追憶似水年華

The painter knew that Van der Eyre was very ill at the moment. Doctor Bodan was worried that he would not be saved. "What?" Mrs. Vildiran cried, "Somebody else is looking for Bodan!" "Ah, Mrs. Vildiran!" Godard said in a tone, "You forgot you were talking about a colleague of mine. To be more correct, it's a teacher of mine." The painter had long heard that Van der Eyre's spirit was in a state of confusion. He said it could be seen from some of his sonata. Swan did not find this view ridiculous, but he was disturbed because a pure musical work did not contain any logical relations. The disorder of logical relations in speech indicated that the speaker was nervous, but he always thought that the disorder shown in a sonata was with a dog or a horse. Mental disorders (though they can be observed) are equally mysterious. "Don't be your teacher before me. You're ten times as smart as him," Mrs. Vildiran said to Dr. Godard in a tone of daring to stand up and confront those who disagree. "You're not going to kill your patient at least." "Madam, he is an academician," retorted the doctor in a sarcastic tone, "if a patient is willing to die in the hands of a scientist... It would be more glorious for a man to say,'Bodan is treating me. "Ah! More brilliant?" Mrs. Vildiran said, "What's the glory of being sick now? It's new... You're killing me!" Suddenly she put her hands over her face and cried out, "My old fool is still discussing with you seriously, and can't see that you are fooling me." As for Mr. Vildiran, he thought it was somewhat offensive to laugh at such a trifle, so he took a swig at his pipe, and sadly thought that he could never catch up with his wife in being kind to others. When Deot said goodbye to her, Mrs. Verdiland said to her, "We like your friends very much. He's straightforward and cute; if you have any friends like this to introduce to us, just bring them along." Mr. Vildiran pointed out that Swan did not appreciate the pianist's aunt. "I think it's because he's not familiar with our environment," Mrs. Vildiran answered. "You can't expect him to come here for the first time in the same tune as Godard, who has been in our circle for years. The first time does not count, it is only to understand the situation. Odette, he promised to come with us to the Chatterley Theatre tomorrow. Would you pick him up? "No, he doesn't want me to answer it." "It's up to you. I wish he hadn't dumped us temporarily!" To Mrs. Vildiran's surprise, he had never thrown them away. Wherever they went, he accompanied them, or went to suburban restaurants (less in season), and more often to theatres (Mrs. Verdiland loved theatres). One day Mrs. Vildiran told Swan at her house that it would be very useful to have a special pass for the first performance of a play or a grand festival event, and that the day of the funeral had been troubled by the absence of such a thing. Swan never mentioned his distinguished friends, but only those who did not look up very loudly, believing that the latter relationship was not decent enough to hide, while in St. Germain he believed that there was no need to hide his political contacts. This time, he blurted out, "It's up to me. When Danishev comes back on stage, you'll get it. I'm going to eat at the Elysee Palace with the Chief Police Officer tomorrow." (1) Gan Bida (1838-1882), a French bourgeois political activist and Left-wing leader of the Republican Party in the Second Empire. In 1870, when Paris was besieged by the PLA, he went to other places to try to organize the new army to fight against the PLA. He was successful in opposing the restoration of imperialism by the royalist party and defending the Third Republic. He was Prime Minister of Zhengg House at the time of his death. "What, in the Elysee Palace?" Doctor Godard shouted, like thunder. "By the way, at Mr. Gravi's," Swan answered, somewhat embarrassed by the reaction he had just made to that remark. The painter joked to the doctor, "You are rare!" Generally speaking, every time Godard listens to an explanation, he always says "OK, OK" and does not show any expression. But this time, Swan's last remark did not calm him down as usual, but shocked him and dared to eat with him at the same table without official title or reputation. This man is in contact with the head of state. "What? Mr. Gravi? Do you know Mr. Gravi? He said to Swan that the air of surprise and suspicion was like that of a doorman standing at the entrance of the Elysee Palace when he met a stranger who came to see the President of the Republic: according to the words of the other party, he knew who he was and promised him that he would be interviewed by the President, but in fact he took the poor mental patient to the detention centre. Go to the special clinic. "I know him, but I don't know him very well. We have some friends in common (who dare not name the Prince of Wales). Besides, he's very hospitable. The meals there are not very interesting. The food is very simple and there are never more than eight people on the table," Swan said. He tried to make his contacts with the President of the Republic possible. It seems too dazzling to mention. Godard really believed Swan's words and thought that Mr. Gravi's invitation was nothing special, not something that everyone was after, but something that was within reach. From then on, he was no longer surprised by Swan or anyone else who loved the Elysee Palace, and even sympathized with him for being invited to such a dull party. "Ah, good, good!" He said, that tone is like a customs officer, who just doubted you. After listening to your explanation, he stamped your visa and let you go without opening your box. "You said the banquet there was not much fun, and I believe it was the same; it's very precious for you to attend such a banquet." Mrs. Vildiran said that in her eyes, the President of the Republic was a particularly terrible hater, because he had the means of seduction and coercion in his hands, and if she used them against her followers, they would be told to give up. "I heard he had a bad ear and a finger to eat." "Well, you won't have a good time going there," said the doctor with a little pity. When he remembered that there were only eight people at a table, he asked, "Is that a drink between friends and confidants?" That enthusiasm comes not so much from curiosity as from the research spirit of a linguist. Nevertheless, the prestige of the President of the Republic in his mind ultimately surpassed Swan's modesty and Mrs. Vildiran's malice. Godard always asked with concern at every dinner party, "Can we see Mr. Swan tonight?" He has a personal relationship with Mr. Gravi. I think he's the gentleman that everybody talks about, right? He even sent him an invitation to a dental exhibition. "With this invitation, you can also take someone in, but you can't take a dog. You know, I said this because some of my friends didn't know the rule and temporarily caused trouble. As for Mr. Vildiran, he noticed that Swan had such a strong friend that he had never mentioned before, and what a bad impression this discovery had on his wife. If no outings were arranged, Swan would go to the Vildiran home to join the small circle, but he only came in the evening, and despite Audrey's constant plea, he did not promise to have dinner