When I was in Paris, one day I was very sick. Swan said to me, "You should go to the beautiful islands of Oceania. Then you will know that you will never come back. At that time, I really wanted to answer him and said, "Then I will never see your daughter again. Then I will live between people and things that she has never seen before." My reason, however, tells me, "What does it matter if you stop worrying about it? When Mr. Swan said to you that you would never come back, he meant that you would not want to come back; since you did not want to come back, that means you would be happy there." Because my reason knows that habit, which is about to take on an important task now, is to make me fall in love with this unfamiliar residence, with the changed-position goggles, with the changed-color curtains, and with the pending clock, and to make the partners who were not pleasing to us at first become dear friends. Give the face another shape, make a person's voice become warm and beautiful, change the task of the object of love in the heart. Naturally, the new friendship for some places and some people is the net of forgetting old friendships. But my reason is that I can imagine a prospect of life without fear. In that prospect, I will always be separated from some people, and I will forget them. This kind of life makes a commitment to forgetting in my heart, and forgetting only makes despair crazier, which seems to constitute a comfort. This is not to say that our hearts will not feel the analgesic effect of habitual forces after we are used to separation, but rather that they are still suffering. Fear that in the future we will never see or talk to the people we like. It is in this prospect that we will get the most rare happiness today. If we want to add to the suffering of this deprivation what seems more cruel to us at present: we do not feel this fear like suffering, but rather ignore it, the fear will not dissipate, but will grow even more. Because, if so, our "self" will change: not only does the charm of our parents, our mistresses and our friends no longer exist around us, but also our love for them will be completely removed from our hearts. And this love is a very important part of our heart today. In the future, we will like this kind of life separated from them, and the thought of this kind of life today frightens us. If so, it is our own real death. It is true that death is followed by resurrection, but this resurrection is already in the past self. Today, fear, resistance and resistance are precisely the parts of the original self destined to die - even the weakest parts, such as the size of a room, the ambience of inexplicable attachment and so on. It must be seen that this is a potential, partial, real and real way of resisting death, a long-term, desperate, day-to-day, continuous way of resisting that part of death. This kind of death infiltrates into the whole process of our life and separates us from each other at every moment. It is on the necrosis of these things that new cells proliferate. For a person like me who is naturally nervous (that is to say, in a person of this nature, the middle joints, the nerves, cannot function properly and cannot stop lamenting the way to consciousness. Instead, let this lament come, clear, exhausted, innumerable, painful lamentation. To lament the simplest element of self that is about to disappear.) To say that the anxiety and fear we feel under this unfamiliar and overhanging ceiling is nothing more than a protest from friendship. That kind of friendship for the familiar and lower ceilings is still alive in my heart for the rest of my life. Maybe this friendship will disappear, and another kind of friendship will occupy its place (by then, death, then a new life, will complete their double career under the term "habit". But until the friendship dies, it still suffers every night, especially on the first night. It faces the prospects that have become reality, and has no prospects of its position any more, in resistance. Whenever I can't take my eyes off the things that hurt it and try to stop on the unattainable ceiling, it tortures me with cries.

In 1888, Stevenson, a British novelist, went to Oceania Island for recuperation and died in Samoa in 1894. The painter Gauguin, who went to Oceania, also died in the Maksas Islands in 1903.

How about the next morning? A servant came to wake me up and bring me hot water. I washed my face, combed my hair and tried to find what I needed in my suitcase, but in vain, all the mess I pulled out of it was useless. I had already thought of the joy of breakfast and walking, and at that moment, from every window and bookcase, as from the porthole of the cabin, I saw the naked sea, unobstructed, half of which was in the shadows of my vast space, a delicate and moving line. Bound. Ah, how happy! Eyes chasing the waves, watching the waves jump one after another, as if jumping on the springboard athletes. How happy! I had a stiff, starched towel with the name of the hotel on it. I wanted to dry my body with this towel, but I couldn't wipe it. From time to time, I went back to the window and looked again at the dizzying, mountain-like giant circus, at the snow-white peaks of the polished and translucent sapphire there and there. The waves, with calm ferocity and lion's frown, let their slopes collapse and fall. The sunshine added luster to the hillside with an invisible smile.

Since then, I have been in the window every morning, just like sleeping in the saxophone and rushing to the glass window of the post car, in order to see if the mountains I yearn for are near or far away at night. Here, the hills of the sea, before returning to us in a wild dance, may retreat very far, so that I often have to be behind a long sandy plain before I can dimly see their earliest ups and downs in a far place, which is translucent, foggy, blue and translucent, like Tuscany. (1) Glaciers deep in the landscape of painters'works in the early Renaissance. Sometimes, close to me, the sunshine laughs over these waves, which are tender green, just like the wet land and the flow of light liquid, keeping the alpine grassland tender green. (On the mountain, the sunshine spreads here and there, like giants jumping down the hillside happily and unevenly.) In addition, beaches and waves make this gap in the rest of the world so that sunlight passes through and accumulates here. Here, from the direction of the sea and our naked eyes follow the direction of the past, is the sun moving the sea in the mountains, is the sun to determine its position. The ever-changing light will also change the orientation of a place, and set new goals in front of us, so that we have the desire to achieve this goal, which can only be achieved after a long and arduous journey. The Dream of Red Mansion

Tuscany is the central part of Italy.

For example, Giovanni's famous paintings "The Birth of Jesus" and "Saint John Baptiste's Retreat to the Waste Land" and so on.

Early in the morning, the sun came from behind the hotel and showed me the sunny beach, up to the castle at the forefront of the sea. The sun seemed to show me the other side of the castle, and to inspire me to continue my journey on its shining wheel. The journey is immobile, but it is ever-changing through the most beautiful scenery in the ever-changing landscape. Starting from this first morning, the sun always stretched out a smiling finger and showed me the blue peak of the distant sea. These peaks have no names on any map. The sun was tired of roaming on the roaring and chaotic surfaces of ridges and avalanches, and finally came to my room to take shelter from the wind, to lie lazily on scattered beds, to pick up its treasures in open boxes on the wet sink. Its brilliant flame itself and its use are not local luxuries, which deepens the impression of chaotic articles.

An hour later, in the big restaurant, we were having lunch and sprinkled a few drops of gold water on two dace fish from the lemon bag. After a while, all we had on our plate was fish bones. Fish spines bend like feathers; sound like a zither. Unfortunately, Grandma could not feel the cool and energetic blowing of the sea breeze. She felt cruel. This is because although the doors and windows are transparent, they are closed, like a window. Although we can see the whole beach, they separate us from the beach. The sky entered the doors and windows completely, so that the blue sky * seemed to be the color of the window itself *, and the snow-white clouds seemed to be a fault on the glass. I am sure that I am as Baudelaire said, "sitting on the breakwater" and "deep in the lady's small living room". I ask myself if what he called "sunshine shining on the sea" is the sunshine at the moment - very different from the sunset, which is simple and superficial, like a golden light and trembling. It burns the sea like topaz, fermenting the sea and turning it into golden yellow and milk like beer, floating like milk. From time to time, large blue * - Shadows - shadows wandered around, as if a God was swinging a mirror in the sky, moving the shadows around to amuse himself. Barbeck's restaurant is bare and full of green sunshine, like water in a swimming pool. A few metres away, the rising tide and the sun are in the middle of the sky, as in front of heaven, erecting an invincible swimming fortress of precious stones and gold.

It refers to the vague memories described in Baudelaire's prose poem The Harbour.

(Previously) from The Flower of Evil, Melancholy and Ideal.

(former) from the Autumn Song in The Flower of Evil. Pu's love for this poem is often cited in his works and correspondence.

Unfortunately, the dining room and the "hall" facing the opposite house in Gombre are not only different in appearance. Everyone knows us in Gombre, so I don't care about anybody. In the life of swimming in the sea, people don't know their neighbors. I'm not very old, and I've always been very sensitive, and I won't give up the desire to please and possess them. A man in the upper class may feel more noble and indifferent to those who eat in restaurants. Neither his indifference nor the indifference of young men and women passing by the seawall did I. I'm sorry to think that I can't go on an outing with these young men and women. My grandmother despised social forms and only cared about my health. If she asked them to accept me as a walking companion, it would be insulting to me. Of course, I would be even more sad. Whether they go back to a strange wooden villa, walk out of the villa with a racket to the tennis court or ride a horse (the hoof of of the horse is on my heart), I always look at them with keen curiosity. In the dazzling light of the beach, the proportion of social habits changed. In this light, I watched every movement of them through the transparent big glass bay that allowed so much light to pass through. But as my grandmother saw it, the Bay was a drawback. She could not bear the thought that I had lost an hour of the benefits of the sea breeze, and secretly opened a window. Suddenly, not only did the menu blow away, but all the newspapers, veils and sunshades of the people who were having lunch also blew away. But Grandma herself, with the support of the good wind in heaven, remained as calm and smiling as Brondina's saints amid all the scolding. These scoldings united the disdainful, hairy and angry tourists against us, adding to my impression of loneliness and sadness.

