1. An ancient Farry is about four kilometers.
"It can't be algebra that led him to ask for night leave," thought Mr. de Charles. Will he hook up with the police? Nevertheless, despite the objections raised, Morrel managed to retain several hours of late homecoming, or on the grounds of more than algebra lessons, or on the pretext of teaching violin lessons. On one occasion, for neither reason, Prince Gelmont came to the beach for a few days, visited the Duchess of Luxembourg, met the musician, did not know who he was, nor let him know more about himself, gave him fifty francs, and spent the night with him in the brothel in Mainville; this was double for Morrel. The pleasure was not only the charity of Mr. de Gelmont, but also the prostitutes'bare brown breasts. I don't know how Mr. de Charles feels about what happened and where he was, but certainly not for the seducer. Mr. De Charlus was so jealous that in order to find out the origin of the seducer, he telegraphed Hubien. Two days later, Hubien came. Moreover, at the beginning of the second week, Morrel declared that he could not come back. The Baron asked whether Hubien could take charge of buying the kite mother of the brothel and try to get him and Hubien hidden. Come on, sneak into the scene." It's a deal. I'll take care of it, my little nagger, "answered Hubien to the baron. People do not understand the extent to which Mr. De Charles was spiritually tormented by this uneasiness, and thus became knowledgeable and knowledgeable for a moment. Love thus caused the ideological stratum to rise. In Mr. De Charles's love, a few days ago, it was quite like a plain, standing in the farthest place, and it was impossible to find an idea on the surface. In an instant, a group of mountains rose from the ground like stones, and they were carved mountains. It seemed that there was a skillful craftsman who was not. Instead of carrying marble away, they carve it carefully in place to form large-scale sculptures of anger, jealousy, curiosity, envy, resentment, pain, pride, terror and love. Reading of Masterpieces
However, the evening when Morrel was supposed to be absent finally arrived. Shubian's mission was successful. He and the Baron came around eleven o'clock at night, and then they were hidden. It was three blocks before we reached the magnificent brothel (people arrived here from all over the world of flowers). Mr. de Charles walked on tiptoe, lowered his voice, and asked Hubien to speak quietly, lest Morrel should hear their movements in it. But Mr. De Charles was not used to such places. As soon as he crept into the hall, he was startled. His foothold was more lively than that of an exchange or an auction house. He told the waitresses around him to talk a little bit, but it was useless; besides, their voices had been masked by the cry of an old "overseer" solicitor at auction, only to see the overseer wearing a dark brown wig and her face shattered with the solemn wrinkles peculiar to the notary or the Spanish clergyman, who directed the doors. Turning on and off in turn is like people controlling traffic. Every minute they issue thunderous slogans: "Take Mr. to No. 28, Spanish Chamber." Stop receiving visitors. Open the door again. The two gentlemen want to see Miss Noemi. She's waiting for them in Persian Salon." Mr. De Charlus was so panicked that he looked like a provincial bumpkin crossing the main road; for example, he was far less sacrilegious than the theme on the pillars of the old church hall in Gulliver, and the young maids tirelessly lowered their voices and repeated the commands of female supervision as if they had heard the lessons of the country Chapel choir. The students recited the teachings loudly. He was terrified, Mr. De Charles. He, in the aisle, trembling to be heard, thought that Morrel was leaning against the window and listening to the chirping of the broad stairs. Wouldn't it be equally possible to be frightened? Actually, you know, what's going on on the stairs is invisible in the room. Finally, he ended his Jesus-like crucifixion and found Miss Noemi, who should have hidden them, including Hubien, but initially locked him up in a high-cost Persian salon, where nothing could be seen. She told him that Morrel wanted to drink orange water, and when he was served orange water, they took the two passengers to a transparent salon. At this time, because someone called her, she seemed to be in the story, saying that in order to let them pass the time, she promised to send them a "smart little lady". Because, she, people call her something.
The "smart lady" was wearing a Persian dressing gown. She was about to take it off. Mr. de Charles urged her not to make it again. So she asked for champagne, forty francs each. In fact, Morrel was with Prince Gelmont at this time; but on the surface, pretending to have made a mistake in the room, he broke into a fragrant room with two women, who hurried to leave the two gentlemen alone. Mr. De Charles knew nothing about it. He cursed and wanted to open the door of the room. Miss Noemi called again. Miss Noemi heard that the clever little lady had told Mr. De Charles that the details of Morrel did not match those she had told him personally. She told her to go away and send one at once. ” The gentle little lady replaced the smart one, but the gentle little lady did not let him know more details. Instead, she told him that the Spring Palace was serious and that she had ordered champagne as well. The Baron was furious and called Miss Noemi again. Miss Noeli said to them, "Yes, it's been a long time. These ladies put on airs. He doesn't seem to want to make a name for themselves." Finally, unable to withstand Mr. De Charles's hard and soft tactics, Miss Noemi assured them that they had waited no more than five minutes, and then went away unhappy. The five minutes dragged on for an hour, and Miss Noemi crept up to a slightly opened door with angry Mr. de Charles and sad-faced Hubien and said to them, "You will see clearly. But at this time, it's not very interesting. He's with three women. He's talking to them about team life. Finally, the Baron can look out through the crack in the door or through the mirror. But a deadly terror struck him so hard that he leaned against the wall. It was Morrel, who was before him, as if pagan mystery and Magic were still working. It was Morrel's shadow and the mummy of Morrel; it was not Morrel, who had been revived like Lazarus, but Morrel's revelation. Morrel's ghost was Morrel's return or summoned back to this place. When the house came (in the room, walls and long sofas, the symbol of witchcraft was being repeated everywhere), Morrel was only a few metres away, with his silhouette in front of him. Morrel seemed to have died and lost his colour; among the women he seemed to be having a great time with them, making no one look like him, and being solidified in artificial stillness; and in order to drink the champagne in front of him, his feeble arm slowly tried to reach out, but it was helpless to fall down again. This scene gives us an ambiguous feeling, as if a religion is talking about immortality, but listen to its meaning, it means something that does not exclude nothingness. One by one, the ladies asked him questions: "Look," Miss Noemi whispered to the baron. "They talked to him about his life in the team. It was interesting, wasn't it?" Say, she laughed. - Are you satisfied? He was calm, wasn't he, "she continued, as if she were talking about a dying man. Women's questions came one after another, but Morrel was dead and unable to answer them. Even the miracle of mumbling a word did not happen. Mr. De Charlus hesitated for a moment and understood the truth, either because Hubien was clumsy in his words and deeds when he went to collude, or because the fire was burning outside the commission's secret affair, the thin paper could not be wrapped up, or because the girls were born with a libido for chewing their tongues, or because they were afraid of the police, Morrel was informed that there were two gentlemen. He paid a lot of money to see him, and Prince Gelmont was allowed to shake up and mix up three powders, but he left poor Morrel behind. Morrel was frightened and paralyzed. If Mr. De Charles saw him vaguely, he could see the Baron clearly. So frightened that they could not speak out and dared not fetch their glasses for fear that they might fall to the ground unsteadily.
Lazarus, transliteration of L3are in Greek, characters in Bible stories. It is said that when Jesus preached in Jerusalem, he often visited the house of Lazarus. He was a good friend of Jesus and a brother of Mary. After Lazarus died of illness and was buried, Jesus raised him up.
