I once asked Mrs. de Gelmont, who introduced her as her nephew, but I did not hear who the graceful young man of his name was, because when the Duchess said the name, although she spoke it loudly in her deep throat, the pronunciation was ambiguous, and I only heard "This is..." Weng, Robert... Brother. He decided that his skull was identical to that of the Welsh in ancient times. Later, I realized that she was saying, "This is Little Leon (Prince Leon, actually Robert de Saint Lucia's brother-in-law)." Admittedly, did he have such a skull, "she continued." I can't say that, but the elegance of his dress made the ghost place far away. When I was in Josland with the Roons, one day we went to church and met a number of farmers from all over Brittany. There was a tall country man, a tenant of the Leon family, who looked at Robernet's light pants in a fussy way. Why do you look at me like that? I bet you don't know who I am,'Leon said to him. Then, because the countryman said he didn't know, Leon went on to say, "Listen, I'm your prince." Oh!' The countryman was busy taking off his hat to apologize and answered,'I take you for a British man. If I take this opportunity to encourage Mrs. Ed Gelmont to talk again about the Roons (whose family sometimes marries them), her narrative will be filled with a pity and sentimental tone, and, as the real poet Bonnier might have said, "There are stocks frying on the spark of Jingdou beans." The taste of buckwheat pancakes is unpleasant.

(1) Josland is a small town in Molbion Province in Brittany, famous for its churches and castles built in the twelfth and fourteenth centuries.

About the Marquis of Dello (we all know that the Marquis was in a desolate state in his old age. He was often taken to H when he was deaf... The Duchess told me how, when his condition was slightly better, he could casually wear casual shoes to have lunch with the King of England while he was hunting in Gelmont, without realizing that the King was more respectable than himself, and apparently he was not at all restrained in front of the King. Bundle. She portrayed all this vividly, and even made the Marquis wear a feathered Musketeer cap like the pretentious squire of Perigo.

Moreover, even in judging a person's native place, Mrs. de Gelmont has a strong local flavor --- that's where her charm lies --- to be able to say that a woman who was born in a province or a place and grew up in Paris can't do it anyway, because she has a lot of Saint-Simon in her painting. When describing the scenery of other provinces, charming portraits often report the names of Anjou, Puwatu and Perigo. David Copperfield

Saint Simon (1675-1755), a French aristocrat, wrote 21 volumes of Memoirs reflecting Louis XIV's court life, in which the characterization is quite vivid.

Let's come back to Mrs. de Gelmont's pronunciation and vocabulary. The so-called aristocratic temperament shows their true conservatism in this respect. The word conservatism here refers to the whole meaning of the word, which is a little childish, a little dangerous, a kind of deep-seated rejection of all developments and changes, but at the same time attractive to artists. I wonder how people used to spell Jean. When I received a letter from Mrs. de Villebarisis's nephew to me, I understood that his signature was --- because he was baptized in Gotha and was well-known there --- Jehan (John) - de Villebarisis, with a beautiful and cumbersome H in the sense of heraldry, as we do here. Prayer books or stained glass show the same admirable letter painted in vermilion or group green. Gotha, a city in eastern Germany. The Gotha Yearbook, which published the genealogy of European celebrities, was compiled and published there.

Unfortunately, I couldn't sit there and listen to her endlessly, because I had to try to get home before Albertina. However, I can only get the useful advice I need from Mrs. de Gelmont bit by bit about clothes so that people can tailor Albertina the same style of clothes to the right range for young girls.

"For example, Madam, the last time you went to Prince de Gelmont's residence for dinner at St. De Felter's, you wore a long red skirt and red shoes. It was absolutely perfect. It looked like a red flower and a bright red ruby. What kind of material was it called? With? Can young girls wear them?"

The Duchess's tired face was instantly radiant, and that expression was the same as that of the Princess's wife when Swan complimented Prince Lom; she laughed and looked at Mr. De Brauday with a tearful, inquiring, delighted look, the gentleman who must be seen on such occasions. There was a laugh now behind the single glasses, as if to tolerate the intellectual confusion caused by sensory fanaticism, which he thought was entirely restrained by young people. The Duchess looked like she was saying, "What's wrong with him? He must be mad." Then she turned to me gently and said, "I don't know whether I was like a gem or a flower that day, but I remember that I had a red dress made of red satin that season. If a young girl really wants to wear it, she can't help it, but you told me that your girl never goes out at night. But this long skirt is an evening dress, which can't be worn by visitors in the daytime.

The strangest thing is that, although that night was not a long time ago, Mrs. de Gelmont had forgotten one thing (as we will see below) that she should have remembered, except the skirt she was wearing. It seems that for these activists, who are small, insignificant activists in the social arena, but are still activists after all, their spirit is so focused on what will happen in an hour that they can hardly store much more in their memory. For example, when someone mentioned to Mr. De Nobwa that he had recently predicted that he would sign a treaty with Germany, but had nothing to do with it, he would say the following big call, which was not intended to divert his goals or to excuse himself: "You must have heard wrong, I don't remember at all." I have to say that, and it is not like me to say that, because in this kind of conversation, I always speak very carefully, for the so-called amazing act which is often only out of impulse, and eventually leads to violence, I can not predict that it will succeed. There is no doubt that in the long run, the relationship between France and Germany will become closer, which will benefit both countries. In the middle of this transaction, I think France will not suffer, but I have never said that, because I think the time is not ripe enough. If you want to ask me if I am right with my old rival. My answer is that it will be a step-by-step defeat, and we will suffer heavy losses as a result. When Mr. de Nobwa said this, he was not lying. He was just too forgetful. Besides, anything you don't think about, something you get through imitation, or something you accept at the instigation of others, will always be forgotten very quickly. They change, and so do our memories. Compared with diplomats, those politicians have no time to forget their views on a certain occasion. In some cases, they are not ambitious, but simply forgetful. As for social figures, they never remember anything.

