追憶似水年華

Swan still believed that what he hoped would come true. Although Audret's behavior aroused his suspicion, he said to her eagerly, "If you think so, you can do it." He tried to explain to her that all women except her were devoted to comforting him, controlling him and urging him on this lofty mission, which, in their hands, was nothing more than an indiscriminate and unbearable offence to his freedom. He thought to himself, "If she doesn't love me a little, she won't have the desire to transform me. To transform me, she must have more contacts with me." In this way, he saw her blame for him as an expression of interest in him, or perhaps love him; indeed, she was now blaming him less and less, so that he had to treat her as an expression of not letting him do this or that. One day, she told him that she did not like his coachman and that he had provoked Swan to find fault with her. At least he was not strict and respectful enough to carry out Swan's orders. She felt that he wished to hear from her, "Don't let him send you to my house next time," just as he wished to be kissed by her. She was in a good mood that day, so she finally told him; he was very touched. In the evening, when he was talking to De Charles (who had no scruples about talking to her in front of him, and who was more or less concerned with her even when he spoke to people who did not know her), he said to him, "I think she still loves me; she is so kind to me that she will not be indifferent to anything I do. Concerned." If he boarded his carriage with a friend who was about to get off halfway, the friend said, "What's the matter?" Why isn't Lorendano driving? Swan was happy and a little sad when he answered, "Hey! Good boy! To tell you the truth, when I went up La Piluz Street, I refused to let Lorendano drive. Audrey didn't like me taking Lorendano. She thought he didn't fit me well. Alas! Woman, what can you do? I know she will be very unhappy. OK I'll have to take Remy with me, or else it'll look good!" Odette is now indifferent, cold, and even irritable to Swan, Swan naturally feels pain; however, he does not know how painful he is, because Odette's indifference to him is growing day by day, step by step, and he is just trying to get her started with her today. The depth of the change can only be measured by comparison. And that change was the deep and hidden wound that he was tormenting day and night; and when he felt that his mind was about to touch the wound, he quickly turned it around so as not to suffer too much. He could only say in a general way that "Audrey loved me more than she does now" but he could never imagine a specific picture of that time. In his studio, there is a five-cupboard. He tries not to look at it. He would rather turn in and out, because there is the chrysanthemum she gave him when he first sent her home in a drawer. It also says, "Why don't you even leave your heart here?" If that's the case, I won't let you take it back."And"whenever you need me, say hello to me at any time during the day or at night, I'll accompany you."Similarly, there's a place in his heart that he won't let his thoughts get close to him. He'll come for a long time if necessary. It's a roundabout truth to avoid his thoughts passing through this place: this place is the memory of the happy days of the past. But one night, when he went to the upper class, his painstaking caution went bankrupt. Mother was at the Marquis de Felter's house, the last time that year she invited people to a series of concerts by musicians who would perform at her charity show. Swan wanted to attend every time before, but he could not make up his mind until he was ready to dress for the last time, when Baron Charles came to visit him. The Baron said that if he accompanied him, he would be willing to accompany him to the Marquis's house if he could keep him from being too tired and unhappy. Swan said, "How happy I am to be with you. You can't imagine it." But the most delightful thing is that you can go to Audette's house. You know, you can have a lofty influence on her. I don't think she'll go out till the last retired seamstress goes tonight, and she'll be happy if you can accompany her. Anyway, you'll find her at her house before, try to make her happy and convince her well. It would be great if you could arrange some of her favorite activities for tomorrow and let's all join in. At the same time, I'm trying to find out what I can do this summer, what she thinks, and what I want the three of us to travel by boat together. As for tonight, I don't expect to see her; if she wants me to go, or if you can find any excuse, you'll send a letter to me at Marquis de Felter's, and if it's past twelve o'clock, it'll be delivered to my house. Thank you for your trouble. You know how much I love you. The Baron promised to see Odette after he had taken Swan to the door of St. de Felter's. When he arrived at the Marquis's house, Swan was relieved to have Charles with Audrey on La Beluz Street, and was bored and sad with all the things that had nothing to do with Audrey, especially those in the social life of the upper classes, which made them something we no longer worked hard on. The charm of the things they seek when they appear in their true colors. When they get out of the car, they face the first scene where the hostess wants to show the guests the outline of their family life on the festive day. Here, they try to keep the clothes and scenery as they are. Swan sees the descendants of the tiger in Balzac's works, the uniformed waiters who usually go out for a walk with the hostess. Followers, wearing boots and hats one by one, staying in the street in front of the public hall, or in front of the stables, just like gardeners arranged at the gate of the garden, are quite interesting. He has always liked to compare living people with the portraits in museums, and now it's more frequent, and it's going on everywhere: now he's out of the upper class, and it's like a series of paintings in his mind. When he was in the upper class, he walked into the hall in a cloak, took off the cloak and went out in a tuxedo. He never knew what was going on here. He spent two minutes here thinking about the party he had just left or the celebration he was going to attend. For the first time, he noticed how the scattered, well-dressed and idle attendants who took a nap on benches or wardrobes were awakened by his tardy guest, raised up their noble, rabbit-like, agile bodies, stood up and surrounded him. During the period of the restoration of Wang Zheng, the young attendant who stood behind the carriage seat and specialized in opening and closing the door of the carriage. Among them was a particularly fierce-looking prisoner, much like some Renaissance scenes of torture, who came