university student do?"

"Oh, Miss, I’m different from those at the university. I’ve been out in the world for several years, so I have experience, and my partner is very rich."

"And then?"

"Then." Arthur laughed, patting the money pouch in his hand: "Then, now I have money, and he has experience."

Upon hearing this, Clara couldn’t help but laugh, and her previously stern face failed to hold its seriousness.

She kicked Arthur and said, "You truly are a con artist."

"Of course, your teachings that day were imprinted in my heart. Very useful life philosophy, something one can benefit from for a lifetime." Arthur continued: "Such an important philosophy of life, I think it’s worth paying for."

"I think so too." Clara unceremoniously took the money bag: "Did you think I’d return the money? Young man, girls in Paris aren’t as restrained as women in London. We are the embodiment of material desires, always pursuing exquisite watches, beautiful dresses, and satin hats, and we never intend to change our targets."

Arthur chuckled and replied: "That’s the best, things you can pay for with money are always the most cost-effective."

Clara opened the money bag, checking the coins inside as she replied: "It seems you’re not an ordinary university student, at least much stronger than most fools in Paris, much better than me. To be honest, I used to see you as a little brother because you acted so pitiful before."

"Actually, I wasn’t entirely acting, I did tell some truth."

"Oh?"

Clara picked up a ducat coin, held it up to the sun outside the car window, squinting her eyes, appreciating it. She loved the taste and luster of gold coins, these shiny little things fascinated her more than all the luxury stores by Fry Square combined.

As she admired, she asked: "Where does the truth start?"

"From ’I am a university student’."

"And where does it end?"

"It ends there too."

Hearing this, Clara glared at Arthur with her blue-gray eyes: "You truly are a bastard, not much different from Thiers."

Arthur shrugged: "I think there’s a difference actually, at least a thirty centimeters gap between us."

"Ha..." Clara squinted: "Feeling smug once out of France? Well, the Home Secretary of France indeed can’t arrest you in Gottingen."

Arthur was about to speak but saw Schneider, having exchanged his money, leaving the bank, and he suggested: "Since you don’t plan to stay, shall we have one last meal together before you leave? I heard from a colleague that while German food isn’t as good as French cuisine, it’s certainly better than London’s."

"Of course." Clara retorted: "Both French and German have stomachs, we don’t have coal furnaces in ours."

Arthur took Clara’s hand, helping her out of the carriage: "How would you know you can’t handle coal if you don’t try it? Before I moved to England, I also thought I couldn’t stomach those things."

"Before moving to England?" Clara mocked: "Weren’t you always living in the provinces before you came to Paris?"

Arthur wasn’t annoyed by this and instead replied earnestly: "Miss, though everywhere but Paris is provincial, not all places have cuisine as terrible as England’s."

Upon seeing them stepping off the carriage, Schneider waved his hat at them: "Arthur, Miss Clara, this damn weather is too hot, shall we grab a drink at the tavern first?"

"Absolutely, that’s what we were thinking too."

Led by Schneider, Arthur and his group quickly found a beer tavern on the not-so-spacious street of Gottingen.

It was the height of summer, and the streets were sparse with people, but inside the tavern was packed with all sorts of people, mostly young men, clearly students from the University of Gottingen. Only students would have the mood and leisure to head to a tavern at noon, sipping and drinking heartily without restraint, youthful vigor fully on display.

Arthur hadn’t even pushed open the tavern’s gate before the sound of lively cheers came from inside, immediately followed by a passionate German speech.

"After the German Confederation passed the ’Carlsbad decree’ amendment, Metternich’s firm hand is gripping our throats ever tighter! The entire German Student Association was disbanded, in Frankfurt, our compatriots, young people like us, those Frankfurt students faced executions and arrests!

How long has it been since the land of Germany exuded the breath of freedom? We keep compromising, fantasizing about the German Confederation, fantasizing that Austria and Prussia will see our efforts and eventually relent. I once called on everyone to fight peacefully, to express our demands rationally.

But what have we received? The land of Germany has only shame left, reactionaries, Metternich’s police, mocking our weak actions, trampling as they please on academic and thought freedoms we are proud of. Stand up, classmates, all German universities are watching us, watching Gottingen.

At this crisis moment, only we, the ever-defiant and long-standing Gottingen, can shoulder the responsibility of leading all German students. Heinrich Heine, our hero from the University of Gottingen, forced into exile overseas, residing in the filthiest, most impoverished quarters of Paris, eating inedible black bread, yet cannot break his spirit!

Life is like this glass of beer; you need to understand what you want, stop living in illusory dreams! Life is like this glass of beer; the only difference is what you pour into it and what you want left in it! You might choose not to drink, but you must know what you’re doing, understand what you’re fighting for!

Decades from now, if your children ask you what you did in your youth, I hope we can proudly say on our deathbeds: in my youth, I was a hero like Heinrich Heine; in front of the police, the military police, Metternich, your grandfather still fought for the happiness of all German people!"

Arthur couldn’t help himself and pushed open the tavern door, took off his hat and asked: "Sorry, who’s going to fight?"