追忆似水年华

Mrs Swan left the dining room and her new husband came to us again." Hilbert, is your mother there alone? No, she also has guests, Dad." Why, there are guests. It's already seven o'clock! It's terrible. She must be half tired. I often hear the word odieux at home, but the O is long and the Swans are short. Then he turned to me and said, "Look, from two o'clock in the afternoon till now! Garmille said that between four and five o'clock, there were twelve guests, no, not twelve. He said about fourteen, no, twelve, and I was confused. When I first came in, I saw so many cars parked at the door that I forgot it was her reception day and thought what wedding was going on at home. I stayed in my study for a while, and the doorbell rang all the time. It really gave me a headache. Are there more guests there?"" No, only two, ""Who is it?" Mrs. Godard and Mrs. Bondang." Ah, wife of the director of the office of the Ministry of Public Works. I know his husband is a clerk in a department, but I don't know what he's doing." Hilbert said in a child's voice. "Why, little fool, you say something like a two-year-old. I beg your pardon? Staff in the department? He's the head of the office and the head of that unit. My god, how can I be confused? Just like you, he's not the director of the office. He's the secretary-general." "I don't know. So the Secretary-General is a very important person?" Hilbert answered. She never gave up any chance to show indifference to what her parents were showing off (she might think that pretending not to take such a distinguished friend into account would make the relationship more noticeable). "Why, is it important?" Swan exclaimed. He did not use a tone that confused me, but a clear and clear language: "He is under the minister!" He is even more important than the minister, because he is responsible for everything. Moreover, it is said that he is very talented and is the first-class person of excellence. He was awarded the Medal of Honor Level 4. He's very interesting and talented." His wife married him regardless of public opposition because he was a "charming" man. He has a soft, smooth yellowish | coloured * beard, well-grounded features, nasal sounds when speaking, heavy breathing and wearing a prosthetic eye, all of which are enough to form a rare and delicate whole. "I tell you," Mr. Swan said to me, "it's really interesting for these people to enter the Zhengg Palace today. They are quite typical, religious, narrow-minded and reactionary bourgeoisie of the Bondang-Cheney family. Your poor grandfather knows the old man Cheney very well, at least he has heard of him and met him. The old man was rich at the time, but the tip to the driver was only a sou. And the Baron Breho Isheny. You were too young to know about the plunge in the shares of the General Union Company, which caused them to collapse. Later, of course, they did their best to revitalize their families." This refers to the enterprise established in 1876, which went bankrupt in 1882. "He has a niece who always comes to our school to teach, one class lower than me, and is famous for Albertina." She must be fast in the future. She looks a little strange now. "It's strange that my daughter knows everyone." "I know her, but I don't know her. I just saw Albertina being called here and Albertina being called there as she passed by. But I know Mrs. Bondang and I don't like her either." "You're totally wrong. Mrs. Bondang is very likable. She is beautiful, smart and interesting. I went to say hello to her and inquired about his husband's credible and unreliable views on whether the war would break out. He knows the secrets of the gods. He knows these things, right? Swan did not speak in that tone before. But haven't you ever seen a simple-minded Princess (who ran away with her Valet and wanted to go back to the upper class ten years later, but felt that no one wanted to interact with her) speak spontaneously like a hated old woman? When she heard people talking about a famous duchess, she rushed to say, "She came to see me yesterday," or "I'm living in a deep room now. Therefore, we need not observe customs at all. It is enough to deduce them according to psychological rules. Mr. and Mrs. Swan are also anomalous people who rarely have visitors. Visits, invitations, and even simple sentences from somebody with a slight identity are important events that should be widely publicized to them. Odette had a more successful dinner. Unfortunately, the Vildirans were in London, but the news was sent by telegram to the Vildirans on the other side of the Strait through a common friend. Even the compliments or telegrams Audrey received, the Swans must share their happiness. They tell their friends and let them pass on. So Swan's salon is very much like a beach hotel with Telecommunications News posted. In addition, some of the last Mohigans knew not only Old Swan, but also social life, especially in the Gelmont circle (where, in addition to Her Royal Highness and the Duchess, other people must have first-class interest and charm, even outstanding people, if considered mediocre). Old Swan, who is vulgar or unpleasant, is also excluded, would be surprised to see that Swan is no longer as implicit as he used to be when talking about friends and is no longer so demanding when choosing friends. How could a person as mediocre and mean as Mrs. Bondang not dislike him? Did he even say she was cute? The recollection of Gelmont's circle seems to have prevented him from doing so, but it actually prompted him to do so. Unlike three quarters of the social circles, the Gelmont Circle has the ability to appreciate, even elegant, but it also has the habit of appendage and elegance, which often makes the ability to appreciate temporarily impossible to play. If it concerns a person who is not indispensable to a small group, such as a foreign minister (a somewhat pretentious republican) or a rapping academician of the French Academy, he will be unanimously denied by appreciation. Swan sympathized with Mrs. de Gelmont and had to eat with such people at an embassy. Any noble man is a thousand times better than them. The so-called noble man refers to the people in the Gelmont circle. He has nothing but the spirit of Gelmont and belongs to the same sect. However, if a grand lady or Princess of royal descent had dinner at Mrs. Led Gelmont's house, she would have become a member of the sect, although she had no such right, even though she did not possess the spirit of Pulmont at all. People in high society are extremely naive. Since the noble lady was not received for her loveliness, and she had been received, people tried to say that she was lovely. When His Highness left, Swan explained to Mrs. Galmont, "After all, she's not bad, and she doesn't even lack a sense of humour. Of course, I don't think she knows Criticism of Pure Reason, but she's not a big bore. "I totally agree with you," answered the Duchess. "She was a little timid just now and will be likeable in the future." Mrs. XJ (the wife of a rapping academician, a talented lady) who gives you twenty books is much happier. " There is no comparison at all. Speaking about these things and talking about them sincerely and sincerely, Swan learned from the Duchess and maintained this ability to this day for the guests he himself received. He tries to identify the qualities in them, and when we look at people with a kind prejudice rather than with a critical aversion, everyone has these qualities. Swan emphasized the virtues of Mrs. Bondang just as she had emphasized the virtues of Princess Parma in the past. Princess Palma would have been fired if some of the dignitaries had not entered the Gelmont clique out of preference, and if it was only interest and charm that people carefully considered. Swan used to show this interest (but now he's playing it on a permanent basis) in exchange for a more suitable position for himself in certain situations. There is a kind of person who, when observing things, has no ability to decompose what at first appears to be inseparable, and therefore believes that status and human beings are united. In fact, the same person, in different periods of life, will be in different levels of social strata, and this level is not necessarily higher and higher. Whenever we deal (or re-engage) with a certain class at another stage of life and feel loved, naturally we cling to that class and take root in those people. As for Mrs. Bondang, since Swan mentioned her repeatedly, I don't think he would object to telling my parents about Mrs. Bondang's visit to Mrs. Swan. Mrs Swan got to know who step by step, and her parents were interested in it, but not appreciative. Mother heard Mrs. Trombe's name and said, "Ah! This is a new member. She'll get someone else to go." Then, her mother seemed to compare Mrs Swan's easy, quick and violent way of making friends to the colonial war and said, "Now Trombe is coming back. Neighbouring tribes will soon surrender. Once she met Mrs. Swan in the street and went home and said to us, "Mrs. Swan is in a state of war. She may