The female saint was tortured in 177 and asked to give up her beliefs. She remained calm and calm and answered, "I am a Christian. None of us have committed any crime."

A considerable portion of these tourists are made up of distinguished persons from the major provinces of France, the presiding judge of the Court of Caen, the chief lawyer of Cherbourg, and an important notary in Manchuria. In those places, they are scattered all the year round as scattered soldiers or chess pieces, and come to the hotel from all points when they go on vacation. The population of luxury hotels like Barbeck, which is usually rich and international, has now given the hotel population a rather prominent regional character. They always keep those rooms in the hotel and form a small group with their wives who dress up as aristocratic women. A barrister and a doctor from Paris joined the group. On the day of their departure, the two Parisians said to them, "Oh, really, you are lucky not to take the same train as us. You can have dinner at home!"

"What? You say lucky? You live in the capital, Paris, a big city, and I live in a poor little province with a population of 100,000. It is true that the recent population statistics are 102,000. You have a population of 2.5 million, and you are going back to the glorious scene of Paris's upper class on the tarmac road. What are we compared to you?

They said these words in the Paris roll-tongue "r" sound, without bitterness, because the sunshine of their provinces seemed to be able to go to Paris like a human being. They have given Caen's chief judge a seat in the Court of Appeal several times - but they prefer to stay there out of love for their city, out of obscurity, out of prominence, because they are reactionary, or in order to have a good relationship with the villa's neighbors. Moreover, several of them did not immediately return to their provincial cities.

In the big universe, Balbeck Bay is a special microcosm, a basket of four-season fruits, one of various dates and consequent monthly gatherings, in a circle. The days when Riverbell could be seen were a sign of the storm. When it was dark in Barbeck, the sunshine on Riverbell's roof was visible. Not only that, when the cold had conquered Balbeck, it was certain that the additional two or three months of hot weather could be found on the other side of the coast. Among the frequent guests of the Grand Hotels, the holidays start late or last long. When autumn is approaching and autumn rain and fog come, they are instructed to pack their suitcases on a boat and cross the sea to Rifbell or Costdol to meet in summer.

The small group of people at the Barber Hotel watched every newcomer with a wary look. All of them made the appearance that they were not interested in the man, and questioned their friend, the head waiter of the hotel. Every year it's him - Emmel who works this season and serves them at meals. The wives of these people knew that Amy's wife was about to give birth. After dinner, each of them made a baby's product. At the same time, they pointed to my grandmother and me with their long-handled glasses, because we had cold salad with boiled eggs. It's a common dish, but it's not eaten like that in Alonson's upper class. For a Frenchman whom others call His Majesty, they show sarcasm and contempt. The Frenchman did claim to be the king of a small island in Oceania, where only a few savages lived. He lives in a hostel with his beautiful mistress. Whenever she went to take a sea bath and passed by, the naughty children shouted, "Long live the queen!" Because she threw fifty-odd coins at them in large handfuls. The Chief Justice Officer and the Chief Lawyer did not even want to show what she looked like. If any of their friends looked at her, they thought they should remind him that the woman was only a woman worker and prostitute.

Alonson is an important city in this area.

(2) It alludes to a famous person at that time. The man's name was Jacques Lebodi, whose father was a millionaire and a sugar merchant. He purchased a small piece of land in Mount Atlas and named himself Emperor of the Sahara, a nobleman and a female singer, Margaret Derrier, a queen. When they were in the United States, he followed Pharaoh's precedent and wanted to marry his daughter. "The Queen" was so angry that he shot him with his hand and gun.

"But I was assured that they were using the Royal Cabin in Ostand!"

"Of course! Twenty francs! You can use this cabin if you like. And I do know that he asked the king to meet him, but the king told him that he did not want to meet the prince of the puppet theatre.

"Ah, really? How interesting! Some people are really...!"

Maybe that's true, but it's also because they feel that for most people, they're just bourgeoisie, and they're very angry that they don't know the king and queen who tossed coins generously. Notaries, chief judges and attorneys-in-chief felt so unhappy as they passed by what they called funny puppets and raised their voices to show their anger. Their friends and the head waiter of the hotel understand this very well. On the one hand, he had to smile at the two generous monarchs, who were more generous than the real ones, but when he took down their orders, he squeezed his eyes from afar to his old customers. There was a gorgeous, posing Young man they called "Mr. Beautiful", the son of a big industrialist, suffering from lung disease and spending money like dirt. Every day he changed into a new dress with an orchid in his buttonhole and drank champagne for lunch. Then, pale and expressionless, with an indifferent smile on his lips, he went to the crystal glass casino and threw a big bet. People mistakenly think that they are not as handsome as that young man, and they can't explain that they are more handsome than him. Perhaps because of this annoyance, the notary said to the chief justice, "He can't afford to lose so much." The wife of the chief justice said, "According to reliable sources," that this "late century" young man was distressing to his parents.

On the other hand, the attorney-in-chief and her friends satirized and sarcastic an old lady with a rich and noble title because she had to take her whole daily life with her whenever she went. Every time the wife of the notary and the wife of the chief justice saw her at dinner in the dining room, they looked at her with long glasses arrogantly, as if she were a dish of deliberation and suspicion. This dish is odd in name and suspicious in appearance. After systematic observation, the result is that it is negated, and the gesture and disgusting appearance of rejecting it thousands of miles away are made, so that the dish can be taken away.

Undoubtedly, what they do is to show that if there are things they don't have, such as some privileges of the old woman, they have something to do with her, not that they can't, but that they don't want to. Over time, even they believed in it, and they became hopeless, curious, and hopeless about the way of life they did not understand. In these women, all this is replaced by pretending to be light and happy. There is a disadvantage of this, that is, to make them feel unhappy under the guise of satisfaction, and constantly deceive themselves, which is enough to make them unfortunate. But maybe all the people in this hotel do the same thing as them, just in different forms. In this way, not out of self-esteem, but at least out of some educational principles or habits of thinking, the infinite beauty of participating in a completely unfamiliar life is sacrificed. Obviously, the microcosm in which the old woman lives in isolation from the outside world has not been poisoned by the bitterness of a group of cynical notary wives and the wives of the chief judge. On the contrary, the small universe exudes elegant and somewhat old-fashioned fragrance, which is not even more false. Because in the final analysis, if the old woman can attract and sustain the mysterious favor of new acquaintances, she will surely experience endless pleasure from it. Now, she is only dealing with her own little cosmos. She always thinks that this little universe is the essence of the universe, and it does not know much about other people's contempt. Such a life, though pleasant, does not have the endless pleasure mentioned above. Perhaps she felt that if she went to the Barbeck Hotel in obscurity, wearing her black wool dress and her outdated cap, she would surely give a sneer to any cocktail boy or celebrity. The elder brother may be waving and dancing, while squeezing out "poor and sour wife" from his teeth. A few words. Important people, like the chief justice, keep their rosy faces and wise eyes in a white moustache. The lenses of his long-handled glasses always close to their eyes, indicating the appearance of the strange man and monster. People know that the first minute is short, but it's also daunting - like plunging into the water. The old woman sent a servant in advance to inform the hostel of her personality and habits. Then he came in and interrupted the manager's greetings. He was more shy than arrogant in his short remarks. He went straight into his room, perhaps because he was subconsciously afraid of the minute. In the room, the self-used curtain replaced the curtains, screens, photographs and so on which were hanging on the window. Between her and the outside world she should have adapted, the partition of her own habits was placed so well that it could be said that she was not traveling herself, but her home was traveling. She still stayed at home.

Between her as one side and the hotel staff and suppliers as one side, she arranged her own servants. Thereafter, her servant contacted the new people here on her behalf, while maintaining the usual atmosphere around the hostess. Between her and the bathers, she also expressed her prejudices, without fear of offending some people who her girlfriend would not welcome at all. Through communication with her girlfriend, through memory, through inner awareness of her status, decent behavior, courtesy, she continued to live in her own world. Every day, when she went downstairs for a walk in an open carriage, the maid who was close to her followed her with her clothes, and the boy was in front, like a sentry on duty at the entrance of the embassy. In front of the embassy with its own national flag, the sentry is in a foreign land to ensure its extraterritorial privileges.

On the day we arrived, the old woman did not leave her room in the afternoon, and we did not see her in the dining room. Because we were new here, at lunchtime, the hotel manager put us under his protection and took us to the dining room, just like an officer who took the recruits to the corporal tailors and asked them to give them uniforms. But a little later, in the dining room, we met a gentleman, Mr. de Stemaria, and his daughter, Miss de Stemaria, who belonged to an unknown and very old family in Brittany. The manager thought they would come back in the evening and gave us their desks. Their father and daughter came to Barbeck to meet the castle owners they knew who lived nearby. Apart from accepting invitations and visits from outside, their time spent in hotel restaurants is limited to the absolute necessity. Arrogance deprives them of the slightest affection or interest in strangers sitting around them. Among these people, Mr. De Stemaria has always maintained a cold, impatient, repulsive, brutal, temperamental and malicious expression. In the train cafeteria, in the relationship between passengers who never met or would never meet again, I can not think of any other relationship besides defending my cold roast chicken and the corner of the carriage from being invaded by them. That's the way people look.