to Swan relentlessly and took his clothes. His eyes were as hard as steel, but his cotton gloves were so soft. As he approached Swan, he seemed to show contempt for Swan and respect for his hat. He cautiously caught the hat, accurate and delicate, elegant and moving. He then handed his hat to a beginner, who was shy and timid, with eyes dripping away, and fired an angry flame, as nervous as the beast who had just been put in a cage. A few steps away, a big man in his trumpet stood preoccupied, idle and motionless as a statue, as if he were the mere ornamental warrior in Mantana's noisiest painting. While others rushed forward and were busy fighting around him, he leaned on his shield. Think about it; the big man was beyond the busy group of companions around Swan, as if he was not interested in the scene, but looked casually with his fierce blue eyes, as if it were "the slaughter of innocent babies" or "the martyrdom of St. Jacob". He seemed to belong to a family that had disappeared, perhaps only on the back panel of the altar at St. Zeno's and on the frescoes of Elmitani Church (where Swan came into contact with the family, where the family was still meditating); Badu, an ancient statue and master. The family of a combination of sub-models or Saxons written by Diller. His brown-red hair was naturally curled, greased and glued together, and it was curled vigorously, just like the hair bun on the Greek statue that the painter of Mantua had been studying constantly; Greek sculpture, although it only dealt with portraits at its inception, was good at extracting rich and varied shapes from simple lines of human beings. Style, as if borrowed from the whole biological world, is that head of hair, its gentle undulations, the sharp horns of the bun, braid crown decoration three overlapping layers, both like a bunch of seaweed, a nest of pigeons, as well as a hyacinth flower, also like a coiled snake. Mantana (1431 - 1506), Italian Renaissance Badua painter. (2) The Massacre of Innocent Babies refers to the massacre of innocent babies by Herod, the Jewish King known for his brutality (the first 39-4 in power). Jacob, one of the twelve apostles of Jesus, was killed in Jerusalem by Herod Akipa I, the son of Herod. (3) Mantana. (4) Mantana. Mantua is a city in northern Italy. The Duke's Palace is decorated with murals of Mantana. Some of the servants, all of them tall, stood on the magnificent steps, motionless and purely decorative like marble statues, embellishing the steps as if they were the "giant steps" of the Duke's palace; Swan went up the steps, thinking that Audette had never set foot in them. I can't help feeling sad. Ah! On the contrary, how happy he would be if he could climb up the stairs where the little tailor, who was out of business, would fall down accidentally. If he could spend the evening with Audrey in her little attic, he would be more willing to pay than the opera box for a week; even if Audrey did not go, he could talk to and live with the people she often met; because they often met with her, he would be happy to pay more than a week for her. They think they have something more real, more difficult to get, more mysterious and unpredictable about his mistress's life. On the stench but enviable staircase of the retired seamstress, there was no other staircase for servants or deliverers, so every night there was a dirty empty milk can on the insoles at the door of the house. On the magnificent and abominable staircase Swan was climbing now, it was different on the left and right sides. At a high level, at the entrance of a door or suite, in every recess formed on the wall, there is a door, or a housekeeper, or a billing house, which represents the business in the house they manage, and at the same time pays tribute to the visitors (they are also decent people who spend part of the week). How many independent lives do they live in their own industry? They eat at home like small landlords. They may one day go to a famous doctor or businessman to serve them. They are conscientious of all the teachings that people give them before they put on this magnificent dress. It is also difficult for them to wear this dress. They stood under the arches of their respective doors, dressed brightly, but somewhat with the simplicity of the citizens, as if they were holy icons in shrines; and a tall Swiss guard, dressed like a church guard, when every visitor approached him. Knock on the ground with a stick. Swan was pale, like Goya's portrait of the hall keeper or the transcriber of the notary in the play, accompanied by a servant with a small braid tied with ribbon at the back of his head, and went to the top of the steps to a desk where several of the servants, like notaries, sat at the front of the register and saw Swan come. When he arrived, he stood up and put down his name. He went through a small lobby. Some people have arranged some rooms for a particular work of art and named them after it, deliberately emptying them without anything else. This little lobby is just like this one, which at the entrance is like a very precious statue of the armed guard sculpted by Ben Venudo Chelini. Like a young servant, leaning forward slightly, with a more ruddy face stretched out in the red collar, as if he were burning a fiery, shy and enthusiastic flame; he penetrated the Obison tapestry hanging at the door of the living room where he was playing music with a strong, vigilant and frantic eye, as if it were an army. Man's calm or incredible sincerity - the symbol of vigilance, the incarnation of expectation, the commemoration of riots - watches the enemy from the top of the gun tower like a sentinel, or waits on the top of the cathedral like an angel for the arrival of the last moment of judgment. Now Swan had to step into the concert hall, and a doorkeeper with a chain of keys stooped down to open the door for him, as if he had presented him the key to the city gate. But Swan was thinking about the house he might go to (if Audrey permits), and the image of a milk can over his insoles made him suddenly sick. Goya (1746 - 1928), a Spanish painter, had a profound influence on European painting in the nineteenth century. Benvenudo Celini (1500-1571), Italian sculptor. After stepping over the tapestry, the servant's scene gave way to the guest's. Swan soon realized that the men were ugly. The ugliness of a man's face has been known for a long time, but since he discovered that the basis of a man's appearance is the independence of the lines of his five senses * (regulated only by aesthetic relations), the ugliness of a man's face has become a new thing for him again - in the past, the ugliness of a man was originally used to identify a person. This person represents a series of joys worth pursuing, troubles that should