with them. "I can eat alone with you if you like," she said to him. "What about Mrs. Nevillland?" "Ah, that's easy. All I had to do was tell her that my clothes were not ready and that my carriage was late. There's always a way to deal with it." "It's very kind of you." But Swan thought that if Audret knew that he had more fun than being with her (he only agreed to meet her after dinner), she would soon be better off with him. Besides, he had already fallen in love with a bright and plump little girl worker who looked like a rose. Her figure was far more beautiful than Audrey's. He would rather be with her at dusk and then meet Audrey. For the same reason, he never promised Audette to go to his house to pick him up with the Vildillans. The little lady worker always waited for him at a corner near his house known to his coachman Remy. She boarded the car and sat next to Swan. She stayed in his arms until the door of Vildiran's house. When he entered the living room, Mrs. Vildeland pointed to the roses he had sent in the morning and said, "I'm going to talk about you." Meanwhile, she pointed to the seat next to Audrey and asked him to sit down, while the pianist was playing the phrase of Van der Eyre for both of them - it seemed to be the National Anthem of their love. He always starts with the vibrant part of the violin, with a few beats unaccompanied, occupying the most prominent position; then the vibrant part seems to suddenly leave, and the phrase is like Hoch's interior painting in which objects appear more profound because of the narrow half-open doorframe, from a distant place, in another color, in the middle of the room. It appeared in the soft light; it danced lightly, with pastoral flavor, like an episode, belonging to another world. The phrase moved forward at a simple and immortal pace, with an indescribable smile, giving its beauty as a gift in all directions; but Swan now seemed to feel that the original magic of the phrase had suddenly disappeared. This phrase seems to recognize the illusion of happiness that it refers to. In its graceful grace, there is a sense that everything is at rest. It is like a sense of detachment that comes with a sense of regret in vain. But it doesn't matter to him. He doesn't think much about the phrase itself, about what it means to the musician who didn't know Swan and Audrey existed in the world when he wrote it, or about what it means to the audience in the next few hundred years, but only about it. A proof of his love, a souvenir, was enough to remind the Vildirans, the young pianist of Odette, of Taswan, and to link them together. Even he dismissed the idea of inviting a musician to play the sonata all over (Audrey had asked for it on a whim), so that he still knew only this part of the sonata. "Why do we want the rest?" Audrey echoed. That's our part." What's more, he thought so hard that when the phrase passed by their ears and seemed to be playing for them at infinite distances, but did not know them, he felt sorry for the meaning of the phrase, which had an internal, unchanging and unchanging meaning. Not regretting the beauty they know --- just as when we receive jewelry or love letters from our beloved women, we blame the color of the gems * and the words in the language for not being purely made up of the essence of a short love affair and a lover who is unique in the world. Hoch (1629-1677), a Dutch painter, is good at expressing the effect of indoor light. He often stayed with the young woman worker for so long before he went to the Vildeland's house that as soon as the pianist had finished playing the phrase, he found that the time was coming for Audrey to return home. He always took her to the door of her little house in Lapirouz Street behind the Arc de Triomphe. Perhaps it was precisely because of this that he sacrificed the pleasure of seeing her earlier and going with her to the Vildelands, which was not necessarily a pleasure for him, and reserved the privilege of accompanying her home - a privilege which she appreciated very much and which he attached more importance to, because of this. In this way, he would feel that no one else saw her, no one intervened between them, and after breaking up with her, no one hindered her from being spiritually with him. So she went back every night in Swan's carriage. One night, when she got out of the car and he told her "See you tomorrow", she ran quickly to the small garden in front of the house to pick the last chrysanthemum and deliver it to him before the car moved. He kissed the flower all the way home. After a few days, it withered and he carefully put it in his desk. But he never stepped into her house at night. Only two afternoons, he went to an event that seemed so important to her - having lunch tea. Almost all of these streets here are adjacent to one dwelling, with only occasionally a few dim small shops (a historical relic of this previously unknown area) breaking the monotony. The silence and emptiness of these streets, the snow left over from gardens and trees, the decay of winter, and the natural scenery preserved in the city all add mysterious colours to the warmth he feels when he enters and the flowers he sees. Odette's bedroom is located at the bottom of the street, facing a narrow back street parallel to the front street; on the right side of the bedroom is a steep staircase, with dark wallpaper walls on both sides, with an oriental blanket, a string of Turkish beads, and a Japanese headlamp suspended by a silk rope (in order to avoid visitors connecting one another). The modern living equipment of Western civilization can not be enjoyed. The gas is ordered. This staircase leads up to the large and small living room upstairs. There was a narrow hall in front of the two living rooms, with the latticed shelf of the garden on the wall and a rectangular wooden box along its whole length. There was a flourishing chrysanthemum in it, which was rare in that year, although it had not been cultivated by future gardeners. Huge. Swan was not happy to see the fragrant light of these short-lived stars shining in the dark winter sunshine, reflecting pink, orange and white markings in the half-light and half-dark cabin, because the big chrysanthemum was popular in Paris only in the first year. Jolly. Audrey welcomed him in a pink silk dressing gown with bare neck and arms. She asked him to sit next to her in one of the many mysterious and secret corners deep in the living room, with a large palm tree in a large flowerpot in China or screens with photographs, ribbons and fans. She said to him, "You're not comfortable sitting here. Come on, let me play with you." With that triumphant smile, she took a few Japanese silk mats and rubbed them as if she didn't care about the valuable things, then put them behind Swan's head and under his feet. Servants came in and put away one lamp after another, almost all of them in Chinese porcelain bottles, some alone, some in pairs, all on different furniture (or shrines). In the dusk of this winter day, the scene of sunset is reappeared, but it seems more lasting, brighter and more intimate. Che - This kind of scene may make a lover of a crowd standing in the street and watching the looming window reverberate. Audrey was staring at her servant to see if all his lights were in