On the first time Mr. De Nobwa was invited to dinner, her mother said that it was a pity that Professor Godard was traveling abroad and she had completely cut off her contact with Swan herself, otherwise the two guests would interest the outgoing ambassador. Father answered that a distinguished guest and scholar like Godard would make the table more splendid. But Swan, who liked to show off and feared that others would not know that he had made friends with high-ranking officials and nobles, was in fact just a vulgar person who pretended to be vulgar. Marquis de Nobwa would use the word "disgusting" to describe Swan. I have to explain a little about my father's answer. Some people may recall that Godard used to be very mediocre, while Swan was socially modest and modest and tactful. But my parents'old friend Swan added a new title (and not the last title) besides "Little Swan" and "Swan of the Jockey Club". That's Odette's husband. He subordinated his instinct, desire, wisdom to that woman's vulgar ambition, and tried to establish a new position suitable for his partner, which was much lower than his previous position. Therefore, his performance is just like that of two people. Now that he started his second life (though he was still alone with his friends). As long as they do not take the initiative to ask for an acquaintance with Audrey, and he is unwilling to impose her on them, a life shared by his wife and with new friends, he uses a comparative measure to measure the status of these new friends, that is, the pleasure their visits bring to their self-esteem. It's not hard to understand that Audrey was not the most prominent person in her pre-marital social circle, but a former friend of Audrey's. However, even though people know that he is happy to associate with vulgar officials and the vase at the Zhengg government department dance, a woman with a bad reputation, it's amazing to show off that the wife of the deputy director of an office visited Mrs. Swan at her door, because he used to (and still does) visit Twicken Seoul. Or invitations to Buckingham Palace have been handsomely silent. People may think that Swan's simplicity in the past is only a gentle form of vanity. They may think that this old friend of my parents, like some Jews, takes turns to show the continuity of his race, from the most undisguised appendages to the most bare rudeness to the most literate. Elegant and courteous. However, the main reason - and this generally applies to humankind - is that our virtue itself is not something that is free to float at our disposal from time to time. In our minds, virtue is closely linked to those actions that we think we should practice virtue, so when another kind of life comes along. When we move, we are at a loss. It is totally unexpected that the same virtues can be practiced in this activity. Swan is so attentive to his new friends that he sings out their names one by one in a fluttering manner, which is like those great artists who are modest or generous: they may try cooking or gardening in their later years, be complacent with their good vegetables or flower beds, and can only listen to praise rather than criticism. But when it comes to their masterpieces, they are willing to listen to criticism; or they can generously present a famous painting, but they are not happy to lose forty sous at the Domino table.
The city is the residence of the French Orleans royal family in exile in Britain.
Speaking of Professor Godard, we will meet him again in a long time at Lady Vildiran's Palace in Las Player. At this moment, with regard to him, we need only draw attention to one point first. Strictly speaking, Swan's change could not surprise me, because when I saw Hilbert's father on Champs Elysees Street, the change had been completed, but it had not yet been seen through by me. Besides, it was impossible for him to boast to me about his political friends without speaking to me at that time (even if he did, I could not immediately perceive his vanity, because the long-standing perception of someone made us turn a blind eye to him and turn a deaf ear to him). Mother was the same. In three years, she didn't notice the lipstick on her niece's mouth, as if it dissolved in the fluid. Until one day, too much lipstick or whatever caused the so-called supersaturation, so the lipstick which had not been seen before was crystallize, and suddenly the mother saw the colourful colourful *, calling it disgraceful, as in the same way as Gong Bu Lei, and almost broke off with her niece. Godard, on the contrary, had witnessed Swan's entry into society at the Vildiran family a long time ago, and the passage of time had brought him honor and title. Secondly, a person may lack cultural accomplishment and play silly homonym games, but at the same time, he can still have a special talent that can not be replaced by any cultural accomplishment, such