be avoided, or gifts that should be returned. Swan can no longer find a thing in the people around him that does not have a certain personality. Even if many people wear monocular glasses, in his mind, at most they used to wear monocular glasses, and now they are no longer common habits but have their own characteristics. Maybe it's because he now only sees General Frobeville and Marquis Breauder, who are chatting at the entrance, as two characters in a picture, and for a long time they have introduced him to the horse racing club and helpful friends who helped him in several duels, so the General's film Eyeglasses, like a piece of shrapnel embedded in his vulgar, scarred, glorious face, like the one-eyed giant in Greek mythology, unique in the middle of the forehead, now become a scar in his eyes. It is indeed glorious to suffer such a wound, in front of others. As for Mr. De Brauday, in order to participate in social activities and increase the festive atmosphere, besides wearing Pearl gloves, high-grade black hat and white tie, he also wears a pair of single glasses to replace the usual pincers (as Swan himself did); like a slice under a microscope. The film is so close to the back of the lens is his tiny eyes, with friendly eyes, smiling from time to time, and expressing satisfaction with the height of the ceiling, the happy atmosphere of the party, the arrangement of the festival and the quality of cool drinks. "Ah! It was you! I haven't seen it in half my life. It was the general who said this to Swan. He saw Swan's sad face and thought that he might have suffered a serious illness before he left the society. He asked for a supplement: "You look good now!" At this point, Mr. De Brauday asked a novelist who had just put on a single glasses (his only tool for psychological observation and ruthless analysis) and wore corners of his eyes to describe social life: "What? What's your brother doing here?" The novelist was so thoughtful that he answered in a mysterious way, "Where am I observing?" His small tongue pronounces heavily. Marquis Forsdale's single glasses were very small, and they had no border. They were embedded in his eyelids like a piece of superfluous cartilage of unknown origin and texture. They made his eyes twitch continuously and painfully, and added a touch of delicate emotion of shade and gloom to Marquis's face, which convinced women of him. Once you lose love, you will feel very painful. Mr. De Saint-Gandai's single glasses, like Saturn's, had a big ring around them. It was the center of gravity of the face. The whole face was adjusted around it at any time. The tiny red nose and the sarcastic, thick-lipped mouth were always trying to match the glass mirror with the strange look they made. The resourceful light from the carp; the single glasses also aroused the fantasies of the flirtatious fashionable girls, who dreamed of receiving artificial flattery and gentle pleasure from him; and the big carp's head and bulging eyes, Mr. de Valencie, who wore his single glasses, walked slowly among the crowd. From time to time, he loosened his jaw bones as if to determine the direction of his journey; he looked as if he had only his large glass aquarium on his face, arbitrary, perhaps symbolic, for a glimpse of the panther's glass - Swan admired Joto's "Sin" and "Sin" painted in a church in Padua.《 Virtue: These paintings remind him of the green, leafy branch beside "injustice", which symbolizes the forests that hide his nest. At Mrs. de Saint-de-Felter's entreaty, Swan stepped forward and sat down in a corner to appreciate one of the melodies of Orpheus played by flute. There were only two young ladies sitting side by side. One was Marquis Campbell and the other was Viscount Franco. Madam, they are cousins and often carry handbags. You look for me at parties with their daughters as you do at the railway station. I look for you until they point fans and handkerchiefs at two adjacent empty places. Mrs. de Campbell does not have much contact with others. I'm glad to have de Franco. Mrs. Swan, who had a reputation for accompanying an unknown lady who had spent her childhood with her beautiful friends, thought she had done it with great grace and ingenuity; Swan frowned and looked coldly at the piano episode behind the two of them listening to the flute solo (Liszt's Holy Law). Lancis Speaking to the Bird) Look at the famous hand's dazzling fingering: Mrs. de Franco was so anxious that her eyes shone wildly, as if the keys of the pianist's fingers were high swings, which could fall into an abyss 80 meters deep when she slipped, and she threw at her neighbours at the same time. To be surprised and suspicious, as if to say, "It's incredible to play at such a level"; Mrs. de Campbell put on a well-educated musical pose, her head beating like a metronome, swinging from shoulder to shoulder, swinging so fast (two eyes). Throwing out the blank eyes of the suffering person who no longer wanted to investigate the suffering or control it, but was content to say "What's the way?" at any moment affected the diamonds on the wrinkles of her jacket, and made her have to put the black grape strings in her hair regularly, without interrupting it. Swing faster and faster. By Mrs. de Franco's side, a little earlier was the Marquis of Galadon, who had always remembered her kinship with the Galmont family, which had greatly enhanced her salon and her personality, but had somewhat humiliated her, for the most prominent members of the family had somewhat shunned her, and that was also true. Maybe it's because she's a little annoying. Maybe it's because she's not very well-known. Maybe it's because she's from a lower position. Maybe there's no reason at all. When she was with people she didn't know, such as Mrs. de Franco, she was suffering from not being able to put her kinship with the Garments in plain words, just as the Orthodox church's mosaic was written in straight lines beside the saints. The words are the same. She was thinking that she had never been invited or visited since her cousin, Princess Lom, had been married for six years. She was full of anger and pride, for if anyone wondered how she could not be seen at Prince Lom's house, she could say that it was to avoid meeting Princess Mathilde there, and that in case she did, her ultra-Orthodox family would never forgive her. In this way, she finally took it as a reason why she did not go to her cousin's house. She remembered that she had asked Mrs. Lom many times how she could meet her, but the impression of what she had gotten was blurred, and she often muttered, "Anyway, this first step should not be taken by me. I am twenty years older than her." This humiliating memory was diluted. With the power of this inner monologue, she proudly threw back her