The name of Mr. De Luxembourg was once again mentioned. The Mrs. Ambassador of Turkey took the opportunity to recount that his young wife's grandfather, who had made a fortune in flour and flour products, invited him to dinner. He wrote back and refused, and wrote "Mr. De Moussen" on the envelope. I'm sorry that you can't come to dinner. If you come, my dear friend, I can let you accompany me well, because it's a small party. Only the miller, his son and you are on the table." I think this story is not only unpleasant, because I know that my dear Mr. de Nassau is morally noble and will never call his wife's grandfather "miller" when he writes to his grandfather. Besides, he knows that he is his heir; moreover, the first few words seem foolish, because the Miller is in the position of this title. The title of La Fontaine's fable is not reminiscent if it is too conspicuous. But stupidity ruled the Saint Germanic region, and bad intentions exacerbated stupidity, so everyone present felt that Grandpa's response was "appropriate" and that Grandpa was smarter than his grandson-in-law, so he immediately declared with confidence that he was an outstanding person. The Duke of Chartrello used this story to tell the story I heard in the cafe about "Everyone goes to bed". The Duchess interrupted Mr. de Luxembourg as soon as he began to say that Mr. de Gelmont had to get up in front of his wife and protested, "No, he's ridiculous, but he's not so ridiculous yet." I am convinced that all the legends about Mr. de Luxembourg are lies. Whenever those actors or witnesses are making up stories, I am convinced that there will always be people who will refute the rumors. But I don't know whether Mrs. de Gelmont's refutation was based on facts or on self-esteem. Anyway, self-esteem finally gave in to malice, because she laughed and said, "But I've also been humiliated once. He invited me to have refreshments in the afternoon in order to let me know the Grand Duchess of Luxembourg, who was so gracefully addressing his wife in his letter to his aunt. In my reply to him, I regretted that I could not be invited and said,'As for your quoted Grand Duchess of Luxembourg, please tell her that if she comes to see me, I will be at home every Thursday after 5 p.m. Later, I was insulted again. When I was in Luxembourg, I called him and began to say that his Highness was about to eat. Then I said that his Highness had just finished eating. Two hours later, he would not come to the phone. So I changed my mind. I said,'Please have Count Nassau on the phone'. It touched his pain, and he came at once." Everyone laughed at the story of the Duchess and other similar stories, that is to say, I'm sure they were all lies, because Luxembourg Nassau was the smartest, kindest, smartest person I've ever met, and frankly the most perfect person. Later things will prove me right. I should admit that Mrs. de Gelmont has said so much to defame Mr. de Luxembourg, but there is also a pertinent sentence.
"He's not always like that," she said. "It was only later that he lost his mind and thought he was the king of fairy tales. He was not foolish. Even at the time of his engagement, she always talked about his marriage in a rather interesting way, as if it was an unexpected happiness for him:'It's a fairy tale. I should drive into Luxembourg in a magnificent four-wheeled carriage', he told his uncle De Onesan. His uncle (you know, Luxembourg is very small) answered him:'I'm afraid you won't get in in in a gorgeous carriage. I advise you to take a goat cart. Not only was Nassau not angry, but he was the first person to tell us about it. Before anyone else laughed, he laughed first."
"Onesan is witty and humorous, much like his mother, whose surname is Montessor. Onesan is in poor health. What a pity."
Fortunately, the topic turned to Onesan, otherwise, the slander against Mr. De Luxembourg's dull slander would continue indefinitely. Duke de Gelmont explained that Onesan's great-grandmother was the sister of Mary de Castilla Monthew, and that Mary was the wife of Dimolion de Lorraine and, therefore, Oliana's aunt. So the conversation returned to genealogy, but the silly Mrs. Turkish Ambassador whispered in my ear, "You seem to be very valued by Mr. de Gelmont, but be careful!" I asked her to explain, "I mean, he can entrust his daughter to him, but he can't entrust his son to him. Needless to say, you will understand. On the contrary, if there ever was a man who had a fanatical and exclusive love for women, it was Duke Gelmont. But the Ambassador's wife believes in errors and lies most, which is like living space for her. Without them, she can hardly walk away." His brother Momo was worried about his bad habits. By the way, for other reasons (he never said hello when he saw her), I was very disgusted with ink. Their aunt, Mrs. Verbalisis, was also very upset. Ah! I adore her. She was a saint and a model of the old aristocracy. Not only is morality noble, but also prudent and respectful. She met Ambassador Nobuya every day and still called him Mr. By the way, Mr. de Nobwa has left a good memory for Turkey.
I wanted to hear Mr. de Gelmont talk about family, but I didn't answer the Ambassador's wife. The family he talked about was not very important. From his conversation. I know of all kinds of unexpected marriages, including those with low ranks. This marriage is charming. For example, during the July Dynasty, the Duke of Gelmont and the Duke of Fransack married two beautiful daughters of a famous navigator. When they became Duchess, they were combined with foreign countries. They had both the charm of exotic civilian women and the charm of French ladies under Louis-Philip's rule. Unexpected fun. Another example is that during the reign of Louis XIV, there was a Nobwa who married the daughter of Duke Mothmar. I thought Nobwa's family name was not long after it came out, but it was gloomy. Who knows that in the remote time of Louis XIV, it was shined with the glory of the Motmar family, carefully carved and glowed with the beauty of a memorial medal. What's more, it's not just the unknown family name that benefits from this marriage. Another brilliance has been accustomed to people, this new and insipid posture can leave a deep impression on people, just like the painter's Color * image, occasionally see his black and white portrait, will produce the deepest impression. These names have changed places in my mind, from time to time, from left to right, and from other names that I thought were distant to each other, which is not entirely due to my ignorance of the situation. In an era when titles and lands were closely linked and land moved from one family to another, names often rose and fell. For example, in the beautiful Duke of Namur or Duke of Chevreus, I can find, in turn, curled up in Giss, Prince Sava, Orleans, and Luina, just like a hermit crab curled up in a shell. Sometimes, several hermit crabs compete for the same shell: the Dutch Royal race for the title of Prince Orange with De Mayi-Neill; Baron Charlus for the title of Duke of Brabant with the Belgian Royal race; and many others for the title of Prince of Naples, Duke of Palma and Duke of Lezo. Sometimes, on the contrary, the owner of the shell has long passed away and has lived for five people for a long time. Therefore, I would never imagine that the name of a castle used to be a family name in the near past. So when I heard Mr. de Gelmont replying to Mr. de Monsevier, I said, "No, my cousin is a fanatical royalist. She is the daughter of Marquis Federer, who played a part in the Juan rebellion." When I saw that the name of Federer became a family name. Since I went to Balbeck Beach, I have always thought that Ferdiner is the name of a castle, but I was surprised that it would be the name of a family. As I came to the fairy tale world, I was amazed to see that the corner towers and steps of the castle had gained life and become human beings. In this sense, history, even family history, can make ancient stones get life. In Paris, some people are as well-known as the Duke of Gelmont or the Duke of Latremeier, and have played a decisive role in society. They are more popular than the latter in their elegant manners or brilliance. However, if nobody remembers them any more, because they have no heirs, their names are the same. Even if someone mentions it, it will only be as unresponsive as a strange name. At most, it will exist as the name of a distant castle or village. We will not think of finding out who has ever used the name. One day soon, a traveler may come to the remote village of Charles in Burgone to stop visiting the church. If he is not industrious or too busy, he will not look closely at the church's tombstone, nor will he know that the name of the village used to be the name of a great man. A Harlot High and Low
Juan's rebellion refers to the rebellion launched by the royalist party during the French bourgeois revolution, which began in 1793.