However, the story ended badly for Prince Gelmont. They got him out so that Mr. De Charles could not see him. He was angry at his misfortune and did not try to find out who was the culprit. Instead, he begged Morrel, but refused to let the other party know who he was. He made an appointment to meet him in his rented villa the next night, though he did not. Living there may be a short time. He's also an old habit that we've learned at Mrs. de Villebarisis's house. He decorated his villa with family souvenirs so that he could feel at home. So the next day, Morrel was nervous and turned around five steps, afraid of being followed by Mr. De Charles. He did not find any suspicious passers-by, and finally slipped into the villa. A servant let him into the salon and said to him, He went to tell Mr. (His master had instructed him not to reveal the prince's name so as not to arouse suspicion). But as Morrel waited alone to see if his hair was messy in the mirror, an illusion appeared. On the fireplace, photographs were taken, but the violinist recognized them, for he had seen them at Mr. de Charles's house. They were Princess Gelmont, the Duchess of Luxembourg, and Mrs. de Villebalisis, who had suddenly taken him by surprise. At the same time, he found a photograph of Mr. de Charles, which was located a little behind. The Baron seemed to be staring at Morrel with an odd, straight eye. Morrel was so frightened that he woke up from the initial shock that he thought it was a trap that Mr. de Charles had arranged for him to fall in order to test his loyalty. He jumped and rolled down the steps of the villa, ran down the road and waited for Prince Gelmont. The acquaintance who meets each other in the water carries out the necessary practice is not that he never thought whether he would be cautious or not, and that person would have no objection) to enter the salon, even a figure can not be found. I'm afraid it's not easy to lead the wolf into the room. He grabbed the pistol and searched the whole house with his servant. The villa was not big. The corner of the small garden and the basement were all searched. His partner who met by chance disappeared. But the next week, he met him several times, but every time Morrel escaped to save his life, as if the prince were more vicious. Morrel's suspicion of a ghost is always hard to dispel, even in Paris, when he sees Prince Gelmont, he runs away. Mr. De Charles, instead of suffering from an act of disloyalty that despaired him, was inexplicably ashamed, not to mention revenge.
However, the memories of what I had told about it have been replaced by other past events, because the small railroad reopened the "old car" and continued to send passengers to and from the next stations.
In Grantwater, I sometimes saw Mr. Pierre de Vilju boarding the car because there lived a sister who spent an afternoon with her. Mr. Pierre de Vilju, the Count of Cressie, was a poor aristocrat, but of very noble origin. I was born through Kang. The Bulmers knew him, but he had little contact with the Campbells. He was so poor that I felt that even if I smoked a cigar and had to spend it once, it was a wonderful enjoyment for him. In those days when I couldn't see Albertina, I developed the habit of inviting him to Balbeck. White-faced scholar, with charming blue eyes, delicate and elegant speech and perfect expression, only saw his two lips move, witty words, he loved to talk about the noble life he had apparently experienced, and also about the genealogy. When I asked him what he had carved on his ring, he smiled humbly and told me, "This is a green grape." With the delight of the wine taster, he added, "Our emblem is a green grape --- symbolic * because my name is Vilju --- the leaves of the green * emblem." But I think he would be disappointed if I only let him drink sour grape juice in Balbeck. He likes to drink the most expensive wine, no doubt because he is lost, because he has developed a hobby, or perhaps because he exaggerates his preference too much. Therefore, when I invited him to dinner in Balbeck, he always ordered delicious dishes. He ate a little too much and drank too much. He only directed this to warm the wine. In fact, this kind of wine had to be warm. He also ordered the wine to be iced, and that kind of wine should have been iced. 。 Before and after dinner, he asked for a bottle of Porto wine or brandy, and he had to specify the date or number of brewing, just as he was putting up a sign for a marquis's territory. People generally did not know what was going on, but he was an expert.
French means "green grapes".
For Amy, I'm an ideal customer, because every time I entertain such a special dinner, he's very happy, just listen to him shout to the runner: "Come on, get table 25!" He didn't even say "get ready" but "get ready for me", as if it were his treat. Because the language of the head waiter in the hotel is different from that of the general head waiter, deputy and shop assistant, when I proposed to settle the accounts, the head waiter repeatedly waved back-hand persuasion, as if to appease an irrepressible wild horse, and said to the running room assistant, "Don't be too anxious (to calculate the accounts). Be calm and very calm." And." Just as the fellow was leaving with the bill, Amy was afraid that his instructions would not be carried out accurately, so she called him back: "Wait a minute, I'm going to settle the accounts myself." When I told him it didn't matter, he said, "I have such a principle, as the saying goes, that customers should not be ripped off." As for the manager, he sees my guests dressed in simple, old-fashioned clothes, and very old-fashioned clothes. (If he had the means, I'm afraid no one could match his gorgeous dress art with Balzac's legendary characters.) But after burying it in my face, he looks at it from a distance. See if everything is ready and make an eye *, ask someone to put a small piece of wood under the uneven legs of the table. It's not that he won't do it himself as others do, although he conceals that he did the dishwashing business earlier. But there are exceptions. One day, he cut the turkey himself. I happened to be out, but I knew that he started with a kind of sacred dignity and stood respectfully in a circle of waiters in the right place from the sideboard, surrounded by them, not so much learning skills, but rather showing people, one by one, amazed and almost stunned. The manager looked at them (and, at the same time, a slow motion pierced the donor's throat, eyes filled with a noble sense of mission, eyes fixed on the guys who refused to move, and had to see some solemn expression on their faces), but they did not understand. The priest didn't find out I wasn't there. When he knew it, it made him very upset. Why didn't you see me carving the turkey myself? I answered him that I hadn't seen Sarah in Rome, Venice, Siena, Prado, the Dresden Museum, the Indian, Fidel. I knew obedience and was going to add the turkey cut by him to my list. It seems that the only analogy he can understand is the art of tragedy (Sarah in Fidel), because I told him that in the days of large-scale performances, Grand Gokland agreed with the role of an actor, which had only one line on stage, not even a word to say. One thing, I'm sorry for you. When shall I cut it again? It has to be a major event, a war. (It was only after the truce that another cut was made.) From that day on, the calendar changed, and people calculated, "That's the second day of the day I personally carved the turkey." That's exactly eight days after the manager cut the turkey. In this way, the turkey dissection has become a new era of distinctive calendar, like the birth of Christ or the Islamic calendar, but it does not have the extension of the AD or Islamic calendar, nor can it be compared with their long-term practicality.
Mr. De Cressie's life was distressed, not only because he no longer had a big horse and lost delicious food, but also because he had to deal with people who thought Campbell and Gelmont were one. When he found out that I knew, Mr. Legrondan, who now calls himself Legron de Messegris, had no rights of any kind there, and that, with his red face, Mr. De Cressie had an infectious pleasure. His sister said to me comprehensively, "My brother has never been so happy to talk to you." Ever since he found out that someone knew Campbell's mediocrity and Galmont's nobility, that the world existed for someone, he felt that he really existed in the world. He was like this man, after all the libraries in the world were burnt to ashes, after a rise in a totally ignorant race, Latin scholars heard Horace's poems recited for him, and they renewed their courage to stand firm in life. So every time he got off the train, he asked me, "When is our little party scheduled?" This can be said to be the greed of the diners, or the knowledgeable taste of scholars, because he regards Barbeck's dinner as an opportunity for conversation. The issues he talks about are precious to him, and he can't talk to anyone else. In this respect, our party is with the League Club, the Collection of Precious Books Association. There's something similar about regular, extraordinarily rich dinners. As for his own family, he is very humble, not Mr. De Cressie told me. I just know that his family is a very big family, a branch of the English people with the title of Cressie that has been handed down from generation to generation in France. When I knew he was a true descendant of the Cressie family, I told him that one of Mrs. de Gelmont's nieces married an American named Charlie Cressie and said to him, "I think he has nothing to do with him." It doesn't matter, "he said to me." Others are the same - besides, although my family is not so famous - many Americans are called Montgomery, Berry, Chances or Cabell, but they have nothing to do with the Pembroke, Buckingham, Essex families, or with the Duke of Berry. " I wanted to tell him several times to make him happy. I knew Mrs. Swan, who used to be known as Odette de Cressie as a flirtatious woman. Although Duke Alonson would not be angry at people talking to him about Emilian de Alonson, I felt that I was not familiar with Mr. De Cressie. The degree to which you can joke at will." He came from a very large family, "De Monroe told me one day." His surname is Cyrol." He added that his old castle, which stood above Angaville, could hardly be inhabited, and said that although it had been very rich at that time, it was now in ruins and could not be repaired, but the family's old motto was still visible. I think this motto is very beautiful. Maybe it was adapted to the agitation of the Raptors who lived in the empty nest valley. They should have left the nest long ago. But today, the motto is probably concerned about the decline. In this lonely desert, they are looking forward to the coming death. It is in this dual sense that this motto is interesting to contrast with the surname of "knowing time". This motto is: not knowing time.