as the talent of a great strategist or an outstanding doctor. In the eyes of his colleagues, Godard not only depended on seniority but also changed from a nobody to a famous doctor in Europe. The best young doctors declare that --- at least in a few years, because standards are evolving because of the need to adapt --- in case they get sick, Professor Godard is the only one they can count on. Of course, they would like to talk to some of the more cultured and artistic chief doctors about Nietzsche and Wagner. Mrs. Godard welcomed her husband's colleagues and students and hoped that one day her husband would become Dean of medical school. People enjoyed music at the party, but Mr. Godard didn't want to listen and went to the living room next door to play cards. However, his good vision, the agility, profundity and accuracy of his diagnosis are amazing. Third, with regard to Professor Godard's tone and attitude towards people of my father's type, it should be pointed out that the essence that we show in the second part of our life may be the development or decline, expansion or weakening of the first essence, but it is not always the case. Sometimes it is the opposite nature, and it is the absolute opposite. 。 Godard's hesitant look in his youth, his excessive shyness and kindness had made him a frequent target of sarcasm, except for the Villandilans, who were fascinated by him. Which compassionate friend advised him to put on a cold face? Because of his important position, it is easy to do so. He instinctively restored himself to his original state in the Vildeland family, and anywhere else, he was cold and often silent. When he has to speak, he often takes a decisive tone, deliberately unpleasant. He tried this new attitude on the patients, and since they had never met him before, they could not be compared. They would be surprised to learn that Godard was not born rude. Godard tried to make himself expressionless. While on duty at the hospital, his homophonic jokes aroused laughter from the head doctor to the new trainee doctor, while his facial muscles remained motionless. As he shaved off his beard, his face changed completely.
Finally, I would like to explain why Marquis de Nobwa was appointed Minister Plenipotentiary before the war. He served as ambassador during the crisis of May 16. Nevertheless, to the great surprise of many people, he has made many important missions abroad on behalf of France, even to Egypt as a debt supervisor, and to exert his extraordinary financial ability, which has been appointed by the radical cabinet. Normally reactionary bourgeoisies refuse to serve the cabinet, let alone Mr. de Nobwa: His experience, social relations and views are enough to make him a suspect in the cabinet. However, radical ministers seem to realize that such appointments can show their frankness and primacy for France's best interests, which shows that they are different from ordinary politicians and deserve to be called National dignitaries by Debate. Finally, they can benefit from the prestige of aristocratic surnames and the attention they receive from the unexpected appointments of dramatic mutations. They understood that the use of Mr. de Nobwa would do them no harm, and they did not have to worry that the latter would violate their political loyalty, because the Marquis's origin did not cause them to be on guard, but reassured them. In this regard, the Zhengg government of the Republic has not misread it. This is primarily because a certain class of aristocrats, from childhood onwards, believed that the aristocratic surname was an inherent advantage that would never be lost (the value of this advantage was well known to their peers, or more noble people), who knew that they would not have to work as hard as many bourgeoisies (though not significantly effective). Release high opinions and get along with the right people, because such efforts will not add any luster to them. On the contrary, they want to raise their status in front of a higher-ranking prince or duke. To achieve this, they have to add something to their surnames that they did not have before: political influence, literary or artistic reputation, Wanguan family property. They had no intention of wasting their energy on the useless squires pursued by the bourgeoisie, and the ineffective friendship of a squire would not lead to the gratitude of the prince. They devote a great deal of energy to politicians who can help them hold important embassy posts or run for office (even Freemasons don't care), to renowned artists or scholars who can help them make breakthroughs within their own sphere of business, in short, to all kinds of promotion. Make them famous and make them married to the rich. Martin Eden
It refers to the period of the Second Empire of France before the Franco-Prussian War of 1870.
(former) refers to the crisis of the French Cabinet on May 16, 1877.