shoulders, which almost separated them from her chest, and her head almost flattened with her shoulders. It reminded me of the feathered chicken head on the proud pheasant at the dining table. Not that she was slender as a pheasant, but she was born short, stout and masculine; but years of humiliation straightened her spine, as if unfortunately the trees growing on the edge of the cliff were growing backwards and obliquely in order to maintain balance. In order to comfort herself that she could not be on an equal footing with the rest of the Gelmont family, she had to repeat that she did not visit them very often because of her uncompromising principles * and pride. Over time, this idea had shaped her body and made her look a certain way, common people. Think of it as a characteristic of a superior family, and sometimes it arouses a sudden desire in the dizzy old eyes of the gentlemen in the club. Anyone who analyses Mrs. de Galadon's conversation and counts the frequency of each word to find out the key to deciphering the code will find that even the most commonly used words do not appear more frequently than "at the cousins'house of Galmant" or "at Aunt Galmant's house," or "at Elsey's house." The words "Al de Gelmont's health" and "cousin Gelmont's bathtub" are used. When people talk to her about a famous person, she always replies that she does not know him personally, but she has met her aunt Gelmont's family thousands of times, and when she answers, her tone is so flat and her voice is so heavy, which clearly shows that she does not know him personally, or because of those deep roots. Tiger's unshakable principles; her back-arched shoulders depend on these principles, just as a gymnastic instructor makes you lean on a balance beam to exercise your chest. (1) German opera composer George (1714-1787). Princess Mathilde (1820-1904): daughter of Prince Gerome Bonaparte, whose salon was well known during the Second Empire. It was not expected that Mrs. de Saint-Felter would meet Mrs. Lom at her house, but she did come that day. She had come condescending to show that she did not want to show her place in the living room. She came in sideways, but there was no crowd in front of her and no one wanted her to give way. She stayed at the end of the living room deliberately, with a proper air, as if she had not notified the theatre authorities. She stood in what she thought was the least conspicuous place (she knew very well that Mrs. de Saint-Felter needed only a glimpse of her and a sound of it, so as not to highlight her presence and attract attention). If she cheers, she will be pulled out of there, next to Mrs. de Campbell, whom she does not know. She watched the mime performed by the music-loving neighbour, but did not imitate her. This is not to say that Mrs. Lom, who spent five minutes at Mrs. Led Saint-de-Felter's house this time, was unwilling to be as kind as possible, making her gratitude to her master more precious. But she was born to hate her so-called "grandiosity" and insisted on not acting out of a way that was incompatible with the "style" of the small circle in which she lived, even though it was tempting to her, because even the most confident people were in contact with the new environment, even if it was lower than their own. There is also an imitative mentality (similar to shyness). She first thought that the music might not be the same way as the music she had heard so far, whether it was necessary to dance hand and foot, and whether it meant that she did not understand the music and was impolite to the hostess: as a result, she had to compromise to express her contradictory thoughts and feelings. For a moment, she stared at her enthusiastic neighbour with silent curiosity, supported her shoulder straps, touched her golden hair with diamond-encrusted coral or enamel balls (which made her hair look plain and beautiful), beat her time with her fan, but to show that she was not dominated by music, and Don't beat to the beat. When the pianist finished one of Liszt's pieces and turned to a prelude by Chopin, Mrs. de Campbell smiled warmly at Mrs. Chaud Franco, reflecting both memories of the past and the satisfaction of the travellers. When she was young, she learned how to caress Chopin's euphemistic, especially grown-up phrases, which were so free, soft, and so easy to feel; they were always searching for temptation at the beginning, trying to escape from the direction of departure, wandering away from where people thought they would arrive, but always wandering on the fantastic road. It took a long time to come back and hit your heart more firmly - the journey back was carefully planned beforehand, just like a crystal cup, when it rings, you can't help exclaiming. She lived in a very narrow family in the provinces, hardly ever attending dances, indulging in the loneliness of the manor, slowing down or accelerating all the dancing partners she imagined, teasing them one by one like picking petals, temporarily leaving the dance to listen to the wind whistling in the lakeside pine forest. But I saw a slender man with a melodious, strange and out-of-tune voice coming to her wearing a pair of white gloves, unlike the lover of the world in people's dreams. But today, the beauty of this kind of music is out of date, losing its bright color. Over the past few years, it has no longer won the attention of experts, has lost its original reputation, original charm, even the taste of mediocre listeners from which the fun is ordinary, disdain to talk. Mrs. de Campbell turned round and took a peek. She knows that her young daughter-in-law, who respects her mother-in-law's family, knows both harmony and Greek letters, and has her own views on spiritual matters, despises Chopin and has a headache when she hears Chopin's music. She was a Wagner fan, and now she was sitting in the distance with a group of people her age, so Mrs. de Campbell got out of her supervision and could enjoy her sweet impression. Mrs. Lom felt the same way. Despite her lack of musical talent, she learned from a piano teacher in St. Germain fifteen years ago. The gifted woman lived in poverty in her old age, returned to her old career in seventy years and taught her former students'daughters and granddaughters. She is dead now. But her method, her wonderful piano voice sometimes reappears on the fingers of her students, even those who have long been mediocre and negligible, give up music, and almost no longer open the piano lid. Therefore, Mrs. Lohm could shake her head properly and appreciate the prelude that the pianist could recite correctly. The last half of the first phrase came out on her lips. She murmured to herself, "It's wonderful." The word "wonderful" carries such deep feelings that she feels her lips moving mysteriously, and