At Elmononville Station, sometimes Mr. de Chevroni boarded the bus and Brishow told me that, like His Excellency Archbishop Gabriel, his surname meant "a place where goats are concentrated". He was a relative of the Campbells, and because of this and misjudged their elegance, the Campbells invited him to Ferdinand from time to time, but only when they had no guests to show off. He lived in Bosolay all year round, and de Schefflerney was more tacky than the Campbells. Therefore, he went to Paris for a few weeks and did not waste too much "to see" in a single day. To such an extent, a variety of programs flickered in front of him, often making him dizzy. When people asked him if he had seen a play, he was sometimes even uncertain about himself. But this kind of confusion is rare, because he knows things in Paris with the peculiar meticulousness rarely seen by Paris's rare visitors. He often recommends me to see "new things" ("it's worth seeing"), but he only thinks "new" from the point of view of fresh and good-looking night, but he doesn't understand the problem from the aesthetic point of view. He can't see at all that these "new things" often constitute "new things" in the history of art. In this way, no matter what he talks about, he always stays on a plane. He says to us, "Once, we went to the comedy theatre, but the program was ordinary. It's called Perias and Merysander. (2) It's not interesting. Berrier has always done well, but it's better to see him do something else. On the contrary, in the gymnasium, they play Lady Lords. We went to see it twice; don't miss the chance, it's worth seeing; it's fantastic; you see actors like Frefael, Mary Manier and Little Baron. He even gave me names of actors I had never heard of before. He didn't add Mr. or Mrs. or Miss to the names of actors. He didn't call people like Duke Gelmont. Duke Gelmont always talked about "Miss Giffert Gilbert's Songs" and "Mr. Chango's Experience" in a tone of scorn. " Mr. de Chevroni did not use that tone. He spoke of Gonaria and de Erie as if he were talking about Voltaire and Montesquieu. Because in his mind, actors are treated like everything in Paris, aristocrats show arrogant desire ("hope" has been shown affectionate desire by the people of other provinces ("hope") defeated.
(1) French Saylor's homophonic "Saisl'heure" means "knowing time"; while the inscription means "not knowing time", so the opposite is complementary and interesting.
(2) Perias and Merysander, five acts of opera, Debussy's composition. In Paris in early 1902, the plot was taken from the tragedy of the same name by Belgian playwright Metlink.
I remember the first dinner I had with the Newlyweds'Home in Las Player. In Ferdinand, people still called the De Campbells' Home as the Newlyweds'Home. Although their time of marriage had long gone, after the dinner, the old Marquise wrote me a letter, even though her handwriting was mixed in thousands of other letters. I can also recognize it in the letter. She said to me, "Bring your graceful --- charming --- lovely cousin. This will be a kind of ecstasy, a kind of pleasure. "Her words always lack the accentuation that the recipient expects, which is certain, so that I finally changed the view of the nature of"weakening"that the"weakening"effect was her deliberate pursuit, and found out that Saint-Bernard's bizarre rhetoric hobby - was accepted. This hobby often prompted him to break the lexical collocation rule and to mutate the more commonly used phrases. There is no doubt that the two techniques were developed by different teachers. In this epistolary style, there is a sharp contrast. The second method makes Mrs. de Campbell use many adjectives in the lower scale, avoiding ending in perfect harmony, thus making up for the dullness of these adjectives. On the contrary, whenever used by her Marquis sons or her cousins, I tend to think that in these contrary usages, what I see is not the deliberate attention expressed in the works of the Marquis who enjoys the legacy of her deceased husband, but the silly and clumsy strokes. Because the whole family, and even the most distant relatives, are blindly imitating Aunt Celia, the rules of the three adjectives are highly advocated, and a kind of passionate breathing method is also highly respected. In the family, if there was a little girl, she would stop to swallow her saliva when she was young, and then she would be determined to cultivate the musical talent that she might have been born with. The relationship between the Campbells and Mrs. Verdiland soon became inferior for various reasons. They wanted to invite her.
"Young," the Marquis said proudly to me, "I can't see why we don't invite her, this woman; it's nothing special to see everybody in the countryside." But in fact, they were very anxious and kept asking me how they should realize their desire to be polite. Because they invited us --- Albertina and me --- and some friends of Saint Luke to dinner, because they were local fashion figures, the owner of Gueville Castle was more elegant than the Normandy upper class society, and Mrs. Vildiran was so quiet on the surface that she really liked to associate with them, so I was very happy to associate with them. It is suggested that the Campbells invite the "landlady" to come with them. But Ferdiner's Castle owners were afraid (how timid they were) to make their distinguished friends unhappy, or (how naive they were) that the Vildirans would be bored with non-intellectuals, or that they might be afraid (they were full of stereotypes and saw too little of the world) to get mixed up. Making "silly things" means that it's not good to tie them together, which is "inappropriate", and it's better to invite Mrs. Vildiran (who is going to invite her and all her small circles) to dinner. The next dinner --- Yashi, and friends of Saint Lou --- they invite only Morrel from the little core so that the prominent people they receive can indirectly tell Mr. de Charles that musicians can be part of the entertainment of guests because they invite him to bring the violin. Godard was added because Mr. de Campbell claimed that Godard was lively and "good" at dinner, and that it would be convenient to have good relations with doctors in case someone was ill. However, they only invited him alone, not to "start with a woman". Mrs. Vildiran was very angry to learn that two members of the small circle had been invited to a "small range" dinner in Ferdiner and had excluded her. She instructed the doctor proudly to reply, "We are going to dinner at the Vildiran's house in the evening." The doctor readily obeyed, and used the plural of us. The Campbells were a lesson, telling them clearly that he and Mrs. Godard were inseparable. As for Morrel, there was no need for Mrs. Vildiran to accuse him of rudeness. He had the nature of rudeness, and that's why. If, in relation to the pleasure of the baron, he had an independent attitude towards Mr. de Charles, which distressed the baron, we have already seen that the influence of the Baron on him in other ways is more visible and tangible. For example, he has expanded his knowledge of music and made the style of the top performers more tending. Mature. But it's just an impact, at least when we talk about it. On the contrary, there is a market in which Morrel blindly believes and implements what Mr. de Charles says. Blind and fanatical, not only because Mr. De Charles's teachings were wrong, but also because, even if they were good for a nobleman, they became ridiculous once Morrel swallowed them. In this market, Morrel became so credulous, so submissive to his master, that is the market of the upper class. The violinist, before he knew Mr. de Charles, had no idea of the upper class. He accepted the baron's simple and arrogant sketch of the upper class for him: "There are a number of families with superior status, and the Garments are the first," Mr. de Charles said to him. "They are with France." There are fourteen marriages in the Royal family, but this is mainly the honour of the French Royal family, because the French throne should have belonged to Altos Galmont, not to his half-brother, Fat Louis; under Louis XIV, we hung black veils for the death of the Prince, as if he were the same old grandfather as the King. Mother. Further down the Garment family, one can also list the Latremeier family, descendants of the kings of Naples and the counts of Bouatier; in the Seth family, as a family, they are not old, but they are the elders of the noble courtyard; and in the Lyna family, although they are the rising stars, they all have prominent ties of marriage. Family: Schwarzer family, La Rochefoucauld family of Agur family. Plus the Noah family, not to mention the Count of Toulouse, the Montesquieu family, the Castellan family, except for the forgotten ones, that's all. As for the little nobles, Marquis Campbell Mead or Marquis Watfield, they are no different from the last soldier of your regiment. You go to the countess's house to urinate, or to the baroness's house to urinate, is the same thing, you will damage your reputation, a piece of shit diaper as toilet paper. It's not clean." Morrel accepted the history lesson respectfully, perhaps a little rough; he judged the merits of things as if he had become a member of the Gelmont family himself, hoping to have an opportunity to settle accounts with the guys who pretended to be the Rado de Owen family, and to shake their hands in contempt. You know, he doesn't look at them at all. As for the Campbells, it is now clear to them that they are "no better than the last soldier of his regiment". He did not reply to their invitation and only sent a telegram to apologize one hour before the dinner began, as if he had just done it as a pure-blood Prince and grandson. Moreover, it is hard to imagine that Mr. De Charles, on all occasions when his sexual flaws were fully performed, would be so intolerable, so critical, and even so shrewd, that he would be so foolish now. It can be said that, indeed, his sexual defect seems to be an intermittent mental illness. Who hasn't seen some women or even some men who are talented but suffer from neuroticism? When they are happy, calm and satisfied with their surroundings, their gifts stand out; that is to say, truth speaks through their mouths. But as long as you have a headache and a little boost to your self-esteem, you can change everything. Sudden, windy, narrow intellect shows only an irritating, doubtful, flirtatious ego, and all that it does is unpleasant.