Mr. De Nobwa has absorbed from his long-term diplomatic practice the negative, conventional and conservative spirit, the so-called "zheng mansion spirit", which is shared by all Zheng mansions, especially the embassies under Zheng mansion. His career as a diplomat has led him to hate, fear and contempt for the opposition's tactics, which are somewhat revolutionary, or at least inappropriate. Only the common people and a few ignorant people in the social circles think that the so-called different types are purely empty talk, but in most cases, the similarities between different types are not from the same point of view, but from the spirit of consanguinity. Academicians of this type are classical, but they applaud Maxim Duggan or Messier's eulogy of Victor Hugo, but they are reluctant to applaud Cloudier's eulogy of Buvallo. The same nationalism brought Barres closer to his voters --- the latter made no distinction between him and Mr. George Berry --- but failed to bring Barres and his colleagues at the French Academy close, because the latter, though identical with his politics, had a very different spirit; they did not even like him and preferred his political enemies, Mr. Ribo and Mr. de Shane. Mr. Er_: The loyal royalists felt very close to Ribo and Desanere, but quite distant from Moras and Leon Dude, although they also wanted the dynasty to resign. Mr. De Nobwa's silence is due not only to his prudent and steady professional habits, but also to the fact that language has a higher value and richer meaning in the eyes of such people, because their ten-year efforts to bring two countries closer to each other have been summed up in speeches and protocols as a simplification. Simple adjectives, which seem mediocre, mean the whole world to them. The ice-cold Mr. de Nobwa, who was well known in the committee, sat next to my father during the meeting, so people congratulated him on how well he had won the favor of the former ambassador. Father himself was surprised because he was not easy-tempered, and very few people contacted him except a small circle of acquaintances. He himself confirmed that diplomats'hospitality was based on a totally independent view of what they liked and disliked; when someone bored or upset us, all his spiritual qualities. Quality or sensitivities * lose their function, and they are not as good as another person's straightforwardness and ease to win our favor, although the latter seems empty, superficial and worthless in many people's eyes.
"It's a big deal that De Nobwa invited me to dinner again." Everyone on the committee was surprised because he had no contact with anyone on the committee." I'm sure he'll tell me something exciting about the war of 1870 again." Father knew that Mr. De Nobwa was probably the only person who drew the emperor's attention to Prussia's arms expansion and war intentions; he knew that Bismarck admired De Nobwa's wisdom. Just recently, at a grand evening party for Emperor Diodosie at the Opera House, the press noticed that the Emperor had received Mr. De Nobwa for a long time. I had to ask if the emperor's visit really mattered, "my father, who was interested in foreign policy, said to us." I know Old man Nobua is very tight-lipped, but he can talk to me all the time.
It is a eulogy of Romanticism. Maxim Duggan (1822-1894), French writer; Messier (1829-1915), literary critic.
(2) eulogizing classicism. Claudel (1868-1955), French writer, Bovallo (1636-1711), French poet.
(3) Balles (1862-1923), a French writer, propagated nationalism.
George Berry, first as a royalist and right-wing parliamentarian, accepted progressive thinking.
Ribo, (1842-1923) French politician, who has been re-elected French Minister of Finance and Foreign Affairs for many times. Desanel, a French politician who advocated republicanism, served as President of the Republic for several months in 1920.