Mrs. de Gelmont assured me that she did not remember Mrs. de Shosbiel's presence that night in her red dress. It must have been my mistake. But God knows whether the Duke and even the Duchess have been thinking about the Shawsbeers all day ever since. That's what happened. After the death of the chairman of the Jockey Club, Mr. de Gelmont was the oldest vice-chairman. There was a group of people in the club who had little personal value but had only the pleasure of voting against those who did not invite them to dinner. At that time, they formed a group to oppose Duke de Gelmont. The Duke himself thought he was a sure winner, and he did not regard this as almost relative to his social status. The position of the insignificant chairman was in the eye, so he did not move. The group went around saying that the Duchess was Dreyfus (the Dreyfus case had already been closed, but it would have been mentioned even in 20 years, not to mention only two years later), had received Rothschild, and said that half of Germany had long been so popular as Duke de Gelmont. Semi-foreigners of descent have taken advantage. This group is in a very good position, because the other members of the club are also jealous of these prominent roles and hate their huge family. Shoespierre's family is not a small one, but it's not unpleasant: he never spends a dirty sum, the couple lives in a simple apartment, and the wife goes out in black clothes. Mrs. Shoespierre loves music and often holds small concerts at home. She invites more female singers than she does at Galmont House. But usually no one expected to mention these concerts, because the participants could not even drink a cool drink, and husbands were not present. The whole performance was performed in the humble corner of Chair Street. In the opera house, Mrs. de Shosbiel never came and went in public. The people she was with were not idle people. Their names would remind people of the most extreme royalists among Charles X's recent ministers, but they were modest and never swaggered. On the day of the election, unexpectedly, the most prominent man lost the race and won the race. The second vice-chairman, Shawsbiel, was elected chairman of the Cavaliers Club. The Duke of de Gelmont, however, lost his name. That is to say, he fell into the position of the first vice-chairman and failed to climb up. Of course, being a club chairman is nothing to a powerful dignitary like the Garments. The Duke was embarrassed to see that a fellow named Shawsbiel had been rescued from his chairmanship, which was clearly due to his shortcomings. Oliana, the wife of this fellow, was not only disdained to say hello to her two years ago, but also disdained to say hello to the third-class goods which came out of nowhere. Lust * even dare to say hello to themselves feel resentful. He claimed that he did not take the failure seriously at all, and decided that the root of the matter was his deep contacts with Swan. Inside his bones, his anger lingered. It's strange to say that no one has ever heard Duke de Gelmont say that "at all" is a rather tacky word before, but since the club election, as long as someone mentions the Dreyfus case, it immediately comes out: "Dreyfus, Dreyfus, that's right." It's lightweight, but the statement itself is improperly worded; it's not a religious event, it's a political case at all." If the Dreyfus case is not mentioned in the next five years, you can no longer hear the words "at all", but if five years later, the name of Dreyfus is mentioned again, then the words "at all" will come out immediately. The Duke simply could not tolerate anyone mentioning the case, "that's it," he said, "causing so much misery," although what really touched him was the fact that he lost the club's presidential election.

As a result, on the afternoon I just mentioned, when I told Mrs. de Gelmont about her party at her cousin's red dress, Mr. De Brewdy was rather unpopular, because he had no idea what a secret association he had in mind, and he had to say it, so he moved. The hen's butt-like lips opened up: "Speaking of the Dreyfus case..." Why did he talk about the Dreyfus case? Didn't he still talk about the red dress at that time? Of course, the poor Braudi wanted to make everyone laugh and say it without any malice. But the name of Dreyfus alone had made the two Jupiter-style majestic eyebrows of de Gelmont frown. "... I have been told that our friend Gattier once said a wonderful word, which is really wonderful. (I must remind readers that Gattier is Mrs. de Villefranch's brother and has nothing to do with the jeweler of the same name!) But that didn't surprise me, because he was so smart." Oh! Oliana interrupted, "I don't appreciate his cleverness. I can hardly tell you how annoying your Gattier is to me. I always meet him when I go back to the Rutremer House. I really don't understand why Charles Rutremer and his wife are so interested in such an annoying fellow." I am a dear Duchess,'answered Breauder, who has difficulty in pronouncing C,'and I think you are too strict with Gatier. Yes, he may have been too diligent in running to the Ratremeier Palace, but this is a kind of dedication to Ya (Xia) Er. How to say, a sign of loyalty, such people are rare nowadays. Let's get down to business. That's what I've been told. Gattier seems to say that if Mr. Zola wants to get involved in a lawsuit and get himself sentenced, he's just trying to get an experience he hasn't had before - a prison experience.

"So he slipped away before he was caught," Oliana went on. "That's not true. What's more, even if that's the case, I don't think it's any more silly. But you think it's extremely smart!" Oh, my dear Oliana,'Bleody began to withdraw when he saw the Duchess's objection,'that's not what I said. Let's leave it alone as I hear it. But no, for that reason, Mr. Gattier also let the outstanding Ratremeier give him a hard talk, because he had a hundred reasons not to hear people talking about those - how to say well - cases in his living room, especially because of Alphonse Rothschildf, who was in the limelight at the moment. He was even more unhappy when he was present. Gattier deserves the same scolding from Ratremeier. Of course, "said the Duke in a very bad mood." Although the Alphonse Rothschild couple were careful not to mention this obnoxious incident, in their hearts, like all Jews, they were Dreyfus. This is indeed an ad hominem argument, which was previously overlooked as a proof that Jews were untrustworthy. If a Frenchman stole something and killed someone, I don't think I would think he was innocent because he was French like me. But the Jews, even if they knew it clearly in their hearts, would never admit that one of their compatriots was a traitor, and did not even consider the serious consequences of the crime committed by one of them (the Duke naturally thought of Shosbiel and the damn election)... Well, Oliana, you don't think that's enough to conclude that Jews will shelter a traitor. You won't tell me that because they are Jews, they can't be so sure. Of course, "answered Oliana (who was secretly annoyed and only wanted to raise her bar against the bell-ringing Jupiter to put"reason"above the Dreyfus case)." Perhaps because they were Jews and knew their compatriots, they knew that a Jew was not. It must be a traitor, not a villain, as Mr. Drummond said. Of course, if he was a Christian, the Jews would not be interested in him, but they did, because they knew that if he was not a Jew, he would not be so easily regarded as a born traitor, as my nephew Robert dared to say. What kind of politics do women understand?"Cried the Duke, looking steadily at the Duchess."This sensational crime is not just a Jewish case, but a major national event, which will have the most terrible consequences for France. It is on this basis that all the Jews should be expelled, though. I also admit that the punishment measures taken so far (in a despicable way that urgently needs to be rectified) are not directed against them, but against the most outstanding people standing opposite them, the most prominent people who have nothing to do with the misfortune they have caused our poor country.

In Latin, literally translated into "for this person", the Duke understands it in this sense, but its actual meaning is "only based on personal preferences or prejudices".

I felt that something was going to go wrong again, so I quickly picked up the topic of skirt.

"You remember, madam," I said, "I'm lucky to see you for the first time..." He had the good fortune to see me once, "she said, looking at Mr. de Braudi with a laugh. The Nose Tips of the gentleman had become exquisite and the smile on his face softened by his courtesy to Mrs. de Gelmont, but the knife's voice was grinding like that on the grindstone, which was only vague and sharp. Voice.

"... You're wearing a black * yellow dress with big flowers. My child, that's the same. It's also an evening dress. And your cornflower color hat, I think it looks great! But these are old stories. I want to customize a fur coat for the girl I mentioned, just like the one you wore yesterday morning. I wonder if I can look at your coat again?"" That's no good. Anibal will have to go soon. Come to my house, my Valet will show you. Just one thing, my child, I can lend you whatever you want, but if you find those little tailors to customize the styles of Gallo, Dussey and Bagan, you have to go out of style." I don't want to go to see the little tailor at all. I know it has to be out of shape, but I'm still interested in finding out why it's out of shape.

"You know I've never been good at explaining anything. I'm a clumsy talker, like a country lady. But there's a question of handicraft and style; to make a fur coat, I can at least write a note to make a leather tailor for me. Don't let him rip you off. But you know, it will cost you 89,000 francs." The sleeping gown you wore the other night had a very special taste. It was the one with hairy fragments and golden stripes, like the one with butterfly wings?

"Oh! That one was made in Fordini's shop. That one of your girls is quite suitable for wearing at home. I have several pieces. I'll show you later. If you like, I can give you one or two. But I'd like you to see my cousin Talleen's. I have to write to borrow it from her. Your shoes are beautiful, too. Did they also be made at Fordini's? No, I know what pair of shoes you're talking about. You mean the golden goatskin shoes I bought when Confucius de Manchester accompanied me in London. That's absolute. I don't always understand how the skin is dyed. It looks like the goat's gold skin. With that little diamond in it, there's no cure. Poor Duchess de Manchester is dead, but if you like, I can write to Mrs. de Warwick or Mrs. Marbrot and let them try to find the same pair. I'm thinking, maybe I have some of these goat skins. Maybe you can customize it here. I'll go and see it tonight and find one that will let you know."