their proper place. She thought that the whole effect of her living room would be destroyed if only one of her boxes was placed out of place, and the light on her portrait on the plush easel would be out of order. So she eagerly watched the fool's movements, and when he approached her vase rack, which was always wiped by herself for fear of being damaged, she reprimanded him severely and hurried up to see if the flower had been damaged by him. She feels that all her Chinese trinkets have "funny" shapes, and so do orchids, especially Catalan, which are her favorite flowers with chrysanthemums, because they are different from ordinary flowers, as if they were made of silk and satin. She pointed to an orchid and said to Swan, "This orchid seems to have been hinged from the lining of my cloak," with a respect for such an elegant flower; it is a beautiful and unexpected sister given to her by nature, which is hard to find in real life, and it is so elegant, more than many others. Women are more respectable. So she gave it a place in the living room. She showed him a dragon with flaming tongues and a corolla of orchids painted on vases or embroidered on tents, a silver camel with gems in its eyes on the mantelpiece with a jade toad, pretending to be afraid of the evil looks of the monsters, laughing at how funny they looked, and pretending to be the gorgeous beauty of the flowers. She was ashamed and then pretended to be unable to resist kissing the humpback camel and Toad she called "baby". These actions contrasted sharply with her devotion to something, especially to the Virgin Lagay. When she lived in Nice, the Virgin Lagay had saved her from a deadly disease, so she always carried the Virgin Mary's gold medal on her body, believing that it had boundless magic power. Odette handed Swan a cup of tea and asked him, "Lemon or cream?" When he answered "Butter", he smiled and said to him, "A little bit?" When she heard him praise the tea, she said, "Look, I know what you like." Indeed, Swan, like her, felt that the tea was precious, and love needed some pleasure to prove its existence to ensure its continuity (without love, those pleasures would not be pleasures and would disappear with love), so that when he broke up with her at seven o'clock, he went home. When he changed into his evening clothes, he sat in the carriage and could not restrain the happy mood he got this afternoon. He thought, "How interesting it is to have such a rare good tea at a woman's house!" An hour later, when he received a note from Audrey, he recognized the large character immediately. Because she wanted to learn the strength and strength of English writing, her writing was not appropriate, but it showed that she had worked hard; if someone who was not as fond of her as Swan, she would feel that it was not clear. Lack of education, lack of sincerity, lack of will. Swan left her cigarette case at home. She wrote, "Why don't you even leave your heart here? If that's the case, I won't let you take it back." His second visit may be even more important to him. Like every time he saw her, he had been sketching her in his mind on the way to her house that day; to feel her face was good, he had to recall not only her bright red cheeks, because the rest of her cheeks were usually gray-yellow and lifeless, but occasionally a few points. Red halo; this necessity * made him feel painful, because it showed that ideal things are always unavailable, and real happiness is always insignificant. He brought her a printmaking she wanted to see that day. She was a little uncomfortable, wearing a light purple crepe de Chine dress, embroidered with patterns on her chest. She stood beside him, her hair uncoiled, her cheeks covered, her legs curled like dancing, so that she could lean over the printmaking without being too tired; her head hung down, her big eyes languishing when nothing excited her. She was so similar to a fresco of the Sistine Chapel in Rome that Swan was deeply impressed. Swan has always had a special hobby. He likes to discover not only the general features of the real people around us, but also the most unusual things in the paintings of the masters, and the very individual features in the faces we know, such as those of Lorendano, Governor of Venice, created by Antonio Rizzo. In the chest portrait, the high cheekbones and crooked eyebrows of his coachman Remi were found, and even the whole face of the two men was identical; in the painting of Kirandayo, the nose of Mr. Valencie was found; and in a portrait of Tintoretto, Dr. Di Bourbon's face was covered with thick cheekbeards and broken cheeks. The nose of the bridge of the nose, the bright eyes, and the bloodshot eyelids. Maybe it's because he always confines his life to social activities. Limited to empty talk and regret, he felt that he could find an excuse to leniently indulge himself in the works of great artists, because these artists had also happily looked at such faces and moved into their works, which added a strong sense of reality and vividness to the works and a modern flavor, perhaps at the same time. It is also because he is so deeply aware that people in the upper class are so bored that he feels it necessary to explore something in ancient masterpieces that can be used to reflect today's characters. Perhaps on the contrary, it is precisely because of his artistic temperament that he is amused when he sees the universal significance of individual features in the similarities between historical portraits and contemporary figures that it does not represent. Anyway, maybe it's because he's received a lot of impressions from time to time. Although these impressions come from his love of music, they also enrich his interest in painting. So he came from Odette and Sandro Di Mariano (people now use his nickname Botticelli_more often). His nickname, however, is not so much a representation of the artist's real work as of his vulgar and erroneous opinions scattered about his work.) The likeness of Selfra in his works is more enjoyable and will have a lasting impact on him in the future. Now he saw Audrey's face no longer on the basis of the beauty or defect of her cheeks, the softness and sweetness of his lips when he kissed her one day, but on the basis of a fine and beautiful line, twined by his sight, the rhythm of her neck, the boldness of her hair and her eyes. The droop of her eyelids is linked together to form a portrait that clearly shows her characteristics. Sefoko is the wife of Moses, the Jewish leader in the Bible story. Antonio Rizzo, Italian architect and sculptor in the fifteenth century. (3) Kirandayo (1449-1494), Italian painter, Michelangelo learned painting from him when he was young. Tintoretto (1518-1594), one of the important painters of the Venetian School in the late Renaissance, Italy. Botticelli (1445-1510), Italian Renaissance painter. He looked at her, and a fragment of the fresco appeared on her face and body; from then on, when he was next to Audret or just thinking about her, he always looked for it; although the Florentine masterpiece was treasured by him because he found it in Audret. It is, but the similarity between the two also makes him feel that she is more beautiful and precious. Swan blamed himself for failing to recognize the true value of a woman who might