In her mother's eyes, the ambassador herself may lack the wisdom that interests her most. It should be said that Mr. de Nobwa's conversation is a complete collection of ancient language forms peculiar to a certain profession, a certain stratum, a certain period, which may not have been completely abolished for this profession and stratum. I regret that I failed to record what I heard truthfully. Otherwise, I would have no difficulty in doing so. It creates the effect of language decay, just like the actor in Royal Palace: when asked where he found those amazing hats, he answered, "It wasn't. It's preserved." All in all, I feel that my mother thinks Mr. de Nobwa is a bit "out of date". In terms of manners, he did not upset her, but in terms of thought --- in fact, Mr. de Nobwa's thought is very new --- perhaps far less in terms of language expression, he has no charm in her mind. But she felt that if she complimented the diplomat who had shown such a rare preference to him in front of her husband, he would be secretly proud. She affirmed her father's praise of Mr. de Nobwa and guided him to praise himself. She realized that it was her duty to make her husband happy, just as to make the dishes exquisite and the servants quiet. She was not good at lying to her father, so she trained herself to appreciate the ambassador in order to praise him sincerely. What's more, she certainly appreciated his kindness, slightly obsolete etiquette (and excessive restraint). When he walked, he was tall and straight, but when my mother drove by, he threw away the lighted cigar and took off his hat to salute her. His tactful conversation --- he tried not to talk about himself, and he always looked for topics that would please the other party --- and his surprising speed of reply. As soon as his father sent a letter, he received an answer. When he saw Mr. de Nobwa's handwriting on the envelope, his first reaction was that the two letters happened to have been missed. Does the post office treat him particularly well and send and receive letters for him overtime? Mother praised him for his quick response to letters and his amiability despite his entanglement in everything. She didn't think that these "though" were actually "because" but she didn't recognize them. She didn't think that Mr. De Nobwa had the same habit of being able to manage everything and reply quickly, just as people were surprised at the old age, the king's irreverence, and the spiritual messages of other provinces. Pleased with the social world and kind to us. Moreover, like all over-modest people, a mother's mistake is to put her own concerns under others, i.e. outside others. She thought it was very valuable for her father's friend to reply immediately. In fact, he wrote a lot of letters every day, which was only one of them, but she regarded it as an exception to a lot of letters. Likewise, she could not see that Mr. de Nobwa's coming to our house for dinner was only one of his many social activities, because she did not realize that the ambassador used to treat invited meals as his duty and to show his usual courtesy in diplomatic activities. If he was asked to abandon such courtesy in our house, it would be inevitable. That's too much.
In the year when Mr. de Nobwa first came to dinner, I often went to play on Champs Elysees Street. This meal has remained in my memory, because that afternoon I could finally see Fidel, starring Rabema, and the matinee, and because of my conversation with Mr. De Nobwa, I suddenly felt in a new way: the feelings that Hilbert Swan and her parents aroused in my heart and that of anyone else. How different the feelings are.
La Beima is the same person as Aunt Beima mentioned later. It is a folk custom to add "pull" before some people's names.
Fidel, the tragedy of the seventeenth century classical playwright Racine.
New Year's holiday is approaching, and I'm increasingly listless, because Hillbert told me personally that I can't see her again during the holidays. My mother probably noticed my air and wanted to relieve me. One day she said to me, "If you still want to hear Rabema's play, I think my father will agree. Grandma can take you with me." "
That's because Mr. De Nobwa once told his father that I should be allowed to listen to Rabema's play. It was a precious memory for young people, and his father changed his usual attitude. He objected to wasting time on his so-called trifles (which shocked his grandmother) and risking bed sickness, and almost believed that I was in danger of getting sick. Since the ambassador advised me to go to the theatre, it seems that watching the theatre has become one of the secrets of prosperity. Grandma always thought I could learn a lot from Rabema's plays, but she gave up going to the theatre for me and made great sacrifices for my health. At the moment, she was amazed that Mr. de Nobwa's words made my health a trivial thing. She pinned her firm hope on the rationalists for breathing fresh air and sleeping early. She thought that breaking habits would bring disaster. She said sadly to her father, "You are too rash!" The father angrily answered, "Why, you don't want him to listen to the play now! What a ridiculous thing. Don't you say it's good for him to listen to the theatre?
Mr. De Nobwa changed his father's intentions on another matter of great importance to me. My father had always wanted me to be a diplomat, but I had a hard time accepting it. Even if I stay in the Foreign Office for a period of time, someday I will be sent to some countries as ambassadors, and Hillbert does not live there. I would like to restore the literary plan I had imagined when I was walking over the Garment's house, and then gave up. But my father had always opposed my literary career, believing that it was much cheaper than diplomacy. He can't even call it a career. One day, however, Mr. De Nobwa, who looked down upon the diplomats of the new class, told his father that as a writer, as an ambassador, he received the same respect, exerted the same influence, and had greater independence.