have launched a victory offensive against the Massachusetts, the Sinhalese and the Trombians. I told her which newcomers I had seen in that patchwork, artificial environment (they belonged to different social circles and were painstakingly attracted here), and her mother immediately guessed where they came from, as if it were a high-priced trophy: "This is the capture of a campaign to some place." Her father was shocked that Mrs. Swan was interested in absorbing Mrs. Godard, a less elegant citizen. He said, "Of course, the professor is a person of status, but I still don't understand what she thinks." But my mother knows it. She knows that when a woman walks into a circle completely different from her original life, she will feel happy. If she can't let her old friends know how respectable the new friends are today, the joy will be greatly diminished. To do this, a witness must be allowed to enter a beautiful new circle, as if a buzzing, strange insect had got into the flowers, and then, after each visit, the witness disseminated (at least people hoped so) news, secretly sowing the seeds of envy and appreciation. Mrs. Godard is a special type of guest. Her mother (who inherits some of her grandfather's temperament) calls her a "stranger, tell Sparta" type of guest. In addition to another reason known many years later, Mrs Swan invited this kind, steady and modest girlfriend on the reception day, at least without worrying about her being a traitor or competitor. Mrs. Swan knows that this active worker bee with feathers and business card clips can visit numerous citizens'calyx in an afternoon. Mrs. Swan understands her ability to spread, and, on the basis of probability calculations, she is sure to let a regular visitor of the Vildeland family know on the third day that the governor of Paris often goes to Mrs. Swan's house to leave her business card, or that Mr. Vildeland himself knows that Mr. Leo de Pressani, the chairman of the Jockey Club, often leads her and Mr. Swan. Wan attended King Diodosie's grand meeting. She believed that the Vildirans would only learn about these two things which were very honorable to her, and only these two things, because the glory we imagined and pursued tended to have few special manifestations, which should be attributed to our mental deficiencies - its inability to imagine at the same time what we expected (roughly) to be glorious. The form of step. (1) King Leonridas of Sparta and 300 soldiers died in battle to stop the Persian attack (80 BC). On the rocks of the former battlefield were inscribed the words: "Aliens, go and tell Sparta that we died for it!" Mrs Swan succeeded only in the so-called "bureaucracy". The elegant lady did not associate with her, but it was not because she had Republican celebrities there. When I was young, everything that belonged to a conservative society became a social fad, so a prestigious salon never received republicans. For such salons, opportunists, let alone terrible radicals, can never be hosted, and this impossibility * will last forever like oil lamps and public carriages. Nevertheless, society is like a kaleidoscope, which sometimes rotates and continuously rearranges the factors once thought to be unchanged, thus forming a new picture. Before the year I first received the Eucharist, the elegant Jewish ladies had gone out to social occasions to surprise the orthodox ladies. The new layout in the kaleidoscope results from changes in what philosophers call standards. Later, shortly after I started visiting Mrs. Swan's house, a new standard emerged in the Dreyfus affair, and the kaleidoscope turned over once again the diamond-shaped pieces of color. Everything that belongs to Jews falls to the bottom of the kaleidoscope, including the elegant lady, and is replaced by the nameless nationalist. At that time, the most famous Salon in Paris was an extreme Catholic, the Prince of Austria's Salon. If what happened was not the Dreyfus incident, but the war against Germany, then the kaleidoscope would turn in the opposite direction, the Jews would show patriotism and surprise people, they would maintain their position, so that no one would like to visit the Prince of Austria, or even admit to visiting. Nevertheless, whenever society is temporarily at a standstill, people living in it always think that nothing can change. Just as they see the advent of the telephone, they think that it is impossible to see another plane. At the same time, philosophers in the press criticize the previous period, and they criticize not only the former period's people. Their pleasure has been denounced as decadent, and even the works of artists and philosophers have been denounced as worthless, as if they were inseparable from the elegant, frivolous and superficial manifestations of vassals. The only constant seems to be that every time people say "something has changed in France". When I first went to Mrs. Swan's house, the Dreyfus incident had not yet broken out. Some Jewish dignitaries were still powerful. The biggest one was Sir Rufus Iser Lee, whose wife was Mrs. Iser Lee's aunt. She herself did not have the elegant social interaction of her nephew. Nephew did not like her and never carefully contacted her, although he was probably her heir. Among Swan's relatives, however, only the aunt was aware of Swan's social status, and the rest of us knew nothing about it (for a long time). In the family, when a member is in the upper class --- he thinks it is a unique phenomenon, but ten years later, he will see that among the young people who grow up with him, there are many people who accomplish this phenomenon in different ways and for different reasons --- he draws a dark circle around terrain cognita, where he lives. Man knows it like the palm of his hand, and though he passes by it without access to it, he is unaware of its existence. He still thinks it is dark and empty. Since no newsletter notifies his relatives of Swan's social contacts, when they talk about Swan at the dinner table (before the terrible marriage, of course), they often show a condescending smile about how they "nobly" use Sunday to visit his cousin Charles, and regard him as a jealous poverty. Relatives, borrowing the title of Balzac's novel, call him "silly cousin" wittily. Mrs. Rufus Iser Lee, unlike many others, knows very well who she is generously associating with Swan, and she is very jealous. Her husband's family was as wealthy as the Rothschild family, and had run business for the princes of Orleans for generations. Since Mrs. Iser Lee was rich and influential, of course, and used her influence to dissuade her acquaintances from receiving Audrey, only one person secretly violated her, that is, Countess de Marsant. On that day, Audrey went to visit Mrs. de Marsant. Unfortunately, Mrs. Selee came almost at the same time. Mrs. de Marsant was on pins and needles. This kind of person can do anything, so she would not say a word to Audrey perfidiously. Audrey naturally no longer pushed the invasion forward, let alone the class she wanted to be accepted. St. Germain is not interested in Audette at all, and still regards her as a totally different, uncultured, frivolous woman from the proletariat, who knows every detail of the genealogy and, since real life does not provide them with aristocratic relatives and friends, is eager to read memoirs. On the other hand, Swan seems to continue to be a lover. In his opinion, all the characteristics of the former mistress seem to be still lovely or harmless, because I often hear his wife say something difficult to be elegant, but he has no intention of correcting it (maybe because he is still tender to her, maybe because he takes it lightly or is lazy about it). To help her improve her accomplishment. It may also be another form of simplicity. In Gombre, we have been blinded by his simplicity for a long time, and now, although he continues to associate decent people (at least for his own sake), he does not want them to occupy an important position in his wife's salon conversation. Moreover, for him, their importance * has indeed diminished considerably because of the focus of his life. It has been transferred. In short, Audrey was socially ignorant. When people first mentioned Duchess de Gelmont and then her cousin Princess de Gelmont, she said, "Gee, these people are princes, so they are promoted." If anyone used the word "prince" when talking about the Duke of Chartres, she immediately corrected, "Duke, he is the Duke of Chartres, not the prince." As for the son of the Count of Paris, the Duke of Orleans, she said, "It's strange that the son has a higher title than his father." As an English fan, she went on to say, "These royalties are really confusing." When she was asked which province the Gelmonts were from, she answered, "Ena." Latin: Unknown Territories. (2) The French version of the novel Aunt Bete is Cousine Bette, and Bete and Bette are homonyms. Swan is blind in front of Audrey. He can neither see the defects in her upbringing nor the mediocrity of her intelligence. Moreover, whenever Audrey tells a silly