at the same time, she involuntarily injects a blank sad color into her eyes. Mrs. de Galadon muttered to herself that the chance to meet Mrs. Lom was so rare that it was annoying, because she really wanted to teach her a lesson by ignoring Mrs. Lom when she greeted her. She did not know that her cousin was here at the moment. Mrs. de Franco nodded and showed her the prince's wife. She rushed up to her at once, and did not care to disturb others; she wanted to keep her air of arrogance and indifference, so as to remind everyone that no matter who she was, she would not have dealt with Princess Mathilde face to face in her family, nor would she have dealt with her in terms of age. The same generation; but she wanted to dilute her haughty and reserved air by saying a few words to show that she had come to see her for a reason, and to compel the prince's wife to say a few words; so Mrs. de Galadon, as soon as she came up to her cousin, put on a sullen face and helplessly put out a hand and asked her, "What's wrong with your husband?" Like that?" The tone was full of worry, as if the prince was seriously ill. Mrs. Prince laughed in her own way, not only to let others know that she was laughing at someone, but also to concentrate the lines of her face around her lively lips and bright eyes, so as to make herself more beautiful. She answered, "Nothing better!" Then he laughed again. Mrs. de Galadon stood up, her face raised, as if still worried about the prince's health, and said to her cousin, "Oliana (then Mrs. de Lom looked at an invisible third party with a look of surprise and laughter) as if to ask him to prove that she had never permitted Mrs. de Galadon to be straight. I hope you can sit in my house tomorrow night and listen to Mozart's Quintet with clarinet. I want to hear your opinion. I don't seem to be offering an invitation, but to help the other party. I want to hear Mrs. Prince's opinions on the quintet, as if her bride had created a new dish and was eager to hear the gourmet's opinions. "I know this quintet, and I can tell you my opinion right away: I like it!" "Well, my husband's not very well, his liver... If he had seen you, he would have been very happy, "continued Mrs. de Galadon, now using the principle of Ed to bring Mrs. Prince's army to the party. Mrs. Prince does not like to tell people that she does not want to go to their house. Every day she always wrote to apologize for why she couldn't attend their party (actually she didn't want to go), what mother-in-law suddenly came home, my uncle invited me, went to the opera house, went on an outing, and so on. She made many people happy to hear that she was willing to associate with them, and the reason why she could not be invited to attend was because there was a temporary conflict at the prince's palace. It was a great honor for them to compare such a thing with the party they held. The Prince's wife came from the gifted group of the Gelmont family, with a quick mind, remarkable speech and noble emotions - a spirit that can be traced back to Merrime and finally manifested in the dramas of Melak and Alevi; she even applied it to social relations and shifted it between etiquette and etiquette. Make it as clear and realistic as possible and close to reality. She would never spend a lot of time telling a housewife how much she wanted to go to her party; she thought it would be more cordial to talk to her about trivial things that could make her go. (1) Melak (1831-1897), French playwright; Allevi was his collaborator. "Listen to me," she said to Mrs. de Galadon, "I'll have to go to a friend's house tomorrow evening, and it's going to be a lot of trouble to fix that date. If she takes us to the theatre, I can't go to your house anyway; if we stay at her house, I know there's nobody else but us, and I can say goodbye to her. "By the way, have you seen your friend Mr. Swan?" "No, dear Charles, I don't know he's here at the moment. I have to find a way to let him see me." "It's strange how he came to his mother-in-law's house in St. de Felt," said Mrs. de Galadon. "I know he's a smart man (in fact, what she meant was that he's a trick-or-conspiracy man). It won't stop him, a Jew, from stepping into the door of the sisters and sisters-in-law of the two archbishops!" "I don't think it's a shocking thing to say something that's not disgraceful." Princess Lom said. "I also know that he has changed his clan, even her parents and grandparents have changed their clan. But it is said that the people who have changed their religion are more attached to their original religion than those who have not changed their religion. They say that it is just a false shot. I don't know if it is true or not? "I don't understand that." The pianist will play two pieces of Chopin's music, and immediately after playing the prelude, he will begin to play a Polonez dance. But since Mrs. de Galadon told her cousin that Swan was present at the moment, even if Chopin came back from the dead and played all his works in person, Mrs. Lohm would not listen to it in half. Human beings are divided into two groups: one is interested only in people they don't know, and the other is interested only in people they know. Mrs. Prince belongs to the latter group. Like many women in St. Germain, wherever she went, as long as anyone in her small circle was present, and though she had nothing special to say to him, she could take all her attention, and she ignored the rest. From then on, Mrs. Prince, with all her heart in the hope of being seen by Swan, looked left and right (like a domesticated white mouse, the domesticator held a piece of sugar to its nose, then retracted back) with thousands of tacit lines on her face, which could be conveyed by Chopin's Polonize dance. Emotion had nothing to do with it; her face was always in the direction Swan was, and if Swan moved somewhere, she would move her affectionate smile. "Don't be angry, Oliana," said Mrs. de Galadon, who often said a few objectionable words for a moment's pleasure, preferring to sacrifice her brilliant future in the social world and her hope of one day showing off in the social circle. Then she said, "Some people say that Mr. Swan is not welcome at home, is that true?" "You know it better than anyone else," Mrs. Lom answered. "Didn't you invite him fifty times, and he hasn't even been to your house once?" When she left the insulted cousin, she laughed again, aroused the disgust of those who listened to music, but attracted Mrs. de Saint-Felter's attention. She sat beside the piano out of courtesy until she caught a glimpse of the Prince's wife. Mrs. de Saint-Felter, who had thought she was still taking care of her sick brother-in-law in Galmont, was delighted to see her here. "What? Are you here, Mrs. Prince? "By the