"Ouch! Unexpectedly, Papa Nobwa has no objection to your engagement in literature, "my father said to me. Father was a very influential person, so he thought that everything could be settled by talking to important people. He said, "In a few days, I'll bring him to dinner after the meeting. You can talk to him and show your hand. Write something to show him. He's very close to the president of Two World Reviews. He'll let you in. He'll arrange. This is a smart old man. Indeed, he seems to think that diplomacy is today..."
Not being separated from Hilbert, this happiness gave me the desire to write a good article for Mr. De Nobwa - not the ability. I got tired of writing a few pages. The pen fell from my hand and I cried with rage. I think of myself as a mediocrity forever. I think that I have no talent. I can't even take advantage of the opportunity Mr. de Nobwa, who is coming to visit me, offers me never to leave Paris. When I think of going to listen to Rabema's play, the sadness in my heart can be relieved. My favorite scenery * is the seaside storm, because it's the most violent. Similarly, I like the actor's traditional role best, because Swan once told me that her art of playing these roles * is pure fire. When we want to receive some natural or artistic impression and get valuable discoveries, we certainly don't want to let our mind accept the false and inferior impression that may lead us to the exact value of beauty. Rabema's performances of Andromak, Marianna, Fidel are wonderful scenes that my imagination has been longing for for for a long time. If I could hear Rabema recite this verse: I heard you were going away from us, my lord... Wait a minute, then I'll be fascinated; it's like taking a boat to Flemish Church in Venice to see Titian, or the image of the Virgin Lady, or the series of Cappaccio's paintings, St. George of Skiavoni. I have read these poems in simple copies of black and white paper, but I will see them appear in the air and sunshine brought by the golden voice. It is like realizing the dream of traveling. When I think of them here, my heart beats violently. Cappaccio in Venice, Rabema in Fidel, is a masterpiece in painting and drama. Their charm makes them full of vitality in me. It makes me feel that Cappaccio is integrated with Venice, Rabema and Fidel. So if I watch Cappaccio's paintings in the Louvre gallery or listen to Rabema's Recitation in a play I've never heard of before, I won't be amazed at seeing the incredible masterpiece that haunts my dreams. Secondly, since I'm looking forward to reading from Rabema. The performance is inspired by some aspects of nobility and pain. If the actress uses her excellent and real art to perform a valuable work instead of adding some truth and beauty to the vulgar plot, the performance will be more excellent and true.
(1) The lines in Act 5, Scene 1 of Fidel.
Titian (1477-1576), Italian painter.
(3) Capacio (1455-1525), Italian painter.
In a word, if Rabema is performing a new play, I can hardly judge her acting skills and recitation, because I can't distinguish the lines I didn't know beforehand from the ones added to her intonation and gestures, and I think they are the same as the lines. On the contrary, I can recite the old script backwards as if it were a unique and well-prepared space, and I am completely free to judge how Rabema uses it as a fresco to develop her innovative creativity. Unfortunately, a few years ago, she left the stage and became a famous character in a popular theatre troupe. She made a great contribution to it. She stopped performing classical drama. I often look through advertisements, but I always see new plays made for her by some fashionable writer. One day, I was looking for the announcement of the New Year's Day's Day performance in the theatre column. For the first time, I saw that in the finale, because the opening play was meaningless, its name was obscure. It contained all the special plots unfamiliar to me, two scenes in Mrs. Rabema's performance of Fidel, and the third day of the next day. "Half Upper Society" and "Capricious Marianna". These names, like Fidel's, are shining and shining in front of me (because I know them very well), with an artistic smile. They seemed to add luster to Mrs. Rabema, because after reading the announcement in the newspaper, I read another message that Mrs. Rabema had decided to personally perform the roles she had created in the past. It seems that the artist knows that the meaning of certain roles is not confined to the first performance, the new eyes of the audience, or the successful re-performance. It's really helpful that she regards her role * as a museum treasure --- a treasure that is displayed again to the older generation who once appreciated the treasure or to the new generation who never witnessed it. In the announcements of the performances that were just used to kill the night, she inserted the name Fidel, which was neither longer than the other names nor in different fonts, but she tacitly stuffed it in, as if the hostess had told you the names of the ordinary guests one by one when she invited them to the table. Then introduce the distinguished guest in the same tone: Mr. Anatole Francis.