As soon as we began to have lunch, someone called us up at the behest of Mr. De Stemaria. This gentleman has just arrived, without apologizing to us at all, and shouted for the attention of the head waiter of the reception department of the hotel. Don't make any similar mistakes. He felt very unhappy that someone he didn't know occupied his desk.

A certain actress (she is famous for her gorgeous clothes, quick wits and complete sets of German porcelain, far better than her roles in the Odeon Theatre*) and her lover (a very wealthy young man, for whom she develops her own interests), as well as two very prominent men in the aristocratic class. Shi, the four of them are self-contained in their lives. They have to go out together. They have lunch very late in Balbeck. All of them finish their lunch before they come and play cards in their living room all day. There is naturally no malice in the feelings that motivate them to do so, but only their interest in certain humorous ways of talking and their demand for the delicate taste of certain delicacies. This kind of interest and taste makes them enjoy living together and eating together. If they live with some people who can't enjoy it, they can't stand it. Even in the face of a table or a gambling table that has already been served, each of them needs to know whether the common criteria for distinguishing good from evil in the minds of the guests or partners sitting opposite them are unused. Many Parisian dwellings are decorated with a so-called real "medieval" or "Renaissance" crap, and some knowledge enables one to distinguish between truth and falsehood. Perhaps at this moment, these friends want to immerse themselves in the special life everywhere, only through the rare and funny exclamation of silent eating or playing cards or the charming new skirt worn by young actresses for lunch or playing poker. This kind of life surrounds them with their well-known habits, which is enough to keep them from being invaded by the secrets of their surroundings. In the long afternoon, the sea in front of them was just like a soft oil painting hanging on the wall of a wealthy bachelor's living room. A card player, who had nothing to do during the interval, raised his eyes and looked at the sea to see if there was any sign of sunny weather or what time it was, and reminded others that it was time for afternoon snacks. They don't have dinner at the hotel in the evening. In the hotel, the power makes the restaurant shine brightly, and the restaurant seems to have become a huge and wonderful aquarium. Barbeck's workers, fishermen and families of small citizens hide in the shadows. You can't see them, but they are crowded in front of the glass walls of the aquarium, trying to see the luxury life of these people in the golden light. For the poor, their lives are as incredible as those of exotic fish and mollusks. (Whether glass walls can always protect the feast of wonderful animals, whether the greedy, staring unknown people at night won't go to fish tanks to take away and eat them, this is one thing.) It's a major social problem. Perhaps there are some writers and anthropologists in this gazing, dark crowd who watch the female * old devils open their jaws, bite a piece of food and close it. They categorize these old devils according to their species, nature * and acquired characteristics * for their own amusement. What about it! An old Serbian woman, whose mouth extends like a sea fish, has lived in fresh water in St. Germain since childhood. It was the acquired traits that made her eat salad like a member of the La Rochefoucauld family. (1)

At the moment, the three men in tailless dresses were seen from afar waiting for the late actress. After a while, the woman, wearing a new dress and a scarf chosen according to her lover's special interests, called the elevator from the floor where she lived and came out like a toy box. The four felt that the transplantation of the international monster of luxury mansions into Balbeck had made luxury flowers blossom far better than high-quality cooking. They got into a car and went to a famous restaurant half a mile away for dinner. When they arrived at the small restaurant, they had endless discussions with the chef about the recipe arrangement and cooking techniques. Out of Balbeck is a road lined with apple trees. In the darkness of night, the road is almost the same as that between their Parisian home and the British cafe or the Silver Tower. It's just the distance they have to go through. When they arrived at the beautiful little restaurant, the friends of the wealthy young man envied him for having such a gorgeous lover. The woman's scarf spread out in front of the small group like a veil of incense and gentleness. But the scarf also isolates small groups from the outside world.

The La Rochefoucault family is an ancient aristocratic family in France.

Faguri.

(3) The restaurant was famous for its frequent visits by the British. In Balzac's writings, Rastine once dined here. Zola wrote that Nana also had dinner here. The restaurant is located at the intersection of Italian Street and Marivo Street.

Unfortunately, in order to have a quiet rest, I simply can't act like these people. I care about many of the hotel tenants. There was a man with a sunken forehead, whose eyes wandered between his prejudices and his education. He was a local moneybag. I wish he would not turn a blind eye to me. He was no one else but Legrondan's brother-in-law: he sometimes visited Balbeck, and every Sunday his wife and he held weekly garden parties, often reducing the number of hotel guests by a fraction, because one or two of them were often invited to attend these festivals. Others choose the day to go for an outing in the distance so as not to show that they are not invited. On the first day, the hotel received him coldly, because he had just got off the boat from the sky-blue beach, and the staff here did not know who he was. Not only did he not wear white flannel trousers, but he was totally ignorant of life in a luxury building. Still following the old French rules, he walked into the hall and took off his hat as soon as he saw several ladies there. This action made the manager answer his questions without even touching his hat brim, thinking that he was probably the most humble person of origin, that is, what the manager himself called "common people's origin". Only the notary's wife felt attracted to the newcomer, believing that he smelled like a person of status pretending to be vulgar. She claims that in front of him, people feel that the other person is a very outstanding person, very educated, and among all the people they meet in Balbeck, he stands out from the crowd. She believed that as long as she could not keep in touch with him regularly, he would not be able to keep in touch with him regularly. These remarks are made in the tone of a man who knows all about the highest class in Mangshi, who has no fault in discrimination and whose authority is irrefutable. Her favourable judgment of Legrondan's brother-in-law may be due to the man's extremely plain appearance and lack of any intimidation, or to the fact that she recognized the signs of her sect, the Freemasonry, from the squire who behaved like a pious church.

The Mediterranean coast of southern France, from Marseilles to Nice, has a beautiful scenery, known as the Sky Blue Seashore.

I already know - what's the use! The boys who ride in front of the hotel every day, their father is the owner of a new product store, full of ghost ideas. My father will never agree to make friends with these people." The life of bathing in the sea has made them big. In my eyes, they are half-human and half-god Knight statues. My best hope is that they will never stop their eyes on my poor little boy, who left the hotel restaurant just to sit on the beach. I even wanted to be liked by the adventurer and the pulmonary boy who was once the king of a desert island in Oceania. I love to imagine the young man suffering from lung disease concealing a timid and gentle heart beneath his arrogant appearance, perhaps giving a treasure of affection to one of me generously. What's more (contrary to what people usually say about new acquaintances on the way), seeing you with some people and going to the beach at times adds an incredible coefficient to your real social life, where there's only the friendship of bathing in the sea. People are not so far away from friendship. In life in Paris, people also cultivate it carefully. All these instantaneous or local celebrities, I care what they think of me. My disposition to put people in their place and to reproduce their ideological situation * has made me place them not only in their true position, but also in the position they would occupy if they were in Paris --- which is probably very low --- but also in the position they think they ought to be in. To be honest, in Balbeck, they put themselves in the position they think they should be. Because there is no common yardstick, it gives them a sense of relative superiority and a certain kind of inexplicable interest. Unfortunately, none of these people's contempt is so painful to me as that of Mr. Bid Stemaria.

As soon as his daughter came in, I noticed. I noticed her pale, almost blue, beautiful face, her tall stature, her unusual manner, her inheritance, her aristocratic education, and especially her name, all of which became clearer, just as the genius musicians had discovered. The expressive subjects depict the sparkling fire, the sound of rivers and the quietness of the fields as well as the audience. If the listener has browsed the music score beforehand, he has already guided his imagination to the right path. "Kind" adds the original concept to Miss de Stemaria's charm, making it more reasonable and perfect. It also makes its charm more desirable, because it is tantamount to announcing that she is hopeful and impossible, just like an object that we like very much, and the high price increases its value. This selected body fluid makes up the face, and the inherited stem gives it the fragrance of exotic fruits or famous seafood.

Suddenly, an accident brought my grandmother and I the right tools to enhance our prestige in the eyes of all the hotel tenants. Indeed, on that very day, the old woman came downstairs from her home. In front of him, there was a young man, followed by a valet trotting, with a forgotten book and a blanket in her hand. With this, it has an impact on the human mind, arousing curiosity and reverence in all people's hearts. It can be seen that Mr. de Stemaria is more unable than anyone to get rid of this curiosity and reverence. Just then, the hotel manager bent over to my grandmother, out of courtesy (as he pointed out the King of Persia or Queen Lanavallo to an unknown busy man). Obviously, the visitor could not have anything to do with the powerful monarch, but he would also find it interesting to have seen him a few steps away and sneak in her ear: "Marquis de Villebarisis." At this moment, the old lady saw my grandmother far away, and she could not help but give her eyes full of surprise.

(1) Rana Valona III (1862-1917), who was Queen of Madagascar from 1883 to 1897, was exiled to Reunion and Algeria.