have won the admiration of the great Sandro, and prided himself on the fact that he had found a basis in his own aesthetic accomplishments for the pleasure he had gained in seeing Audrey. He thought that when he linked Audrey to his ideal happiness, he was not, as he had thought before, pursuing an imperfect expediency, because she embodied his most delicate artistic appreciation. He could not see that Audrey was not the kind of woman he wanted, because his desire was always contrary to his aesthetic appreciation." The word "Florentine Paintings" can play a great role in Swan. The word, like a title, brought Audrey's image into a world of dreams she had never been able to enter before, where he was worth a hundred times. In the past, when he looked at her purely from the aspect of posture, he always doubted whether her face, her figure and her overall beauty were standard enough, which weakened his love for her. Now that he had some aesthetic principles as the basis, these doubts disappeared and the love was affirmed; moreover, he had already realized that Kissing an imperfect woman and taking possession of her body is a logical thing, but it's not enough. Now that it's like putting a wreath on a treasure in a museum, it's a very sweet and wonderful thing in his mind. Just as he regretted spending all his time in visiting Audrey for months, he thought it perfectly reasonable to spend a lot of time on a valuable masterpiece. This is a masterpiece made of special materials with another interest, which is unparalleled in the world. Sometimes he carefully appreciates it with the piety of artists, the emphasis on spiritual values and the transcendence of utilitarianism, and sometimes with the pride, selfishness and desire of collectors. He put on his desk a copy of Jethro's Daughter, which should be a photo of Audrey. He admired her big eyes, the slender face with faint skin defects, along the fantastic hair buns on the slightly tired cheeks; he applied aesthetic beauty to a woman and beautified it into the body he liked to have in all the women he might possess. Advantages. There is a vague sense of empathy that draws us to the masterpieces of art that we admire. Now that he knows the flesh-and-blood prototype of Jethro's Daughter, it becomes a desire to fill the desire that Audrey's body never aroused in him before. When he gazed at Botticelli's work for a long time, he thought of his own "Botticelli" and thought it was more beautiful than the picture. So when he took Selfra's picture to his side, he seemed to hold Audrey close to his chest. However, what he tried to prevent was not only that Audrey would get bored, but also that he would sometimes get bored himself. He felt that, since Audrey had all the conveniences to meet him, she seemed to have little to say to him. He was afraid of the trivial, monotonous and fixed attitude she had taken with him, and that she would one day pour out her love to him, and that she would put it in his head. The hope of romance kills him, and it is this hope that makes him germinate and keep his love. Odette's image in his mind had reached a fixed point. He was afraid that he would be tired of it. So he wanted to change it. He suddenly wrote her a letter, full of disguised disappointment and indignation, and sent it to her before dinner. Knowing that she would be shocked, he rushed to reply to his letter, and he hoped that when she lost his fear and plunged her mind into contradiction, she would say something she had never said to him. In fact, he had received some of her most affectionate letters in this way, one of which was sent out at noon at the Golden House Restaurant (on the day of relief for flood victims in Mulchia, Spain). He began by saying, "My friend, my hand is shaking so hard that I can't even grasp the pen." He kept the letter in that drawer with the withered chrysanthemum. If she had no time to write, when he arrived at Vildiran's house, she hurried up to him and said, "I have something to say to you." He curiously drew from her face and from her words what she had been hiding in her heart and had not said to him. Every time he approached the Vildeland's house and saw the large, brightly lit window (the shutters were never closed), he was filled with excitement at the thought that the lovely man he was about to see was bathed in the golden light. Sometimes, the guests'shadows are reflected on the curtains, long and dark, like small images drawn on translucent glass lampshades, while the other side of the lampshade is a piece of light. He tried to find Odette's profile. As soon as he entered the room, his eyes shone with such delightful light that Vildiran said to the painter, "Look, it's exciting now." Indeed, Odette's presence adds something that Swan didn't have in any of his hosts: a sensitive device, a nervous system that connects rooms and constantly stimulates his heart. In this way, the activities of the so-called "minor sect" social organization provided Swan with the opportunity to meet Audrey every day, so that he sometimes pretended not to be interested in meeting her, or even not to meet her again after pretending, but these would not have any serious consequences, because although he did during the day to meet Audrey. She wrote a letter and would definitely visit her in the evening and send her home. Eugenie Grandet, on one occasion, was upset when he remembered the company he always needed every night, so he accompanied his little girl worker all the way to Bronillin Garden to postpone her arrival at Vildiran's house. In this way, he arrived too late, Audrey thought he would not come, and went home. Swan was sad to see her out of the living room; before that, when he wanted to have the pleasure of meeting her, he had always been sure that he could have it, and now it has diminished and even made us totally blind to the value of that pleasure (in all other pleasures), which today is. For the first time, I realized its weight. "Did you see how long that face stretched when he found her out?" Mr. Vildiran said to his wife, "I think he's in love with her." "How long does what pull?" Godard asked roughly. He had just gone to see a patient, and now he came back to find his wife. He did not know who they were talking about. "What? Didn't you just meet the most beautiful one in Swan's family at the door? "No. Here comes Mr. Swan?" "Just stayed for a while. Swan was excited, but nervous. Look, Audrey's gone." "You mean, she's fighting with him now, and it's about the end of the evening?" The doctor said he was proud of the metaphor he used. "No, absolutely not. Let's shut the door and say, I think she's a fool and a fool if she doesn't handle it properly. "Come on, come on, come on," said Mr. Vildiran. "What do you know? They have nothing to do with each other? We haven't seen it yet. How do we know? "If there's anything, she'll tell me," Mrs. Verdiland retorted solemnly, "I'll tell you. She kept nothing from me. She's nobody at the moment. I told her that she should sleep with him. But she said she couldn't. Although she loved him, he always shrank in front of her, and she dared not be bold. She also said that she did not love him in that way. He was a Platonic lover and she did not want to tarnish her own feelings for him. That's what she said. Swan is exactly