story, Swan always listens attentively, happily, even admiringly (which may be mingled with residual desires). If Swan himself utters an elegant or even profound statement, Audrey is often uninterested, absent-minded and impatient. Sometimes they even rebutted sharply. It is therefore concluded that the essence of being restrained by mediocrity is common among many families, because in turn, there are many outstanding women who are puzzled by their wise and accusingly stupid people, and are so impressed by the extremely generous love that they are amazed at the vulgar joke of fools. Speaking of the reasons that prevented Audrey from entering the Germanic region at that time, it should be pointed out that the latest turn of the kaleidoscope in the social world was caused by a series of scandals. People used to be confident that they were going out with some women who were exposed as prostitutes and British spies. For a period of time, people first (or at least think so) require others to be firm and stable... Odette represents what people have just broken away from and picked up immediately (because people can't change completely overnight, they are looking for the continuation of the old system under the new system). Of course, it must take a different form to hide people's eyes and create a different illusion from the pre-crisis social world. But Audrey is so similar to that scapegoat in the social world. In fact, people in the upper class are highly myopic. They cut off contact with the Jewish ladies they had known and were thinking about how to fill the gap. They saw a new woman who seemed to have been blown up by a storm overnight. She was Jewish too. But because of her novelty, it did not remind people of what they thought they should hate. She does not ask people to worship their God. She was accepted. Admittedly, when I first visited the Odette family, the issue of anti-Semitism had not been raised, but Odette was very similar to what people were afraid of avoiding at that time. As for Swan, he still visited old friends who belonged to the upper class. When he talked about who he had just visited, I noticed that among his old friends, he had a choice, and the criterion of choice was still semi-artistic and semi-historical appreciation as a collector. A noble lady in the middle of a family interest him because she was Liszt's mistress or because Balzac dedicated a novel to her grandmother (just as he bought a painting because Chateaubrion described it). This leads me to suspect that when we were at Gombre, we were moving from one fallacy to another, that is, we first thought Swan was an asset who had never been involved in social activities, and then that he was the most fashionable person in Paris. Being a friend of the Count of Paris does not mean anything. Isn't there a lot of people who are excluded from the salon? The princes do not pursue fashion when they know they are princes, and they think they are superior to those of illegal Royal origin. The nobles and the capitalists are all under them, and they are almost at the same level (from a high point of view). In addition, Swan's current social circle (which emphasizes the names left behind and still visible today) seeks not only the pleasure of literati and artists, but also the pleasure of mixing different kinds of ascensions and aggregating different types into a social bouquet, which is also his pastime (not so high). Ya). These interesting (or what Swan thought was interesting) social experiments did not produce the same response in every girlfriend of his wife, at least not very often. I intend to invite both the Gordals and the Duchess of Wandome." He smiled and said to Mrs. Bondang that it was as if a greedy gourmet wanted to change the ingredients of the sauce and substitute Guyana pepper for Dingzi flower buds. However, the plan, which seemed to make Godard interesting, annoyed Mrs. Bondang. She was recently introduced to Duchess Wandom by Swan and his wife, who took it for granted and delighted, and bragged about it to the Godars, which was part of her pleasure. Mrs. Bondang hoped that after her, no one in her circle would be introduced to the Duchess, just as the decorated person immediately wished to turn off the tap of the cross as soon as he received the medal. She cursed Swan's low taste. In order to achieve a boring and eccentric aesthetic, he was able to blow away the fog she had spread when she talked about the Duchess of Wandome to the Godars in a flash. How dare she tell her husband that the professor and his wife are about to share this joy (she once boasted that it was unique)? If only Mr. and Mrs. Godard understood that the invitation was not for the sincerity of their own people, but for the relief of boredom. In fact, isn't it the same with the invitation of the Bondang couple? Nevertheless, Swan learnt from the aristocracy the eternal style of courtesy. He had the ability to make two insignificant women think that they were really loved at the same time. So when he mentioned Duchess Vandam to Mrs. Bondang, it was as if it was natural for him to have dinner with the Duchess of Bondang at the same table. Yes, we're going to invite the princess and the Godalgo lady, "Mrs. Swan said a few weeks later." My husband thinks this collection may produce something interesting. " If Mrs. Swan retains some of the habits that Mrs. Vildiran loves in the Little Core, such as speaking loudly so that all her followers can hear her, she also uses some of the languages that Garment circles like (such as the word "set"), which she is not close to, but far away from, the Garment circle. Be attracted to it unconsciously, just as the ocean is attracted to the moon. Yes, Mrs. and Mrs. Godard and Duchess Wandome. Don't you think it's interesting? Swan asked. I think it's going to be terrible. You'll cause trouble. Don't play with fire." Mrs. Bondang answered angrily. He and her husband, as well as Prince Aggregate, were invited, and Mrs. Bondang and Godard had their own versions of the banquet, depending on the interviewer. Some people asked Mrs. Bondang and Mr. Godard what other guests had eaten that day except Princess Wandome, and they all got two casual replies: "It's just Prince Aggregate, it's a meal between close friends." But others may be more informed (on one occasion, someone even asked Godard, "Isn't the Bondang couple present?" Oh, I forgot. Godard answered, blushing, and from then on included the dumb questioner among the talkers. For these people, the Bondang couple and the Godard couple coincided with each other in adopting roughly the same statement, just changing their names. "Alas, there's only the host, the Duke and Duke of Wandome (with a conceited smile), Professor and Mrs. Godard, and, by the way, somehow, the Bondang couple. They're a bit dismal," Godard said. Mrs. Bondang said exactly the same thing, except that the names of the couple were between the Duchess of Wandome and Prince Aggregate, and were exaggerated with triumph, and she finally blamed the so-called uninvited bald man, the Gordals. Swan often returned from his visit shortly before dinner. At six o'clock in the evening, which had pained him in the past, he no longer guessed what Audrey was probably doing, whether he was entertaining guests or going out. He didn't care. Sometimes he recalled that many years ago, he once tried to see through the envelope what Audrey had written to Forshville. But the memory was not pleasant. He didn't want to deepen his sense of shame. He just dropped his lips and even shook his head when necessary. It meant, "What does this have to do with me?" He used to insist on the assumption that Odette's life was innocent, but only his own jealousy and speculation humiliated him, but now he believes that this assumption (a useful assumption, which alleviates his pain in love, because it convinces him that the pain is fictional) is incorrect. His jealousy was right. If Audrey loves him more than he imagines, then she cheats him more than he imagines. Once upon a time, when he was in great pain, he had sworn that one day he would no longer love Audrey, no longer be afraid to annoy her, no longer be afraid to let her believe that he loved her, he would fulfill his long-cherished wish - to clarify the facts with her in the simple pursuit of truth and to clarify the doubts of history with her on that day (that is, when she wrote to her). Forshville, who visited her, was an uncle.) When he rang the bell on the window and she did not open the door, was she sleeping with Forshville? Swan had waited for jealousy to disappear, so he could begin to clarify this interesting question. Now, however, he is no longer jealous, and this problem has lost all interest in his eyes. Not immediately, of course. He was no longer jealous of Odette, but the fact that he knocked on the door of the little house on La Piluz Street that afternoon and no one answered continued to stimulate his jealousy. In this respect, jealousy is similar to some diseases: the focus and source of infection of the disease is not someone, but a place, a