In this unfamiliar place, the most magical fairy appeared suddenly as a little old lady for me to approach Miss de Stemaria, and you can imagine what could make my heart blossom more than that. In fact, I can't hear anybody speaking anymore. From an aesthetic point of view, the number of people is extremely limited, wherever they go, they often experience the pleasure of meeting acquaintances, even if they do not look for the pictures of their predecessors like Swan. In this way, in the first few days of our stay in Barbeck, I met Legrondan, Swan's Porter and Mrs Swan herself. Legrondan became a waiter in a cafe; Swan's Porter became a stranger by the way, and I had never seen him again; and Mrs Swan became a swimming coach. It seems that there is a magnetic phenomenon that attracts people with certain features in their appearance and way of thinking, so that when nature introduces a person into a new organism, he will not be unduly injured. Legrondan became a coffee shop waiter, but his size, the silhouette of his nose and part of his chin remained intact. Mrs Swan became a man, and as a swimming coach, not only did her usual appearance follow her, but even a certain way of speaking follow her. But now she is wearing a red belt, and when the sea surges a little, she raises a small flag and forbids swimming (swimming coaches are very careful and few people can swim), which is of little use to me, just as Swan recognized her in the mural of "The Life of Moses" from the face of Jetero's daughter, and it is impossible. It's just as useful. This Mrs. de Villebarisis is real. She was not tortured by magic. It took her power as soon as it was applied. On the contrary, she was able to give a magic to my power to use, which instantly increased the power a hundred times. Thanks to this, I quickly crossed the infinite social distance that separated me from my daughter de Stemaria, at least in Balbeck, like a bird of God on its wings.

See the plot described in Swan's Love: Swan finds that Odette is similar to Sipola, Jethro's daughter in Botticelli's Moses Murals, and thus finds Odette more and more beautiful.

Unfortunately, if anyone in the world is more isolated than anyone else, it's my grandmother. If she knows that I value public opinion very much, she will not even look down on me or understand me because of who I am interested in and who I am. And these people, she did not notice their existence at all, she probably did not remember their names until she left Barbeck. I dare not confess to her that if these people saw her talking to Mrs. de Villebarisis, I would be very happy, because I felt that the Marquis was very prestigious in the hotel and that her friendship could improve our position in the eyes of Mr. de Stramaria. Besides, my grandmother's girlfriend doesn't represent one of the nobles in my mind at all: when my thoughts were not on her last name, it was so familiar to me that I was used to it. When I was a child, I often heard my family mention this surname. Her aristocratic title is nothing more than a special and inexplicable addition to her surname, just like an unusual name. The same is true of street names. In Sir Byron Street, in Rosshua Street, which is so popular and so vulgar, or in Grammond Street, there is nothing more noble than Lyons-Renault Street or Hippolite-Leba Street. Madame de Villebarisis and her cousin McMahon did not remind me of a person in a special world. I don't distinguish between Mike Mahon_and Karno_, who is also President of the Republic, and Las Baye_. Franois bought pictures of Lasbaye and Pope Shelter XI together.

Sir Byron Street, located in the third district of Paris, was named in 1825, the year following the death of the English poet.

(2) It is named after Margaret de Rosshua, the dean of Montmartre Monastery (1717-1727), and is located in the Ninth District of Paris. Until the eighteenth century, there were many inferior pubs in the area. By the time Prussian was alive, there were the Breyer Concert Hall and the Rosshua Popular Theatre (which became a modern theatre in 1910).

Grammond Street is located in the Second District of Paris. The original Grand Mansion of the Grammon Family was named the street at the end of the eighteenth century.

(4) Leonth-Renault Street, named in 1884, is located in the sixteenth District of Paris. Leonth Reynolds was an engineer who led the coastal lighthouse and wrote a paper on coastal lighting in France.

_Hippolite-Leba Street, named in 1861, is located in the Ninth District of Paris. Hippolite-Leba is the architect of Notre Dame de Lorent in the district.

Mac Mahon was president from 1873 to 1879.

Karno, born in 1837, was assassinated in Lyon in 1894 by the zheng-free populist Kazrio.

Lasbaye (1794-1878), a politician, doctor and journalist, participated in the 1830 and 1848 revolutions.

My grandmother has a principle: go out, there should be no more contacts, Shanghai Bin is not to visit people, do this kind of thing in Paris for as long as possible; this precious time should be spent all in the open air, in the face of the waves, and courtesy, courtesy and conventions will waste your precious time. Between. She also thought that everyone agreed with her. She ordered her old friends to meet in the same hotel by chance and play a play of mutual anonymity. She found it more convenient. When she heard the hotel manager mention the name, her grandmother just turned her head around and looked as if she hadn't seen Mrs. de Villebalisis. Mrs. de Villebalisis knew that my grandmother didn't have to know each other, so she looked at it aimlessly. She has gone far. I stayed there alone, like a drowner, and a boat seemed to be close to him, but then it disappeared without stopping.

Mrs. de Villebarisis also dined in this restaurant, but at the other end. She didn't know anyone who stayed in a hotel or visited here, or even Mr. de Campbell. One day Mr. de Campbell and his wife accepted an invitation to lunch with the attorney-in-chief. Sure enough, I saw that he did not greet the old lady. The attorney-in-chief had dinner with the gentleman at the same table. He felt very glorious and couldn't help but enjoy it. He avoided his former friends and squeezed his eyes far away so that (in silence) he could hint at this historic * event in order not to be understood as urging them to come.

"Hey, I think you've got a good mix and become a fashionable person!" The wife of the Chief Justice said to him that evening.

"Fashionable? Why?" The attorney-in-chief asked, pretending to be surprised to hide his joy. "Is it because of the guests I invited?" He felt he couldn't fit in any more, he said, "But there are some friends having lunch. What's fashionable about it?"

Where do they have to eat anyway?'

"Yes, it's fashionable! They are Mr. and Mrs. De Campbell, aren't they? I did recognize it. That's a marquis. And it's genuine. It's not a title that you get by marrying a wife."

(1) Virtue is a mark added to the title of nobility. Generally speaking, "Marquis de Campbell" should not be separated from the title, only the word "virtue" should be added. The wife of the Chief Justice Officer said this, indicating that she was not familiar with the upper class.

"Hey, she's a very simple woman, very cute, not polite at all. I thought you would come. I'll say hello to you all. When you come, I will not introduce you! " He made the proposal slightly less important * with a slight sarcasm, just as Athuelus said to Estelle, "Shall I give you half of my country?" The same. See Act II, Scene 7 of Racine's famous play Estelle. Romance of the Three Kingdoms

"No, no, no, no, no, we'd better hide, just like the usual violet."

"I'll tell you again, you shouldn't be like that," the chief lawyer answered. The danger is over and he's bold. "They'll eat you too!

Let's play cards?"

"Great. We dare not mention it to you. Now you invite the Marquis to dinner!"

"Oh, come on, these people are nothing unusual. Hello, I'm going to have dinner with them tomorrow evening. Would you like to go instead of me? It's sincere of me to say so. To be honest, I also like to stay here."

"No, no, no!" That family is going to dismiss me as a reactionary!" The Chief Justice shouted because he laughed at the joke and tears came out. "You're welcome in Fitner, too," he added, turning to the notary.

"Oh! I go every Sunday, one door in and the other out. But they don't eat at my house like they do at the attorney-in-chief.

Mr. de Stemaria was not in Balbeck that day, which was a pity to the chief lawyer. But he cunningly said to the head waiter of the hotel:

"Emmy, you can tell Mr. de Stemaria that he is not the only nobleman who eats in this restaurant. Can you see the gentleman who has lunch with me this noon? Uh huh? Little beard, what does a soldier look like? Yes, that's Marquis de Campbell!"

"Really? No wonder!"

"This should show him that he is not the only person with an aristocratic title. Make fun of him! It's not a bad thing to shake off these nobles'prestige. Amy, you know what I said, please don't tell him at all. It's not for me. Besides, he knows all about it.

The next day, Mr. De Stemaria learned about the chief lawyer's defence of one of his friends and went out to report himself.

"Our mutual friend, Mr. and Mrs. De Campbell, was going to get us together, but unfortunately we didn't have a single schedule. In short, I don't know what it was," said the chief lawyer, who, like all liars, thought that they would not try to figure out a single insignificance. Details. In fact, a certain detail is enough (if you happen to have a plain truth, the truth contradicts that detail) to reveal someone's personality and to keep you on guard forever.