The doctor who treated me, the one who forbade me to travel, advised my parents not to let me go to the theatre, saying that I would be ill when I came back, and that I might be ill for a long time. In short, my pain would be greater than my pleasure. If all I expect from the theatre is fun, then this fear will deter me, because pain will drown out pleasure. But --- like my dream trip to Barbeck and Venice --- what I'm looking forward to is not pleasure, but something else, the truth of a more real world than the one I live in. These truths, once acquired by me, will never be taken away by the trivial things in my idle life, even if they cause pain to my body. The pleasure I feel in theatre may be just a necessary form of perception of truth, but I don't want it to be affected and destroyed. I hope I feel as ill as I expected after the performance. I begged my parents to let me go to see Fidel, but since seeing the doctor, they refused. I recite poems for myself from time to time: I hear that you are going away from us... My tone was as tuned as possible to better appreciate the extraordinary aspects of Beima's recitation. The divine beauty that her performance will reveal is hidden behind the curtain like the temple in the temple. I can't see it, but I always imagine its new face. I thought of what Hillbert had found in the pamphlet: noble appearance, Christian simplicity, Jensen's sternness, Princess Trezel and Princess Clive, Mycenae's drama, Zelfi's symbol, the myth of the sun. This sacred beauty perches on my deep, candlelit altar day and night, and my harsh and flippant parents will decide whether I can breathe in the beauty of the goddess (who will reveal her true face in the place where her invisible image was hidden) and breathe in my spirit forever. My eyes were fixed on the unimaginable image. I fought against the obstacles of my family all day long, but when the obstacles were cleared, when my mother - even though the day scene happened to be a meeting of the committee, and then my father would bring Mr. Nobwa home for dinner - said to me, "Well, we don't want to upset you, such as If you really want to go, go. When the theatre, which has always been taboo, is now up to me to decide whether to choose or not, and I will be able to achieve my dream without any effort, I hesitate to go or not, whether there are other reasons for negation besides the opposition of my parents. First of all, although I hate their cruelty at first, the promise at the moment makes me feel that they are very kind. Therefore, I feel sad at the thought of making them sad. In this mood, the purpose of life seems to me to be no longer the truth, but tenderness. The criteria for good or bad life seem to be determined only by whether my parents are happy or unhappy. If it makes you unhappy, I won't go, "I said to my mother. Instead, she told me not to worry about it, which would spoil the fun I had in Fidel, and it was because of my fun that she and my father lifted the ban. In this way, pleasure seems to be a very heavy duty. Secondly, if I fall ill after going to the theatre, can I recover quickly? As soon as Hillbert returned to Champs Elysees Street at the end of the holiday, I was going to see her. To decide not to see the theatre, I compare all these reasons with my imagination of the perfect art of Rabema (though it is hard to see under the veil). At one end of the scale, I put "feeling Mom's sorrow, maybe not going to Champs Elysees" and "Jensen's grim, the myth of the sun" on the other side. These words themselves eventually became obscure, meaningless and weightless in my mind. Gradually, my hesitation became painful, and I might have decided to go to the theatre just to end it and get rid of it once and for all. It is entirely possible for me to be admitted to the theatre, not for spiritual enlightenment and the enjoyment of perfect art, but for the shortening of pain, not for the sake of meeting the Goddess of Wisdom, but for the sake of seeing the merciless gods who steal beams and change pillars under the veil of the Goddess, who have neither faces nor names. Fortunately, suddenly everything changed. My long-cherished wish to see Rabema's performance was inspired so much that I waited eagerly and excitedly for the day because when I came to the column of the theatrical poster as I did every day (I stood there like a hermit of the column, which has become more severe lately), I saw the first time that I had just posted it. Still damp and detailed "Fidel" posters (other actors don't have enough charisma to make my decision). This poster gives me a more concrete form of what I was hesitant about. It's close at hand, almost in progress - because the date on which the poster was signed is not the day I saw it, but the day of the performance, and the hour of the payment is the opening moment. I jumped up in front of the cylinder with joy. I think that on that day, at this precise hour, I will sit in my seat and wait for Rabema to come out. I was worried that my parents would not be able to reserve two good seats for my grandmother and me, so I ran home in one breath and gazed at the charming saying, "There are no women in hats in the main hall." I declined admission after two o'clock, which replaced the "Jensen Seriousness" and "The Myth of the Sun" in my mind.