house, and the object of jealousy does not seem to be Audrey herself, but a day or a moment in the past when Swan knocks on every door and window of Audrey's residence. It can be said that only that day and that moment retained the last fragments of Swan's past love character, and he could only find them there. For a long time, he did not care whether Audrey had deceived him or whether he was still deceiving him. But for several years he had been looking for Audrey's former servant because he still had a painful curiosity about whether Audrey was sleeping with Forshville at six o'clock on such a distant day. Later, even this curiosity disappeared, but his investigation did not stop. He continued to try to figure out what was no longer interesting to him, because his old self, though extremely weak, was still functioning mechanically, and the anxiety of the past had dissipated. He couldn't even imagine that he had ever felt such a strong anxiety, when he thought that eternal life could not get rid of it. He thought that only the death of the woman he loved (there would be a cruel counterargument in this book that death could not alleviate the pain of jealousy in any way) could open his completely blocked life. Nevertheless, it is not Swan's only wish that one day the painful things in Audrey's life will come to light. He also retained another desire, that is, when he no longer loved and feared Audrey, he would retaliate for these pains, and there was just an opportunity to realize this second desire. Swan fell in love with another woman. He had no reason to be jealous, but he was still jealous because he could not renew his way of love. He applied the way he had been in love with Audrey to another woman. She didn't have to be unfaithful, as long as she left him for some reason, for example, to attend a party and seemed to have a good time, it was enough to make Swan jealous, and it was enough to wake up his old anxiety - the sad and contradictory wart of his love. Anxiety keeps Swan away from the real one, and he has to work hard to reach her. (Understanding the young woman's true feelings for him, her daily secrets | hope and inner secrets.) Among Swan and the women he loves, anxiety puts old-fashioned dogged suspicions, which are rooted in Audrey or a woman earlier than Audrey. It is precisely because of it that an old lover can only recognize his mistress today through the old collective phantom of "a woman who provokes jealousy". Put the new love in this illusion arbitrarily. Nevertheless, Swan often condemned this jealousy, which convinced him of some false infidelity, but he remembered that he had taken the same view to defend Odette and had done wrong. Therefore, when he is not with the young woman he loves, what she does is no longer innocent in his eyes. He had sworn that if one day he no longer loved the woman who had not expected to marry him, he would be cold to her without mercy (true cold as ice!). In retaliation for his long-humiliated self-esteem, he can now retaliate without risk (even if Audrey takes his words seriously and cancels his dream of talking to her alone, he doesn't care), but he has no intention of retaliation. Love has disappeared, and the desire to express no longer love has disappeared. When he was in pain for Audrey, how he longed to let her see that he fell in love with another woman one day, and now he can do that, but he is careful not to let his wife know that he has another new love. Once upon a time, every tea hour, I was sad to see Hilbert leave me and go home early, but now, I also attend these tea parties. Once upon a time, when she and her mother went out for a walk or a matinee performance, I stayed alone by the lawn or a Trojan horse in the Champs Elysees, because she couldn't come. Now, the Swans allowed me to go out with them, and there were seats in their carriage. Sometimes they even asked me where I would like to go, whether to go to the theatre or to a dance lesson with a fellow Hilbert, whether to attend a social gathering at Mrs Swan's girlfriend's house (Mrs Swan calls it a "party") or to visit St. Denis's King's Tomb. Every time I go out with the Swans, I go to their house for lunch. Mrs Swans calls it lunch. They invited me to go at 12:30, when my parents had lunch at 11:15, so when they left the table, I headed for Swan's luxury neighborhood. Pedestrians have always been scarce in this block, let alone at this hour when everyone comes home. Even in the severe winter, if the weather is clear, I walk up and down the road until 12:27. I tore at the tie knot I had bought from Chaffer's, and then I looked at the high leather shoes on my feet to see if they were dirty. I could see the bare trees in Swan's small garden shining like white frost in the sunshine. Of course, there are only two trees in the garden. At this abnormal hour, the scenery is also refreshed. Intertwined with the pleasures of nature (habits change, even hunger makes it stronger) is the excitement of going to dinner with Mrs. Swan. It does not diminish pleasure, but controls it, enslaves it, and makes it a foil to social life. I seem to find the sunshine in the clear sky, cold and winter that I could not feel at this hour. They are like preludes to creamy eggs, like the time luster, light red and cold color on the surface of the mysterious palace of Mrs Swan's house, while there are so many warm, fragrant and fresh flowers in the interior of the palace. At 12:30, I finally made up my mind to enter the house. It will bring me magical happiness like Christmas boots (Mrs. Swan and Hillbert don't know what Christmas means in French, so they always use Christmas instead, Christmas, pudding, what Christmas gifts they receive, where to go outside during Christmas, etc., I don't think so. Savor, come home to say Christmas. He thought it was disgraceful to say Christmas, but his father thought it was funny. At first, I met only one attendant, who led me through several large living rooms to a small living room, where nobody was there, and the afternoon blue light from the window made it dream. Only orchids, roses and violets are with me - they stay with you like human beings, but they don't know you. They are alive, and this characteristic * makes their silence have a strong effect. They fear the cold and accept the warmth of a hot stove. The fire, which was preciously placed behind the crystal baffle, scattered dangerous rubies in white marble basins from time to time. I had sat down, but when I heard the door open, I stood up quickly. The second servant came in, followed by the third servant, and their frequent exchanges, which made me so unnecessarily excited, were only for trivial matters: adding a little coal to the fire or adding a little water to the vase. When they left, the door closed again (Mrs Swan would eventually open it), and I was alone. Indeed, the magician's cave did not dazzle me as much as this small living room, and the fires were so changeable in front of me that they looked like Clinso's laboratory. There was another sound of footsteps. I didn't stand up. I was probably a servant again. No, it was Mr. Swan." Yes? You can't help being here alone. My poor wife never knows the hour. It's ten to one. She is late every day. You'll see her coming in in a minute, and she thinks she's coming ahead of time." Swan still suffers from neuritis and becomes ridiculous. Such an unpunctual wife (who comes home late from Bronilin Garden, stays in tailor's shop, and eats late) has satisfied his self-esteem though he worries about his stomach and intestines. The magician in Wagner's opera Pasifar. This refers to the magic chamber that opens the second act. He showed me the latest collections and explained their value to me, but I was too excited, and because at this hour I was exceptionally empty in the hinterland, my mind was restless and my mind was blank. Although I could still speak, I couldn't hear anything. Moreover, as far as Swan's collection is concerned, as long as they exist in his home and belong to the wonderful moment before lunch, that's more than enough for me. Even if there was Mona Lisa there, it would not make me happier than Mrs Swan's casual gown or salt bottle. I continued to wait, alone or with Swan, and Hillbert often came to stay with us. Mrs Swan's appearance must have been remarkable, since she was guided by such a dignified servant. I held my breath and listened to every sound. Real churches, sea waves in storms, dancers'jumps are often inferior to what people think. Servants in uniform resembled the supporting actors in the drama, and their successive appearances prepared for the queen's final appearance, while weakening the effect of the appearance; behind them was Mrs Swan, who came in quietly, wearing an otter coat and a veil over her red-frozen nose, and stayed with my imagination while I waited. How different is the image of generosity? If she hadn't been out all morning, she walked into the living room wearing a light crepe dressing gown, which was more elegant and generous to me than any other gown. Sometimes the Swans