the kind of person she wants." "I'm sorry, but I don't agree with you," said Mr. Vildiran. "This gentleman is not exactly my cup of tea; I think he's a bit airy." Mrs. Vildiran's whole body was stiff and her face showed a deathly look, as if she had become a statue, which made it seem that she had not heard the unbearable word "put on airs". Does that mean he is "smarter" than them? "Anyway, if they have nothing to do with each other, I don't think it's because this gentleman thinks she's a chaste woman," said Mr. Vildiran sourly, "but it's true. He seems to think she's a smart person. I wonder if you have heard how he talked to her about Van der Eyre's Sonata that night; I really like Audrey, but what aesthetic theory to tell her is the biggest fool in the world! " "Hey, don't say anything bad about Audrey," said Mrs. Vildiran, pretending to be a coquettish child. "She's very cute." "That's no harm to her loveliness! I'm not saying anything bad about her. I'm just saying that she's neither a chaste woman nor a smart woman. He said to the painter, "What's the great thing about her chastity after all? Chastity, she may be far less lovely than she is now, isn't she? Swan met the Vildiran's messenger on the stairway platform. He had just left when he was upstairs. When Odette left, he told Swan (it was an hour ago) that if he came, he would tell him that she might go to the Prefecture Cafe for a cup of chocolate before going home. Swan immediately went to the Prefecture Cafe, but every step of the carriage was blocked by other vehicles or pedestrians crossing the street; if it had not been for fear of provoking police interference, it would have taken longer, and he really wanted to crush them to death. He calculates the time he spends, and extends every minute for a few seconds, lest the time run too fast, so that he can believe that there are more opportunities to arrive earlier and to find Audrey. Suddenly, it's like a patient with a fever waking up from his sleep and realizing that he's just recurring in his mind and it's hard to tell how absurd his dreams are. Swan also found in himself how extraordinary the thought he had in mind, and how unprecedented the pain in his heart, had been since he heard the news of Audrey's departure at the Vildeland's house. He only realized it at this moment, as if he had just woken from his dream. What? All this restlessness was due to the fact that he would not see Audrey until tomorrow, which was not exactly what he had hoped for an hour before on his way to Vildeland's house? He had to see that the carriage that had taken him to the Prefecture Cafe remained the same, but he was no longer the same person as before. He was no longer alone. Now there was another person with him, who was attached to him and merged with him. Perhaps he could no longer get rid of it, and had to be like that. Stay with a host or a disease. However, since the moment he felt a new man attached to him like this, he also felt that life was more interesting. Whether he could see her in the Prefecture Cafe or not, he had countless thoughts (the waiting was so painful that before he saw her, he was in such a mess that he could neither think nor recall anything to calm his mind), but if he could see her, the meeting would probably have been the same as usual, not as usual. What's great? As every night, when he saw Audrey and gave her a quiet glimpse of her changeable face, he immediately turned his eyes to the other side so that she would not see any desire in it and no longer believe that he had no selfish thoughts; then he had no time to think about her, but to figure out what to find. An excuse to keep him from leaving her immediately and to make sure that he can see her again the next day at Vildiran's house, that is to say, to find out what excuse to keep the frustration and frustration aroused by the inability to gather with this approachable and unwilling woman in blossom and fruits going on at that time and again the next day. New taste. She's not in the Prefecture Cafe. He was determined to go to all the restaurants around the city road to find her. In order to gain time, when he went to some restaurants, he sent his coachman Remi (Governor Lorendano in Rizzo's painting) to other restaurants, and if he could not find it himself, he went to the designated place to wait for the coachman. When the coachman did not come back, Swan's heart went up and down, as if he had seen him come back and said, "Madame is there," and then he came back and said, "Madame can't find any cafe." It was too late, maybe tonight would end with a meeting with Audrey, which would end his anxiety; maybe he had to die to find her tonight, and he had to go home without meeting her. The coachman came back, but when he stopped in front of Swan, Swan did not ask him, "Did you find his wife?" But he said, "Remind me to order firewood tomorrow. It seems that my family is running out of firewood." Perhaps he was thinking that if Remy saw Audrey waiting for him in a cafe, the bad night would have been replaced by a happy night that had begun, and he would not have to rush to the happiness that was already there, properly collected and safe. But it's also the function of inertia; some people's bodies lack flexibility. When they want to avoid a collision, drag their burning clothes away from the fire, and make an urgent response, they are not in a hurry. First, they keep their original position for a while, as if they want to find it from this position. A fulcrum, like an impulse. Swan now lacks such flexibility in his mind. If the coachman says to him, "Madame is there." If so, he would probably reply, "Ah! OK, OK! I didn't expect you to run so many roads. And continue to talk about ordering firewood, so as not to let him see his emotional excitement, while allowing himself time from anxiety to happiness. The coachman came back again and told him that she could not be found anywhere. As an old servant, he put forward his own opinion: "I think Mr. has to go home." When Remy brought his last, unchangeable echo, Swan could pretend to be indifferent, but this time when he saw that he was going to ask him to give up hope and stop looking for it, he could not pretend to be. He shouted, "No, we must find this lady; this is the most important thing. If she hadn't seen me, she would have been very upset. It was a big deal and she would have been angry with me." "I don't understand how this lady got angry," Remy answered. "She left without waiting for her husband. She said she was going to the Prefecture Cafe and she wasn't there." The lights went out in all directions. In the shade of the avenue, in the mysterious shadows, fewer and fewer pedestrians wander, almost indistinguishable. From time to time, a woman came up to Swan and muttered in his ear, asking him to take her home, which shocked Swan. He rubbed anxiously past these dim bodies as if he were searching for Eurydick among the ghosts in the dark kingdom. Eurydic was the wife of Orpheus, a singer in Greek mythology. He was bitten by a venomous snake and died. In order to get his wife back, Orpheus himself went to the underworld. Among the ways in which love comes into being, and among the media in which great evil spreads, there is one that can never be more effective, that is, it sometimes skims