This reflection on the village of Charles reminds me that my appointment with Mr. de Charles is approaching and that I should be leaving. I just listened to Mr. de Gelmont talking about his family and almost forgot his appointment with his brother. But my thinking on this issue continues. I suppose that someday the name of Gelmont will be like this, except for the place name. Only an archaeologist who accidentally stops at Gombre will listen patiently to the successor of Theodore or read the Handbook of our party's priest in front of the large stained glass window of the bad fellow Hilbert. However, as long as a noble name is not extinguished, the person who listens to it can bathe in its glory. There is no doubt that, in one way, this is the benefit of the fame of those families: we can start from today, follow the footprints of these families, trace their roots, understand what happened in the past, even before the fourteenth century, and find Mr. de Charles, Prince Aglijent or Princess Palma. The memoirs and books written by their descendants may be of civilian origin, but no one can see clearly through a dark screen. If we look back on the past with the help of the glory of a name, we can find that some neurotic characteristics, bad habits and debauchery manifested in these or those Garments have their own characteristics. Deep roots and long history. From a pathological point of view, they are no different from today's Mr. de Charles, Prince Aggregate and Princess Palma. They have aroused the uneasiness and interest of their correspondents from generation to generation, whether before or after Princess Palatina or Mrs. de Motwell.
The bad fellow Hilbert was the ancestor of the Gelmont family.
(2) Diodor is the name of several popes in the history of Christianity.
(3) Princess Palatina (1652-1722), Princess Bavaria, wife of Louis XIV's brother, the Duke of Orleans, her letters reveal interesting details of Louis XIV's parenting.
(4) Mrs. De Motwell (1621-1689), French memoir writer.
Prince Lini (1735-1814), one of the most talented people in France in the eighteenth century, wrote military and literary works.
Besides, I am less interested in history than in aesthetics. Mrs. de Gelmont's guests had no glorious appearance, low intelligence or mediocrity, and became real people. Therefore, when I visited Mrs. de Gelmont and stepped on the insoles in front of the door hall, I did not feel that I had come to the door of the wonderful world of names, but felt that I had come to the end of the world. Head, however, when I heard Mr. de Gelmont enumerate so many names, I felt that the guests seemed to be out of touch with reality. In the case of Prince Aggregate, when I heard that his mother's maiden name was Dama, the granddaughter of Duke Modina, he immediately got rid of the appearance and conversation that did not allow him to recognize the truth, just as he got rid of an unstable chemical substance that accompanied him day and night, and went to the Dama family and Moore with some dukes. The Dainas united to form a more attractive combination. Every name, attracted by another name, even if I never thought of any connection with it, would leave its dull, unchanged place in my mind and join the Motmar family, the Stiar family or the Bourbon family to draw with them the best results and changes. A pedigree of colors. Even the name of Gelmont is the same. As long as I hear that it is related to the prominent names that have broken off the incense and rekindled the flames, I feel that it has received a new and poetic confirmation. The most I can see is a bud on the proud pedigree trunk and a flower on the face of a wise king (Henry IV) or a distinguished Princess (Duchess Longville). But I think these faces are different from the guests. They are not poisoned by secular prejudices and mediocre social concepts. They still have beautiful patterns and flickering lustre. Like their names, they have different colors and colors. Every once in a while, they have to fall off the tree of the Gelmont family tree, not unfamiliar with it. The opaque material disturbs the ever-changing, multicolored and translucent buds. These buds open on the side of the glass tree, just as Jesus'ancestors opened on the large painted glass of the ancient church with the hot stopper tree.
The Dama family is one of the oldest families in France. The eldest descendant was cut off in 1423 and the youngest descendant had more than 20 descendants.
(2) The Modina family is one of the oldest in Italy.
Reiser is regarded as the ancestor of Jesus. On the large painted glass windows of medieval churches, hot stoppers were often painted to indicate the genealogy of Jesus. The patriarch Reiser lay on the ground with his head (or chest) growing a tree. Each branch represented one of Jesus'ancestors. A flower was blooming on the top of the tree. The Virgin Mother sat in the flower with little Jesus in her arms.
I wanted to quit several times. I have every reason to do so, because the party has become meaningless because I am here. However, for a long time, I have been imagining this kind of party as infinitely beautiful. I think it would be interesting if I was not present as an obstructive spectator. At least, as soon as I leave, there will be no bystanders. Guests can hold secret meetings and ceremonies. It is for this reason that they gather, obviously not to talk about Franz Hares, or about someone who is mean, or to talk about something long or short in a bourgeois way. They talked nonsense, probably because I was there. I feel very guilty to see these beautiful ladies who are torn apart by my presence, in the unique Salon of St. Germain, but can not live in the mysterious life of St. Germain. I always wanted to say goodbye, but both Mr. and Mrs. de Gelmont showed great sacrifice and tried to keep me from leaving. Even more incredible was the fact that several well-dressed and jeweled ladies came to the party in an impatient and cheerful mood, and were not disappointed by the dullness of the party (because of my fault, it became the same as any other party outside St. Germain, Just as Barbeck Beach is no different from the city we used to see.) When we leave, we thank Mrs. de Gelmont with great enthusiasm and a thousand times for having them spend a wonderful night, as if I had nothing else to do on those nights when I was absent.
Do these ladies dress up and refuse civilians to enter their closed salons because of these dinners? Just for these dinners? If I wasn't there, would it be the same? For a moment, I was suspicious, but it was ridiculous. Reason * cleared me of doubt. Besides, if I don't dispel my doubts, what's left of the name Gelmont? Since leaving Gombre, its position in my mind has fallen low enough.