The Campbells'anger was intense; furthermore, intermittently, there was some friction, which caused some tension between them and the small circle. Because we, Mr. and Mrs. Godard, Charles, Brishaw Moore and I, once walked back from a dinner party in Las Player, and the Campbells went to a friend's house in Alambville for lunch, and there was a passage with us on the way. I said to Mr. de Charles, "You like Balzac so much, and you are kind." When you re-recognize him from the modern society, you should find that the Campbell family has got rid of the Outer Province Life Scene. Unexpectedly, Mr. de Charles became a friend of the Campbell family. It seemed that my opinion offended his dignity. He interrupted me suddenly: "You say that because the wife is above the husband," he said to me stiffly. Oh! I don't mean to say it's a provincial Muse, or Mrs. De Bajdong, though..." Mr. de Charles interrupted me again: "Madame Mossov is better." The train stopped and Brishaw got off." We just hinted that you're useless. You're really unbearable. What's the matter? Look, you haven't noticed that Brishaw is madly in love with Mrs. de Campbell?" I can see from the attitude of the Gordals and Charlie that nobody in the small core would believe it. I think they have ulterior motives." Well, you don't see how nervous he is when you talk about her, "added Mr. de Charles, who likes to show that he has women's experience, and that he talks freely about the emotions that women cause as if they were his usual feelings. However, he spoke to all young people in a vague paternal tone --- although his love for Morrel was exclusive --- which made his men's views on women self-defeating: "Oh! These children, "he said with a sharp voice, affectation and cadence," have to teach them everything. They are innocent like newborns. They don't know when a man falls in love with a woman. At your age, I know more about people than that, "he added, because he likes to use the language of the green world, perhaps out of interest or in order not to be seen, because he intentionally avoids using these words and admits that he often goes in and out of places where they are often used. A few days later, I had to admit in front of the facts that Brishaw had fallen in love with the Marquis. Oh, No. He's had lunch at her house several times. Mrs. Vildiran thought it was time to stop the nonsense. In addition to seeing the effect of interference in small core policies, she has developed a growing interest from these explanations and from the tragedies they have caused, which arises from idleness and boredom, both in the aristocratic world and in the bourgeois world. It was a very happy day in Las Player. Mrs. Vildiran was found missing with Brishaw for an hour. It was learned that she had told Brishaw that Mrs. de Campbell laughed at him and said that he was a joke on her salon. He said that this would spoil her reputation in her later years and would harm him. The position in the educational circle. She did not hesitate to talk to him in touching language about the laundrywoman he had lived with in Paris and their little daughter. She had the upper hand, and Brishaw never went to Ferdiner again, but he became depressed and sick. For two days, people thought that his eyes were almost completely blind, and his illness was aggravated and became acquired. However, the Campbells resented Morrel. On one occasion, they deliberately invited Mr. De Charles, but they did not invite Morrel. Because they had not received the Baron's reply, they were afraid of doing a foolish thing and felt that they were plotting against him. Later, they wrote Morrel an invitation letter, flattering him and Linde.· Mr. Charles smiled and showed him that he had great powers." You answer for both of us that I accept the invitation, "said the Baron to Morrel. On the day of the dinner, people were waiting in the salon of Ferdinand. The dinner hosted by the Campbells was actually an elegant treat for the Rays. But they were so afraid of offending Mr. De Schefflerney that, although they had known Mr. and Mrs. Ferrey by Mr. De Schefflerney's recommendation, Mrs. De Campbell could not help being nervous when she saw Mr. De Schefflerney visiting them at Ferdiner on the day of the dinner party. They made up various excuses. He was sent to Bosolay as soon as possible, but a step later, but not sooner or later. He happened to meet Mr. and Mrs. Ferrey in the courtyard. The couple witnessed his disgrace when he was driven out. The degree of displeasure was comparable to that of his shame. But Mr. and Mrs. Campbell wanted to keep Mr. de Charles from seeing Mr. de Schefflerney at all costs, thinking that the latter was a countryman, because the subtle differences in manners and speech were neglected by the family and could only be detected in the presence of outsiders. However, outsiders just could not see the subtle difference. Farewell. But people are reluctant to introduce such relatives to others, who are now like people trying to get rid of. As for Mr. and Mrs. Ferrey, they are so-called "good" families at the highest level. In the eyes of the Ferrets, the Garments, the Roons and others are undoubtedly "very good" families, but their surnames do not have to be mentioned one by one. Since no one knows Mrs. Ferrey's mother's great origin, and the circle she and her husband often associate with is extremely closed, people call them after, in order to explain the situation, always hasten to add a sentence, saying that this is the "best" family. Is it because of their humble surname that they are not humble or arrogant? However, the Ferrets could not see the usual people in the Ratremeier family. It takes a seaside queen status to invite Mr. and Mrs. Ferrey to come one morning a year, and the Campbells have the momentum of a seaside queen in the English Channel. They invited Mr. and Mrs. Ferrey to dinner, and they were very hopeful that Mr. de Charles would have an effect on them. He was secretly declared among the guests. It happened that Mrs. Ferrey did not know him. Mrs. de Campbell was extremely satisfied with this, with a floating smile on her face, which was characteristic of the first time a chemist had made a relationship between two particularly important objects. The door opened and Mrs. de Campbell almost fainted when she saw Morrel come in alone. Morrel, like a secretary who is in charge of apologizing to the minister, and like a woman of civilian origin who marries the Royal family, regretting the pain of the prince (Mrs. de Cranschamp apologizes to Duke Omar for that). Morrel said in the most relaxed tone, "Baron can't come. He's a little uncomfortable, at least I think. This is because of this... I haven't met him this week, "he added, and the last few words really disappointed Mrs. de Campbell, who had just told Mrs. and Mrs. Ferrey that Mr. de Charles could be seen by Morrel all the time during the day. The Campbells pretended, as if the Baron had enjoyed the party instead of coming. They did not listen to Morrel and said to their guests, "We don't care about him, right, but it's more enjoyable." But in fact, they were so angry that they suspected that Mrs. Vildiran had made a conspiracy, so a needle-to-needle pair came. When Mrs. Vildiran invited them again to Las Player, Mr. de Campbell could not help but look at his house and gather with the people in the small circle. So he came, but alone, and said that the Marquis was sorry, and her doctor told her to stay in the ward. Mr. and Mrs. Campbell thought that their half-attendance was a lesson for Mr. de Charles, and at the same time they showed the Vildirans that their courtesy to them was limited, just like that of the old princesses and dignitaries who sent their guests only to the halfway of the Second Palace and stayed behind. A few weeks later, they almost collapsed. Mr. de Campbell explained to me their discord: "I want to tell you that Mr. de Charles is really hard to get along with. He's an extreme Drayfusian..." But he's not!" Yes... Anyway, his cousin Prince Gelmont was one of those, and people scolded him enough for that. Some of my relatives are very concerned about it. I can't keep in touch with those people very often. Otherwise, I would have fallen out with the whole family. Since Prince Gelmont is a Dreyfus, that's not better, "said Mrs. de Campbell." Saint Lou, I heard, married his niece and is also a Dreyfus. This may even be the reason for getting married. Hello, my dear, don't say that St. Lou is a Dreyfus. We like St. Lou very much. You shouldn't jump to conclusions everywhere, "said Mr. de Campbell." Otherwise, you'll make him look good in the army!" He used to be, but now he's not, "I said to De Campbell." As for his marriage to Miss de Gelmont-Brasack, are you telling the truth? That's what everybody says, but you deserve to know that you're so close to him." But I repeat to you that he did say to me that he was a Dreyfuss, "said Mrs. de Campbell." Besides, it is very forgivable that half of the Gelmonts are of German origin. As far as the Garments on Valena Street are concerned, you can say, "Kangkang Road," but St. Louis is another matter; he has a large German family in vain, and his father first demanded the title of the French nobility, served again in 1871, and killed himself on the battlefield. Although I am very strict about this, I should not exaggerate it in one sense or another. Inmedio... Vius, ah! I can't remember. This is what Dr. Godard said. That's a man who always talks. You should have a little Laros dictionary here." In order to avoid taking a stand on the Latin sayings and leaving Saint Lucia's topic aside, her husband seems to feel that she lacks discretion when it comes to Saint Lucia, so she has to turn the topic to "the landlady". It is more necessary for her to explain with their pimples. We voluntarily rented Las Player to Madame Verdiland, "said the Marquis." But she seemed to think that with a house, everything she could get herself, grassland, old curtains, felts and drapes, and nothing in the rent, she had the right to associate with us. That's two obvious things. Our mistake is not to talk about an agent or an agency. It doesn't matter in Ferdinand, but from here I see the stiff face of my aunt Knouville, if she sees Aunt Vildiran's shawl coming out on my visitor's day. For Mr. de Charles, naturally, he knows some very good people, but also some very bad people. I asked who it was. After questioning Mrs. de Campbell, she finally had to say, "I'm sure he's feeding a Morrow, Morey. Mr. Morris, I don't know anything else. Of course, it has nothing to do with the violinist, "she added, blushing." When I sensed that Mrs. Verdiland thought she had the right to visit me in Paris because she was our tenant in the Channel, I knew I had to cut off the rope and break off the relationship.