over the intense stream of excitement in our bodies. The person with whom we are happy at the moment, even if her fate is fixed, is the one we love from now on. Before that, it didn't matter whether she was more agreeable to us than others, or even just as agreeable to us as others. It's important that our interest in her should be focused. If she is not around us, and our pursuit of all the pleasures of living with her suddenly replaces us with an urgent need, this condition will come true. This need is aimed at herself, which is an absurd need, a need that is not allowed to be realized by the law of the society and is difficult to understand - that is, the absurd and painful need to possess her. Swan asked Remy to take him to the last restaurants that were not closed; that was the only condition for the happiness he had calmly envisioned to be realized; now he no longer concealed the excitement in his heart and the importance he attached to the meeting, so he promised his coachman that if he succeeded, he would be rewarded. It was as if another person, besides himself, had a desire to succeed, and Audrey could appear at a restaurant on the Inner Ring Road, even if she had gone home and slept. He went straight to the Golden House Restaurant, twice into the Toldoni Hotel, but could not find it; he came out of the British Cafe and hurried out in panic to the carriage waiting for him at a corner of the Italian Avenue, but just then he ran into a man; she was Odette; she later explained, She didn't find a seat in the Prefecture Cafe, so she went to the Golden House Restaurant for dinner. She sat in a concave corner and was not seen by him. She is looking for her carriage. She was shocked that she had never expected to meet him here and now. And he ran all over Paris, not because he thought it was possible to meet her, but because he would be cruel to himself if he died of this heart. His reason had always believed that the happiness tonight was impossible to achieve, but now it has become a reappearance of the real thing; he did not think about all the possibilities to promote the realization of the happiness, it is purely foreign things; he did not have to rack his brains to give it reality, which reality is itself. What comes out is what you throw at him. This reality shines in all directions, dispelling the loneliness floating in his heart like a dream, and on this reality, he unconsciously constructs the reverie of happiness. It was like a traveler arriving at the Mediterranean coast on a sunny day, doubting the existence of the places he had just left, when he did not look back at them, but allowed the bright and consistent blue light of the coming sea to dazzle him. He boarded her carriage with her and let his own car follow. She had a bunch of Cartel Lan in her hand. Swan looked through her lace scarf and saw that the same orchids were tied to the feathers of swans in her hair. Under the shawl she wore a black velvet gown with a triangular hem showing a white satin petticoat and a white rosin embroidery at the top of her bodice, with several cartelaines on it. As soon as she recovered from her unexpected encounter with Swan, the horse kicked at some obstacle and flashed aside. Both of them were shocked out of their original position. She screamed, her heart jumped, and she could not breathe. "Nothing," he said to her. "Don't be afraid." He held her on the shoulder, pressed her body close to his chest, and said, "Don't talk, just answer my questions with gestures, lest you pant harder. The flowers on your jacket are crooked. Would you mind if I help you straighten them out? I'm afraid your flower will fall out. I want to insert it firmly. Never had she seen a man so polite to her, she smiled and answered, "No, where will it be? How can I mind it?" He was embarrassed by her answer, perhaps because he had just made an excuse and pretended to be so sincere that he had begun to believe that he was indeed sincere and embarrassed. He cried, "Ah! No, no, don't talk. You'll pant harder. You just have to make a gesture. I'll see what you mean. Do you really mind? Look, there's a little bit of you... I think it's a little pollen; do you agree with me to brush it off by hand? I'm not going to be very energetic. Did I hurt you? Maybe I itched you? I don't want to touch the velvet of my robe so as not to wrinkle it. But you see, these flowers really should be fixed, or they will fall out; I'll put them in a little bit... To tell you the truth, I'm not going to annoy you. I want to smell it and see if the fragrance of the flowers is all gone. You can't smell anything. Tell me the truth." She smiled and shrugged her shoulders as if to say, "You're silly, you know I'm happy." He caressed Audrey gently with his other hand along her cheek; she watched him with open eyes, with the affectionate and solemn look of the woman painted by the Florentine master (whom he thought she was similar to them); her bright and delicate eyes, which resembled those of the women in the painting, seemed to follow two teardrops. That's how it came out. She has a drooping pink neck, just like all the women in pagan and Christian paintings. Her posture was her usual posture, of course, but she also knew it was appropriate for the occasion, and she was careful not to forget to put it in such a posture; she seemed to need to do all she could to keep her face in place, as if an invisible force had attracted it to Swan. When she involuntarily brought her face to Swan's lips, Swan held it in both hands and kept it at a distance. He wanted to give Audrey time to reflect on her long-cherished dream and see it come true with her own eyes, just as people invited the mother of the awarded child to see her beloved child's achievements with her own eyes. Perhaps Swan himself had the intention of gazing at Odette's face for the last time, which he had not yet possessed or even kissed, as if a man were leaving a place with a good look at the scene he was leaving forever. But he was still so shy in front of her that he thought that she had started playing with Carter's orchids that night and ended up taking possession of her body. In the next few days, he still used the same excuse, perhaps because he was afraid of offending her, perhaps because he was afraid of showing his lying horse's feet, or because he lacked a comparison. The courage of this higher demand (in fact, he can ask again, because Audrey was not unhappy for the first time). If she wore Carter's orchid on her jacket chest, he would say, "Unfortunately tonight, your Carter's orchid doesn't need to be rearranged. It's not as messy as it was that night, but this one doesn't seem quite right. I'd like to hear if they are special. If she hadn't worn flowers, he would say, "Oh! There's no Carter coming to the orchid tonight. There's no way to play with it." In this way, for a period of time, the first night of the program has not changed, always with fingers and lips to gently touch Audrey's chest, each kiss and hug is always guided by such a touch; a long time later, when playing with Carter's orchids (or similar etiquette) has long been out of date. The metaphor of "Making Carter come to Lan" has become a common phrase that they habitually use to represent the possession of the body (in fact, there is no matter