In addition, these high-class ladies are easily satisfied with another person, or are eager to satisfy another person. I blushed at the thought that what they said was so foolish. But when they left the living room, they had to come up to me and say that I was very happy to know them. They wanted to make some arrangements after meeting Mrs. de Gelmont. Invite me to dinner, talk, with beautiful and gentle eyes staring at me, chest up, so that the orchids stand up in front of the chest.
None of these ladies left before Princess Palma. The Duchess tried to keep me for two reasons (I didn't know at the time), one of which was that Princess Palma did not leave. If your highness does not go, no one else can go. When Mrs. de Parma got up to say goodbye, everyone seemed to be relieved. The ladies curtseyed to Princess Parma as if asking for blessings. The Princess lifted them up and kissed them on the face as if wishing. That is to say, they could wear overcoats and call slaves. So the doorway shouted as if reciting the most prominent name in French history. The Princess of Parma, Mrs. Feder Gelmont, caught a cold and refused to let her go to the hall. The Duke took advantage of the situation and said, "Okay, Oliana, since Mrs. Parma won't let you do it, don't forget the doctor's instructions."
"I think it's a pleasure for Princess Parma to have dinner with you." I'm used to this kind of polite talk. The Duke came up to me through the living room and said this to me with an air of courtesy and affirmation, as if he were giving me a diploma or inviting me to eat fancy snacks. At this moment, he seems to be very happy, and his face has temporarily become extremely gentle. I feel that this seems to be a way of showing concern for him. He will perform these duties as he does in his relaxed and respected duties all his life, even in his old age, he will not give up.
I was about to leave when Princess Parma's wife returned to the living room because she had forgotten to take away the wonderful and extraordinary diamond flowers from the Castle of Galmont that the Duchess had given to the Princess. Her companion's face was red and she seemed to be running very fast, for although the princess was kind to everyone, she had no patience when the servant did something foolish. So the maid-in-law picked up the carnation and ran, but when she passed me, she rushed to me in order to keep a relaxed and disobedient manner and said, "The Princess thought I was late. She wanted to go quickly, but she wanted the carnation again." Damn it! I'm not a bird. I can't be in several places at the same time."
Alas! The reason why I wanted to leave was that I could not say goodbye to His Highness, but there was another reason: the Garments, rich and near bankruptcy, were good at not only making their friends enjoy material things, but also making them enjoy them, as I often felt when I was with Robert Saint Luk. That's what it is - spiritual enjoyment (which the Gufu Vassiers can't do), so that they can hear the beautiful conversation, see the kind and touching action, and elegant words are all provided by rich inner world. But the rich inner world has no place in idle social life. Sometimes it will express itself without emotion and seek amusement in a short and more uneasy vent. If this vent comes from Mrs. de Gelmont, it will be regarded as an emotion, because she can get a kind of emotion in her association with a friend. Enchanting pleasure, which is by no means functional pleasure, is similar to the pleasure that music produces for some people. Sometimes she would take a flower from her clothes or a necklace with a portrait and give it to a guest, hoping that he would spend more time, but still feel sad, because prolonged time is meaningless chat, and it would not make her nervous like the first warm current in spring (in terms of leaving people tired and depressed). Excitement and short-term excitement. As for that friend, don't trust the Duchess'promise too much. They are more beautiful and intoxicating than any promises he has ever heard. However, because he feels deeply the beauty of a certain moment, the promisor, with tenderness and solemnity, displays all kinds of charm and kindness, turning this moment into a touching masterpiece. But after that time, she will not give it any more. Give alms. When she is happy, she expresses her feelings, but once the excitement is over, the feelings disappear. She's so talented that she can guess what you want to hear and pick what you like to hear, but a few days later she'll catch your laughing stock and tell you to another guest who's sharing this very short "musical moment" with her.
In the hall, I called the servant to bring me my rubber snowboots. I was afraid of snow, so I took these boots with me. In fact, there were several snowflakes, and the ground soon became muddy. I was embarrassed when I saw that the boots were so ugly and embarrassed when I saw that Mrs. de Palma had not yet left and was watching me wear these American rubber snowboots. The princess came to me." Well, it's thoughtful, "she exclaimed." These shoes are so practical! You are so smart. Madam, we should also buy a pair, "she said to her companion. So the servants turned from ridicule to respect, and the guests enthusiastically hugged me and asked me where I got these wonderful shoes." With these shoes, you don't have to be afraid of anything, even if it snows again, even if you go far; whether in spring or summer, or in autumn or winter."
The princess said to me.
"Oh! Your Highness may rest assured at this point, "my companion cunningly interrupts," that it will not snow any more."
"How do you know, madam?" The kind Princess Parma asked sharply.
Only when her companion says something silly will she get angry.
"I can assure your Highness that it will not come down again. In fact, it is impossible."
"Why?"
"It's impossible to go down again. The necessary measures have been taken: salt has been sprinkled."
The simple-minded companion did not notice that the princess was angry and the others were happy, because instead of stopping, she smiled kindly and said to me (although I repeatedly denied that I had a relationship with Admiral Sheryan de Lagranville): "Besides, what does snow have to do with it?" Mr. A was walking flat on the boat. Dragon begets dragon, Phoenix begets phoenix."
After seeing Princess Palma off, Mr. de Gelmont picked up my coat and said to me, "I'll help you with your coat." When he used the word, he even stopped smiling, because the most vulgar expression, because of its vulgarity, because the Gelmont family's affectation of humility, has become extremely elegant.