Because I wanted to leave the Duchess as soon as possible before Albertina came home, I often walked out of Mrs. de Gelmont's residence and happened to meet Mr. de Charles and Morrel in the yard, who went to the tailor's shop, the Baron's favorite, for tea. I don't meet them every day, but they have to go every day. One thing worth noting is that the continuity of a habit is often proportional to its absurdity. Surprising actions can only be done occasionally. Nevertheless, the absurd life of a eccentric man who refuses to rejoice outside the door and suffers the greatest misfortune is daily and uninterrupted. If anyone, out of curiosity, watches for ten years, he will find that in the past ten years, the poor man has been sleeping with his head stuffed while he should have enjoyed the pleasure of life, and when nothing can be done, he will go out to the street again when he can only get a knife in vain. The poor man has been hurting all the year round. If you feel hot, you have to drink ice-cold drinks. In fact, only one day, a little fun, you can change this situation once and for all. But this kind of life has a virtue, that is to say, you can't afford it. Another aspect of this monotonous life is degeneration, because any act of expressing will can make it less intolerable. When Mr. De Charles takes Morrel to the shop of Hubien for tea every day, we can see both sides of life at the same time. De Charles once lost his temper, which showed what such daily habits were. The little tailor's niece, who specializes in waistcoats, said to Morrel one day, "Well, come tomorrow and I'll invite you to tea." The Baron reasonably believed that the remark came from a girl he almost regarded as his future daughter-in-law, which was too vulgar; and because the Baron was so angry, he couldn't get angry without losing his temper. He was addicted, so instead of simply telling Morrel to teach the girl to be polite, he kept yelling at her on the way home. He shouted in the most impertinent and arrogant tone, "Well, if I say you can play the strings, it's not touch." Well, no, you play the violin all day, which hinders the normal development of your sense of smell. Otherwise, how could you even drink tea for guests? I think that's only fifteen raw things, that's all. Let vulgar and intolerable statements go unchecked, and let its stench stain my noble nostrils? When you finish playing a violin solo, have you ever seen anyone in my family who is not clapping your hands, or keeping silent meaningfully, but farting at you? They remain silent because they are so moved by your piano that they are afraid they will burst into tears (unlike your fianc-in-law's sniffling tears at you).

If a clerk had his supervisor scold him like that, he would have to be fired the next day. But Morrel's situation was different. There was nothing more terrible to De Charles than to dismiss Morrel. He was even afraid that he had said it before, so he began to pour out a lot of compliments to young girls. He thought he was right, but he accidentally said it again. A lot of abrupt and rude remarks have been omitted. She's cute. Since you are a musician, I think she must have hooked you up by her voice. Her voice in the treble is beautiful, and it sounds like you can pull up the B-tone. I don't like her bass very much. It must have something to do with her neck. Her neck is very slender and looks strange. It's going to end in waves. But suddenly another part came out; but despite all these shortcomings, her silhouette was quite in my mind. Since she is a tailor, the scissors must be very good. You have to ask her to cut a side image of herself for me.

Charlie had always been indifferent to the admiration of his fiancee for her loveliness, and his compliments to the Baron were all the more indifferent. But he answered Mr. De Charles and said, "Of course, my brother, I'll give her a bar of soap to stop talking like that." Morrel said to Mr. De Charles like this, "My brother," but it was not because the brilliant violinist was so confused that he didn't understand that he was just one third of the baron's age. He said this differently from that of Hubien. In his opinion, it was just a naive idea of certain contacts that the age difference had to be eliminated before showing intimacy (in his Morrel, pretended intimacy, in others, genuine intimacy). That's it. Mr. de Charles had received a letter like this for a while: "My dear Baramed, when can I see you again?" You're not here. I'm suffocated. I'm always thinking about you. Wait a minute. Your Pierre." Mr. De Charles racked his brains and could not imagine who Pierre, who had written to him in such a friendly tone, must have been a friend he knew well, but although he was a close friend, Pierre was nothing more than rude. The names of princes who could occupy a place in the Gotha Yearbook went round and round in Mr. De Charles's mind for days. Finally, an address on the back of the envelope opened his eyes to the fact that the author of the letter was Mr. De Charles's attendant at a club he sometimes visited. The attendant did not find it impolite to write to Mr. De Charles in this tone, but in fact, in his eyes, Mr. De Charles was indeed a distinguished man. But he wanted to express his feelings to a gentleman who had hugged him more than once, and through such Hugs - his naivety, what he thought - it would be natural if he did not match you. As a matter of fact, Mr. De Charles liked this kind of acquaintance in his heart. On one occasion, he even accompanied Mr. De Fogube for a morning to let the letter slip in front of him. As everyone knows, Mr. De Charles hates going out with Mr. De Fogube the most. Because the gentleman who wears single glasses always likes to judge young people on the road, and what's more, when he's with Mr. De Charles, he always uses a language that the Baron hates. He feminized all men's names, and because he was born a fool, he thought the joke was clever and kept laughing. But he's also a very serious diplomat, so as long as he sees some upper-class people walking through the streets - and civil servants more so - he will brake immediately and take up that ridiculous act of hiding his sword." The little girl who sent the telegram, "he touched the baronet with his elbow - cloudy - calm face." I knew her, but she hid from us, the scoundrel! Oh! Isn't that the man who shipped the goods at Lafayette Mall? Dare he be there, too! __________ God, it's the Vice President of the Ministry of Commerce who just passed by. I wish he hadn't seen me gesturing! Otherwise he would tell the minister that he would put me on the list of retirees, because he himself had to retire." Mr. De Charles heard the flames go out of his stomach. At the end of the day, he decided to show the letter to the Ambassador in order to make the annoying walk end earlier, but he told him to keep quiet because, according to him, Charlie would be jealous in order to show his affection. So, "he said in an extremely funny, good-natured tone of voice," things have to be prevented before they happen."

Before turning back to Hubbian's tailor's shop, the author would like to state that he is extremely sorry if these strange things make the reader feel unhappy. On one hand (and this is a minor aspect of the problem), readers may feel that the criticism of the aristocratic class in this volume is much more than that of other social classes. If that's the case, it's not surprising. In the end, the oldest famous families can only show some amazing "lineage" features by a red nose with a big nose knot and a big crooked chin. However, there are two invisible things between these generations of worsening faces, namely, disposition and interest. If someone says that all these things have nothing to do with us, we should find out its poetry from the facts around us, then even though he is right, what he expresses is a more serious objection after all. It is true that art abstracted from the realities we are most familiar with does exist, and their fields may be the broadest. But it is also true that the same intense interest, sometimes aesthetic, may also come from temperament-induced activities that are so far away from what we can feel and believe that we simply can't understand them, that when we see them in front of us, we only feel that they are groundless. Scenes come out of nowhere. Is there a more powerful poem than Xerxes, the son of Darius, who ordered to whip the sea that devoured his fleet?