decided to stay at home all afternoon. It's not too early after lunch, and the sunshine on that day (which I thought would be totally different from other days) is slanting on the wall of the small garden. Servants brought lamps of all sizes, large and small, which burned on fixed altars, such as snail-footed tables, one-footed round tables, corner cabinets or small tables, as if they were performing inexplicable sacrifices. Nevertheless, the conversation was dull and dull, and I was as disappointed as I had been after midnight mass since childhood. But it's just a mental disappointment. I was very happy in that house, because if Hillbert had not been with us, she would be coming in and would give me her words, her focused and smiling eyes (as I saw for the first time in Gombre). (And for hours!) When I saw her disappear on the inner stairs leading to the large room, I was at most slightly jealous. I could only stay in the living room (like an actress's lover, who could only stay in the front of the main hall, wondering uneasily what was going on behind the stage and in the actor's lounge). I knew Swan about another part of the house, and my problems were cleverly concealed, but still there was uneasiness in his voice. He told me that Hilbert went to the bedroom and volunteered to show me around. He also said that when Hilbert went there later, he would ask her to take me with him. Swan's last remark relieved me, and in a moment eliminated the terrible inner distance that made the woman we loved so far away. At this moment, my affection for Hilbert seems deeper than my affection for Hilbert. Because, as the master of his daughter, he gave her to me, but sometimes she refused me. My direct influence on her is not as direct as my indirect influence on her through Swan. In addition, I love her. Whenever I see her, I can't help feeling flustered and eager for more things, which just makes us lose the feeling of love in front of our loved ones. Often, instead of staying at home, we go out for a walk. Occasionally, before changing clothes and going out, Mrs. Swan sat down at the piano. From the sleeves of pink * or white * bright crepe de Chine casual gown, she stretched out her beautiful hands, opened her fingers and stroked the keys. It was still the melancholy that existed in her eyes but did not exist in her heart. It was on such a day that she happened to play for me the Vander Sonata, the little piece Swan loved very much. When we first listen to a slightly complex piece of music, we often hear nothing. However, after I listened to the Van der Eyre Sonata two or three times later, I felt very familiar with it. It seems that the first time you understand it is reasonable. If you don't really hear something at the first time, then the second and third times are just repetitions at the first time, and you can't have new insights at the tenth time. In this way, what we lack for the first time may be memory, not comprehension, because our memory, compared with the complex feelings it faces when we listen, is extremely small and very short, just like a person who thinks of all kinds of things in his sleep and immediately forgets them behind his head, or like a patient with Alzheimer's disease. Forget what someone said to him a minute ago. These complex and rich feelings, our memory can not immediately provide us with memories. Memory is gradually formed in memory. When we listen to the works twice or three times, we are like middle school students (who review them repeatedly before they fall asleep and feel that they have not mastered them yet), reciting back the next morning. It's just that I've never heard this sonata before, so the passage Swan and his wife are familiar with is far away from my clear perception, as if it were a name I can't remember. People try to remember, but find a piece of emptiness, but an hour later, when people no longer think about, the original found syllable automatically jumped out. Real rare works are hard to remember immediately. Besides, within every work (for example, Van der Eyre Sonata for me), people first perceive the most secondary part. I mistakenly believe that since Mrs. Swan has played that famous piece for me (at this point, like some fools, who have seen pictures of the dome of St. Mark's Church in Venice, they think there's nothing new about it), the sonata will not give me any new inspiration (so I won't pay attention to it for a long time). Listen to it. Not only that, but even if I listened to it again from beginning to end, the whole sonata was still shadowy in front of me, like a building looming from too far away or from fog. Therefore, the process of recognizing works is as melancholy as recognizing things realized in time. When the most hidden things in Vandeyi's Sonata came to me, what I first noticed and loved, under the control of habits beyond my control, began to run away and leave me. Since I can only love what the Sonata has given me in succession of times, it is like life, and I will never be able to master it all. However, the great masterpiece is not as disappointing as life is, and it is not the essence that it gave us at the beginning. In the Van der Eyre Sonata, the beauty first discovered is also the fastest tiresome beauty, and the reason is probably that this beauty is closest to what people know. However, when this beauty goes away, we fall in love with a fragment, confused by its novel structure, unable to recognize it, unable to touch it at all. Every day we pass by it unconsciously, and it preserves itself perfectly. Under the magic of its own beauty, it becomes invisible and unknowable until at last it comes to us, and it is also it that we leave at last. We love it longer than anything else because it takes us longer to love it. The time it takes for a person to understand a more profound work (as I understand this sonata) is only a miniature and a symbol compared with the years or centuries it takes for the public to fall in love with a new work handed down from generation to generation. Therefore, in order to avoid the neglect of the world, genius tells himself that since contemporaries lack the necessary time distance, the works written for future generations can only be read by future generations (as if they were pictures, they could not appreciate them standing too close). But in fact, all cowardly actions to prevent misjudgments are futile, because misjudgments are unavoidable. A genius can hardly be praised immediately because its creator is extraordinary and distinctive. But the works themselves can breed the author's acquaintance (rare and valuable), and the number of people is increasing. Beethoven's Quartet (twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth and fifteenth) took fifty years to make its audience born and grow. Like any masterpiece, it made the artist's value, at least the intellectual world, leap forward, because at the beginning of the work, few people were able to appreciate it, but now knowledge is the only way to appreciate it. There are plenty of people in the world. The so-called offspring are actually the offspring of works. Works themselves (for brevity's sake, excluding geniuses: they are not for themselves at the same time, but for other geniuses to cultivate a better public for the future) must create their own offspring. If the works are sealed up and only appear in front of the future generations, then for the works, the future generations will not be future generations, but contemporaries, living only 50 years later. Therefore, if an artist wants his work to make its own way, he must --- that's what Van der Eyre did --- throw it in depth enough to move towards the real distant future. This future time is the true vision of a masterpiece. The fault of a bad connoisseur is to ignore it. A good connoisseur sometimes considers it with a dangerous harshness. Of course, if we start from the vision that obscures things in the distance, people may think that all the paintings or music revolutions so far have followed some rules after all, while everything before us, such as impressionism, the pursuit of disharmonious effects, the absolutization of Chinese ranks, cubism and futurism, is rough. Unlike the former, it is because when we look at things before, we do not realize that they have become fundamentally identical materials (Hugo and Moliere are very similar) in our eyes after a long period of assimilation. Imagine how absurd the divination we heard in our childhood for our adulthood would be if we did not consider the time ahead and the changes it would bring. Divination is not always accurate, and since time must be added to the total beauty of a work of art, judgment will inevitably carry some risk, and therefore lose its true meaning like prophecy, because the failure of prophecy does not mean that the prophet's intelligence is mediocre, and likewise, the possibility becomes reality. Or exclude it from reality, which is not a natural duty of genius. A person may have genius, but he does not believe in the development of railways or airplanes, or in their