Excitement can only lead to sadness, because it is not natural. When I finally left Gelmont House and sat in the carriage that took me to Mr. De Charles's house, I also had an exciting feeling, though not in the same way as Mrs. De Gelmont did. The first two excitations are optional. One comes from our heart, from our deep impression; the other comes from the outside. The former itself contains a kind of happiness, which is the happiness brought by life. The latter tries to transmit the excitement of others to us. It is not accompanied by happiness itself. We can add a kind of happiness to it through the reaction, and get a kind of extremely false excitement, but it will soon become depression and sadness. This can be used to explain why so many people in the upper class are depressed, unhappy, often in a state of restlessness, and may even commit suicide. However, on my way to Mr. De Charles's house by car, I was disturbed by this second excitement. This excitement was not caused by our personal feelings, but was quite different from the excitement I had experienced in previous carriages: once in Gombre, I was sitting in Dr. Bespere's leather-covered bicycle and saw the bell tower of Madanville Church painted in the sunset; and once in Balbeck, I was sitting in de Vilba. In Mrs. Riccis's four-wheeled carriage, she saw a road planted with green trees and tried to recall a past that I felt vaguely about. But in this third carriage, what came to my mind was the boring conversation I had at Mrs. Gelmont's table, such as the comments of the German prince on the German Emperor, General Buda and the British army. Just now, I put them in my inner stereoscope. Once we are no longer ourselves, once we have the soul of the social circles and accept life only from others, then we will use this stereoscope to highlight what others have said and done and make them clear. A drunk person will show a good feeling to the cafe waiter who serves him. At the moment, my mood is the same as that of a drunk person. Although at dinner, I was not very fond of Prince Feng, who is very familiar with William II and tells anecdotes, but now I am happy to be able to have dinner with him. I think he talked about it. Those things were funny and interesting, recalling the story he told about General Buda, his strong German accent, and bursting into laughter, as if it was necessary to prove the funny story he told, just as sometimes applause with both hands could enhance the inner praise. Even some of Mrs. de Gelmont's opinions (for example, she said that Franz Hares's paintings should be seen on the tram) made me feel very foolish at that time, but after this stereoscope, it became vivid and profound. I should say, however, that even if the excitement is fleeting, it cannot be said to be absolutely absurd. For some people, we may disdain them, but someday, we will be happy to meet them, because they have contact with a girl we like and can introduce us to her, so that they will become useful and interesting to us, which in the past we thought they were absolutely unacceptable. Yes; similarly, without a word, without a relationship, we can be sure that it will not be useful in the future. Mrs. de Gelmont said to me that Hares's painting was very interesting even from the tram. It was wrong, but it contained some truth, which would be of great use to me in the future.
Likewise, the poetry she quoted to me by Victor Hugo should be admitted to be his work of the period before his reincarnation, and he is still evolving and has not published his new and more complex works. In these early poems, Victor Hugo was still thinking, not just being content to attract people to think like nature. At that time, he expressed "thought" in the most direct way, almost as the Duke of Gelmont understood the word: Mr. de Gelmont often held a grand banquet at the Castle of Gelmont, and after the guests signed the memorial book, they always wrote another philosophical and poetic thought, which he thought they would do. Fa is too stale and too provocative. He reminds later generations in a pleading tone: "Sign your name, dear friend, don't write your thoughts!" However, Mrs. de Gelmont liked these "ideas" in Hugo's early poems, which were almost nonexistent in his collection of Legends of All Dynasties, just as Wagner lacked "music" and "melody" in his second work. Mrs. de Gelmont's hobby is not unreasonable. Hugo's thought is really refreshing. Although the form is still lacking in strength for the time being, it is surrounded by numerous words and rich rhymes, which make them unique and quite different from other people's poems, such as those of Gao Naiyi. From time to time, other people's poems sparkle with simple Romantic ideas, which are more exciting, but they do not go deep into the material root of life, and do not change the unconscious generalizable organism on which thought exists. Therefore, my previous practice of reading only Hugo's later poems was wrong. To be sure, Mrs. de Gelmont used only a few lines of Hugo's early poems to embellish her conversation. However, it is precisely because she quotes a poem in isolation that the attraction of this poem is greatly increased. The poems I first heard or heard again at Mrs. de Gelmont's dinner table turned those beautiful poems with poems into magnets, generating great attraction and drawing my hands to the Oriental Collection and the Twilight Song Collection. My heart became so anxious that I had to get the book in two days. I curse Franoise's listeners for not giving my Autumn Leaves to his home. I immediately asked him to buy me a copy. I read these poems from beginning to end, and only when I suddenly found the lines quoted by Mrs. de Gelmont, bathed in the light she gave me, did I find peace. Talking with the Duchess is like drawing knowledge from the library of an ancient castle. Although they are all ancient books, incomplete and incomplete, and without books we like, they can not increase our intelligence. Sometimes they can provide us with valuable information, and even let us see a beautiful article that we have never heard of before. When we think of that beautiful castle, we will be glad to know this passage. We will find Balzac's preface to the Bama Monastery or an unpublished letter from Jube there, and exaggerate the value of the kind of life we spent there, because of the unexpected harvest of one night, and forget that it was a frivolous life.
From this point of view, even though this aristocratic salon is not the salon I imagined, I was shocked by its commonalities with other salons, not by its characteristics, gradually, its image became clearer and clearer in front of me. The noble lords were almost the only people who could provide us with knowledge like peasants; their conversations were always dotted with land, castles and old customs, all of which the bankers knew nothing. Even if the gentlest aristocrat who longs to keep up with the times finally keeps up with the times, as long as he recalls his childhood, his parents, uncles or aunts will associate him with a life that no one knows now. If someone dies today, Mrs. de Gelmont will see at a glance in the spiritual hall what is against convention, though she will not point it out in person. At the funeral, when she saw some women leave aside the ceremonies that women should attend and mingle with men, she felt unhappy. As for the black veil over the coffin, Block probably thought that it could only be seen at the funeral, because the funeral report contained a coffin rope, while Mr. de Gelmont remembered seeing the bride and groom wearing black veil at Mr. de May-Neill's wedding when he was a child. When St. Louis sold his precious "genealogy tree" - the old portrait of the Buyong family and the letter of Louis XIII, and bought back Carrier III's paintings and new furniture, Mr. and Mrs. de Gelmont, driven by a narrow and not exclusive passion for art, retained the artists that Bull IV produced. Wonderful furniture with great attraction. Likewise, a writer will listen enthusiastically to their conversations and treat them as living dictionaries (hungry people don't need hungry people to accompany them), expressions that are increasingly forgotten, such as St. Joseph's medals, children promised to wear blue clothes, etc., can only be preserved in the lovely history. The steward found it there. A writer feels happier among them than among other writers, but this kind of happiness is not without danger, because it will make him believe that things of the past have a charm and can be moved intact into the works, so that the works will become stillborn, will make people tired, but he is himself. "It's beautiful, because it's the real thing, and that's what everybody says." In addition, in Mrs. De Gelmont's family, nobles are all talking in pure French, so they have special charm. It is for this reason that when the Duchess hears Saint Lucia's ingenious expressions of Vatican, Universe, Delphi and Excellence, she has every reason to laugh, just as she laughs when she sees Saint Lucia buying new furniture from Bingo Furniture Store.
(1) Jube (1754-1824), a French Taoist scholar, is famous for his collection of letters, which is concise in style and thought.
(2) In French, "coffin coffin" (usually black veil) is the same word as "veil" on the head of the bride and groom at an ancient Catholic wedding. The coffin rope is a large rope for pulling the coffin, which is tied to both ends of the coffin cover.