whether possession or not). It has remained in their speech for a long time to commemorate the long-forgotten custom. Perhaps this special expression is used to express sexual relations, which have different meanings from its various synonyms. We can be tired of women, we can think of dating with different types of women as no different, we already know what's going on, but if that woman is not so easy to handle - or we think it's not so easy to handle - we have to deal with her. Make an unexpected episode, as Swan did with Cartel Lan for the first time, and then this kind of friendship will become a new kind of fun. Swan was eagerly looking forward to that night (he thought she could not guess if Audrey had caught his plan), and it was from the broad pale purple petals of Cateland that she could have taken possession of the woman; he felt that night, and Audrey might have acquiesced to that pleasure only because he was not fully aware of it. In his mind, therefore, it is a pleasure that has not existed so far, but that he has tried to create. It is a pleasure that is totally different and fresh (as the first man created by God felt when he saw the flowers in heaven on earth) - and the special name he gave it retains. That's the mark. Now, every night, when he brought her back to her house, he always had to go in; she often dressed in her dressing gown and sent him out to his carriage, kissed him goodbye in front of the coachman, and said, "What's the matter?" The nights when he did not go to Vildiran's house (which had happened from time to time since he could meet her elsewhere), the nights when he went to the social circles of the upper classes (which were becoming more and more difficult), she asked him to come to her house sooner or later, and before he went home. It's spring, a clear and cold spring. When he came out of the party, he boarded his four-wheeled open carriage, covered his legs with blankets, told his friends who came home with him and asked him to walk with them that he could not follow his fate, that he was going in another direction, and that the driver spurred the horse to trot. Anyway, he knew where to go. Friends were surprised, Swan dared to change. No more letters from him asking to introduce women. He stopped paying attention to other women and avoided meeting them. In restaurants and in the countryside, his manners changed completely; friends could have recognized him, and they thought they would never change their manners in the future. A temporary abnormal sex * case can not only replace the normal sex * case, but also eliminate the constant external characteristics of the normal sex * case until now. The same is true of the changes caused by the excitement in our hearts! On the contrary, there is one thing that remains the same now, that is, wherever Swan goes in the evening, he is bound to meet Audrey. The journey that separated him from her was the one he had to take once a day, as if it were an inevitable downward slope in his life. To be honest, when he spent too much time at one party, he often wanted to go straight home, stop running this long distance, and visit her the next day. He just went to her home at such a late hour and guessed that friends who said goodbye to him would steal private opinions: "He can't help himself, he must have." The lady forced him to go to her house no matter when he was in the morning or in the evening." This makes him feel that he is living the life of people who fall in love. He must have been enchanted by sacrificing rest and interests for the pursuit of sensory enjoyment. However, without thinking, he was convinced that she would be waiting for him and never be anywhere else with anyone else, and that he would see her before he returned home. This belief dispelled the restlessness of Audrey when he was not at the Vildeland house that night, which had long been indifferent, but could still happen at any time. Reproduction, and now his heart is so quiet, can be said to be a kind of happiness. The reason why Audrey occupied such an important position in his mind may be due to the agitation of that night. Usually, other people have nothing to do with us, so that when one of them can dominate our sorrow and joy, we will feel as if he belongs to another world, full of poetry and painting, can activate us into a sea of feelings with which we live. Sometimes, when he looked out from his carriage at the empty alleys illuminated by the bright moon on a clear cold night, he thought of the same bright and slightly rose face as the moonlight, which had suddenly emerged from his mind one day and cast mysterious light on the world. If he arrived after Audette had sent her servant to bed, he would go to the back street before ringing the bell of the garden, where the windows of the adjacent house were all the same and all the same, except for the one in her bedroom that was still on. He knocked on the window frame, and she said yes, and then waited behind the door. On her piano was her favorite score, Rose Waltz, or Poor Mad Man by Tariyafiko (she wrote in her will that it was to be played at the funeral), but he asked her to play the phrase of Van der Eyre. Although Odette did not play well, we had the best of a piece. The impression is often due to the unqualified sound played by clumsy fingers on the out-of-tune piano. He felt deeply that his love was something that could not be found elsewhere, something that no one could verify except himself; and he knew that Audrey's qualities were not enough to explain why he attached so much importance to the time he spent with her. Often, when he is calmly thinking with reason, he also wants to stop making such great sacrifices in terms of learning and socializing for the supposed pleasure. But as soon as he hears Van der Eyre's phrase, it will make room in his heart for it, and his mind will expand to make room for a certain form of enjoyment, which can not be found outside itself, but is not as personal as the enjoyment of love. Things, however, are placed in front of Swan like an objective reality higher than concrete things. The phrase of Van der Eyre evoked in him this thirst for charm he had never experienced, but it did not bring him anything definite to satisfy him. Therefore, the phrase in Swan's mind eliminates the concern for material interests, eliminates the blank left by all the considerations, but has not found anything to fill, Swan can engrave the name of Odette there. In addition, there are some deficiencies and disappointments in Audrey's feelings, and that phrase will make up for them and inject its mysterious essence. When he listened to the phrase, it seemed to him that he was breathing an anesthetic, which made his breathing deeper. The instantaneous pleasure that music gave him was about to turn into a real desire for pleasure, and at such moments it was really like the pleasure we had in our experiments with spices, like the pleasure we had when we came into contact with a world that was not made for us - a world that, in our view, had no form, because we could not see it. See it; it's meaningless, because it's beyond our control of reason; we can only get there through one sense. Although Swan's eyes are the eyes of a keen painter connoisseur and his brain is the brain of a sophisticated