I looked at Miss de Stemaria as usual. It was more convenient for her father to walk away and talk to the attorney-in-chief. Her manner was extraordinarily bold and always very graceful. For example, she put her arms on the table, lifted her wine cup over her forearm, her eyes were cold, she soon became listless, her voice was inherited rigidly, and her personal cadence could not hide the coldness and rigidity. People could feel these things in her tone. This made my grandmother very unhappy. It's a hereditary arrogance, and every time she expresses her thoughts through a certain look or tone, she has to go back to that arrogant expression. All this must remind those watching her of her family, which passed on to her the lack of humanity, sensitivity and generosity. Sometimes her eyes flash across the rapidly drying background, from which she can feel almost humble tenderness, which is the dominant taste of sensory pleasure that gives the world's most proud women tenderness. In a twinkling of an eye, the woman recognized only one kind of prestige, that is, the prestige in front of her of anyone who could make her feel these sensory pleasures, even a comedian or a river-lake artist. For him, maybe she will leave her husband for a whole day. Sometimes her face * was fleshy and bright rose *, which bloomed on her pale cheeks like a fleshy red * added to the white * water lily stamens of the Vivona River. From some of these eyes and faces, I seemed to feel that she might readily agree to let me come to her and find the poetic flavor of her life in Brittany. Maybe it's common, maybe it's unique, maybe she hates her poverty or miserliness. She doesn't seem to find much value in this kind of life, but it's hidden in her.

Inherited to her will power, the reserve is very small, giving her a certain expression of cowardice, perhaps she can not find the source of resistance from that small reserve. She wore a grey Fedora for every meal, never changing, with an outdated but pretentious feather on it. In my eyes, the Fedora made her softer, not because it was in perfect harmony with her silver and pink complexion, but because it made me imagine that she was poor, which brought her closer to me. In her father's presence, she had to adopt a customary attitude, but she already had a different principle from her father about how she felt about the people in front of her and how to classify them. Maybe she didn't notice the lack of status in me, but the gender and age. If one day Mr. de Stemaria went out alone without her, especially if Mrs. de Villebarisis came and sat down at our table and gave her an idea of us, I might have the courage to approach her. Maybe we could have a few conversations, a few dates and a closer relationship. If her parents were absent for a month, she would be left alone in the romantic castle. At dusk, under the oak trees beaten by the waves, and on the dim water, the pink flowers of Oshina shine softer. Maybe then we can walk alone. We'll walk all over the island together. For me, the island is charming because it hides Miss de Tesmaria's everyday life, because it sleeps in the memory of her eyes. As I passed through these places, surrounded by so many past events, it seemed to me that only here could I really own her. These memories of the past are like a veil, and I really want to open it up. And the memories that nature has thrown between women and certain people (with the same intent, nature has put on the act of descendant for all people, between them and their strongest pleasure; for insects, put pollen before nectar so that insects can take it away) so that they can be more fully possessed of her. After the deception of illusion, she had to take possession of the natural scenery first, and she lived in it. This scene * is more useful to their imagination than the pleasure of carnal desire. But without this sensual pleasure, the scenery is not enough to attract them.

But then I had to look away from Miss de Stemaria because her father had said goodbye to the attorney-in-chief and returned to sit opposite her, holding both hands as if a man had just acquired something valuable. He probably thought it was a strange and short act to meet an important person, which was enough in itself; in order to expand the full meaning of the act, it was enough to shake hands and look at it. There was no need for immediate conversation and no need for any subsequent contacts. As for the chief attorney, once the first excitement of the meeting passed, he spoke to the head waiter of the hotel as people sometimes heard him talking:

"Emmy, I am not a king; go and serve beside the king... Hello, this trout dish looks delicious. Let's get to Emmy again. Amy, I think you can order a few more plates of this little fish. You'll bring us some more, Emmy, quietly."

He repeatedly called Emmy's name, which made him invite someone to dinner, and his guests would say to him, "I can see that you're here exactly as you are at home!" From this point of view, guests feel that they should also keep calling "Emmy" in their mouths, which is both timid, tacky and foolish. Some people think that it is clever and beautiful to imitate the people with them verbatim. These people are timid, tacky and foolish. He kept repeating the name, but with a smile on his face, because he wanted to show people his good relationship with the head waiter of the hotel, as well as his superiority over him. The head waiter of the hotel is the same. Every time his name comes out again, he smiles proudly and touchingly, showing that he feels both praised and fully understands that it is a joke.

The large restaurant of the Grand Hostel is usually full of seats. It's always scary for me to eat here. This is especially true when the owner of the hotel (or the general manager chosen by the partner company, I am not sure) comes to stay for a few days. This man is not the owner of this luxury hotel, but the owner of 78 hotels. These hotels are all over France, and he shuttles between them, staying at each place for a week from time to time. At this time, almost at the beginning of dinner, every night at the entrance of the restaurant, the little old man will appear, with white hair, red nose, quiet color, neat and unusual clothes. It is said that he is famous for being one of the largest hotel owners in Europe, both in London and Monte Carlo.

Once, at the beginning of dinner, I went out for a while and passed in front of him when I came back. He saluted me, apparently to show that I was his customer, but very cold. I can't tell the reason for this indifference is that a person can't forget his identity, but show reserve, or contempt for an insignificant customer. On the other hand, the general manager bows with the same indifference to those very important guests, but he bends deeper, respectfully and lowers his eyelids as if he were standing in front of the deceased's father or the Eucharist at a funeral. Apart from this indifferent and rare salute, he does not move, as if to show him. The sudden and shining eyes can see everything and solve any problem. In the dinner of the Grand Hostel, it ensures not only the perfection of every detail, but also the overall harmony. Obviously, he feels smarter than the director, the conductor and the real marshal. He believed that raising the gaze to the highest level was enough to ensure that everything was ready and that no fault committed would lead to complete defeat. In order to shoulder his responsibilities, he not only made no gestures, but also did not blink his eyes. Because of concentration, almost all the eyes were fossilized. But this eye has a clear view of all actions and guides them. I felt that even my spoon's movements could not escape his eyes. As soon as he finished his soup, he slipped away. But he just checked and told me that I had no appetite for the whole dinner.

He had an excellent appetite because he had lunch in the restaurant with all the people like an ordinary man. As you can see, there is only one thing special about his table, that is, during the course of his meal, another manager, the usual one, has been standing beside him and talking to him. Because the manager is the inferior of the general manager, he tries hard to flatter the general manager, and he is terrified of the general manager. At lunch, my fear diminished, because the general manager disappeared among the customers, trying not to be noticed, just as a general sat in a restaurant, where there were soldiers, who wanted to show no matter what they looked like. Nevertheless, the uniformed servant surrounded me, and the porter announced to me, "He's leaving tomorrow morning for Dinar. From then on, he went to Biaritz and then to Cannes."I finally breathed more freely.

I don't have much contact in the hotel, and Franoise has made many acquaintances, which makes my life here not only very sad, but also very uncomfortable. It seems that the people she associates with should make things easier for us. Actually, the opposite is true. Although it is difficult for those proletarians to ask Franois to treat them as acquaintances, this can only be achieved under certain conditions of extreme courtesy to her. On the other hand, once they reached that position, Franois was the only one in her heart. Her old experience has taught her that Silhouette is not bound by her master's friends. If she had something important to do, she could send away a wife who came to visit my grandmother. But to her own acquaintances, that is to say, the ordinary people who are rarely accepted by her rare friendship, her behavior is in accordance with the most meticulous and absolute diplomatic etiquette.

Franois met the beverage supervisor and a little maid who made a dress for a Belgian lady. After Franois knew them, she never went upstairs immediately after lunch to prepare various utensils for my grandmother, but an hour later, because the head of the beverage department was going to make coffee or tea for her, the maid asked her to see how she dressed. It is impossible to refuse them, and it belongs to the category of inaccessibility. Besides, she was very concerned about the little maid. The man was an orphan. Several strangers brought her up, and she was going to spend a few days at those people's homes. This situation aroused Franoise's compassion and her benevolent contempt. She had a family of her own and inherited a small house from her parents, where her brother raised several cows. She could not regard a homeless person as her kind. The little girl wishes to visit her benefactor on August 15th. Franois could not help repeating, "She really made me laugh. She said, "I hope to go home on August 15." She said'home'! It was not her home at all, but her adopter, but she also said'home', as if it were her home. Poor little girl! She's so poor that she doesn't know what it means to have a home of her own."

August 15 is the Ascension Day of the Virgin Mary in the West.

Franois was close to some of the maids she brought with her customers, who had dinner with her at the Mail Office. They saw her beautiful lace cap and slim figure and regarded her as a lady, maybe a noble lady, who came to be her companion because she was in a bad situation or because she was very attached to my grandmother. If Franois is only friendly with these people, in a word, if she is only friendly with people who are not hotels, the harm will not be great, because she will not interfere with the people in hotels to do things for us. In fact, even if she did not know the people in the hotel, they would not be of any use to us under any circumstances. But Franois also made friends with a beverage manager, a kitchen man, and a floor manager. As a result, when Franois arrived in our daily living and nobody knew her, she rang the bell for a trifle. Sometimes the time is not right. Neither my grandmother nor I dare ring the bell, but she dares. If we criticize her slightly for this, she replies, "It cost a lot of money, that's it!" It seems that she paid the money. Now, since she became a big friend in the kitchen, we thought it was a good omen for us to live more comfortably. But that's not the case. If my grandmother or my feet were cold, Franois would not dare ring the bell even at normal times. She said it would create a bad impression, because it would force them to raise the boiler again, or hinder their servants from having dinner, and they would be unhappy. Finally, she had to use a fixed phrase: "The truth is..." Although she was not sure when she said it herself, the meaning of the sentence was still obvious, which clearly meant that we were wrong. We don't insist, for fear that she will come to us with a fixed phrase, and much more powerful: "What's the difference!................................................ The result: because Franois became a friend of the hot water burner, we no longer had hot water.