way, I just sat in a corner and listened to a lot of good things." "Why, have you been here for a long time?" "By the way, it's been a while, but I think it's only a moment, because I didn't see you before I felt slow." Mrs. de Saint-Felter wanted to give her armchair to Mrs. Prince, and she said, "No, no! Why change it? It's good for me to sit anywhere. In order to show her noble woman's simplicity, she deliberately found a small stool without a backrest: "Come on, this cushioned stool is wonderful, I can sit on it straight up. Ah! God, I'm chattering here. People are going to boo me." At that moment the pianist was speeding up, his excitement was in high tide, a servant was carrying a plate of cool drinks to the guests, the teaspoon was ringing, Mrs. de Saint-Felter waved him away like every party, and he could not see her gesture all the time. There was a bride who followed the instructions that a young woman should not look bored. She always smiled happily and looked for the hostess with both eyes, so that she could express her gratitude with her eyes. She thanked her for remembering her when she held such a grand occasion. Although she was calmer than Mrs. de Franco, she was not uneasy when she enjoyed the music; but she was not worried about the pianist himself, but about the piano, which had a candle on top, and the candle would jump whenever the strongest sound was played, even if it would not burn the lampshade. At least a few wax tears will be left on the mahogany stage. In the end, she could not help but climb up the two steps of the stage and quickly move forward to remove the tray of the stage. But as soon as her hands touched the tray, the last chord of the music began to ring, and at the end of the song, the pianist stood up. What's more, the young woman's bold pioneering spirit, which appeared on the stage with the pianist in a short time, made a good impression in the hearts of the audience. "Have you seen this woman, Mrs. Prince?" General de Frobeville asked Mrs. Lom. He came to say hello to the Prince's wife, Mrs. de Saint-Felter, who had just walked away for a moment: "What a surprise! Is she an artist, too? "No, she's the new daughter-in-law of the Campbells," said Mrs. Prince casually, and immediately added, "I repeat what I've heard. I don't have a clue who she is. Some people behind me say they're rural neighborhoods of Mrs. de Saint-Felter, but I don't believe anyone really knows them. They're mostly country folk! Besides, I don't know if you often go to this amazing social place. I have no idea who the names of these amazing people are. What would you like them to do outside Mrs. de Saint-Felter's party? She mostly relied on these musicians, these comfortable chairs, and delicious drinks to attract them. It should be admitted that these'guests of the Belois'are quite good. She really had the courage to pay for these lively rentals every week. It's incredible!" Belouva is a businessman specializing in renting chairs. "Well, Campbell is a resounding and old surname," the general said. Childhood, "I don't object to saying it's old," answered Mrs. Prince coldly, "but the name doesn't read harmoniously." She pronounced the word "harmony" very heavily, as if with quotation marks, which was another expression of the affectation of the people in the small circle of Gelmont. "Are you serious about that?" "She's beautiful enough to be painted," said the general, who never left Mrs. de Campbell for a moment. "Don't you think so, Mrs. Prince?" "She loves to show up too much. I don't think it's very good for someone as young as hers; I don't think she's my age," Mrs. Lohm answered. (This last sentence can also be said by Gallanton and Gelmont.) When Mrs. Prince saw that Mr. de Frobeville was still staring at Mrs. de Campbell, partly out of malice towards the lady and partly out of courtesy to the general, she said, "It's not very good for her husband! I'm sorry I don't know her, otherwise I can introduce her to you. It seems that you are fascinated by her." Actually, if she really knew this young woman, she would not have done that. "Now I have to say goodbye to you. Today is the birthday of a friend of mine, and I have to congratulate her." Her tone of voice was simple and true, indicating that the social gathering she was going to attend was a disgusting ritual. She can't but go, and her presence will be touching. Besides, I have to pick up Bazan. When I came here, he went to see his friends. I think you know them. Their surname is the same as the name of a bridge. It's Jena." "Jena, this is the name of a successful battle first, Mrs. Prince," said the general. "I'm an old soldier, and that's what I think of first." He said as he took off his single glasses and wiped them as if he were changing a gauze for the wound. Then the prince's wife instinctively turned her head and said, "The nobles who were feuded in the Empire period are another matter, of course, but they are all good people. They were all heroes when they fought." "I have great respect for heroes," said the Prince's wife, with some irony in that tone. "I did not go with Bazan to the house of Prince Jena, not because I despised them at all, but because I did not know them at all. Bazan knew them and liked them very much. No, no, not as you think, there is no love problem here, I have nothing to object to! Besides, what's the use of my objection if something like that happens? She had no choice but to fill in the sentence. Everyone knows that Prince Lom has been unfaithful to her ever since he married his beautiful and meal cousin the next day. Again, that's not the case. They're all people he knew long ago. They're good for him, and I think it's a good thing. Let me tell you about their house first... Think about it, their furniture is all imperial style!! _____________ "Mrs. Prince, it's natural. It's from their grandparents." "I don't know, but it doesn't stop the ugly furniture. It's understandable that a person's family may not have good-looking things, but at least there should not be funny things. To tell you the truth, I've never seen anything more pretentious and rustic than that terrible style. The five cupboards are decorated with swan heads as big as a bathtub!! ___________ "But I think there are some good things in their family, such as a table with a sexy mosaic, on which a treaty was signed." "Ah! Their family is something historic, I admit. But these things are not beautiful... It's terrible! I have some of these things myself, which Bazan inherited from the Montesquieu family. What's different is that we all keep these things on the top floor of the Galmont's house, and nobody can see them. Come on, come on, the problem is not here. If I knew them, I would run with Bazan to their house to see them, to see their