(3) Carrier (1849-1906), French painter. He advocated a retrial of the Dreyfus case.
(4) Bull (1642-1732), a famous French carpenter, is the most important supplier of furniture for the king and the Royal family.
Children who are promised to wear blue clothes, that is, children who are promised to the Virgin Mother, can be blessed by the Virgin Mother.
Binger (1838-1905), French collector. It is the agitator of the new art style.
Anyway, the stories I heard at Mrs. de Gelmont's house were quite new to me, quite different from what I might feel when I was in front of a hawthorn tree or tasting Madeleine's dessert. They temporarily joined my body, but only physical possession, and seemed eager to leave me (collectively, not individually). I was restless in the carriage, like a prophetess in ancient Greece. I look forward to being invited to dinner so that I can become Prince X or Mrs. de Gelmont and tell them those stories. Now, I'm eager to try, shaking my lips slightly, telling stories vaguely, and my mind is pulled away by a dizzying centrifugal force. I want to pull it back, but in vain. Although I spoke aloud to myself to relieve the boredom of no one talking to me, I was still restless, like sitting on pins and needles, feeling that I could no longer bear the pressure of these stories alone. In that mood, I rang the doorbell of Mr. de Charles'house. A servant led me into the living room. As I waited, I kept talking to myself, repeating what I had to say to Mr. de Charles, and I hardly thought about what he would say to me. I was so upset that I didn't pay any attention to the living room. How much I needed Mr. de Charles to listen to my stories, so when I thought that my master might have gone to bed and that I might have to go home alone to calm the fever, I burst into dismay. Because I just found out that I've been waiting for twenty-five minutes. People may have forgotten me. However, although I stayed in the living room for a long time, I was not impressed by it. I knew it was very big, dark green*, and there were several portraits. The desire to speak hinders not only listening but also seeing. Therefore, not describing the outside world is the best description of the inner state. I was about to leave the living room to see if I could find someone. If I couldn't find one, I would try to find the way to the front room and ask someone to open the door for me. As soon as I stood up and did not walk a few steps on the patchwork floor, I saw a servant come in uneasily with a look of anxiety: "Mr. Baron has always had guests," he said to me, "all appointments are made beforehand. Well, there are still several people waiting for him. I tried to get him to meet my husband. I called my secretary twice."
"Don't bother. I made an appointment with the Baron beforehand, but it was too late. Since he was busy tonight, I'll come another day."
"Oh! No, sir, don't go,'cried the servant.'Mr. Baron will be unhappy. I'll try again."
I recall hearing about Mr. de Charles's servants who were loyal to their master. Although it is not entirely true that he, like Prince Conti, wants to please not only the minister but also the servant, he is good at telling the servant to do things as a kind of grace: at night, the servants gather around him, but at a distance from him, he glances at them one by one, and then orders, "Guarney, wax." Candles!" Or "Dickley, shirt!" At this time, the other servants would mumble back and admire the lucky child who was favored by his master. The two servants hated each other and wanted to rob each other of their favors. If the Baron went upstairs earlier than usual, they would go upstairs under the pretext of delivering letters. The one who took the candle hoped to take the shirt tonight and the one who took the shirt hoped to take the candle. If the Baron said something irrelevant to one of them, especially in the garden in winter, if he knew that one of his coachmen had a cold and said to him in ten minutes, "Put your hat on", then the others would be jealous of the beloved coachman and would not say a word to him for half a month.
I waited another ten minutes before I was taken to see Mr. Baron. I was told I couldn't stay long because Mr. Baron was tired of seeing off the important people he had appointed several days ago. I thought to myself that Mr. de Charles's elaborate directing of the play was a little pretentious. On the contrary, his brother, Duke Gelmont, was noble in simplicity. Just thinking, the door opened and I saw the Baron in his Chinese pajamas, with his neck bare, lying on a couch. At the same time, I was surprised to see a silk hat with eight sparkles on a chair and a fur coat, as if the Baron had just returned from his trip. The servant retired. I thought Mr. de Charles would stand up to meet me. Who knows that he is motionless and looks at me coldly. I went over and said hello to him, but he didn't shake hands with me, answered my questions, or even asked me to take a chair. After a while, I asked a doctor who was ill-bred if it was necessary for him to keep me standing like this. There was no harm in asking, but Mr. De Charles's anger seemed to have become more apparent. At that time, I did not know his habits: when he entertained guests in the city or at Charles Castle in the countryside, he always liked to imitate his king: after dinner, he would lie in an easy chair in the smoking room and let his guests stand beside him. Let the man hand him a fire and salute a cigar to the man. After a few minutes, he said, "Hello, Agengul, sit down, dear, take a chair," and so on. He insisted that his guests stand a little longer, just to show them that they could not sit down without his permission. You sit on that Louis XIV chair, "he answered me in an orderly voice, forcing me to leave him rather than asking me to sit down. I sat down in an easy chair not far from him." Hum! This is Louis XIV chair. It's because you're a knowledgeable young man, "he cried in a sneering tone. I was startled, motionless, neither going as far as I should have done, nor changing chairs as he asked me to do." "Sir," he said carefully, trying to catch the most rude words and stretch the first consonant very long, "I condescended to date you at the request of a person who did not want to reveal his name, and this conversation will mark the end of our relationship. I don't want to hide it from you. I was hoping for a better ending. If I told you that I had a good feeling for you, it might be a little distorted, out of self-esteem, it should not be said, even for those who do not know the value of this statement. But I believe that the word "love" is used appropriately here to mean the most effective protection, which is what I feel and what I want to express. When I returned to Paris, even when I was in Balbeck, I told you that I was your trusted man." I only remember that when Balbeck broke up with him, he was very rude to me, so I made a negative gesture. What! " He roared, his face turned white, twitching, and his usual face, as in the stormy morning, when the sea changed its usual pleasant smile, emitting numerous frothy bubbles and saliva. "You said you didn't receive the information I wanted you to remember?" This is almost an expression. Didn't you see any decoration in the book I sent you?
"Very beautiful interwoven letters," I said to him.
"Hey!" He answered contemptuously, "Young people nowadays know little about the masterpieces of our country. If a young Berliner did not know the Goddess of War, what would you think of him? Besides, your eyes are white, because of this masterpiece, you told me that you read for two hours. I don't think you're better at figure than furniture. Don't argue. You're not good at style, "he shouted furiously." You don't even know what chair you're sitting on. I asked you to sit in the Louis XIV easy chair, but you sat down on the low chair of the Governor Zheng House style for the fire. In two days, you may use Mrs. de Villebalisis's knee as a toilet. Who knows what you're doing up there? Similarly, you don't even recognize the cover decoration of Bergott's book, the cross-beam of Balbeck Church engraved with self-forgetting fonts. Is there a better way to tell you not to forget me?