Finally, through my grandmother, we also recognized an acquaintance, although she had to. Because one morning she and Mrs. de Villebalisis met face to face at a door and had to go up and talk. Both sides made signs of surprise and hesitation beforehand, made moves of retreat and suspicion, and finally protested because of etiquette and pleasure, just like some scenes in Moliere's plays: A few steps away from each other, but for a long time each side of the monologue, suddenly, they saw me, I saw you, and finally two people together to talk, after the dialogue came a chorus, two people hugged together _____________.

Perhaps Pu thought of the beginning of Moliere's Women's School.

Mrs. de Villebalisis, out of caution, wanted to leave my grandmother after a while. On the contrary, Grandma preferred to keep her until lunchtime, trying to find out how she did it. She received letters earlier than us and had good barbecue (Mrs. de Villebalisis was greedy, she seldom tasted the food in the hotel). We eat in hotels. My grandmother always quoted Mrs. Sevigny as saying that the food in the hotel was "grand to starve to death". Since then, the Marquis has formed the habit of sitting next to us every day while waiting for her to be served in the dining room, and forbidding us to stand up, to be busy with her in everything, and to talk to her more often when we have finished lunch and are in a mess at the table.

In order to fall in love with Balbeck and keep me at the end of the earth, I tried to look farther away, only to see the sea, where I looked for all the effects Baudelaire had described, and only on the day of some big fish did I look down at the table. Contrary to knives and forks, this sea monster is contemporary with primitive times. At that time, life began to flow in the ocean. In the Cimerian Era, the innumerable vertebrae and blue and pink nerve bodies of fish had been created by nature, and according to a kind of architectural blueprint, they looked like a colorful sea church.

From Mrs. Sevigny's letter to her daughter dated 30 July 1689. It's about Bishop Vanna's banquet. It means that the dishes are very rich, but the guests dare not eat them because they are all indigestible.

Homer mentioned it in Odyssey. Proust mentioned it several times in "Recalling Time Like Water". It is said that these people live at the ends of the earth, always at night.

A barber is serving an officer respectfully. A customer came in and the barber saw the officer recognize the customer and chatted with him for a while. The barber was glad to know that they belonged to the same class. When he went to get the soap bowl, he could not help smiling because he knew that in his shop, besides the vulgar work of using shampoo soap, there was also social and even aristocratic pleasure. Like the barber, Emmy saw Mrs. de Villebarisis discovering that we were old acquaintances, and when she went to bring us mouthwash, that smile was the same as that of a proud, modest, and very striking smile of a housewife who would walk away in good time. It could also be said that he was a happy and deeply moved father, who closely watched the happiness of the children who were engaged to marry at his dinner table without disturbing it. Besides, as long as someone with a noble title is heard, Emmy will be in high spirits. This is contrary to Franois's. If someone says "Count X" in front of her, her face * does not fade and her words are not invariably dry and brief. But that doesn't mean she loves nobility worse than Emme.

Secondly, Franois has another ability, that is, she can find the greatest weakness in others. She was very proud of it. Amy belongs to a pleasant and kind-hearted and simple group, but Franoise does not. They were very happy when they told Emmy something that was somewhat bitter but not in the newspaper and had not yet been published. Franois did not want to look surprised. Grand Duke Rudolph of Austria, she never thought of such a person. If she had said in front of her that the grandfather had not died as people thought he was, but was still alive, she would have answered "Yes", as if she had known. In addition, we should also believe that, although she humbly calls us masters, we have almost tamed her, but her family of origin in their own villages is well-off, independent, enjoying a certain prestige, the status of the family must be disturbed by these nobles. So, even if she heard the name of an aristocrat from our mouth, she could not help being angry. On the contrary, Emmy has served as a servant in aristocratic families since childhood, even though he grew up on charity.

Rudolph (1858-1889) was the only son of King Francois Joseph I of Austria. In 1889, the bodies of Rudolph and his mistress Maria Vizra were found in the hunting palace of Meyering. Whether they had committed suicide or been assassinated was unknown.

For Franois, therefore, Mrs. de Villebarisis had to beg for mercy because she was an aristocrat. In France, at least, that's the genius of the Grand Masters and ladies, and the only thing they worry about. Some servants constantly collect phrases about their master's relationship with others, from which sometimes they draw wrong inferences - just like people make wrong inferences about animal life. Franois follows this tendency and always feels that others have treated us badly. Besides, like her extreme preference for us, she derives pleasure from other people's unhappiness, which makes it easy for her to draw this conclusion. But when she saw, and never could have mistaken, Mrs. de Villebalisis's attentive care of us and herself, she forgave the lady as a marquis, and because she kept thanking her for being a marquis, she liked her more than anything we knew. People. This is because none of the people we know can really strive to achieve such sustained enthusiasm. Every time my grandmother found Mrs. de Villebalisis reading a book, or thought a girlfriend had given her beautiful fruit, an hour later, a valet would come upstairs and give us a book or fruit. When we met her and thanked her afterwards, she always made the appearance of seeking a special use for her gift as a refuge, just saying, "That book is not a masterpiece, but the newspaper arrives so late that something must be read." Or, "It's a prudent way to get some fruits at the seaside that you can rest assured of."

"But I don't think you ever eat oysters," Mrs. de Villebarisis said to us (adding to my disgust at that time, because the live meat of oysters was more annoying than the sticky jellyfish, which made me feel that Balbeck Beach was eclipsed). "Oysters were very fresh along this coast! Ah, I will command my maid to fetch my letters with you. Why, does your daughter write to you every day? Can you find so many words to talk to each other?

My grandmother was silent. It can be believed that this is out of contempt. In her letter to my mother, she repeated Mrs. Sevigny's words: "I just received a letter and want to receive another one later. I can only breathe by receiving it." There are very few people who can understand my feeling. The following conclusion is: "I seek to belong to these minorities, I avoid others." I'm really worried that she will apply this conclusion to Mrs. Verbalisis. She had to change the subject and praised the fruit Mrs. de Villebarisis had sent us the day before. The fruit was indeed exquisite. The Hotel manager, though jealous of his despised fruit plate, said to me, "Like you, I like fruit better than any other snack after dinner." My grandmother told her girlfriend that the fruits in hotels were generally very bad, so she liked them better.

"I can't say that like Mrs. Sevigny," she added, "if we fantasize about finding a bad fruit, we have to get it from Paris." II.

This sentence was found in Mrs. Sevigny's letter to her daughter dated 18 February 1671. The next two sentences are not in this letter.

See Mrs. Sevigny's letter of September 9, 1694, which says, "If we fantasize about finding a bad melon, we may have to get it from Paris. There is no one here."

"Ah, yes. Look at Mrs. Sevigny's Letters. I saw her Letter Collection in your hand the first day (she forgot that she had never seen my grandmother in the hotel before she met her grandmother at the door). She always worries about her daughter. Don't you think it's a little too much? She talked too much about her daughter to be sincere. Her writing is not natural enough."

Grandma found it useless to argue. To avoid talking about these things in front of her loved ones, she simply put her handbag on the top of Madame de Bozerand's Memoirs and covered the book.

Franois wore a beautiful cap, and the hotel staff respected her very much. She went downstairs to "eat at the mail" and called it "twelve noon". If Mrs. de Villebalisis met her at this time, she would stop her to hear from us. Franois conveyed to us the words entrusted by the Marquis, who imitated Mrs. de Villebarisis's voice and said, "She said:'You must say hello to them. She thought it was quoting the lady word for word, but to the extent that Plato distorted Socrates or St. John distorted Jesus. Natural Franois was deeply moved by this concern. Grandma assured me that Mrs. de Villebarisis had a great look. Franois could not believe it. She believed that her grandmother was open-mouthed because of class interests, and that the rich always guarded the rich anyway. Indeed, the outstanding beauty *, now there is little left. Unless you are more artistic than Francois, just look at her and study every line. Water Margin

Plato did mention Socrates frequently in his Dialogue. After careful study, it is true that the image of Suradiah does not correspond to what Plato described to us.

"I have to wonder which time I asked her if I had made a mistake and if she was related to the Galmont family," my grandmother said to me. This provoked my anger. These two surnames enter my heart by experiencing the low and shameful door first hand, and by imagining the golden door. How can I believe that there is a common clan between the two surnames?