(1) Darius I (about 558 - 486 B.C.), king of the ancient Persian Empire, had twice led a large-scale invasion of Greece, which was frustrated. In 480 B.C., his son Xerxes led the fleet through Demobili to invade the Greek Atiga Peninsula, which was defeated in the Salami Sea War. Xerxes also translated Zelz I, known for his forcefulness and brutality in history.

Morrel must have used the authority of his charm over the young girl to tell her the baron's remarks as his own, for the invitation to tea disappeared from the tailor's shop like an acquaintance who came to your house every day for that reason, or You quarrel with him, or you don't want people to see him at home, just want to meet him outside, in short, he disappeared from your living room. Mr. De Charles was very satisfied with this. What he saw from it was a proof that he had enough influence to influence Morrel. It was the young girl who had wiped away the blemish. In short, like all men like him, as a friend of Morrel and his fiancee-to-be, as the most enthusiastic supporter of their union, the baron, though he liked to have a little power, said anything good or bad when he was happy, was a harmless overstatement, but besides that, he was always like a brother to Morrel. That preserves the sole dignity of Olympia. Morrel said to Mr. De Charles that he loved Hubien's niece and wanted to marry her. The Baron was happy to accompany the young friend to visit the tailor's shop, where he played the role of a tolerant and prudent future prince. It really made him happy.

My personal view is that "invite tea" or Morrel himself first said, young tailor girl just out of love blindness, learned a sweetheart's statement, the vulgarity of this statement is really incompatible with her usual conversation of elegance. Her plain conversation of Twain and elegance complemented her support of Mr. de Charles, which made many of her clients so graceful to her that they invited her to dinner and introduced her to their friends. The girl always had to ask the baron's permission before she went to dinner on the occasion he thought fit. Can a girl who is a tailor dare to step into the upper class? Someone will say, "The more you say, the more absurd it is!" But why didn't he think that Albertina came to see me in the middle of the night and now lives with me like that? Isn't that more extraordinary? For another girl, it may be said that it is extraordinary, but for Albertina, these two words are not used at all. She has no father and mother since childhood, and her life is so laissez-faire that at the time of Balbeck, I thought at first that she was the mistress of a race car driver. Her nearest relative is Mrs. Bondang, the Tai. Mrs. Swan's family used to be annoyed with her niece's lack of upbringing, but now she closes her eyes and wishes to send her out and climb to her extended family. Her aunt can also get some benefits. (In the top social circle, mothers with noble backgrounds and shy pockets will accept filial piety from the younger couple when they find rich relatives for their sons, and leather clothes, cars and money from their daughter-in-law, who she does not like but still recommends to friends.)

Maybe one day in the future, I won't be surprised when all the tailor girls can step into the upper class. Unfortunately, Hu Bian's niece is just an isolated example. It's not enough for us to foresee the future. A single swallow can't make a spring. Nevertheless, although these innocuous actions of Hubien's niece have already made some people feel a little resentful, Morrel is not. In a sense, he is so foolish that he thinks that the girl who is a thousand times as clever as him is "silly" (maybe she loves him). It's a bit silly, and the ladies of decent people who are happy to receive her (and she's not so fluttering) are regarded as adventurers, tailors dressed as ladies. Naturally, this is not the case in the Galmont Hall, except for those who have some contacts with the Galmont Hall. He is referring to the broad-handed and elegant Buljoa women, who are so liberal-minded and new-minded that receiving a tailor would not degrade their own status. Their minds were so blindly obedient that they could feel a certain satisfaction from the kindness they had given to a young girl whose Highness Baron de Charles visited her every day with sincerity and sincerity.

The Baron rejoiced at the thought of the kinship, and he felt that no one would take Morrel away from him in that way, just as Hubien's niece had made a "mistake" when she was almost a child. Although Mr. De Charles had said some compliments to her in front of Morrel, if he had the opportunity to shake the secret out of Morrel's presence and make him angry and make a couple of younger bites turn against each other, it would be a great pleasure for the baron. In fact, although Mr. De Charles is vicious in his heart, he is no different from many good people. They show their generosity by complimenting a man or woman, but they are careful not to say anything that can bring peace and tranquility to each other. Nevertheless, the Baron never said anything insinuating; for two reasons." If I told him,'The Baron thought to himself,'his fiancee is not perfect, it will hurt his self-esteem, and he will resent me. Besides, how can I know that he has not really fallen in love with her? If I don't say anything, the straw fire will soon burn out. I can control the relationship between the two couples with my heart. I want him to love his fiancee to what extent, he will love what extent. If I had told him about his fiancee's previous mistakes, who would have assured me that my Charlie would not remain passionate about her, but would have eaten my jealousy instead? In this way, because of my own loss, I would turn a flirtation that could have been pinched in my hands for fun into a true love that I could not control. For these two reasons, Mr. de Charles was silent and seemingly prudent, but on the other hand, it was commendable, because it was very rare for a man of his type to be able to keep his mouth shut.

Besides, the young girl was really lovely, and in every way she satisfied Mr. de Charles's aesthetic taste for women. She gave the Baron a hundred pictures of her, and he would not be too many. Mr. De Charles was not as foolish as Morrel, and he was glad to hear that so many distinguished ladies he could sniff out with his social sense of smell invited the girl to visit. But on this point, he also kept silent about Morrel (in order to maintain absolute control), and Morrel was a fool when he came across such a thing. He still firmly believed that, except for the violin circle and the Villa Durrant, only those who had spoken to the Baron in the Galmont House were almost royal. All the other people in the mansion are just "scum" and "gangsters". Charlie is using Mr. de Charles word for word.

Mr. de Charlus, who had the ambassadors and duchesses waiting all the year round but refused to admire him, invited Prince de Croix to walk in his head, brushed his sleeves on the spot, and refused to eat with the prince at the same table. Mr. de Charlus spent all his time avoiding these noble ladies in a tailor's office. There's my niece! First of all, Morrel was there. Perhaps only a waiter in a restaurant would think that a wealthy man with a lot of money would wear bright new clothes every day, while a charming gentleman would naturally invite sixty guests to attend and drive in instead. They were wrong. It's common for wealthy millionaires to wear worn outerwear all year round, and windy gentlemen only talk to shop mates in restaurants, and then play cards with their followers when they get home. That's it. He could still refuse to walk behind Prince Mullah.

Mr. De Charlus liked the marriage of two young men. Another reason was that his niece became Morrel himself, and therefore the baron's understanding of his power and knowledge extended in a sense. Mr. De Charles, the future wife of the violinist, has never thought about this before, and therefore has never felt conscientious uneasiness. However, with a young couple to guide and feel like Morrel's wife (she will look upon the Baron as a god, thus proving that the dear Morrel instilled this idea in her, and that she will therefore contain something Morrel) the awe-inspiring and omnipotent patron deity makes De Xia. Mr. Luce's way of governing has changed a lot. From his little thing, Morrel, another existence, a spouse, that is to say, another new and interesting thing can be spoiled by him. This rule may even be stronger now than ever before. Because when Morrel was only a man, or naked, he would fight against the Baron with certainty that things would not come to an end, but once he got married, had a home, had a house, and planned to have a couple, he would not dare to do that again, Mr. de Charles. He can be held in his hand more conveniently and firmly. All this, and when necessary, that is to say, when he is bored at some evening, he can go and stir up a quarrel between the two men (the Baron never tires of fighting), which makes Mr. De Charles feel very happy. But that's nothing compared to the satisfaction of the couple's dependence on him. De Charles's favor of Morrel had a wonderful new idea whenever he turned to the idea that not only did he belong to me, but also his wife belonged to me; they had to consider not to make me angry in their every move, and they would be obedient to me no matter how I tried to temper him. It became a sign of a fact that I had almost forgotten but so precious to me (something I haven't noticed yet) that Morrel belonged to me to everyone in the world who would see me protect them and give them their houses, and to myself." There is no happier thing for Mr. de Charles than to have such clear evidence in the eyes of others or in his own eyes. For a man's possession of the object he loves is a joy stronger than his love. Usually, those who are afraid of such possession are so secretive that they are afraid of losing the precious object. And their fun. It has also been undermined by this kind of silent prudence.