infidelity. Although I did not understand the sonata, I was fascinated by Mrs. Swan's performance. Her playing, like her dressing gown, the fragrance of her stairs, her overcoat and her chrysanthemum, belongs to a special and mysterious whole, which is thousands of times higher than the world in which genius can be analyzed rationally. Swan said to me, "Is this Vander Sonata beautiful? When the shadows of the trees fade and the arpeggio of the violin pours cool air down on the earth, the tune is very pleasant. The motionless effect of moonlight is expressed vividly and vividly, which is the main part. My wife is using light therapy. Moonlight can keep the leaves still, so it's no surprise that light can act on muscles. This is the highlight of the passage, the Bronilin Garden, which is paralyzed. It would be better if we were at the seaside, and the waves were murmuring, and we could hear the waves more vividly, because everything else was fixed. In Paris, however, we are at best aware of the peculiar light on the buildings, the sky illuminated by a fire that is neither colourless nor dangerous, and the vague downtown life. However, in this passage of Van der Eyre, and in the sonata as a whole, there is no such thing, only Bronillin Garden, with a clear voice in the echo saying, "Almost readable. Swan's words may have led my experience of Sonata astray, because music can't absolutely exclude other people's inducement to us. However, I know from other words that he listened to this passage under the thick leaves at night (many evenings, in many restaurants near Paris). So instead of the profound meaning he used to ask for, it was the neat, winding, colored leaves around him (which made him yearn to see the leaves again, as if they were the inner soul of the leaves), it was the whole spring that he had reserved for him, because he had been restless and melancholy and had no leisure. Come and enjoy the spring (just like keeping the delicious food that the patient can't eat). Van der Eyre's Sonata reminded him of the charm that some nights in Bronillin Park had produced for him, and Audrey was totally ignorant of that charm, although she accompanied him with the passage. She's only around him (unlike Van der Eyre's theme), so even if her comprehension increases a thousand times, she can't see anything that we all can't express (at least for a long time I think there's no exception to this rule). Is it beautiful after all? Swan said, "Sounds can be reflected, like water, like mirrors. Also, Van der Eyre's phrases showed me something I had never noticed before. As for my troubles at that time, love at that time did not imply at all that it adopted another value system. It seems rude of you to say that to me, Charles." Impolite! You women are amazing! I just want to tell this young man that what music shows - at least for me - is not'will itself'and'co-induction with infinity', but, for example, Papa Verdiland dressed in formal clothes in the palm greenhouse of the zoo. Although I was in the living room, this little phrase led me to Almernonville for dinner time and again. God, at least it's much more interesting than going with Mrs. Campbell." Mrs. Swan laughed and said, "People say that Charles fascinated the lady." Her tone reminds me that not long ago, when she talked about Vermeer (who surprised me to know the painter), she said, "I can tell you that my husband was very interested in this painter when he pursued me. Right, dear Charles?" At this time, Swan was very proud of himself, but said, "Don't talk about Mrs. Campbell." I'm just repeating what others say. Besides, she seems very smart, although I don't know her. She is very push ing-ing, which is rare for smart women. Everyone says she's crazy about you, so there's no harm in saying that?' Swan, like the deaf, said nothing, which is a sign of recognition and complacency. "Now that the music I played reminds you of the zoo," Mrs Swan said with a fake tease, "we might as well use the zoo as a destination for a walk later, if the young man likes it. The weather is so good that you can relive those precious feelings. Speaking of the zoo, you know, the young man thought we liked Mrs. Bradang, but I tried to avoid her. It's very disgraceful for people to regard her as our friend. Imagine that the kind-hearted Mr. Godard, who never spoke ill of others, said that she was disgusting. A disgusting woman! She has only one advantage: Savonarola, the Savonarola in Friar Bartholomeo's paintings. Swan likes to find similarities with people in painting, which can be refuted, because what we call the expression of an individual is actually something universal, and it can occur at different times (when people are in love and want to believe in the unique real-time of an individual, this is unacceptable to them). Yes. Benozo Gozori's painting of the Medici family in the ranks of Doctors who worshipped the birth of Jesus was anachronistic. What's more, Swan believed that there was a large group of contemporaries of Swan (not Gozori) in the ranks, that is, not only those who were 1500 years after the birth of Jesus, but also those who were not Gozori's contemporaries. There are people four centuries after the painter himself. According to Swan, all the contemporary celebrities in Paris are among the paintings, just like in a play written by Saddou, in which all the famous Parisians, doctors, politicians and lawyers, out of friendship with the authors and heroines, and out of fashion, take turns on the stage every night to enjoy themselves." But what does she have to do with the zoo? It's so close! Why is her buttock sky blue like a monkey?"" Charles, what a shame! No, I just thought about what the Sinhalese said to her. It's amazing what you say to him. It's a silly thing. You know when Mrs. Brad speaks, she likes to use a tone that she thinks is polite and actually protects. "Our close neighbours on the Thames call this patronizing." Audrey cut in." She went to the zoo not long ago. There were black people there. My wife said she was a Sinhalese. Of course she was better at anthropology than I was. Come on, Charles, don't laugh at me." That's no mockery. All in all, Mrs. Bradang said to a black man,'Hello, black! "Actually, it's nothing." The black man didn't like the word, so he angrily said to Mrs. Bradang, "I'm black, you're a cock!" How funny! I love listening to this episode. It's wonderful, isn't it? Brad was stunned when she was the old lady. I am black, you are sassy! Monsieur Bartholomeo (1472-1517), Italian painter. (2) Savonarola (1452-1498), an Italian clergyman, was the teacher of the former and was later expelled and executed. Benzo Gozori (1420-1498), Italian painter. (4) Saddou (1831-1908), French dramatist. I expressed my willingness to visit the Sinhalese (one of whom used to call Madame Bradang Sao), but I was not really interested in them. But I think locust road is the only way to go to the zoo. I have enjoyed Mrs. Swan there. I look forward to seeing my black-and-white friend, Gorkland (I never had a chance to greet Mrs. Swan in front of him) and Mrs. Swan in the carriage side by side on the locust road. Golkland (1841-1909) was a famous actor in the French Comedy Theatre. Hilbert went out of the living room to change clothes. Mr. and Mrs. Swan took advantage of her absence to reveal to me the rare virtues of her daughter. Everything I observed seemed to justify what they said. As her mother said, I noticed her meticulous and thoughtful concern for friends, servants and the poor, trying to make them happy, lest they should be unhappy, which was often manifested by small things (but she made great efforts). She sewed something for the woman hawker on Champs Elysees Street and sent it to her in the snow at once. You don't know how good she is, but she never shows it." Her father said. Hilbert was younger, but he looked more sensible than his father. Whenever Swan talked about his wife's distinguished friend, Hilbert turned around and said nothing, but there was no sense of blame in her face, because she felt that the slightest criticism of her father was intolerable. One day, when we talked about Miss Vandeyi, she said to me, "I never want to know her, one of the reasons is that she is said to be bad to her father and make him sad. You and I don't understand that, do you? If your father dies, you will feel pain. If my father dies, I will feel pain. It's natural. How can you forget the person you loved from the beginning? Once she was very coquettish in front of Swan. When Swan left, I talked to her about it." Yes, poor father, these days are the anniversary of his father's death. You can understand his mood. You can understand that we feel the same about these things. So I try to be less naughty than usual. But he doesn't think you are naughty. He thinks you are perfect. Poor Dad, it's because he's so kind. Hilbert's parents not only praised me for her virtue - the same Hilbert, who had appeared in front of the church and in the landscape of the island of France before I actually saw her, but later I saw her standing in front of the Rosebud Hedge on the steep path to Mersegris, and she no longer awakened my dream. It's my memory. I asked Mrs. Swan who was her favorite among Hillbert's companions. I tried to keep my tone cool, as if a friend was just curious about the hobbies of his children. Mrs Swan answered, "You should know more about her mind than I do. You are her favorite. The English are called crack." When reality is folded and seamlessly attached to our long-term dream, it covers the dream and blends with it, just as two identical figures overlap and merge into one. In fact, we are willing to keep our joy in its entirety, and we are willing to touch these desires at the same time - in order to be sure that they are indeed them - so that they remain untouchable. But the mind loses its space of activity, and it can't even restore its original state to compare with its new state; the knowledge we have accomplished, our memories of unexpected initial moments, the words we hear, all block our consciousness, and make us use our memory more than our imagination. 