It has been several days since the Princess of Luxembourg was often seen passing by. The carriage and horse were gorgeous. She was tall, with red-brown hair and extraordinary beauty, but her nose was a little too big. She's here on vacation for a few weeks. Her open four-wheeled carriage was parked in front of the hotel door. A young man came to talk to the hotel manager and went back to the carriage. Then he brought some good fruits (all kinds of fruits in one basket, just as the Bay itself gathered all seasons in one basket), with a card: "Mrs. Prince of Luxembourg". Face with a pencil to write a few words. Blue, sparkling, round plums are as round as the sea at the moment; transparent grapes hang on dead branches like bright autumn days; azure pears. Which of these fruits is for the prince who lives here under an anonymous name? It's not for my grandmother's girlfriend. Mrs. Prince wants to visit her. But the next night, Mrs. de Villebarisis sent us fresh and shining bunches of grapes, some plums and pears. Although plums have turned purple, like the sea at dinner time, and although rosy clouds have drifted on the azure pears, we recognize where these fruits come from.

A few days later, there was a symphony concert on the beach in the morning. At the end of the concert, we met Mrs. de Villebarisis. I firmly believe that the works I heard (the Prelude to Lohengreen, the Prelude to Tanhaus, etc.) express the highest truth and try to improve myself to reach the realm of that work. In order to understand these works, I extracted all the best and deepest things from myself, and endowed them with all the best and deepest things.

They are all Wagner's operas, which were performed in 1850 and 1845 respectively.

Grandma and I came out of the concert and headed back to the hotel. We stopped for a moment on the seawall and talked to Mrs. de Villebarisis. Mrs. de Villebalisis told us that she ordered ham and cheese sandwich bread and butter eggs for us in the hotel. Just then, I saw Mrs. Prince of Luxembourg coming towards us from a distance. Half carried an umbrella, her tall and beautiful body showed slight curves, delineating the Arabic patterns cherished by the beautiful and flowing women of the Imperial era. These women have drooping shoulders, raised back, sunken hips and tight legs, and are good at making their bodies slouch like a scarf. The soft and inclined stem that passes through the body is invisible to the naked eye as the skeleton around which their bodies float.

The Princess of Luxembourg comes out every morning to take a walk on the beach. At that time, all the people washed up in the sea and went ashore for lunch. She didn't have lunch until 1:30, so she didn't return to her villa until the bathers had abandoned the empty and scorching seawall. Mrs. de Villebalisis introduced my grandmother to her and also wanted to introduce me. But she had to ask me my name because she couldn't remember it. Maybe she didn't know my surname at all, or she had forgotten who my grandmother had married her daughter. My surname seems to have left a strong impression on Mrs. de Villebarisis. By this time, the Princess of Luxembourg had extended her hand to us. When people smile at the baby with the nurse, they often add a kiss. As she spoke to the Marquis, she turned her head from time to time, with the rudiment of this kiss, and cast a soft eye on Grandma and me. She hoped not to show that she was superior to us, but she certainly did not calculate the distance. Because of the miscalculation, her eyes were so kind that I saw her stroking us with her hands like touching two lovely animals. In the domesticated zoo, two cute beasts would cross the barbed wire and stretch their heads towards her. Suddenly, the idea of animals and Brownie Woods was fixed in my mind.

(1) Near the Broni Forest in Paris.

At that time, the seawall was full of peddlers who were walking and shouting, selling snacks, sugar, buns and so on. Not knowing how to show her kindness, Mrs. Prince stopped the first peddler who passed by us. He had only one piece of rye bread left, the kind people threw at ducks. The prince's wife bought the bread and said to me, "This is for your grandmother." But she handed me the bread and smiled at me and said, "Give it to her in person!" She probably thought that if there was no intermediary between me and animals, my happiness would be more complete.

Other vendors came, and she bought everything, stuffed my pockets with bundles and bags, corner-cap snacks, rum cakes and barley sugar. She said to me:

"Eat it yourself, and give it to your grandmother!"

Then she asked the little black man in red brocade to pay the vendor. The little black man followed her everywhere and became a wonder on the beach. Thereafter, she said goodbye to Mrs. de Villebalisis and extended her hand to us, intending to treat us and her girlfriend equally, as close friends, and deliberately lowering her status so that we could approach her. On one occasion, however, she seemed to put our level on the human ladder not so low, because her equality with us was expressed by the gentle and motherly smile of the Prince's wife to my grandmother. That's how people smile when they say goodbye to a naughty child like they say goodbye to an adult. My grandmother made a wonderful leap in evolution. She was no longer a duck or an antelope, but what Mrs. Swan would probably call "baby". Finally, Mrs. Prince left the three of us and went on walking on the sunny seawall. Her beautiful waist was bent like a snake wrapped around a stick, wrapped together and held in her hand on an umbrella with blue flowers on a white background.

English: Babies.

This is the first prince's wife I met. I say the first, because Princess Matilde is not the Princess's wife at all in manner. This second one, as you will see later, surprises me with its love. The next day, Mrs. de Villebalisis said to us, "She thinks you are very attractive. This woman has a good eye and a very kind heart. She's different from many other monarchs or princesses. She has real value." At that time, I realized that it was a kind and amiable old man who volunteered to act as an intermediary between the monarch and the bourgeoisie. Mrs. de Villebarisis added, with a firm and unquestioning expression, "I think she'll be very happy to see you again." She's very happy to say that to us.

After leaving the Prince's wife of Luxembourg, in the afternoon, Mrs. de Villebarisis told me something that surprised me even more and did not fall within the realm of amiability.

"Your father is the director of the department?" She asked me. Ah! It is said that your father is a beautiful man. He's on a wonderful trip at the moment."

A few days ago, we learned from a letter from my mother that my father and his companion, Mr. de Nobwa, had lost their luggage.

"The luggage has been found, or rather not lost at all, that's all," Mrs. de Villebarisis told us. I don't know why, she seems to know more about the details of the trip than we do. I think your father will be back early next week. He probably gave up his plan to go to Algezilla. But he wanted to stay in Toledo for another day, because he appreciated Titian's disciple very much. I can't remember the name of this person, but it's very famous locally.

Spanish cities.

(2) This disciple refers to the Spanish painter Gregor.

Mrs. de Villebalisis had always looked far into the simple, subtle and vague agitation of the group she knew. I thought to myself what a coincidence had made her look at my father's place with an infinitely enlarged lens that gave her such a three-dimensional, very detailed view of all his pleasant things, such as the incidents that made him have to go home, the troubles at customs, to Gregor. Interest and so on. This lens changed the scale of her vision, and the only thing that made her see this person in the crowd was Jupiter's drawing of Superman size next to a weak woman in the lower world. II.

Gregor (1541-1614), Spanish painter.

(2) Probably refers to the painting Jupiter and Semeler, in which Jupiter puts Semeler on his knee and Semeler is like a plaything in his palm. It also refers to Jupiter and Europa.

My grandmother said goodbye to Mrs. de Villebarisis so that we could breathe more fresh air in front of the hotel and wait for someone to greet us through the window saying that our lunch was ready. There was only a noise. It turned out that the young mistress of the savage tribal king had just washed herself in the sea and returned for lunch.

"It's a real disaster. She should leave France!" The attorney-in-chief was passing by, and he shouted with indignation.

The notary's wife, however, kept her eyes wide open and stared at the fake monarch.

"Mrs. Brondie looked at these people like that. How annoying that I could hardly tell you," the chief lawyer said to the chief justice. "I really want to slap her face! This woman rascal, if you look at her like this, she will improve her status, and she will expect people to pay attention to her! You asked Brondy to remind her that it was ridiculous to tell her. Well, if they make another look at these counterfeits, I'll never go out with you again!"

The carriage of Mrs. Prince Luxembourg had stopped in front of the hotel on the day she came to deliver fruit. Her presence naturally did not escape the eyes of a group of notaries, chief lawyers and wives of chief judges. When these women saw how much Mrs. de Villebalisis was respected, they could not wait to know whether she was worthy. They had been in a hurry for some time to know whether she was a real Marquis or an adventurer. As Mrs. de Villebalisis walked through the hall, the wife of the chief justice, who was spying on the wrong things, looked up at the lady from her work and made her girlfriends laugh half to death.

"Oh, me, you know," she said proudly, "I always thought bad at first. I won't believe that this woman is really married unless I get out a woman's birth certificate and a notary's certificate. Besides, don't be afraid. I'm going to do a little research."

So every day these women come and ask with a laugh:

"We're here to listen to the news."

On the evening of Mrs. Prince Luxembourg's visit, the wife of the Chief Justice put a finger on her mouth.

"Something new."

"Ah! She's amazing, Mrs. Bonson! I've never seen... You say, what did you say?

"Well, a woman with yellow hair and a foot of powder on her face can smell a carriage a mile away. Only those ladies have such carriages. She just visited the so-called Marquis!"

"Yo, yo yo yo! Hey, look at it! It's the lady we saw. Do you remember, chief lawyer? We really don't think much of her, but we don't know that she came to see the Marquis. A woman with a little black, isn't she?

"Yes, it is."

"Ah, you have said enough. Don't you know her name?"