The reader may recall that Morrel once told the Baron his wishful thinking. His idea was to hook up a girl, especially the present one, and make a wish to marry her in order to get the chance. But when he got the advantage of the girl, he would escape with a golden cicada. But Mr. De Charles had forgotten all about it when he came to Morrel to tell him how to courtship Hubien's niece. Besides, Morrel himself may not remember. Morrel's temperament * - as he admitted shamelessly, and perhaps exaggerated wisely - is still a gap between his courage and his true instinct. After much contact with the girl, he felt that he liked her and fell in love with her, and because he really lacked self-knowledge, he thought he had always loved her so much. Of course, the original ideas, the evil plan, never disappeared, but the web of feelings overlapped, and it was completely hidden below, so if the violinist claimed that the evil idea was not the real motive for his actions, no one could say that he was not sincere. 。 Moreover, there was a very short period of time. Although he refused to admit it clearly to himself, he still felt that the marriage seemed very necessary to him. During that period, Morrel often had cramps in his hands, and he felt he was facing the possibility of giving up playing. Besides music, he was too lazy to be incredible, so he felt he needed someone else to take care of himself. Instead of Mr. de Charles, he would rather let his niece take on the responsibility, because his union with her would give him more freedom and provide him with a large group of people. The opportunity to choose among all kinds of women ranged from the constant new tailor's apprenticeship he could get from her niece to the beautiful ladies he could trick her into agreeing with. As for whether the future wife would be absurd enough to refuse to accept his idea, he probably never thought about it. Besides, since the cramp has stopped, these calculations are now giving way to pure love. With his piano, Mr. De Charles's salary would be enough, and once Morrel married the girl, Mr. De Charles would certainly not be able to make any further progress. This marriage is urgent - for love and freedom. He went to Hubien to ask for his niece's wife and uncle's advice. Actually, this is superfluous. The girl's heart and soul were full of love for the violinist, her hair brushed over her shoulders, and her gay looking eyes all revealed the same news. As for Morrel, almost everything that pleases and benefits him arouses his inner excitement, elicits his inner words, and sometimes even makes him cry. So, even though his sentimental words to Hubien's niece, which are the same sentimental tone used by many idle and idle youngsters in pursuit of the lovely daughter of the Buljoa rich man, are as warm as those he used to be in front of Mr. De Charles. It is more vulgar than beautiful to state the plan of seducing and possessing a girl, but these words are sincere after all - if they can be used to him. But this moral passion for a woman who made him feel good, and the solemn engagement between him and her, coexisted in Morrel. Once the woman ceases to make him happy, or even unhappy, for example, because of this engagement constraint, she immediately becomes a seemingly well-justified object of disgust to Morrel, which can make him nervous after a period of nervous restlessness. As soon as he is sound, he proves to himself that he is not bound by anything, even if he considers the problem purely from a moral point of view.

He had somehow lost all his money before leaving Balbeck, but dared not tell Mr. de Charles, so he wanted to borrow some money from someone. His father once taught him (but the Father also warned his son not to be a parasite). One way to deal with this situation is to write to a gentleman who wants to say that you have something to do with him and ask him to make an appointment for an interview. Morrel was fascinated by this brilliant idea, and I believe he would be willing to drop his money just to taste the fun of inviting people to an appointment for an interview. Later, however, he saw that the trick was not as effective as he had imagined. He found that the gentlemen he had long been waiting for did not reply in five minutes after receiving his letter of "business consultation". If Morrel hadn't received a reply in the afternoon, he would have thought of all these reasons, or the gentleman he was looking for hadn't returned home, or maybe some other letters had to be written first, or going out or getting sick, and so on. Anyway, he would have liked to think better if he had the chance to receive the envelope. When I wrote back to ask him to meet the next morning, he would always have these opening remarks: "I was thinking, why don't I see your reply? I was wondering what's wrong with you; well, you're in good health, then?" Wait a minute. So at the time of Balbeck, he didn't even tell me that he was going to "consult" and asked me to introduce him to the bloke he hated so much on the train a week ago. Bullock lent him five thousand francs, rather than Mr. Nissem Bernard. Since then, Morrel has been praising Block. With tears in his eyes, he asked himself how he could repay such a lifesaver. Later, I went to De Charles for a thousand francs a month on behalf of Morrel, and asked Morrel to return it to Bullock as soon as he got it, so that Bullock could feel that his money was still fast. In the first month, Morrel returned a thousand francs without saying a word. But then he must have thought that the remaining 4,000 francs would be more comfortable if they were used by factions, because he began to say that Brock was not good either. He felt sick when he saw Block. And Block, because he had forgotten the exact amount of money he had lent Morrel, asked him for 3500 francs instead of 4000 francs, so the violinist could make a net profit of 500 francs at once, but he answered that he would not take out a penny for such an absurd loan, and that one. The creditor should celebrate because Morrel did not sue him. As he said this, his eyes sparkled. First, he said that Block and Mr. Nissim Bernard had nothing to complain about him, and after a while they were not addicted to him, so he simply said that he had not blamed them for making them cheap. That's probably what happened. Mr. Nissim Bernard once said publicly that Tibola was no worse than Morrel. Morrel thought he had to sue the court for this statement, which was detrimental to his professional honour. Later, in France, especially against Jews, justice had vanished. He borrowed 5,000 francs from an Israelite, a natural manifestation of his anti-Semitic consciousness. He had to carry a loaded hand gun whenever he went out.

In Morrel's attitude toward the tailor's niece, this neurotic reaction followed by his tender hearts. Indeed, Mr. De Charles may unconsciously influence this change of attitude, because he often talks about what Morrel said as soon as they married, he would not care about them and let them fly on their own wings. In fact, he was playing with them. It's careless. Of course, this sentence is not enough to pull Morrel away from the young girl, but once it takes root in Morrel's mind, it will someday be mixed with similar ideas about her, which will eventually become a powerful catalyst for the breakdown of the relationship. A Tale of Two Cities

However, I did not often meet Mr. de Charles and Morrel at that time. When I came out of the Duchess, they often went to the shop in Hobian early, because talking to the Duchess made me very interested, not only forgetting the anxiety of waiting for Albertina to go home, but also forgetting the time she had to go home.

One day, in the late days of Mrs. de Gelmont's house, there was a little episode that I didn't really care about until a long time later, when I realized its painful implications. This afternoon Mrs. de Gelmont gave me a bunch of plum blossoms from the South because she knew I liked them. When I came out of the Duchess'house and went upstairs to my house, Albertina had arrived home first; I met Andre on the stairs, as if she felt uncomfortable because she smelled the strong fragrance of the flower in my hand.