Latin means the doctrine of the mean.
Despite the awkwardness with Madame Boss, the Campbells get along well with the regular passengers. When they are on the same route with us, they are happy to come to our carriage. As the train approached Duville station, Albertina took out her little mirror for the last time. Several times, she felt it necessary to change her gloves or take off her hat for a while. With the hairbrush I gave her, which I usually put in her hair, she trimmed the cockscomb, raised the top of her hair, and, if necessary, in the waves. Like hanging down to the curly hair at the back of the neck, she re-coiled her bun. As soon as we boarded the carriage to pick us up, we no longer knew the southeast and northwest; there was no street lamp on the halfway; when the wheels were loudest, we knew that we were crossing a village, thinking that, in fact, we were still in the vast field, and we could hear the distant bells, forgetting that we were wearing our dresses, and everyone was in a daze. At the end of the dim edge, due to the long journey, the train seemed to take us all the way to the middle of the night, almost halfway back to Paris. Suddenly, the car skidded on a piece of fine sand, and we found that we entered the garden. Suddenly, there were salons and restaurant lights shining in front of us, and all of a sudden we would go back to Paris. We took it back to social life, and when we heard the clock striking eight times, we couldn't help but choke back and take a step. We thought that eight o'clock was long past. At the same time, service came one after another, wine was poured one after another, and we circled around the men in tuxedos and the women in semi-naked evening dresses. The splendid banquet is no less than the real banquet in the city. It's just a special scarf with double dark colors, which changes the characteristics of the banquet. The scarf is woven at night. The country night when it comes and the beach night when it comes back are interwoven. It turns the night in the most primitive and solemn way in the upper class society. Time. When we returned, we reluctantly left the bright salon and had to say goodbye to the shining brilliance. But the brilliance was soon forgotten and I got on the bus. I managed to sit with Albertina and not let my girlfriend leave me with others. There was often another reason, that is, in a car. In the car of Heigu in the middle of winter, when we go downhill, we can do a lot of action. Even if a flash suddenly comes in and hugs us tightly, that's understandable. When Mr. de Campbell was not at odds with Mrs. Verdiland, he asked me, "Don't you feel like you're breathing in such a heavy fog? My sister was very short of breath this morning. Ah! You too, "he said contentedly." I'm going to tell her tonight. I know, as soon as she gets home, she'll ask if you've been out of breath for a long time." Moreover, the reason why he talked to me about my dyspnea was just to talk about his sister's dyspnea. He asked me to describe the basic characteristics of asthma, just to point out the difference between the two. However, although they have different characteristics, because he believes that his sister's depression should be authoritative, so he can not believe that what works for her asthma does not respond to my asthma. He is even angry, blame me I did not try, because there is one thing more than obeying dience to dietary taboos. The difficulty is not to impose your own taboos on others. What's more, I'm talking nonsense. You're facing an old authority, an old ancestor. What does Professor Godard think?
Also, another time, I went to see his wife again, because she said that my "cousin" looks strange, I want to know what she meant. She denied that she had said such things, but eventually admitted that she had talked about a person who seemed to have met my cousin. She didn't know who her name was, and finally she said that if she was right, she was the wife of a banker. Her name was Lina, Linnett, Lizette, Lia, whatever. I think "the banker's wife" is just a pretext to get rid of my questioning better. I'd like to ask Albertina if this is really the case. But I prefer to pretend to be an insider rather than an interrogator. What's more, Albertina would not answer anything, or say "no" pull down, consonant "B" pronunciation is too hesitant, and vowel "u" pronunciation is too loud. Albertina never talks about things that might hurt her, but about other things, which can only be explained according to the original things, because the truth is not what people tell us, but an invisible stream, what people tell us and what we hear, which is It's just the beginning of the truth. So when I decided that one of the women she met in Vichy was not decent, she swore that this woman was by no means what I had imagined and had never attempted to make her do anything bad. Another day, because I mentioned my curiosity about such women, she added that Ms. Vichy also had a girlfriend, but she, Albertina, did not know Ms. Vichy's girlfriend, but Ms. Vichy "promised" to let her know her. Since she promised to know her, it means that Albertina knows her intentionally, or that Ms. Vichy is active in courting her and is good at pleasing her. But if I put forward the opposite view in front of Albertina, people would think that my new discovery was only learned from her mouth, that my source of information would soon be interrupted, that I would never want to know anything from now on, and that I could no longer be feared. Besides, we live in Balbeck, while Ms. Vichy and her girlfriend live in Munton; so far away, there is no danger, and my suspicions are instantly broken.
Often, when Mr. de Campbell called for us from the station, I and Albertina were still using the dark cover, but it was difficult to make full use of it, mainly because Albertina feared that it would not be all dark and pushed more and less.
"You know, I'm sure Dr. Godard has seen us; besides, he can hear your breathing even if he hasn't seen it. They're not saying that you have another kind of breathing," Albertina was saying, and when we got to Duville Station, we got on the small train from there and went home. But this return trip, like the journey, if it left me some kind of poetic and picturesque impression, aroused my inner desire to travel | look, live a new life | hope, and thus I changed my original intention, gave up all plans to marry Albertina, and even hope to break off with her, plus our relationship. Nature * fire and water make it easier for me to make up my mind to break up with her. Because, come or go, at every stop, there are always some people who know us, or get on the bus with us, or stand on the platform to say hello to us; in addition to quiet but imagined pleasure, the dominant position is the joy of social activities, social pleasure is what comfort, and how intoxicating. Before each station arrived, the name itself (I had been imagining it since the first day I heard it, and that night I traveled with my grandmother) could be taken as its name implies, but since that night, Brishaw, at Albertina's request, has explained the etymology of the station more comprehensively to us, and since then, the name has been changed. It has lost its original features. I used to find some place names suffixed with "Flower" very attractive, such as Fick Flower. Onflor, Freire, Pavlol, Avlol, and so on. At the same time, I find Brickboff interesting with the ending of "Boff". But according to Brishaw's textual research, the flowers have fallen and the cows have run away (on the first day of the train, he told us that the so-called "fleur" is "port". It means "port". It means "port". It means "fiord". It means "fjord". The "boerf" means "boerf". In Normandy dialect, "budb" means "shack". As he cited several examples in succession, it turned out to me that the distinctive Eastern and Western unification had been generalized: the Brickboff cattle had joined the ranks of the Albert shack, and even, in a name, it sounded as individual as the place at first, such as "Pennedepie" (magpie's feathers), which was weird. It seems to me that since ancient times, just like a kind of Normandy cheese, it has been mixed into a rough, hard and tasty word. I am sorry to find another Gaul word "pen" which means "mountain" in both "Pennarch" and "les Apennins". As the train stops at every stop, I always feel that we have many friends to shake hands. If we can't say to receive visitors, I say to Albertina, "Go and ask Brishaw the name you want to know. You mentioned to me "arrogant Maguire." Yes, I like it very much. It's a proud village, "Albertina said." You may also feel more proud of it, "Brishaw answered." You don't use French, or even Latin culture, like Mar Gcouvilla superba, seen in Bishop Bayer's anthology, but Marc Gcouvilla, in an older form, closer to the Normandy dialect. Ulpbivilla superba', is the origin of Merculph village or manor. As you can still see from these proper nouns, suffixed with'Ville', the specters of the brutal Normandy invaders stand up at the seaside. Standing at the door of the carriage in Arambville, you can only see our distinguished doctor, who obviously has nothing in common with the leaders of the Scandinavians. But as soon as you close your eyes, you can see the famous Herimundivilla. Although, I don't know why, people take these roads, including the one between Luvani and the beach of Balbeck, instead of the scenic sections from Luvani to Old Balbeck, Madame Verdiland may have taken you there by car. So, you see Angaville or Viscal, and Duville, before you go to Mrs. Verdiland's house, it's Dirold Village. Besides, there are not only Normans living there. It seems that the Germans are here too (Aumenancourt, Alemanicurtis); don't tell me about this to the young officer I saw; he knows he probably won't be willing to visit his cousins anymore. There are also Saxons, as evidenced by the Sissona Spring (one of Mrs. Vildiran's favorite destinations, and for impeccable reasons), such as Le Middlesex (Middlesex) and Le Wessex (Wessex) in Britain. It's an inexplicable thing. Gothic people, like people call them "flowers", may have come here, even the Maure, because Mortagne came from'Mauretania'. There are traces in Gothorumvilla. Latin still has some cultural relics, such as Latini-acum, ""May I explain `Thorpehomme',"said Mr. De Charles. I understand what "homme" means, "he added, and the sculptor and Godard exchanged a tacit look." But what does'Thorph'mean? "Homme" is not what you take for granted, "Brishaw answered, looking sly at Godard and the sculptor." "Homme" here has nothing to do with thanking my mother for giving me that sex. Homme','Holm', also means'ilot'. As for `Thoroh', or `village', you can find it in hundreds of words. I have just said that our young friends are impatient. Therefore, in'Thoroehomme', there is no surname of a Norman leader, but there is a Norman vocabulary. You see the whole area has been Germanized."