Sphinx, to see their bronzes, but I didn't know them! I was taught from an early age that it's impolite to go to someone I don't know (she pretends to be childish when she talks about it). I have always followed this teaching. Where can a decent person let an unknown woman into their house? I'm going, don't I want to eat a spoon? It's a hypothesis, of course, that when she talks about it, she smiles, her blue eyes are fixed on the general, and her dreamlike tenderness makes the smile more beautiful and beautiful. "Ah! Mrs. Prince, you know very well that you are going. They will be overjoyed. "Really? Why is that?" She asked hastily, perhaps in order not to reveal that she knew it clearly because she was one of the most noble ladies in France, or perhaps because she was delighted that it came from the general's mouth. "Why is that?" How do you know? They may see it as something they can't hate anymore. I don't know if that's true or not, but for me, dealing with people I know is getting on my nerves. If I were asked to deal with people I don't know, even heroes, I would be crazy. Besides, I don't know how much heroism can do in society, except for old friends you've known for a long time. The invitation to dinner is sometimes annoying. If you want to extend your arms to Spartak, you can _____________. I would never invite Fesenchettrix to be the fourteenth. I think I can invite him to a large party, but I don't organize such an event..." The leader of the slave uprising in ancient Rome. (2) Fesenche Trix, an ancient Gaul general and statesman, led the Gauls to resist Caesar. In the West, thirteen is an ominous number. When we meet thirteen people at a table, we temporarily invite one person to join us. "Ah! Mrs. Prince, your Galmont family is a real bargain. The fun of the Garments is fully reflected in you! " "Everyone says the Garments are funny. I really don't understand why. Do you know any other interesting Gelmont family? When she talked about it, she laughed, her eyes and nose huddled together to show her joy. Her eyes were bright and bright, and only words of praise for her wit or beauty (even from Mrs. Prince's own mouth) could arouse her joy. "Ouch! Swanson is there to say hello to your Campbell; oh, he's beside Madame St. de Felter, you can't see him! You can ask him to introduce you to her. Hurry up, he's leaving." "Did you see how ugly his face was?" The general said. "Poor Charles! Ah! When he finally arrived, I thought he didn't want to see me!" Swan loved Prince Lom very much, and when she saw her, she thought of Galmont, who was next to Gombre, and of the land he loved so much that he would not go back to because he did not want to leave Audrey. He is good at using half-artistic language and half-emotional language to please the prince's wife. When he returns to his long-lost social circle, he naturally has to use "Ah!" His words were addressed to Mrs. de Saint-Felter, but to Mrs. Lom, "The lovely lady of the prince is here! You guys, she came to hear Liszt's "Saint Francis Speaking to Birds" from Galmont. In a hurry of time, she could only pick up a few plums and hawthorns like a beautiful tit, and put them in her head. Now there were a few drops of dew, a little frost, so cold that the Duchess groaned. It's beautiful, my dear prince's wife." "What? Is Mrs. Prince coming exclusively from Gelmont? That's great! I'm sorry, but I didn't know." Cried Mrs. de Saint-Felter innocently. She is not used to Swan's witty remarks. When he looked carefully at Mrs. Prince's headdress, she said, "It's true, it's imitation... What should I say? It's not like chestnuts. It's a wonderful idea! But how did Mrs. Prince know about my schedule? The musicians didn't even tell me." When Swan was around a woman who used to talk in the language of love, he often spoke subtle words that many people in the upper class did not understand. He disdained explaining to Mrs. de Saint-Felter that he spoke metaphorically. As for Mrs. Prince, she laughed, because Swan's wit was highly appreciated in her circle, and because whenever she heard praise for her words, she always felt that they were incomparably beautiful, and always made people laugh. "Great! Charles, I'm so happy that these little hawthorn fruits suit your heart! Why do you say hello to the Campbell man? You're also her neighborhood in the countryside? Mrs. de Saint-Felter was glad to talk to Swan when she saw Mrs. Prince and went away. "Are you not yourself, Mrs. Prince?" "Me? Do these people have country villas everywhere? I really want to be like them!" "They were not Campbells, but her relatives were in Campbell at that time; her mother's family name was Legrandan, and she often went to Campbell. I wonder if you know that you are the Countess of Campbell, and the Academy owes you a rent? "I don't know what the Dean owes me, but I know that the priest borrows 100 francs from me every year, and I don't want to borrow that money again. Besides, the names of these Kampermei people are really frightening. They end simply, but not brilliantly! _____________ She said with a laugh. "It wasn't much better at the beginning," Swan answered. "I dare say that these two abbreviations are spelled together!" "It must have been created by an angry but respectable man who dared not finish the first word." "But since he can't say the second word by himself, why don't he finish the first word and say a hundred? We're having fun, dear Charles - but it's nerve-racking not to see you now, "she added in a warm tone." How I like to chat with you. You see, I can't make Frobeville, a fool, understand why Campbell's name is so frightening. Life is a terrible thing. I'm not bored until I see you." This is certainly not true. Nevertheless, Swan and Mrs. Prince's views on small things are identical. As a result, even the way of speaking and even the pronunciation are very similar. Otherwise, it is this similarity that leads to the agreement of their views. This similarity is not very noticeable because they have very different tones. But as long as you can imagine removing the two moustaches from Swan's voice and words, you can see that the changes in these sentences and tones are all the same as those of the little circle of Gelmont. But Swan and Mrs. Prince have nothing in common on major matters. Nevertheless, since Swan was so depressed that he felt ready to cry at any moment, he was always like a murderer who needed to pour out his own misery just as he needed to tell about his crimes. When he heard Madame Prince say that life was terrible, he felt a little comforted, as if Madame Prince had told him about Audrey. "Yes! Life is a terrible thing. Let's meet often, dear friend. Stay with you, just as you are not a hip-hopper. Let's have a good evening together." "Of course, why don't