I stared at Mr. de Charles. His face, though obnoxious, was more beautiful than anyone else in his family, like an old Apollo. But from his vicious mouth, it seemed that olive and yellow fluids would be ejected at any time. As for wisdom, we can't deny that he knows so much that Duke Gelmont will never know. However, no matter what kind of rhetoric he used to hide his hatred, people felt that the man would kill, or hurt his self-esteem, or be frustrated in love, or hatred, or ill-treated into sex, or to make fun of others, or have an irrevocable idea; he would also prove it with logic and rhetoric. It's a legitimate act to kill a person by oneself. Killing a person is much better than his brother and sister-in-law, and many other people don't know how many times better.
"It was I who took the first step towards you," he continued, "like the winner of Velasquez's painting of Gunners and Cavalry, heading for the humblest man. I have everything, but you have nothing. I did what a nobleman should do. Whether my action is great or not is obvious to all, but you ignore it. Our religion exhorts us to be patient. If you can be rude to someone who is far more noble than you, I always just laugh. I hope my patience with you will do no harm to my reputation. But now, sir, it is no longer meaningful to talk about all this. I have tested you. The most outstanding contemporary people call this test of attitude wittily. They test your attitude with infinite enthusiasm. He has every reason to say that it is the most terrible test, because it is the only test that can distinguish good from bad. You can't stand it. I don't blame you, because there are few successful people. However, at least, I don't want you to maliciously slander me. I hope this last conversation we're going to have will achieve this result."
(1) Velasquez (1599-1660), a Spanish painter, created a large number of portraits, custom paintings and historical paintings throughout his life. Gunners is his masterpiece.
It never occurred to me that Mr. De Charles was angry because someone said bad things about him in front of him. I searched for memories and couldn't remember who I had talked to about him. It's just the bastard who made it out of nothing. I assure Mr. de Charles that I have never talked to anyone about him." I told Mrs. de Gelmont that I had dealings with you, and I don't think that would make you angry." With a contemptuous smile, he raised his voice to the highest pitch and slowly produced the most sophisticated and rude notes:
"Ouch! "Sir," he said, very slowly, restoring his tone to its natural state, as if enchanted with the downward scale, "I think you confess that you have been having trouble with yourself when you said you had dealt with me. I don't expect a person who can think of Chippendale furniture as a Rococo chair to say something very precise, but I don't think, "His voice is full of more and more ironic caresses, which make him smile charming on his lips." I don't think you will say or believe that we have contacts! As for your showing off in front of others, saying that someone introduced you to me, you talked with me, and I know a little, almost no request, will be allowed to one day become my protected person, I think you said these words are logical and wise. eugenie grandet
Chippendale (1718-1779), a British craftsman of ebony furniture.
"The age gap between you and me is so great that I have every reason to say that this introduction, these conversations, and the relationship that has just begun, are a kind of happiness to you. Of course, it's not for me to say that, but at least I can say that it's not good for you. It's not because you said it out, but because you didn't keep it. I even want to say, "Suddenly, he stopped talking loudly, temporarily changed into a tender, sad one, and I felt he was going to cry." When you ignored my suggestion to you in Paris, I didn't believe you would do that. I think you are a very educated person, born in a decent bourgeois family. It was when he spoke about the adjective that his voice was slightly rude and fricative.) It would not have done such a thing, so I naively believed that there might have been a mistake that had never been made, that the letter had been lost, or that the address had been written incorrectly. I admit I'm naive, but isn't St. Bonaventile willing to believe that cows steal, rather than that his brothers lie? But it's all over, and since you're not interested, there's no need to talk about it. But I think you will write to me at my age (his voice is choking). I envisioned an attractive future for you, but I never told you. It's your business that you would rather refuse without knowing. But, as I told you, letters can always be written. If I were you, I would write, even in my position, I would write. Because of this, I prefer to be in my position. I say,'That's why', because I think all positions are equal, and I may be more interested in a clever worker than in many dukes. But I can say that I would rather be in my position, because I know that you have done something that I have never done in a very long life. (His head is in the dark, and I can't see if his eyes are crying as his voice can be believed.) As I said just now, I have taken a hundred steps towards you, but as a result, you have stepped back two hundred steps. Now, it's my turn to step back. From now on, we don't know each other. I want to forget your name, but remember your example. When I can't help tempting people, believing in their conscience, being polite, believing that they won't miss a unique opportunity in vain, I will remind myself not to raise them too high. When you met me before (because this is no longer the case now), if you say you know me, I can only think that this is a natural thing, in honor of me, that is to say, I regard it as a pleasant thing. Unfortunately, that's not exactly what you said elsewhere and on other occasions."
Saint Bonaventile (1221-1274), Italian theologian and philosopher.
"Sir, I swear, I never said anything that might hurt you."
"Who told you I was hurt?" He roared angrily and sat up violently from his couch until now. His face was pale, his saliva splashed, his muscles twitched, as if countless snakes were twisting; his voice was sharp, sometimes deep, like a deafening storm. He usually talks very hard. Pedestrians pass by outside and will certainly look back. Now, he exerts a hundred times more strength than usual. Like playing a Forte with a band instead of a piano, his voice will suddenly increase a hundred times and become the strongest. Mr. de Charles is roaring. Do you think you can hurt me? Don't you know who I am? Do you believe that the poison spit out of your mouths by five hundred little dolls riding on each other can stain my noble toes?
I wanted to convince Mr. De Charles that I had never said anything bad about him, nor had I heard anyone say anything bad about him, but what he said made me mad. I think he said this because he was too proud, at least partly because of his pride. There's another emotional reason, but I didn't know it at the time, so I'm not guilty if I don't use it as a reason. Nevertheless, if you don't know the emotional reasons, you should also recall Mrs. de Gelmont's speech and take the slight mental disorder as the second reason. But I didn't think about it at all. In my opinion, he only has pride, but I only have anger. When he stopped roaring and talked solemnly about his noble toes (he also pouted his lips to show his extreme disgust at the humble little people who blasphemed him), I could no longer contain my anger. I wanted to beat people and throw things to vent my anger, but I still had a little discernment. I had to respect an elder who was much older than me, and even the German porcelain beside him, because they had precious artistic value and did not dare to damage it, so I threw it on the baron's new hat and threw it on the ground. He trampled on it desperately, trying to break it apart. I took off my hat and tore the crown in two. Mr. De Charles was still shouting and swearing. I did not even listen to him. I crossed the room and prepared to leave. I opened the door. Unexpectedly, there were two servants standing on both sides of the door. I was startled. Seeing me open the door, they pretended to be doing something and walked by without haste. On that day, I knew their names. One was Binier and the other was Shameler. I would never believe the explanation they gave me with their lazy gait. This explanation is not credible, and the other three explanations are perhaps even less credible. First, the Baron sometimes needs help when he receives guests. (Why then?) They thought there was a need to set up a "first aid station" nearby; second, they were driven by curiosity to eavesdrop on me and didn't expect me to come out as soon as possible; third, Mr. de Charles had a premeditated fury at me. He was acting, and he let them eavesdrop. On the one hand, they liked to be lively, on the other hand, maybe everybody. We can all benefit from it.