。 They react to our past - so that we can't look at the past without their influence - and they even act on our unshaped future. For years, I had always thought that visiting Mrs. Swan was a hazy dream I could never hope for, but after a quarter of an hour at her house, the unknown period became hazy and vague, as if it were another possibility destroyed by the possibility of realization. How can I still imagine that the dining room is an incredible place? Every step in my mind, I met the constant, never-disappearing light of the American lobster I had just eaten, which even illuminated my farthest past. Swan must have seen the same phenomenon in himself. It can be said that the house he hosted me was a meeting point and overlapping point, not only the ideal house created by my imagination, but also the house Swan often depicted to him by his jealous love (which is as imaginative as my dream) - he had fantasies and dreams about it. Odette's shared home, where he and Fulsheville went to drink orange juice, was an impossible one for him that night. The layout of the dining room where we dined had accommodated the unexpected paradise, and he had imagined one day when he said to their dietary supervisor, "Is Madame ready?" At that time, he must be very excited, but now, his tone shows a slight impatience, mixed with some satisfaction of self-esteem. Like Swan, I can't experience my happiness. Even Hilbert was very touched: "Who would have thought that you would be a good friend to visit anytime when you silently watched the little girl playing the game of catching people?" Of course I have to admit the change she talked about from the outside, but I don't know it from the inside, because it's made up of two states, and I can't think of them at the same time to keep them separate. Nevertheless, since Swan's intense desire for the house, it must still be attractive to him, if judged from my point of view (because it has not lost all mysteries to me). For a long time, in my imagination, Swan's family was shrouded in a strange magic, and now I go in, but not all the magic out. I withdrew the magic and controlled it by my stranger, my pariah, Miss Swan, who gracefully handed me a beautiful, hostile, indignant chair to sit down. So far, in my memory, I can still feel the magic around me at that time. It's not because in the days when Mr. and Mrs. Swan invited me to dinner and then took me out with Hilbert, when I waited there alone, the thoughts that were engraved on my mind (that is, Mrs. Swan, her husband and Hillbert were about to appear) were engraved on carpets, easy chairs, snail-shaped feet tables through my eyes. Screens and pictures? Ever since then, these objects have lived with Swan's family in my memory, and ultimately have some of their characteristics? Is it because, knowing that they live among these things, I see them all as symbols of their private lives and habits (I have long been excluded from their habits, so they are still unfamiliar to me even when I am privileged to share them)? In short, whenever I think of this living room that Swan once thought was very incongruous (his criticism does not mean to be critical of his wife's taste) - because it still retains the overall style of her house when they first met, that is, the semi-greenhouse and semi-studio style, but many of them are now considered "nondescript" by her. ” Outdated Chinese goods have been removed, replaced by a pile of small furniture covered with Louis XVI or antique silk (including Swan's art treasures from his mansion at Orleans Wharf) - which, in my memory, is not cluttered, but harmonious and unifying, giving out a special charm, and the effect is age-old. The best furniture, or the most vibrant furniture with someone's branding, is never within reach. We see certain objects and believe that they have independent lives, so we give them souls, they retain this soul and develop it in us. In my opinion, the time spent in this house by the Swans is different from that spent by other people. The time spent in this house and the Swans'daily life is like the body and soul. It should embody the particularity of the soul, and my thoughts are scattered and mixed in the position of furniture, the thickness of carpets and windows. Direction, servant's clothes, etc. - Wherever I am, these ideas are equally confusing and elusive. After dinner we came to the window of the living room and drank coffee in the sun. Mrs. Swan asked me for a few candies in my coffee and pushed me a stool with a silk cover. It emitted the painful magic that Hilbert's name had imposed on me, first under the rose thorns, then by the laurel bushes, and her parents. Du expressed hostility (the stool seemed to understand and feel the same way), so I felt that it was not worthy of it, and that it was cowardly to put my feet on the defenseless cushion. The independent soul connected the stool in the dark to the light of two o'clock in the afternoon. The light here is different from that elsewhere. In our bay, it makes golden waves play at our feet, revealing blue benches and hazy tapestries in the waves, just like magic island. Even Rubens'paintings hanging over the fireplace have the same type of magic as Mr Swan's lace-up shoes and cloak overcoat. I used to want to wear his cloak coat, but Audrey asked her husband to change for a more exquisite coat to go out with me. She also went to change clothes, although I repeatedly said which outfit she wore for dinner was far less than the one she was wearing, and the very beautiful crepe-de-crepe or silk casual gown that was about to be replaced was changing in color * dark rose *, cherry *, Tipolo II pink *, white *, Lavender *, green *, red *, pure. Facial or patterned yellow | color *. I said she should go out in a casual gown. She laughed. Maybe she laughed at my ignorance. Maybe she was happy with my compliments. She apologized that casual gowns were the most comfortable to wear, so she had so many casual gowns, and then she left us to change into a respectable, graceful and luxurious dress, and sometimes asked me to choose one I liked for her. The French Baie can be used as a window or a bay solution. (2) Tipolo (1696-1770), an Italian painter, is good at bright colors. When we got to the zoo, we got off. I walked next to Mrs. Swan and was very proud. She strolled, relaxed and complacent, her overcoat fluttering in the air. I looked at her with admiration. She gave me a deep, flirtatious smile in return. If Hilbert's friends --- boys or girls --- greet us from afar, then in their eyes, I became a friend of Hilbert, whom I admired so much --- who knew her family and participated in another part of her life, that is, the part outside the Champs Elysees. We often meet Swan's friend and a lady on the path of Bronilin Park or Zoo. She greets us from afar, but Swan doesn't see her. Then Mrs Swan says, "Charles, don't you see Mrs. Monmorancy?" So Swan, with a friendly smile from his close friends, raised his hat to her with his unique elegance. Sometimes the lady stopped to greet Mrs. Swan happily, without any consequences, because it was known that Mrs. Swan was used to being cautious under her husband's influence and would not boast about the etiquette. Mrs Swan has learned to be a high-class lady, so no matter how graceful and noble the lady is, Mrs Swan will never bow down. She stood for a moment beside her girlfriend whom her husband met, and introduced Hilbert and me to her with ease, so generous and calm in her courtesy that it was difficult to say who was the lady between Swan's wife and the passing noble woman. We went to see the Sinhalese that day, and when we came home, we saw a lady with two wives behind her, as if they were attendants. The lady is not young, but still charming, wearing a dark * coat, cap, two cap belts tied under the chin. Ah! This one will interest you." Swan said to me. The old woman was only three steps away from us and smiled at us tenderly and touchingly. Swan took off her hat, Mrs Swan curtsewed, and wanted to kiss