The meaning of "homme" in the baron's mind is understood intentionally by others as the kind of "man" that the Baron likes.
"I think he's exaggerating," said Mr. de Charles. I went to Orgeville yesterday. Just now I deprived you of your qualifications to be a `homme'at `Thorpehomme', and this time I will return it to you, Baron. And there's no need to chew words. On a certificate, Robert I left us Orgeville Otger Villa, or Otger Manor. All these place names are the surnames of ancient nobles. Octeville-Venelle'is addressed to the family of'l' Avenel. The'l'Avenel'family is a famous family in the Middle Ages. Another day, Mrs. Vildiran took us to Bour-guenolle and wrote'Beurgde MoCles'because the village belonged to the'Baudoinde Moles' family in the Eleventh century, as did'La Chaise-Baudoin'; but we're already in East Sierra. " My God, so many officers are scrambling to get on the bus!" Mr. de Charles helped in a panic and said, "I'm talking about you, because I'm not in the way, since I got out of the car." Did you hear that, Doctor? Brishaw said. The Baron was afraid that the officers would step on him. Nevertheless, they concentrated here on the task, because East Sierra is Saint-Cyr, or Dominus Cyriacus. There are many names of cities. Sanctus and sancta, for example, have been replaced by Dominus and domina. Besides, this peaceful military town sometimes has the illusion of Saint-Hill, Versailles and Fontainebleau.
On the way back, I told Albertina to get dressed, because I knew very well that we were going to receive some temporary visitors in Amnongu, East Sierra, Doppleville and St. Vast. Their brief visits were not unpleasant to me, for example, in El Mononville. Territory). Mr. de Chevroni took advantage of the opportunity to visit me and asked me to go to Monshufan for lunch the next day. In East Sierra, for example, a handsome friend of St. Lou suddenly got in. He was sent by St. Lou (if he was not free) to convey the invitation of Captain de Borodino. Or invitations from officers who eat in the "brave cock" canteen, or from sergeants who eat in the "golden turkey" canteen. Saint Lou often comes to see me in person. As long as he's here, I'll watch Albertina with my eyes, but I won't let anyone know. It's just a futile vigilance. On one occasion, however, I interrupted my care. Because of the long parking time, Block greeted us and immediately went to his father, who had just inherited his uncle's legacy and rented a castle called the Knights'Land. He felt noble only when he took a post-station express and was driven by a carriage driver in his servant's clothes. Block asked me to accompany him to his father's car all the time." Come on, please, because the four legs are cattle-like; God's beloved, you'll make my father happy." But I was so sad that I had to leave Albertina in the carriage with Saint Lucia. When I turned my back around, they might talk to each other and go to another compartment, glancing at each other and doing things. As long as Saint Lucia was present, my eyes would not leave Albertina. However, I can see clearly, Block, he seemed to ask me to help him. He asked me to say hello to his father. At first I felt it was not enough to say no to him because I had no obstacles. The conductor had predicted that the train would stop for at least a quarter of an hour. Besides, almost all the passengers got off. They did not. When I got on the train, the train would not run; and then he realized that my man, who I am doing now, is the ultimate answer to him, is in the final analysis a secret attachment to elegance. Because he didn't know the names of the people I was with. Yes, Mr. De Charles forgot or deliberately failed to notice that he had contacted him once in order to get close to him. Not long ago, he said to me, "Please introduce your friend to me. You lack respect for me if you don't even say hello." So he chatted with Block, who seemed to make him extremely impressed. Like it, even often give him a sentence: "I hope there will be some time later." I can't say that. You don't want to walk hundreds of meters to say hello to my father. How happy will this greeting make him? Brock said to me. I was terrible. I didn't seem to have enough friends, and Block thought I wasn't enough friends for a reason. And my look * became more and more popular with him. I felt that he had such an idea. When I had noble people of "origin" around, I belittled my little citizen friends. From that day on, he was no longer as friendly to me as he used to be. I felt even more sad that he no longer respected my sexuality as he lived. However, in order to dispel his misunderstanding of my motives for staying in the car, I should have told him something - that is, I am jealous of Albertina - but it would not make me more painful to say these things, rather than just let him think that I am a pedantic person who pursues high-class social life blindly. Okay. That's what happened. In theory, people think they should always be honest to avoid misunderstanding. But life tends to seamlessly assemble misunderstandings so that, in order to eliminate them, it is only in rare cases where possible, or it is necessary to identify certain things that do not belong to this situation now, which are likely to hurt our friends even more, rather than let them make mistakes. It's a mistake to impose unnecessary guilt on us, or to disclose a certain privacy - that's what I've just encountered - but we feel that it's worse to disclose privacy than to make a mistake. What's more, even if I don't explain to Block why I didn't go with him, because I'm really inconvenient. If I only ask him not to be angry with me, I'll add fuel to his fire and show that I'm a knowledgeable criminal. There is no other way but to give in to fate! It was Albertina's duty not to let me leave her to see him off. It was his duty to think that, on the contrary, it was the dignitaries who were present. Even if they were a hundred times more noble, I should take care of Block wholeheartedly and praise him as a guest of honor. In this way, as long as there is an unexpected and absurd extranodal branch between the two predicates (here, Albertina and Saint Lucia appear face to face), the light that should have been focused can be refracted, but the deviation from each other is intensifying, and it is never possible to get close to each other. Is there a friendship better than Block's friendship with me, but it has been destroyed. The perpetrator did not intentionally create an awkward situation, so he would never explain the truth to the injured. Otherwise, it would be possible to heal his self-esteem wounds and restore his lost goodwill.
Besides, a friendship better than Block's may be exaggerated. He made me sick of every flaw. My tenderness to Albertina made his shortcomings intolerable to me. So at that moment in a hurry, I talked to him and watched Robert with my eyes. Block told me that he had lunch at Mrs. Bondang's house and that everyone was so impressed with me that they admired the sunset of Helios. Well, "I think," Mrs. Bondang decided that Block was a genius, and that the warm words of praise he gave me could not be compared with those of others. They would surely reach Albertina's ears. She can find out anytime and anywhere that I'm a'Man of honour'. To my surprise, her aunt hasn't mentioned it to her yet. Yes, "Brock went on." Everyone praises you. I was the only one who kept silent. It seemed that the food was not the one that was served to us, but not very good. It seemed that the food was the poppy. The poppy was precious to Tanatos, the God of death, his true brother Lesser, the sacred sleeping god, Hipponos. He wrapped his body and tongue in a thread of soft silk. I admire you no less than those hungry dogs. When they invited me, they even invited greedy dogs. But I admire you because I understand you, and they admire you but don't understand you. To put it bluntly, I admire you so much that I don't talk about you like this in public and praise my deepest admiration. I just feel that it is sacrilegious. People have wasted no time asking me about you, a sacred goddess of shame, the daughter of Zeus, who told me to be silent." I don't have a bad hobby to show my dissatisfaction, but this goddess of shame, which I think is more like Zeus, does not allow a critic who appreciates you to comment on you, because you sit in a mysterious palace and may be violated by a group of ignorant readers or journalists; like a politician. In the same way, politicians don't honour you to keep you from mixing with people who don't deserve you; in the same way that the bachelor's College does, he doesn't vote for you, to protect you from the humiliation of being associated with a gentleman who has little talent and knowledge; in the final analysis, they ask us not to write like the more respectable and disgusting humiliation of filial sons. Their deceased father deserves a special book to keep the poor dead quiet, quiet, not let people revive him, not let people sing praises for him, but the poor dead may prefer people to say his name with their mouth, rather than with wreaths, although these wreaths are placed respectfully on the grave.