"Why, are you going back?" I said to her. Albertina sent me when she wanted to leave. " You don't realize what's wrong with her?"" No, I think she wrote to her aunt. However, she does not like to smell too strong fragrance. She will not like your plum blossoms. Oh, I did a foolish thing! Later I'll ask Franois to take it and put it in the back escalator. Do you think Albertina can't smell the plum blossom from you? Apart from the late fragrant jade, this is the most dizzying fragrance. Besides, I know Franois seems to be out shopping. I don't have a key with me today. How can I get in? Oh, just ring the bell. Albertina will open the door for you. And I'm afraid Franois should be back by now."

I said goodbye to Andre and went upstairs. Albertina came to open the door for me as soon as she rang the first bell, but she had some trouble because Franoise was not at home and she did not know where the light switch was. It was not easy to let me in, but the scent of plum blossoms scared her away. I put the flowers in the kitchen. This time, my girlfriend put aside the letter (I don't know why), just had time to run into my room and call me from there, and lay in my bed. At this point, I was still unconscious and thought it was all natural, at most a little embarrassed, but that was nothing.

She almost let me see her with Andre on the spot. Fortunately, she had a little time to turn off the lights and run into my room so that I could not see the messy appearance of her bed and pretend to be writing a letter. But I think so in the future. I still can't figure out whether it's true or not. - Note

Every time I came back from the Duchess'house and Albertina had arrived home first, everything was fine except for this episode; because Albertina could not know whether I was going to take her out after dinner, I always saw her putting her hat, coat and umbrella in the hall for a rainy day. As soon as I came in, I saw them, and a family atmosphere came upon me. I don't think there's enough oxygen in this room, but I think it's full of happiness. I was relieved of my melancholy, and looking at these insignificant objects, I felt that Albertina belonged to me, and I ran towards her.

There are days when I don't go downstairs to Mrs. de Gelmont's, and in order to arrange for the time before Albertina returns home, I flip through Elstier's album, Beckett's book or Van der Eyre's sonata. So --- because it seems that we only resort to visual and auditory works of art, which in fact require us to appreciate them with the awakened thinking activities and those two sensory senses in close coordination --- I can not help but recall the beautiful dreams that Albertina had aroused in me before, which were later. Daily life wears away their glory. I add these dreams to the music and pictures like a crucible, and use them to moisten the books I'm reading. Naturally, I think this book has become more vivid. But Albertina also benefits a lot from this. She travels calmly between the two worlds that we can access and place the same object in turn. She gets rid of the burden of material and plays in the flowing space of thinking. Suddenly I felt that I could experience the fervent feelings for this boring girl. At that time, she seemed to be a work by Elstier or Bergott. Imagination and art made me see her more vividly, and made me have a kind of instantaneous excitement for her.

After a while, the servant came to announce that she had just returned, and I told him that when I was not alone, for example, when I was with Block, and insisted that he stay a little longer, so that no one would mention her name when he met my girlfriend. Because I didn't tell any of my friends that she lived here, even when I met her at home, it was a secret. I was afraid that any of my friends would be infatuated with her and would wait for her outside, or that she would take advantage of the chance to meet him in the hall or the lobby, gesture to him, make appointments, and then I heard Al. Bettina's skirt rattled and headed for her room. She was cautious and probably had the same considerations as before at the Las Player restaurant, so I knew that my friends would never come to my room in the presence of me, so as not to arouse my suspicion. But I suddenly realized that this was not the only reason. In my memory, I traced back: I first met Albertina, then suddenly she became another Albertina, now this Albertina. I can only take responsibility for this change. When we were only good friends, she said nothing to me at first, and she was willing to tell me a lot of things later. But since she thought I was in love with her, or did not think of the word love, she just guessed that I had something to know (know and feel pain). After the intolerable temperament that everything had to be thoroughly inquired about, the conversation box closed. From then on, she hid everything from me. As long as she thought I had friends, it was often not a girlfriend, but a boyfriend, and she would pass through my door and not enter; in the past, when I mentioned which girl, her eyes would shine: "You must let her come, I really want to see her." But she, in your opinion, is not well-mannered."

"Yes, that's more interesting." At that time, she might still tell me the truth. Even when she earned her life from Andre in the playground, I don't think she was there because I was there, but because Godard was there. She probably thought the doctor would publicize it to the detriment of her face. But just then, she had begun to keep a distance from me. She could not hear the important whispers from her mouth, and her every move became reserved. After that, she avoided saying and doing anything that might cause my feelings to fluctuate. As for the experience I did not understand in her life, she only impressed me with innocence, which was reinforced by my ignorance. Now, the transformation has been completed. When I am not alone, she goes straight to her room, not only for the sake of not disturbing me, but also for the sake of not disturbing me. She showed me that she wasn't interested in who was with me at all. One thing she would never do was to tell me the truth without reservation that she would do it again unless I might be indifferent to it one day, and she would not hesitate to do it for that reason alone. From then on, like a judge, I could only convict myself by the slips of words that she had inadvertently leaked out, which, if not for the crime I wanted to add, might not be self-justifying. Albertina, however, always felt that I was jealous and a good judge.

Our engagement was like a court trial, which made her feel like a sinner. Now, whenever a conversation involves someone, male or female, as long as she is not an elderly person, she will diverge from the topic. I should have interrogated everything she wanted to know before she suspected that I was so jealous of her. It's a pity that I missed the chance. At that time, our friend not only refused to tell me how she was having fun, but also told me how she hid it from others. Now she refused to say anything to me as she had done at Balbeck, half out of unconsciousness and half out of apology for not being able to show me more intimacy, because I had tired her a little, and she could see from my attentive attitude towards her that she was right with me. You don't have to be as kind as you are to others to get more rewards than others. - Now she won't say that to me like she did at the time:'I think it's the most foolish thing to show you who you love. I'm different from others: I like who, and I just make it look like I don't pay any attention to him at all. That's what keeps everyone else in the dark. Yes? Was it the Albertina of today who said this to me, the self-righteous and frank Albertina who thought she was indifferent to everything? Now she never talks to me about her trick! It's just when I talk to someone who might make me suspicious that she slightly uses the old trick: "Hey! I don't know. I haven't looked at him for such an insignificant role. Sometimes, when I look at something, I may hear it and tell it to me first, but with her voice alone, I don't have to wait until I really understand what she's doing to stop and justify. I've already realized that it's all a lie.

I listened to Albertina's footsteps and thought with relief that she would not go out again tonight. It was wonderful to think of this girl I had never known before. Now, when I say that she comes home every day, it means actually going home to me. The night she came to sleep in the hotel in Balbeck, the mysterious and fleshy pleasure I had rushed through became complete and stable. My empty dwelling was now often filled with a sweet atmosphere of family life and married life, and even the corridor became shining. Sometimes the senses are real. Sometimes, when I wait for her to come back alone, I enjoy the sweet atmosphere quietly in my imagination. Hearing Albertina entering the room and closing the door, if I had any guests, I sent him away until I was sure he had gone downstairs. Sometimes I would rather accompany him down stairs in person.

I met Albertina head-on in the corridor." Oh, while I'm going to change my clothes, I'll let Andre go into your room. She's coming up specially to say good evening to you." And without lifting the big grey veil that I had hung from the chipmunk fur hat that Barbeck had given her, she pulled back into her room as if she were thinking about Andre, a friend I had sent to monitor her, who was supposed to report the day to me and how they met an acquaintance. I've been told all the way around so that I can get some insight into the fragments of their day's walk that I can't imagine suspecting.