observer, they are bound to carry with them traces of an irrevocable dull life; when he feels that he has become a person who has nothing to do with human beings, a blind person, a person who has lost his logical ability, he almost changes. It was a valuable and mysterious rest for him when he became a unicorn in absurd legend and a monster who perceived the world only by hearing. Since he wants to search for meaning beyond his intelligence in this phrase, he needs to be so intoxicated that his mind can not get any help from reason, so that his mind can go through the corridor of music alone, through the filter of the Music-The shadow-the darkness. He had begun to realize what kind of pain was hidden beneath the sweet music of the phrase, which might be hard to eliminate, but he did not feel bitter. Let this phrase say that love is fragile, but his love is so strong! He played with the melancholy of the phrase and felt it flowing through his body, but always felt it was like a caress that made his happiness deeper and sweeter. He asked Audrey to repeat the phrase ten or twenty times, asking her to kiss him constantly while playing it. Every kiss provokes another kiss. Ah! Kissing is so natural in the early days of love! Kissing one by one, counting one kiss in an hour is as difficult as counting the flowers in the fields in May. At that moment, she pretended to stop and said, "You hug me and tell me how to play it?" I can't do it at the same time. You've made up your mind. Should I play that phrase or be intimate with you? He was angry, but she laughed, followed by a shower of kisses. Otherwise, she looked at him sadly, and he saw her face worth entering Porticelli's "The Biography of Moses", so he played with Audrey's neck to keep it tilted as necessary; when he painted her portrait in the same colour and pink as on the walls of the Sistine Chapel in the fifteenth century, he painted her portrait in the same way as he did on the walls of the Sistine Chapel in the fifteenth century. Later, thinking of her sitting beside the piano at the moment, ready to receive kisses and pleasures, thinking of her as a flesh-and-blood person, when he was alive, he was crazy, with eyes wide, chin outstretched as if to eat, fell on the girl in Botticelli's pen, and twisted her cheeks up. When he came out of her house, he kissed and kissed her again, because he could not recall the odor or a characteristic of her lines just now; when he got on the carriage and set out on his way home, he blessed Audrey because she agreed that he would go every day, and such a party, he thought, would not bring her much joy. But because it saved him from jealousy (and from the bitterness he had suffered when he had not seen her that night at the Villandeland's), and helped him to live through the extraordinary hours of his life without having to face such a crisis (the first time was so painful, the only time). It was a crazy moment, like when he was driving through the streets of Paris on moonlit night. On his way home, when he saw that the moon was now moving, almost near the horizon, he also thought that his love followed some unchanged laws of nature. He asked himself whether the period he was experiencing could last for a long time, whether the position of that lovely face would be declining and losing its charm. Soon it will disappear from his mind. Ever since Swan fell in love, he felt that things were charming, just as he thought he was an artist when he was young; however, it was no longer the same charm. Now, only Audrey can give all kinds of charm. The inspiration of his youth was dispelled by the subsequent debauchery, and now he feels that it is germinating again on him, but all of it bears the reflection and imprint of a particular life. Now, when he spends a long time alone at home with his recovering soul, he feels a wonderful pleasure, and gradually he feels it again. To be himself again is just another position. Tariafico (1821-1900), French singer and composer. He only went to her house in the evening, not knowing what she did during the day or what she used to be; he didn't even know anything about it, which often prompted us to imagine what we didn't know and to ask about it. So he never asked her what she was doing and what her past experience was. Sometimes he also recalled that a few years ago, when he did not know her, someone had told him about a woman (if he remembered her well, it should be her), that she was a prostitute, a mistress supported by others, in short, such a woman, because he had little contact with them, he could only think that They have the fundamentally abnormal personality that some novelists'imagination has long entrusted to them. He always laughed when he thought of it. He thought that in order to judge a person correctly, it was only necessary to counter the public's reproach on him. Audrey is not related to such a kind of sexual style. She is kind, innocent, idealistic and can hardly lie. For example, one day, in order to go to dinner with her, he asked her to write to the Vildirans and their wife about her illness. The next day, when Mrs. Vildiran asked her if she was a little better, he saw her blush with his own eyes. Red, stuttering, her face involuntarily reflects how painful and painful it is to lie, and when she fabricates details about her illness the day before, she asks for forgiveness of the hypocrisy of her words with a pleading look and a sad tone. On rare occasions, she came to his house in the afternoon to interrupt his reverie or study of Vermeer (which he had only recently recovered). The servant informed Mrs. Cracy that she was in his small living room. He went to the living room to see her, and when he opened the door, Audrey saw him, and a little smile hung on her pink face, and the curve of her lips, the look of her eyes, and the outline of her cheeks changed. When he was alone at home, her smile came to him - the one the day before, the one coming up one time, the one in the carriage asking if she agreed to play Carter with the orchids as a reply; Odette knew nothing about life at other times, as if it were. Countless smiles appear in neutral, colorless backgrounds, like the smiles painted on pale yellow | Color * paper with tricolor pencils from various locations and directions in some of Watto's sketches. But one day, there was a friend (who had expected that they were in love, and dared to say nothing about her) who said that he had no idea that it would be a blank part of Odette's life (because he couldn't imagine it, but he didn't believe it would be a blank part in his heart). One morning, Audrey was seen walking down Abatissi Street, wearing a skunk-skinned shawl, a Rembrandt hat and a bunch of violets on her jacket. Swan was deeply shocked by this description, because it made him suddenly realize that Audrey had a different life than with him; he wanted to find out who she was going to please in a suit he had never seen before; he was determined to ask her where she was going, as if it were his mistress's plainness. In a life of no wonder (life that simply does not exist, because it is something he can't see), besides smiling at him, the only thing that matters most is wearing a Rembrandt hat and a bunch of violets on his jacket. The last one returns to the next one in the catalogue