the hand of the woman who resembled the portrait of Winterhart. The woman lifted her up and kissed her. "Look at you, please put on your hat." She said to Swan in a slightly unhappy voice, as if she were a close friend." Let me introduce you to your highness. " Mrs Swan said to me. Mrs. Swan and Her Highness were talking about the weather and the new animals in the zoo when Swan pulled me aside and said, "This is Princess Matilde. As you know, she is a friend of Flaubert, Saint Bove and Zhongma. You see, she was the niece of Napoleon I, and Napoleon III and the Russian emperor had proposed to her. It's interesting, isn't it? You go and talk to her. But I don't want to stand with her for an hour." Then he said to the princess, "I met Tyner the other day and he said that the princess had fallen out with him." He behaved like a pig, "she said in a loud voice. (in her mouth, the word" pig "is the same name as the name of the same time bishop of Joan of arc." since he wrote the article about the emperor, I left him a business card and said "farewell". I was as surprised as I was when I opened the newsletter of Princess Balatina, the later Duchess of Orleans. Indeed, Princess Matilde was full of pure French feelings, and her straightforward and brutal way reminded people of old Germany, probably from her mother in Fort Wurttemberg. However, as long as she smiled as delicately as the Italians, her somewhat rude, almost male, frankness became soft, and all this was wrapped in her Second Empire-style costume. She probably adopted the dress just to keep the style she once loved, but she also seemed to intentionally avoid the mistakes of historical colors, intentionally to satisfy those who expected her to return to the old age. I whispered Swan to ask if she knew Mussel. Very few contacts, sir, "she said, feigning irritation. She called Mr. Swanwei a joke because she knew him well." I invited him to dinner. It was seven o'clock, but he hadn't come yet at half past seven, so we had dinner. He came at eight o'clock and said hello to me. He sat down and said nothing. After dinner, he left without saying anything. He was half drunk. I was so disappointed that I never invited him again." Swan and I stood a little further away from them. Swan said to me, "I hope this interview doesn't drag on too long. My feet hurt. I don't understand why my wife has nothing to talk to. She'll complain later that she's exhausted. I can't stand standing up like this. Mrs. Swan was telling the princess the news she had heard from Mrs. Bondang that the Zhengg Palace finally realized that it was impolite to have her attitude. So she decided to invite the princess to the auditorium when Czar Nicholas visited the Royal Military Academy the day after tomorrow. However, the princess, whenever she had to act, was Napoleon's niece after all, though seemingly invisible, and although she was mainly associated with artists and writers, she said, "Yes, madam, I received an invitation this morning and immediately returned it to the minister. He should have received it by now. I told him that I didn't need to be invited to the Academy. If Zheng Prefecture wants me to go, then my place is not on the platform, but in the tomb where the emperor's coffin is stored. I don't need an invitation. I have a key. I want to go. The Zheng government just tells me that I hope I don't want to go. But if I go, I must go to the grave, otherwise I won't go." Just then, a young man greeted Mrs. Swan and me and said hello to her, but did not stop. This is Block. I didn't know Mrs. Swan knew him too. I asked her about it. So she told me that she was introduced to him by Mrs. Jing Bangdang. He worked in the Secretariat of the Ministry (I didn't know). She doesn't see him very often --- or she doesn't think the name "Block" is handsome enough, so don't mention it --- she says his name is Mr. Morrel. I told her there was a mistake. His name was Block. The Princess tugged at the trailer hanging behind her. Mrs Swan looked at it admiringly." This is the leather goods that the Russian Czar gave me, "said the princess." I just visited him, so I put it on to show him that it can also make a coat. " It's said that Prince Louis joined the Russian army. He's not around the princess. The princess will feel sad. Mrs Swan said she was unaware of her husband's impatience. It's good for him. I told him that although there was a soldier in the family, you could be a soldier as well. The princess's answer was an abrupt and forthright allusion to Napoleon I. Swan could not bear it, and said, "Madam, now let me play your Highness. Please allow us to say goodbye. My wife has just been ill. I don't want her to stand too long." Mrs Swan curtsewed. The princess gave us all a sacred smile --- as if she had been summoned from the past, from the charm of her youth and the evening party at Gombinia Palace Castle, and perfectly and sweetly covered the unhappy face a moment ago --- and then walked away, followed by the two women who had just imitated it. Buddha is an interpreter, a nanny, or a patient caregiver, inserting meaningless sentences and futile explanations into our conversation. This week, you choose one day to write your name on her house, "Mrs. Swan said to me." You can't use business cards for the royal families that these Englishmen call them, but if you leave your name, she will invite you. " (1) Winterhart (1805-1873), a German painter, is good at portraying noble figures. (2) Pierre Goxiong. Ge Xiong and Cochon (pig) only one voice difference. At the end of winter and the beginning of spring, before taking a walk, we sometimes go to visit a small exhibition being held. Swan, as an outstanding collector, is highly respected by painters at the exhibition. In those cold days, the exhibition hall awakened my old desire to go to the South and Venice, because in the hall, early spring and hot sunshine shined lavender on the Rosy Albiy Mountains, and the Grand Canal was shining translucent dark green. If the weather is bad, we go to the concert hall or theatre, and then to a "teahouse" for refreshments. Every time Mrs. Swan wanted to tell me something that she didn't want to be understood by her neighbors or waiters who served us, she spoke to me in English, as if only we knew English. In fact, everyone could speak English. Only I hadn't learned it yet. I had to remind Mrs. Swan that she would stop talking about tea drinkers or tea drinkers. Although I couldn't understand a word, I guess it was by no means a compliment, and this comment went to the ears of the people who were being discussed. On one occasion, I was surprised by Hilbert's attitude about the matinee performance. It was the anniversary of her grandfather's death that she had mentioned. She and I were going to go to an opera concert with her tutor. She put on an indifferent attitude (no matter what we do, she always has a cool expression, she said that as long as I am happy, as long as her parents are happy, she does nothing), but has changed her clothes to go to the concert. Before lunch, her mother pulled us aside and told her that going to a concert on this day would upset her father. I think it's reasonable that Hillbert is still in decline, but she can't hide her anger. Her face is white and she doesn't say a word. When her husband came back, Mrs Swan called him to the other end of the living room and whispered. So he asked Hilbert to go to the next room alone with him. We heard a wow-wow-wow voice. I can't believe that Hilbert, who has always been obedient, gentle and quiet, should have confronted his father for such a trifle on such a day. At last Swan came out and said to her, "You know what I just said. You can do it yourself." At the table, Hilbert kept a straight face. After dinner, we went to her room. Suddenly, she did not hesitate (as if she hadn't hesitated for a minute) and exclaimed, "It's two o'clock! You know, the concert starts at half past two." She urged the tutor to start at once. "But," I said to her, "will your father be unhappy?" "Absolutely not." "But I'm afraid he doesn't think it's a suitable day." "How do people want to have anything to do with me? It's ridiculous to meddle in other people's affairs on emotional issues. We feel for ourselves, not for the public. Miss has few opportunities for entertainment. I can't just let the public down by going to the concert in high spirits. She took up her hat. "But Hilbert," I said, grabbing her arm, "it's not to please the public, it's to please your father." "I hope you don't teach me any lessons." She screamed as she struggled to get rid of me. In addition to taking me to the zoo or concert hall, the Snowy Swans also treated me more preciously, not excluding me from their friendship with Bergott, which had made them magical in my eyes. Even before I met Hilbert, I thought that her close relationship with the Holy Old Man would make her my favorite girlfriend if her contempt for me did not destroy my hope that one day she would take me and Beckett to visit his favorite city. The last one returns to the next one in the catalogue