Andre's shortcomings are gradually exposed. She is no longer as cute as when I first met her. Now she has a distinct sour taste, and if I say something to make Albertina and myself happy, it will immediately condense, as if the sea fog condensed into a storm. Even so, her attitude toward me grew more intimate and affectionate --- I can always cite proof --- and it was better than any friend who had no such astringent taste. But as long as I look a little bit happy, and this emotion is not caused by her, she will feel a nervous discomfort, as if she heard someone slam the door very hard. She can allow me to suffer, as long as it's not her business, but not my pleasure; if she sees me sick, she will feel sad, sympathize with me, and take care of me. But if I have some satisfaction, for example, when I just put down a book, I stretch out with a satisfied air and say, "Hey! The books in these two hours are really interesting. What a good book! If my mother, Albertina or St. Louis heard this, they would all be happy, but Andre would feel disgusted or nervous at all. My satisfaction would make her feel a kind of irrepressible distress. Her shortcomings were even more serious: one day I mentioned the young man I met with Andre's girlfriends in Balbeck who was good at horse racing, gambling, golf, but had no idea about anything else. Andre listened and laughed coldly: "You know, his old man stole something, bad. Send them to court for sentencing. They're getting worse and worse now, but I'd like to publicize everything. I wish they would come and accuse me of false accusation. I'm going to testify in court and expose him!" Her eyes sparkled. Nevertheless, I knew that the man's father had done nothing shameful, and Andre knew it as well as anyone else. But she thought she had suffered from the neglect of being a son and wanted to find a way to embarrass him and make him look bad. So she made up this imaginary story of testifying in court, and maybe she couldn't tell herself whether it was true or not because she had said so many times over and over. In the way she is now (let alone the hateful madness), malicious and unwarranted suspicion has hoisted her much more passionate and lovely nature like a cold band of hands, and for this reason alone, I would not like to meet her. But all kinds of news about my girlfriend, and only she can provide me, I really can not put it down, do not want to miss the extremely rare opportunity to learn these news. Andre came in and closed the door behind him; they met a girlfriend today; and Albertina never told me about this woman." What did they say? I don't know, because I took advantage of Albertina's company to buy wool. Buy wool? Yes, Albertina asked me to buy it." That's even worse. She might just want to open you up. But she told me to buy it before she met that friend." Oh! I finally breathed a sigh of relief. After a while, doubts arose again: "But who knows if she had made an appointment with that woman beforehand, and figured out the excuse to open Andre in time?" Besides, can I be sure that the previous assumption (Andre told me the truth) must be right? Maybe Andre was also in collusion with Albertina.

Love, as I used to think at Barbeck, is nothing more than our feelings towards a woman whose every move seems to arouse our jealousy. I always feel that if the other party can tell you everything and make it clear to you, maybe it will take little effort to cure your lovesickness. No matter how cleverly he tries to hide his jealousy from others, the victim will soon see it at a glance, and in turn play it more skillfully. It is easy for her to lead us deliberately to an unfortunate disagreement, because this one is not on guard at all, and how can one hear the big lies hidden in a small sentence? We can't tell the difference between this and other words: the speaker is hanging his heart, but the listener doesn't care. After that, when we meditate alone and recall this sentence, we will feel that it seems not quite right with the facts. However, at that time, do we remember exactly what this sentence said? On the day when thoughts turn to this and the accuracy of memory is involved, a doubtful question like whether the door is closed or not comes up in our mind. When we encounter some nervous situations, we can't remember whether we closed the door properly. Even if we have looked back fifty times, it will still be the same. 。 You can even repeat an action over and over again, but you can never form an exact and free memory. At least we can close the door again for the fifty-first time, but that soothing remark belongs to the past. The auditory doubts are not what we can eliminate. So we braced ourselves to think about what she had said, and found that it was all innocuous words; the only prescription --- but we were reluctant to take it --- was not to pursue anything, to dispel the idea of making a mess of things happen.

Once the jealousy was discovered, the woman who was the object of her jealousy thought it was distrust of her, so it was natural and logical for her to deceive others. What's more, when we insist on wanting to know something, it's our own initiative to lie and deceive. Andre and Emmy promised me not to say anything. What happened? Bullock, of course, had nothing to promise, for he knew nothing; and Albertina, as long as she talked to any of the three for a few days, as Saint Lou put it, was to get some "circumstantial evidence", and she would find that I had only asked her about her actions and that it was impossible for her to be monitored at all. Some lies. So, my usual endless doubts about Albertina, which are so vague that they do not really hurt me, are as good as forgetting jealousy to sorrow, and when one begins to forget, it feels better in the invisible. Then comes Ann. The new problems that arise in one of the clips that Deli just reported to me; traveling through the vast expanse of the desert around me, all I got was to push the unknowable farther, and for us, when I tried to form a clear concept of the unknowable object, I did. People will vaguely feel that this is another person's real life. Albertina, on the one hand, was cautious, and on the other, seemed to be trying to give me ample time (did she realize it herself?) To find out, I stayed in my room and dallied about changing my clothes for half a day. I took this opportunity to continue to ask Andre.

"I think Albertina's uncle and aunt like me very much," I said to Andre rashly, forgetting to think about her sexuality. Suddenly, her greasy face changed, as if stirred by a bottle of syrup; the clouds on her face never seemed to disappear. The corners of the mouth hung down. When I first arrived in Balbeck, despite her weakness, she also showed me the exuberant joy of youth like those girlfriends. Now (to be honest, Andre has grown several years since) she has disappeared from her so quickly that she has gone to nothing. But what I said unconsciously before Andry was going home for dinner brought back the splendor. Somebody praised you all the time in front of me today, "I said to her. Suddenly her eyes became bright and full of joy. Her expression showed that she really loved me. Avoiding my eyes, she opened two eyes that suddenly became very bright, and looked at a place with a smile. Who is it?" She asked with a frank and eager expression. I told her the name of the man. Whoever he was, she was overjoyed.

When it was time to go home for dinner, she broke up with me. Albertina came into my room; she had changed her clothes and worn a beautiful nightgown. I had consulted Mrs. de Gelmont about this Chinese crepe dress or Japanese nightgown, and some of the further details were pointed out in Mrs. Swan's letter, which began like this: "When it goes against time, it's not enough." Seeing a letter from tea-gown is like a feeling of seclusion." Albertina wore a pair of black shoes with diamonds on her feet. These slippers, which Franois called wooden slippers, were the kind that Albertina saw Mrs. de Gelmont wearing at home at night through the window. Later, Albertina put on high-heeled slippers, some of which were goatskin. Looking at these shoes, I feel warm because they are a kind of sign (other shoes are not like that), indicating that she lives in my home. Some things, such as that beautiful gold ring, were not bought for her. I appreciate the eagle carved on it with outspread wings." This is from my aunt, "she said to me." Anyway, sometimes she is kind. Looking at it makes me feel old, because it was given by her when I was 20 years old.

English: loose gown.