My anger did not dispel the baron, but I felt as if I had broken his heart by brushing my sleeve. He called me back and asked my servant to call me back. Finally, he ran after me to the lobby, blocked me from going out at the door. He completely forgot that a minute ago, when he was talking about his "noble toes", he was still holding his inviolable dignity in front of me. All right, "he said to me." Stop being childish and come in for a while. If you love deeply, you must be strict. If I punished you severely just now, it's because I love you so much." My anger had vanished, and I followed the Baron in spite of the baron's word "punishment". He called a servant and, without self-respect, asked him to pick up the fragments of his hat and bring another one.
"If you'd like to tell me the person who shamefully slandered me, sir," I said to Mr. de Charles, "then I'll stay and listen. I'll expose the lie of the deceiver."
"You don't know who it is? Have you forgotten what you said? Do you think the person who tipped me off would not want me to swear to secrecy? Do you believe that I will not keep my promise?
"Sir, you really can't tell me?" For the last time, I tried to recall who I might have talked to Mr. de Charles, but none of them came to mind.
"Didn't I tell you I wanted to keep the whistleblower secret?" He said in an annoying voice, "I think you not only like to slander people, but also waste your breath to break the casserole and ask after all. At least you should be smart enough to make good use of your last meeting and say something useful.
"Sir," I answered as I walked away, "you insulted me. I don't care about you because you are several times older than me. Old people, young people, unequal status. Besides, I can't convince you. I swear to you. I didn't say anything.
"Then I'm lying!" He shouted in a terrible voice, jumping forward and jumping only two steps away.
"They deceived you."
At this time, he changed his tone to a gentle, affectionate and melancholy tone (like playing symphonies, one after another without gaps, the first like thunder and lightning, followed by a kind and simple banter). He said to me, "This is very likely. When a sentence is repeated, it usually goes wrong. In the end, it's your fault that you didn't take the opportunity I offered you to come to see me. You didn't give me a unique and effective preventive shot through frank and trustworthy daily conversations, so that I could read a sentence that accused you of being a traitor. That sentence is true or false. Anyway, it's done. The impression it gives me can no longer be erased. I can't even say that I love you so much that I have to be strict because I blame you so much, but I don't love you any more." As he said, he forced me to sit down, rang the bell, and another servant came in. Bring some drinks and get the car ready." I said I'm not thirsty. It's not too early. Besides, I have a car." Someone probably paid you for the car and let it go, "he said to me." Just leave it alone. I'll have a spare car to take you back to ___________. If you worry too late... I have a room where you can stay..." I said my mother would be worried." Indeed, that sentence is true or false. It's a dead end anyway. My affection for you blossoms too early, just as the apple trees you talked to me poetically in Balbeck can't withstand the devastation of the early cold. Even if Mr. De Charles's affection for me was intact, he could only do so, because he said he had fallen out with me, but insisted on keeping me, bringing me drinks, asking me to stay and spare me for a ride back. He seemed to be afraid of separation and loneliness, a slightly worrying fear that he had had when his sister-in-law, Mrs. de Gelmont, retained me an hour ago. They all had a momentary interest in me and tried to keep me for an extra minute.
"Unfortunately," he added, "I have no ability to call back the destroyed flowers. My affection for you has withered and will never come back. I always felt a little like Booth in Victor Hugo's poems:
I am a widower, lonely and destitute.
I went through the green living room with him. I said to him casually that I thought the living room was beautiful. Really?" He answered, "You should really love one thing. The wooden wallboard came from Baga's hand. You see, they are used to match Bowe's chairs and snail-legged platform. It's lovely. Did you notice that they have the same decorative pattern? Only the Louvre and Mr. D'Anistal's family have such matching furniture. As soon as I decided to move to and from this street, I found an old residence in Shimei. This man has never seen anyone before. He only came here once for me. All in all, it's good here. Maybe better, but good enough. There are many beautiful things, aren't there? There are portraits of my former uncle, the Prince of Poland and the Prince, painted by Minia. Cough! I'll tell you what to do. You know as well as I do, because you've been waiting in the living room for a long time. I do not know! Oh! Then they took you to the Blue Hall, "he said, looking rude - because I didn't seem interested, or superior - because he hadn't asked me where I was waiting in advance." Look! In this room, there are all the hats worn by Mrs. Elizabeth, Princess Longbell and Queen. You're not interested in it, as if you hadn't seen it. There's something wrong with your optic nerve. If only you had some interest in this type of aesthetics, here is a rainbow of Turner_, which begins to shine between the two Rembrandt paintings, which symbolizes our reconciliation. Listen: Beethoven has come to meet him, too. Sure enough, there came the chord at the beginning of the third part of the Pastoral Symphony, Joy after the Storm. The musicians are playing near us, maybe on the second floor. I foolishly asked him, how could such a coincidence happen, who is the musician? Ah! Who knows? Never know. This is invisible music. It's beautiful, isn't it? He said to me in a somewhat brutal tone." But you're not interested at all, just like a fish seeing an apple. Do you still want to go back? Not afraid of Beethoven and me? You have judged yourself, "he said to me affectionately and sadly when I was leaving." Forgive me for not being able to send you home as I should. Since I don't want to see you anymore, it won't be interesting to stay with you for another five minutes. I have a lot of things to do, but I'm tired." But when he found out that the night was beautiful, he said, "Ouch! No, I get on the bus, too. The moonlight is so beautiful that when I send you home, I will go to Bronilin Garden to enjoy the moon. How come you don't know how to shave, go to someone else's house for dinner, and leave a few hairs behind?"He said to me, holding two fingers between my chin, as if they were absorbed, hesitating for a moment, like a barber, along my cheek, until he touched the roots of my ears." If only you could enjoy the blue moonlight in the forest garden with you, that would be wonderful! " Suddenly, it seemed as if he could not help speaking to me in a gentle tone, and then there was a melancholy look on his face: "Because, anyway, you are very likable, you can be more likable than anyone else," he said, touching my shoulder tenderly. It should be said that I used to think you were worthless." I should think he still thinks that way about me, just think about the anger he had when he spoke to me half an hour ago. But I feel that he has a sincere attitude at the moment, and his kindness has overcome the mental state that I think is proud and sensitive to almost madness. We've come to the carriage, and he's still talking. All right, "he said to me suddenly." Let's get on the bus and we'll be at your house in five minutes. At that time, I will say goodnight to you and our relationship will be over forever. Since we're going to split up, let's say it's easy to break up and play a perfect chord just like music. Despite repeated solemn declarations that we would never meet again, Mr. de Charles would not be unhappy if we met again, for he did not want to be forgotten immediately and was afraid of causing me pain. My idea was right, because after a while, he said, "Wow! By the way, I forgot an important thing. In memory of your grandmother, I've got a compact edition of Mrs. De Sevigny's book for you. In this way, this meeting will not be the last one. Complex things can not be solved in a day, as long as we think about this truth, we can be comforted. Do you think the Vienna Conference took a long time?