you come to Gelmont? My mother-in-law will be so happy! It's not a beautiful place, but I dare say it's not unpleasant. I hate the picturesque place. "I believe that your place is wonderful," Swan answered. "It's too beautiful and lively for me now, anyway, it's a happy place. Maybe it's because I lived there, so even the grass and trees there can talk to me. When the breeze blew and the wheat spikes rippled, I felt someone coming and what news would be received, and the small houses by the river... How unfortunate I should be if..." "Oh! My dear Charles, keep your eyes open. The wicked Madame Longbyrong saw me and stopped me and told me what had happened to her family. I was confused. Did she marry her daughter or her lover? I was confused. Maybe she married her daughter to her lover? Ah! I remember that she was divorced by her prince's husband... You pretend to talk to me so that this Berenice won't come and invite me to dinner. Besides, I have to go. Listen to me, dear Charles. I've finally seen you this time. Can't you come with me to Princess Palma's house? How happy she would be, and Bazan would meet me at her house. If Meimei hadn't brought you some news... You see, I can't see you now! The Princess of Herod's Jewish family loved Dido warmly. Dido wanted to marry her, but after the Roman throne, she was forced to be deported because of Roman opposition. Racine wrote the tragedy of the same name, while Gao Naiyi acted as the heroic comedy Dido and Berenice. Swan had not promised; he had told Mr. de Charles that he would go straight home as soon as he left Mrs. de Saint-Felter's house, and that he did not want to see the note he had been expecting, sent by his servant or left in the porter's room waiting for him, in order to go to Princess Palma's house. Mrs. Lom said to her husband that evening, "Poor Swan, he's still so kind and lovely, but he looks very unlucky. You will see him in a few days. He promised to come to our house for dinner recently. I think it's ridiculous for such a clever man to worry about such a woman. That woman is not interesting at all. Some people say she is a fool." To say this, one must have the sober mind of a person who has not fallen in love, who thinks that a wise person can only be haggard for a person who deserves to be haggard; it is not strange that someone would be willing to catch cholera for such a small thing as cholera bacteria. Swan wanted to go, but when he was finally able to get away, General Frobeville asked him to introduce Mrs. de Campbell to him, and he had to go back to the living room with him to find her. "I said, Swan, I'd rather be the husband of this woman at home in peace and stability than be slaughtered by barbarians. What do you say?" The words "slaughtered by a barbarian" pierced Swan's heart; he immediately felt the need to continue talking to the general: "Yes, many people ended their lives in this way. For example, you must know that Rabeluz, the navigator who brought his ashes back by Dimon de Uville (Swan was very happy when he talked about it, as if he were talking about Odette). He's a good man. I'm interested in him." He's a little sad about it. (1) Dimon de Urville (1790-1842): French navigator. "Ah! No mistake. Who doesn't know about Rabeluz? There's a street named after him." The general said. "Do you know people on La Beluz Street?" Swan asked excitedly. "I know Mrs. de Shangrifford, the sister of the good Shawsbeare. She held a theatre party one day. It was very good. Her salon will be excellent in the future, you see!" "Ah! She lives in La Beiruz Street! This street is lovely, beautiful and cold." "No, you probably don't go sometimes; it's not cold now, and houses are being built everywhere in that area." Swan eventually introduced Mr. de Frobeville to the young Mrs. de Campbell, who for the first time heard the name of the general. She hastily put on a happy and surprising smile - a smile from a man she had never heard of before; she was newly married, unknown to the family, and was shown to her by others. Everyone in the past thought she was a friend of her family. It seemed appropriate to pretend that she had heard him often since she married here. So she hesitated to reach out. This hesitation not only showed that she had overcome the implicitness she had learned earlier, but also because she had overcome this hesitation. Inner friendship. In this way, her parents-in-law (who still thought they were the most prominent dignitaries in France) said that she was an angel: in particular, they wanted to show that they chose her as their daughter-in-law precisely because they valued her character, not her family's huge wealth. "You can see at a glance that you have a talent for music, madam," the general said to her, without any trace, referring to the affair of the wax table tray just now. As the concert continues, Swan knows he can't get away until the new show is over. When he was imprisoned in this room with these people, he felt painful. Their foolishness and ridiculousness hurt his heart, not to mention that they did not know that he was in love with someone, and even if they knew it, they would not be interested. They only laughed at his childishness and regretted that he had done such foolish things; they expressed his love only for the sake of doing so. The subjective state of his existence, the lack of any external things to prove to him that this is an objective existence; he is particularly painful that his Audrey will never come, all people and everything are strange to her, she can not touch this place, and he will continue to flow down to As for the sound of the instrument, it almost made him shout. Suddenly. Audrey seemed to come in; when he saw her, he was so heartbroken that he had to put his hand over his heart. The original violin played a treble, lingering, as if waiting for something, this waiting continues, with the excitement of seeing its waiting object coming from afar to maintain the high music, while making the greatest efforts to continue until its arrival, before its disappearance, to receive its presence, exhaustively. The extra effort to open the road for it, let it come, as if we were holding a door with both hands to prevent it from closing by itself. Swan had not yet had time to understand it, to say to himself, "This is the little phrase in Van der Eyre's sonata, don't listen to it." Until that night, the memory of the days when Odette loved him in the depths of his heart had been buried, but was suddenly taken in by a ray of light. He thought that the season of love had returned, and that he had waken up in his heart, fluttered his wings, and sang to him the song of happiness that had been forgotten, without pity for his current misfortune. The last one returns to the next one in the catalogue