If it had saddened me that Block could not understand why I did not greet his father, it would have angered me to admit that he had lowered my expectations at Mrs. Bondang's house (I now understand why Albertina had not hinted at the luncheon, and when I talked about Block's friendship with me, she was very cold). So the young Jew's impression of Mr. De Charles is quite different from his anger. Masterpiece
Yes, Block now thinks that I can't just stay away from the amorous men, but that I'm jealous of their initiative in approaching him (e.g. Mr. De Charles). So I try my best to set up roadblocks to prevent him from contacting them, and I regret that I can't see more from the baron's side. My partner. According to his habits, he kept it secret. At first, he asked me a few questions about Block with an air of indifference, but his tone was so casual that one could hardly believe that he was waiting to answer them with a seemingly utterly false interest. He was indifferent, monotonous and more absent-minded than indifferent. He seemed to be a little polite to me: "He looks smart. He says he's writing. Is he talented?" I said to Mr. De Charles, that's great. He said to him that he hoped to see him again. The Baron had no expression to show that he understood me. Because I repeated it four times without answering, I finally wondered if I had become a toy of voice illusion, because I thought I had heard what Mr. de Charles had said to me. He lives in Barbeck? The Baron whispered, totally unlike asking questions, and could even blame the French language for not having punctuation marks different from question marks to end sentences with very little doubt. Yes, this punctuation is of little use except for Mr. de Charles." No, they rented the "Knights'Land" nearby. Mr. De Charles pretended to look down upon Block after knowing what he meant. How terrible! He screamed and blew the trumpet as loud as he could." All the real estate called "Knights'Land" was built and occupied by the Knights of Malta (including me), just like the so-called "Temple" site, or "Temple" Knights' Land. If I lived in the Knights'enclave, I would take it for granted. But a Jew! However, this does not surprise me; it stems from a strange and sacrilegious hobby, a hobby peculiar to this race. Once a Jew has money to buy a castle, he often chooses a "hermit", "monastery", "monastery", "church" and so on. I have contact with a Jewish official. Guess where he lives? At Bishop Bridge. Out of favor, he was assigned to Brittany at the Abbey Bridge. During Holy Week, when people performed the blasphemous program called "The Passion of Jesus", the hall was filled with half a room of Jews, and it was ecstatic to think that they would nail Christ to the cross for the second time, at least the portrait. One day at the Lover concert, sitting next to me was a Jewish banker who was disappointed when the band played Berlioz's Childhood of Christ. But when he heard The Happiness of Jesus'Passion, he immediately showed his usual happy manner. Your friend lives in the knighthood feudal land, unfortunate people, how inhumane! You tell me the way, "he continued, carelessly, so that I could go and have a look one day. Our ancient territory was so badly trodden down." It's unfortunate, because he's polite and smart. Maybe he just missed the Temple Street in Paris! Mr. De Charles said these words, seemingly just to find a new example with the help of his theory: but he asked me a question, in fact, to achieve two purposes, the main purpose of which is to know Block's address. That's right, "Brishaw reminded." Temple Street used to be called the Templar Knights'Seal. In this regard, would you allow me to make an explanation? The scholar said. What? What do you mean? Mr. De Charles asked coldly, for this remark hindered his access to information." No, it's not very interesting, "Brishaw replied timidly." I was asked about the etymology of Balbeck. Temple Street used to be called'Baker of Baker'because the Baker Monastery in Normandy had its Court Baer in Paris. Mr. de Charles did not answer and pretended not to hear, which was a manifestation of his brutality and irrationality. Where does your friend live in Paris? Three out of four street names are taken from a church or a monastery, which provides an opportunity for the continuation of sacrilegious practices. People can't stop Jews from living on Madeleine Street, St. Augustine's Square, Bishop's Quay, Sister's Street and Notre Dame's Street, but they have to see the difficulty." We can't tell Mr. de Charles Block his present address, because we don't know either. But I know that his father's office is on White Coat Street. Fear is absolutely wicked to the utmost,'cried Mr. de Charles, seemingly satisfied with his own cries of sarcasm and indignation. "White Coat Street," he repeated with a laugh, each syllable as coagulated with milk-enzyme. What next! Think of this white overcoat contaminated by Mr. Block. It's the white overcoat of the beggar's brother. For the sake of the poisonous profanity, it's two steps away from the White Overcoat Street. There's an alley whose name I can't remember. It's all given to Jews. The shop has Hebrew characters on it and some make dead noodles. Workshop, there are some Jewish meat shops, is a real Jewish alley in Paris. Mr. Block may live there. Naturally, "he added, exaggerating and proud, playing with aesthetic words, giving people an air of Louis XIII's old Musketeer raising his head through an involuntary genetic reaction." The reason why I care about all these things is from an artistic point of view. Politics is not my business. I can't condemn a lot of Block, because there is a nation behind this Block. Among the outstanding children of this nation, there are people like Spinoza. Moreover, I appreciate Rembrandt's paintings very much, and appreciate the beauty that I can feel when I often go to and from synagogues. But the more uniform a Jewish District is, the more complete it is, the more beautiful it will be in the final analysis. Rest assured, moreover, the utilitarian instinct of this cruel nation has been melted into the love of wealth, so that the Hebrew Street, as I said, is very close to you. Only when the meat shops are available, can your friends choose the White Overcoat Street. It's ridiculous! What's more, it was a strange Jew who had burned the sacred bread. Next, I think it's even more strange for people to burn themselves, because it seems that the body of a Jew can be compared with the body of a merciful God. Maybe you can talk to your friend and ask him to take us to see the White Coat church. Think about it. It was there that the body of Louis de Orleans was murdered by the fearless John. Unfortunately, the fearless John did not rescue us from the hands of Orleans. Besides, I personally get along well with my cousins, Duke Chartres, but it's a usurper's family who ordered the murder of Louis XVI and the deprivation of Charles X and Henry V. Moreover, because they were the princes of their ancestors, people may call them this because they are the most amazing old lady. They are like regents and the rest of the party. What family! " This anti-Semitic or pro-Hebrew speech --- literally and implicitly --- was cut off in my ear by Morrel's whisper to me, which disappointed Mr. de Charles. Morrel, he was not unaware of the impression that Block had made. He thanked me for "sending Block away" and added with ulterior motives: "He wanted to stay. All this was jealousy. He wanted to replace me. What an old Jew!
"Maybe you can take advantage of the parking opportunity to extend the time and ask your friends to explain some religious rituals. Can't you get him back?' Mr. De Charles asked me, "I'm burning with anxiety." No, it's impossible. He drove away and was angry with me. Thank you, thank you, "Morrel whispered to me." If that's not the case, the carriage can always catch up with you. You can have a car without any effort, "Mr. de Charles answered, like such a man, who is accustomed to yielding everything to him. But he found me speechless: "What's his great car, how much imagination is it?" He said to me arrogantly, with the last glimmer of hope." It's an open post express. It may have been sealed by the Knights by now." When hope failed, Mr. de Charles was discouraged and pretended to be joking. I see. They were so frightened by a glass of wine that they backed off in a carriage. I'm afraid it's hard to catch up with a glass of wine." At last, it was found that the train started again and Saint Luke left us. But on this day, the only one, after we got on the bus, he made me so miserable, but he was unconscious, because I thought that in order to accompany Bullock, I had to let him stay with Albertina for a while. Other days, his presence did not afflict me. Because Albertina herself, in order to relieve me of all uneasiness, always tried to avoid sitting next to Robert as far as she could, even if she was unwilling, so that she could not reach her hand. Her eyes turned away from him, and from the moment he arrived, she would not. Covered up, almost pretentiously chatting with one of the other passengers, the trick lasted until Saint Lucia got off the bus. Thus, in East Sierra, his visit to us did not cause me any pain, or even any hardship. Like all other visits, it delighted me, and brought me greetings and invitations of one kind or another from this land.