"You know, I deliberately pretended to have gone through the wrong door, holding her business card, her nickname is Mrs. Prince of Luxembourg! It makes sense for me to be more careful. It's a pleasant place where people are mixed up, and there are such angel baronesses who come to mix up fish eyes and pearls!"

The attorney-in-chief cited to the chief justice the story of Madurin Renier and Marsett.

The "Angel Baroness" is the heroine of a play "Half Upper Society" written by Dumas Jr. in 1855. She is a social flower, trying to enter the upper class through marriage, but failed.

(2) Madurin Renier (1573-1613), the author of the satirical work Marcel, tells the story of a wandering woman who became a devout believer in her later years.

Besides, this misunderstanding is not just temporary, as those misunderstandings in a relaxed comedy that are resolved by the formation of the second act to the last act. Mrs. de Luxembourg is the niece of the King of England and the King of Austria. When she came to pick up Mrs. de Villebalisis for a ride in a carriage, they always looked like two big weirdos, belonging to the kind of monster that the Watercity could not escape. In the eyes of the majority of the bourgeoisie, three quarters of the people in St. Germain are villains who have lost all their bets (and that's true sometimes for individual people), so no one will receive them. In this respect, the bourgeoisie is too honest, for the faults of noble lords will never prevent them from being accepted in places where the bourgeoisie will never be received. The aristocracy thinks that the bourgeoisie knows this, so they pretend to be naive and simple in matters related to themselves, and slander their depressed friends, which leads to misunderstanding. If a man of the upper class occasionally has relations with the petty bourgeoisie, because the nobleman is very rich and happens to preside over some of the largest consortia, the bourgeoisie will finally see that an aristocrat is also suitable for being a member of the bourgeoisie. But he would also swear that this man would never associate with a ruined gambler, the Marquis, and that the more amiable he was, the less popular he would be. The bourgeoisie will be even more surprised when Mr. Duke, chairman of the Mass Business Management Committee, marries the daughter of Mr. Marquis, a gambler, as his daughter-in-law. The Marquis was a gambler, but his surname was the oldest in France. Just as a monarch of a country would rather marry the daughter of a deposed king as his daughter-in-law than the daughter of the current President of the co-republic as his son's wife. This shows that the views of the two worlds on each other are illusory, just as the residents on the beach at one end of Balbeck Bay view the beach at the other end of the Bay disillusionably: Markville, a proud princess, can be seen loosely from Rifbell. But that's also deceptive, because Riverbell's people thought that Riverbell could be seen from Maguville. In fact, on the contrary, most of Riverbell's splendid scenery is invisible from Maguville.

I had a sudden fever and called in Dr. Barbeck. The doctor thought that I shouldn't spend all day at the seaside in the wind and sunshine. He prescribed me a few prescriptions. Grandmother took the prescription respectfully on the surface, but I immediately saw from the respectful surface that she had made a firm determination not to follow any prescription to buy medicine. But she took the doctor's health advice seriously and accepted Mrs. de Villebarisis's offer to take us for a ride in the afternoon. So, in the morning, until lunch, I was running around between my room and my grandmother's room.

Grandma's room is different from mine, not facing the sea directly, but lighting from three different angles: a corner of the seawall, an inner yard, and a field. The objects in this room are also different from those in my room, with sofas embroidered with gold and silver thread and pink flowers. The fresh fragrance that you can smell as soon as you walk in seems to emanate from the rose flowers. Before I change my clothes and go for a walk, I cross the room. At this time, the light coming in from the south, like the light coming in at different times, broke the corners of the wall. By the reflection of the beach, the colorful temporary altar was placed on the drawer cabinet, which seemed to be filled with flowers blooming on the path. The closed, trembling and warm wings of the light were hanging on the wall, ready to fly again at any time. Up. The light, like a bath, warmed the provincial carpet beside the window on one side of the courtyard. The sunshine, like grapevines, decorated the courtyard. It made the courtyard beautiful, colorful and dynamic. It was like peeling off the embroidered silk layer by layer on the sofa and removing the gold and silver silk edges one by one. This room is like a prism, the seven colors of the light outside are decomposed here; like a honeycomb, I will taste the body fluid of the day here to dissolve, disperse, fragrant and intoxicating, visible and touchable: like a garden of hope, it will dissolve into the silver light and rose petals that beat violently. But before everything else, I can't wait to know what the sea looks like on the beach like Nereides this morning. I drew the curtains. Every shape of the sea never stops for more than a day. The next day, there was another ocean, occasionally similar to the ocean of the previous day. But I have never seen two identical seas.

Nereides is one of the fifty daughters of Nereus and Doris. In the works of Greek poets, she "amuses herself with a smile", while Legunt de Lille calls her "the glad goddess of Glaucus". In Greek mythology, the God of the sea, Glaucos, was male.

Sometimes, the sea shows such rare beauty, I see far, amazed, more joyful. It was this morning, not the other morning, that half-opened windows showed the beauty of the Glauconian goddess in front of my obsessed eyes. Her lazy beauty, weak breathing, translucent like a hazy sapphire. Through the blue mist, I saw all sorts of unknown streams that could be called by giving her some colour. Ah, what a privilege! The goddess showed a sleepy smile, and the invisible mist made the sunshine change. The invisible mist was nothing more than a space reserved around her translucent surface. It is because of this space that the surface becomes smaller and more touching, like the goddesses separated from the remnants of the whole stone by the sculptor, who refuses to make the whole stone rough. In this way, the goddess, dressed in a monochrome dress, invited us to take a walk on the rough and land road. We sat in Mrs. Verbalisis's open four-wheeled carriage, from which we could vaguely see her weary and beating fairy all day, but never reach her.

In order to give us enough time to go either to St. Mars, to Mount Gertholm Rock, or to some other place for an outing, Mrs. Verbalisis ordered us to drive early. For a slow carriage, it's a long way to go, and it's a whole day's walk. I was very happy to think that we were going hiking, humming a tune I had heard recently, pacing back and forth, waiting for Mrs. Verbalisis to dress neatly. If it's Sunday, it's not just her carriage at the hotel gate. Several rented streetcars were waiting not only for the people invited to Mrs. Campbell's house in Fidner Castle, but also for others. Instead of staying here like punished children, they would rather declare that Balbeck was bored with Sunday, and as soon as they finished lunch, they set out to hide on the nearby beach or visit some places of interest. When people asked Mrs. Brondy if she had ever been to the Campbells'house, she would even answer categorically, "No, we went to Baker Falls." It seems that it was purely because of this that she did not spend a day in Fidana. At this point, the chief lawyer will say with great mercy:

"I really envy you. I wish I had changed my mind just like you. It must not be interesting."

Near the carriage, in front of my waiter's porch, a young uniformed Hotel servant stood upright like a rare shrub. His dyed hair was strikingly harmonious, more striking than the appearance of his tree. The lobby is the equivalent of a front porch, or a church for beginners of doctrine, or a church in Roman times, and people who do not live in hotels have the right to pass by. The "waiter" in the hall did not do much more than he did, but at least he was still moving. Probably they helped clean it in the morning. But in the afternoon they stood there, just like the chorus members who stood on the stage and increased the number of dumb horns even if nothing happened. The general manager who frightened me "stands tall and sees far" is preparing to greatly increase the number of these people next year. His decision saddened the manager of the hotel because he felt that all these young men were "people in the way", meaning they were useless and blocked the way. But at least between lunch and dinner, and between customers'entries and exits, they can fill in the blanks in the plot. Like Mrs. de Mantegnon's students, they dress in young, ancient costumes and perform interludes whenever Estelle or Joad comes off.

(1) The last two tragedies of Racine, Estelle and Atari, were written at the request of Mrs. de Mantegnon for the ladies of St. Seal, who played roles in the chorus of the two plays.

The servant outside the door was dressed in uniform, gorgeous and slender. I waited not far from him for the Marquis to come downstairs. He was motionless, and there was a sad look on his motionless face, for his brothers had left the hotel to look for a brighter future, and he himself felt very lonely in this strange land. Wuthering Heights

Mrs. Verbalisis finally arrived. Taking care of her car and serving her on it should probably be part of this servant function. But he also knows that a man with a servant is served by his own servant, and generally such a man gives very little tips in hotels, as do the aristocrats of the old district of St. Germain. Mrs. de Villebarisis belonged to both groups. So the shrub servant concluded that he had no hope for the marquis, and left the head waiter of the hotel and the maid of the Marquis to put the lady and her clothes in place, while he still dreamed sadly of the enviable fate of his little brothers and kept his plant-like life there. Stay still.

We set out. Shortly after bypassing the railway station, he took a country road. The path turns one corner between the charming gardens and another. Both sides of the road are ploughed land. Soon I felt that the path was as familiar and intimate as Gombre's. In the middle of the cultivated land, an apple tree can be seen from time to time. There are no flowers on the apple tree, only a cluster of pistils. But it was enough to fascinate me, because I recognized the leaves that could not be simulated. The big leaves, like the carpet on the steps after the wedding, have just been trampled by the white satin dress of the red flowers.