Baga (1639-1709), French sculptor.
(2) Hime (1808-1886), Belgian diplomat, served as Belgian Plenipotentiary in Paris.
(3) Minia (1610-1695), French painter, especially good at portrait painting.
(4) Mrs. Elizabeth (1764-1794), sister of King Louis XVI of France.
Princess Longbell is a good friend of Queen Mary Antoinette, Louis XVI's wife.
Queen means Mary Antoinette, wife of Louis XVI.
Turner (1775-1851), a British painter, is good at watercolor and oil painting.
"Don't bother you, I can find it," I said politely.
"Shut up, little fool," he answered angrily. "Don't be so foolish. It's a trifle that I might receive you (I'm not sure, maybe send a servant to give you the book).
He regained his composure: "I don't want to break up with you with these words. I don't want to lose my harmony. Let's play a subordinate chord before we are silent forever. As a matter of fact, he was afraid that he would be too nervous to finish the quarrel and go home immediately after he had said so many bitter words. You don't want to go to the forest garden, "he said in a positive voice, not a question. I think he didn't want me to go, but was afraid of rejection and could not step down." Ah! Now, as Whistler said, it's time for citizens to go home (he probably wants to touch my self-esteem) and watch the night scenery. I'm afraid you don't know who Whistler is. I changed the subject and asked him if Mrs. Jena was very clever. Before I had finished, Mr. Charles said in the most contemptuous tone I had ever seen him use.
"Ah! Sir, you have mentioned here a classification of nobility that has nothing to do with me. There may be an aristocracy in Tahiti, but I admit I don't know them. Unfortunately, the name you mentioned sounded in my ear a few days ago. I was asked if I would condescend to meet the young Duke of Guastala. I was surprised by this request, because the Duke of Guastala needs no introduction. He is my cousin and we have known him for a long time. He is the son of Princess Palma. As a well-educated young relative, he always visits me on New Year's Day every year. It turns out that the Duke of Guastala is not my relative, but the son of the woman you are interested in. Because there is no princess by that name at all, I guess she may be a poor woman living under the Jena Bridge, who poetically named herself Princess Jena, just as someone would call herself Batiniole or King of Steel. But I was wrong. This is a very rich woman. At an exhibition, I was amazed by her beautiful and extraordinary furniture. They are real and much more noble than the name of the owner. As for the so-called Duke of Guastala, who may be the agent of my secretary, his title was probably purchased at a cost. What can't be bought for money? But I was wrong. It turned out that the emperor was happy for a moment and gave them a title that he had no right to deal with. This may prove his strength, or his ignorance, or his cunning, and I particularly think that in this way he played a malicious joke on these involuntary titles stealers. However, I can't give you a full explanation of all this. I only know about the Saint Germanic district. If you can find an introducer at last, you will find that many of the Gouvernails and Galadons seem to be wicked wives who are purposely collected from Balzac's novels for entertainment. Of course, all this has nothing to do with the prestige of Prince Gelmont, but without me, without my open door curse, you can't enter her residence."
"Sir, the residence of Prince Gelmont is really beautiful."
"Hmm! It's not very beautiful, but there's nothing more beautiful than this. However, it's not as beautiful as the Princess's wife.
"Is Princess Gelmont more beautiful than Duchess Gelmont?"
"Ah! It's hard to compare them. (It's worth noting that the upper class, once they have a little imagination, will either hold those who seem to be the strongest and most superior in the sky or step on their feet in accordance with their likes and dislikes.) The Duchess of Gelmont (who does not call her Oliana, and may want to distance me from her) is kind and graceful and magnificent, which you can hardly imagine. But her cousin is not comparable. The image of Prince Gelmont is exactly the image of Prince Metterney imagined by the vegetable seller at the Central Market in Paris. But Mrs. Metterney thought it was she who made Wagner famous because she knew Victor Morrel. However, Mrs. Galmont, or rather her mother, knew Wagner herself. It was tempting, not to mention her extraordinary beauty. Estelle's Garden alone is enough for people to see!"
The granddaughter-in-law of Prince Metnier (1836-1921), Minister for Foreign Affairs of the Austrian Empire and Prime Minister Metnier (1773-1859), was very talented and left two volumes of memoirs for later generations.
(2) Victor Morrel (1848-1923), French opera actor.
"Can you visit it?"
"No, an invitation is necessary, but she won't invite anyone unless I show up."
However, he threw out the bait and then took it back. He handed me his hand because I was home. Lily Of The Valley
"My task is done, sir. Nevertheless, I would like to solicit a few more words. Maybe somebody will like you like me in the future. I hope you can learn a lesson from this matter now. Don't turn a deaf ear to such expressions. Interpersonal goodwill is invaluable. In life, this kind of feeling can not depend on one person alone, because some things do not mean that one can seek what one wants, get what one wants, do what one wants to do, and learn what one wants to learn, but several people can succeed together. Of course, not as Balzac's novel said in thirteen people, or "three swordsmen" said in four people. Goodbye."
He was probably very tired and no longer wanted to go to the forest garden to enjoy the moon, because he wanted me to tell the driver to take him home. But he immediately made another move, as if to change his mind, but I had passed his order to the coachman. In order not to delay more time, I had rang the doorbell and no longer wanted to tell Mr. De Charles the story of the German Emperor and General Buda. Just now, they disturbed me and made me restless. The surprising reception that Mr. De Charles had given me was gone.