(1) French coup_ (two-seated four-wheeled carriage) and "mixed wine" are homophonic, forming a homophonic tone. De Charles from the carriage to "mixed wine" and from "mixed wine" to "recup re" to cover up his ugly soul with jokes.
It's late summer and early autumn. On our journey from Balbeck to Duville, when I saw St. Pierre's Taxus Station far away, it was late afternoon. For a while, the sunshine on the cliff top flashed like a snowy sunset mountain, which immediately reminded me of (I don't want to mention the first evening when I thought of its incredible speed). Looking at the melancholy that caused me, I can't wait to boarding the train back to Paris instead of heading straight to Balbeck.) Elstier told me that in the morning, people can see the spectacular scene there, just as the sun is about to rise, the rainbow of seven colors is fighting brilliantly on the marvelous stones, at such a moment, How many times did he wake up the little boy and let him paint for him on the beach with his butt bare? The boy was a model for him for a year. The place name of St. Pierre of Taxus tells me that a fifty-something, curious, intelligent and pretentious man is about to appear. With him, I can talk about Chateaubrion and Balzac. Now, in the dusk, behind the walls of Angaville, it used to make me think that its ancient sandstone had suddenly become transparent. What I saw was the beautiful mansion of an uncle of Mr. de Campbell. I knew that if I did not want to have dinner in La Player, or if I did not want to. Back in Barbeck, people in the house would welcome me. Therefore, not only has the place name lost its mystery of beginning, but also the place itself is plain. Place names have already lost half of their mysterious color, and etymology has replaced mystery with reasoning, which has reduced the mystery level to another level. On our way back to El Mononville, St. Vast, Alan Bronville, at the stop of the train, we found shadows that had not been recognized at first, and Brishaw had not seen them at all. If at night, he would regard them as ghosts of Eriman, Visa and Elanba. But the shadow has increased to the carriage. It turned out to be Mr. de Campbell, who had completely fallen out with Mr. and Mrs. Verdiland. On behalf of his mother and wife, he came out to see off the guests and asked me if I would like him to rob me halfway. I stayed in Ferdinand for a few days. There was a wonderful female singer who could sing all the Grucker's works for me, and also on behalf of his mother and wife. A famous chess player, I can fight with him for a few games, and playing chess does not affect the Gulf to go fishing and sailing waves, nor does it affect the Vildeland family to eat dinner. In this regard, the Marquis pledged his honor to "lend" me to them and ask someone to come and show me the way. Wouldn't it be more convenient and more secure to play chess? But I can't believe it would be good for you to go to such a high place. My sister can't stand it. What will she look like when she comes back, but she doesn't feel too bad at the moment... Really, you have had an attack once, so terrible! Tomorrow, you may not be able to stand up!" He does not fall back and forth out of malice, but for the same reason, for example, when he sees a lame man in the street boasting in front of a deaf person or deliberately chatting with him, he will not stop laughing." So what happened before? Why, you haven't had any episodes in half a month? You know how beautiful it is! Seriously, you should live in Federer. You can talk to my sister about your asthma. At Angaville Station, Marquis of Montberu came to catch the train. He could not go to Ferdiner because of a hunting mistake. He was wearing boots and pheasant feathers in his hat. He shook hands with the passengers and took the opportunity to inform me that his son would come to visit me on a week when I was not comfortable. Thank me for being able. Reception, if his son can read something, then he would be very happy; or Mr. De Cressie to "make a courtesy * return visit," he said, while smoking a pipe, accepting a cigar or even several cigars, said to me: "Wow! Wouldn't you tell me when we'll have our next meeting in Luculus? Don't we have anything to talk about? Let me remind you that we left the Montgomery family on the train without talking about it. We should finish talking about it. I'll see you. Others just buy the newspaper they want to read. There are also many people chatting with us. I always suspect that they came to the nearest station of their castle and stayed on the platform just to meet some acquaintances. There is nothing else to do. In a word, the scenes of life in the upper class society are like another scene, which is similar to the station after station of the small train, but they can not be compared. The train itself seems to be aware of the role it has been given by the people it serves and has developed a lovely human character: it is gentle and patient, waiting patiently for the passengers who are late to get on the train, and they can wait as long as they like, and even if they drive, they can stop and welcome visitors as long as they are greeted. Thus, the passengers who stopped on the way came panting behind their buttocks, similar to the small train in terms of breathing, but different from them, they chased the train at full speed, while the small train just slowed down intellectually. So Elmononville, Alan Bronville, and Angaville, in any case, will never remind me of the great barbarism of the Norman conquest. They are not satisfied with the unspeakable melancholy clouds, which I have seen in the past immersed in the melancholy of the twilight. East Sierra! For me, even after recognizing its true face and waking me up from my dreams, this place name has long reminded me of lovely cold streets, bright glass windows, delicious poultry! East Sierra! Now it's just Morrel's station; Egreville, now it's just the station where we're waiting for Princess Shebadov to get on; Meinville, Albertina's station on a sunny evening. Whenever she's not too tired, she wants to stay with me for a while and get off there. The car, crossing a slope, did not go much more than she got off in Baville. In this way, I am not only worried about my loneliness - that loneliness clings to my heart in the first evening - but also I need not worry about the relapse of the old state, and no one will be strangers anymore. In this land not only rich in chestnut trees and tamarisks, but also permeated with friendship, footprints, and friendship. Inheritance is like a green hill, winding and rolling, sometimes hidden in the strange rocks, sometimes hidden behind the linden trees on both sides of the road. However, at each stop, there is a lovely gentleman, who warmly shakes hands and washes the dust for me, so as not to make me feel tired in the distance. If necessary, he often tells himself. Brave, accompany me on the road. At the next stop, another gentleman may have been waiting on the station. The call was so wonderful that the train whistled us to quit a friend, but allowed us to find other friends. If the distance between the castle and the castle is far enough, and the train passes the castle at the speed of a fast walker, the distance between the train and the castle is so close that the owners stand on the platform, standing in front of the waiting room, calling us, we think they are standing on their doorstep, greeting us in front of the window. It seems that the provincial railway is only a street in the whole province, and the lonely noble country villa is just a city mansion; even at a few stations, I have not heard anyone ask "good night" and there is a silence around me, because I know that this silence is a friend's dream, they are nearby. In the villa, I went to bed early in the morning. If I had to wake them up and ask them to help me receive them, then my entrance would be welcomed. Habits are so full of our time that a few months later, there is not a moment of leisure in the city. When we come to the city, we are given twelve hours of free reign a day. If one hour is free occasionally, I don't want to use this hour to see a church anymore. I used to come to see a church only for the sake of seeing it. Barbeck did not want to compare a landscape painting by Elstel with the original one I saw at his home, but preferred to go to Mr. Ferrey's house and play another game of chess. Yes, it is Balbeck that has a shameful influence, as well as charm, that really makes me familiar with it; if we say that its territorial distribution, extensive planting of various crops along the coast, is a form of tourism that gives me visits to friends of all kinds. So they also force the trip to have only a series of social pleasures to visit. The same place names were so stirring to me in the past that when I turned the ordinary Villa Yearbook to the chapter of Mandai Province, I was so excited. It was like a train timetable. Now I am so familiar with them that I can easily turn to the page of Balbeck from East Sierra to Duville, just like that. Look up the address book in such a relaxed way that you can get it by yourself. In this too socialized valley, I feel that on the hillside, there is a group of friends hanging faintly. The voice of evening poetry is no longer the cry of owls and frogs, but Mr. de Cricket's "How about?" Or Brishaw's "Zhaoming!" Here, the atmosphere will no longer cause confusion and anxiety, but full of genuine human feelings, breathing refreshing, and even excessive calm and anxiety relief effect. I have benefited a lot from it, to say the least, from now on, only from a practical point of view. My marriage to Albertina was insane.
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