Albertina has a strong hobby for all these gorgeous clothes that far outweighs the Duchess, because just as you encounter obstacles when you want to own something (which in my case prevents me from going far, but makes me so eager to travel), poverty, which is more generous than wealth, will give it. Some women have something better than the clothes they can't afford: their yearning for the clothes, that is, their real, detailed and in-depth understanding of them. Albertina and I, who couldn't afford the clothes themselves, wanted to please her when I ordered them. We were like two college students eager to go to Dresden or Vienna to see the familiar paintings in the museum. The wealthy ladies in the middle of piles of hats and skirts, like visitors who had no interest in them beforehand, would only make them dizzy, tired and bored when they moved around the museum. For Albertina and me, even a hat, a mink coat, a pink flanged bathrobe at the cuffs would have some extraordinarily important meaning, some very attractive charm, in Albertina, because when she saw these things, she wanted them wholeheartedly, and because of this yearning. It makes people stubborn and careful, so she imagines putting them in front of a more lovable background with linings or belts, and she already knows all about them up and down, inside and outside - in my case, because she has been to Mrs. de Gelmont's house to find out why this dress is so. Elegance, distinction, excellence, and where is the originality of the tailor * that meaning and charm do not exist for the Duchess who did not eat first, even for me, if I had been idly accompanying this or that elegant lady to and from the tailor a few years ago At that time, the situation would be the same as that of the Duchess.

Admittedly, Albertina has gradually become an elegant woman. Because although every dress I ordered for her was the most beautiful of its kind and had been approved by Mrs. De Gelmont or Mrs. Swan, she had to wear too many of them. But it doesn't matter. Since she sees and loves one thing, she doesn't dislike one of them. When we like a painter and then another painter, in the end we will have a good feeling for the whole museum, which is sincere, because it is composed of continuous enthusiasm, each passion has its specific object, but in the end they are linked into a coordinated whole. Orphans of Wudu

But she is not a shallow and boring woman. She reads a lot when she is alone and loves to read to me when she is with me. She became very smart. She said to me (actually she wasn't right): "Every time I think that if it weren't for you, I would still be a silly girl, I feel terrified. You don't have to say a word, because you let me see a world I never thought of. No matter what kind of person I will become in the future, I know that you gave me everything.

We know that she said something similar about my influence on Andre. Are Albertina and Andrea both in love with me? So what's the relationship between them? In order to make things clear, I have to hold you both still and get rid of your eternal expectations, because you are always changing your image in this expectation; I have to suspend my love for you so that I can get out and look at you, and I have to ignore your endless acts for the time being. So hurried visits, oh, young girl, oh, how my heart thumped with excitement when I caught a glimpse of your beautiful shadows that had become almost beyond my recognition in the dizzying whirling light and shadow. If it weren't for the temptation of a sense of sex to lead us to you, the golden droplets that will never be the same and will never be more beautiful than we expected, we might not have understood the fast-spinning lights and shadows at all, or thought that everything would be stagnant. Every time we see a young girl, we always find that she has changed a lot from the last time we see her (the impression we keep in our memory and the desire we wanted to satisfy have vanished at the first sight), so that what we usually call her sexual stability has become a sweat. Words. People tell us how tender and lovely a beautiful girl is and how she is filled with the most delicate feelings. Our imagination accepts these compliments. When we first saw the rosy face in the golden curly hair, we said to ourselves in our hearts, "Is it not a delusion that we should still want to be her lover, a girl who makes us feel increasingly clean and clear?" To say the least, even if we are close to her, how can we have unlimited trust in this noble heart from the very beginning and how many wonderful hopes we have weaved with her? But in a few days, we regretted our credulity, for the rose-like girl, when she met for the second time, was full of foul language like a lewd Elinius. After a few days of reading a pulsation, you can't even tell if a kind of external movimentum can change the appearance of these girls. Maybe it's the same for the girls in Barbeck. Someone will brag in front of you about how gentle a virgin is and how pure she is. But after that, he thought that something hot and spicy would make you more interested, so he advised her to behave boldly and spicy. As for herself, did she want to be bold? Maybe not, but in the midst of a dizzying whirlwind of life, there are hundreds of opportunities for her to change her original intentions. For another girl whose charm lies in cold (and we hope to change that attitude according to our own wishes), for example, for Barbeck's horrible high jumper, who flitted over the heads of her dazzling gentlemen, when we recalled her cold demeanor, we spoke to her with deep affection. Unexpectedly, I heard the girl shyly tell us that she was shy by nature and didn't know how to speak when she saw strangers, so she was afraid. She also said that after meeting us, it took two weeks to talk with us calmly, and so on. How disappointed we were to hear such words. Ah! The iron has become a cotton ball, and we have no strength to destroy it, since she has softened to this appearance since she was a child herself. It's about her, but maybe it's also about our inappropriate behavior, because we're trying to compliment her on her strengths with soft words, which may just make her feel that, although she doesn't necessarily realize it, she has to be soft. This change makes us regret, but it can't be said to be totally self-defeating, because in the face of such a soft attitude, we may be very happy that we can actually teach an iron woman to be so tender.

In Greek mythology, the three goddesses of revenge have bloody eyes, coiled hair from many venomous snakes, one hand holding a torch, the other holding a whip twisted by vipers.

Latin: momentum.

I'm not saying that there won't be a day when even these dazzling girls can tell us whether their sex is Ding Mao or Ding Mao, but that's because we no longer love them at that time. When we see them in front of us, they are not as good as our hearts expect. At the same time, our hearts will no longer be calm for this new look for a long time. By then, their appearance will be fixed, as a result of our indifference to rational judgment. However, the judgment of reason is not necessarily clearer, because when reason judges that a girl has some shortcomings, and another girl is fortunate enough not to have such shortcomings, it will find that the same with this shortcoming is a precious advantage, so from this so-called rational judgment (it is only for me). When they are no longer interested in them, they will appear. They can only see some constant characteristics of young girls'sexuality; when our girlfriends, at the dizzying speed of our expectations, appear before us every day and every week, and we can't stop them in the whirlpool. When we classify and sort them, we see them every day, but the faces that surprise us every time we see them do not tell us much, and rational judgment does not necessarily let us know more. As far as our feelings are concerned, we have said enough about this, and need not talk about it any more. In many cases, love is just a girl's face (for this girl, if we had such feelings, maybe we had already felt unbearable) plus our own heartbeat, and in many cases, love is just a girl. This kind of heartbeat is always associated with endless waiting, with this young lady's agreeing to be a "scalper" to us. These words do not apply only to young men who are imaginative in front of fickle girls. At this point in our story, it seems (as I have only seen later) that Hubien's niece has changed her mind about Morrel and Mr. de Charles. Previously, my driver, in order to make her and Morrel look good, blew a bolt in front of her and described the violinist as a very gentle and considerate person, which she listened to. At the same time, Morrel kept complaining to her that Mr. De Charles treated him like a monster, and when she heard him, she decided that he had a bad heart and did not realize that there was a layer of love in him. Moreover, she could not help noticing that every time she met Morrel, Mr. De Charles would interfere arbitrarily. She also heard the ladies in the social circle talk about the baron's violent temper, which made him more guilty. But lately, her views have changed completely. She found that Morrel had (but she did not love him for that reason) evil-minded eyes, and did not speak truthfully, but each time there was a tenderness, a real feeling, to compensate for these disadvantages, and Mr. de Charles had an undisputed broad and kind mind, which she did not see. He had a heart of iron and existed on him. So her judgment of the violinist and her protector is hardly clearer than my judgment of Andrea, whom I see every day after all, and Albertina, who lives with me.