Fidel, the heroine of classical tragedy, and Princess Clive, the characters in the novel, are two different models.
(2) Greek early culture.
(3) Zelfi was an ancient Greek city with the temple of Apollo, the sun god.
Unfortunately, this play disappointed me greatly. My father suggested taking my grandmother and me to the theatre on the way to the committee. When he went out, he said to his mother, "Think of a good dinner. You probably remember that I was bringing de Nobwa with me." Mother certainly did not forget. From the day before, Franois was immersed in creative enthusiasm. She's happy to show off in the culinary arts, and she's really talented in that area. She was more excited to hear that the visitor was a newcomer and decided to cook frozen beef according to her secret recipe. She was extremely concerned about the intrinsic quality of the raw materials that made up her works. She went to the Central Vegetable Market to buy the best buttocks, calves and calves, just as Michelangelo used eight months to choose the best marble for the tomb of Jules II. Franois rushed in and out, her red face making her mother worried that the old maid would collapse, just like the sculptor of the Medici mausoleum who had fallen into the Petra Santa Stone Mine. And the day before, she had ordered the pink * marble, what she called the "covenant" ham to be wrapped in bread crumbs and sent to the bakery to bake. When she first heard about York ham, she thought she had misheard the name she knew. She underestimated the richness of the language and did not believe in her ears. How could York and New York exist at the same time? It's unbelievable. Thereafter, whenever she heard or saw the name "York" in an advertisement, she thought it was "New York" and read "New" as "New". So she solemnly said to her chef, "You go to Olida's to buy ignition legs. The wife kept telling her to keep the Ham on the Inner Covenant."
Michelangelo.
If that day had enabled Franois to experience the fervent confidence of the great creator, then what I felt was the unbearable anxiety of the explorer. Of course, before listening to Rabema's recitation, I was happy. In the small square in front of the theatre, I feel happy. In two hours, street lights will illuminate the twigs of chestnut trees in the square, and the bare chestnut trees will give off a metallic reflection. In front of the ticket inspectors (whose selection, promotion and destiny depend entirely on the famous actress, who controls the management of the whole organization, while the unknown successive managers are just unknown passers-by), I feel happy; they ask for our tickets, but they don't look at us, they are anxious. Anxiety: Did Mrs. Rabema's orders inform all the new employees, did they understand that no one should be hired to applaud her, that no windows should be closed before she came on stage, that all doors should be closed after she came on stage, and whether they knew that a can of hot water should be placed next to her in an unnoticeable place to control the stage dust? Soil. In a few moments, her carriage, driven by two long-maned horses, will arrive at the entrance of the theatre. She will get out of the carriage, wearing a fur coat, impatiently answer the greetings of others, and send an attendant to the front desk to see if she has reserved seats for her friends, and inquire about the temperature of the room, the guest and the usher. The costume. In her eyes, the theatre and the audience are only the second clothes she will wear outside. They are the medium through which her genius will pass, good or bad. In the theatre, I also feel happy. Since I learned that everyone was on the same stage, contrary to what my childish imagination had long dreamed about, I thought that since there were people around, other audiences would certainly prevent you from seeing the truth. On the contrary, because of a layout that seemed to symbolize all perceptions, every audiences felt themselves in the centre of the theatre. That reminds me of what Franois said. On one occasion, my parents asked her to go to a melodrama and take a seat on the fifth floor, but when she came back, she said that her seat was no better. She didn't feel too far away at all. Instead, she felt timid because the vivid and mysterious curtain was close at hand. I began to hear a blurred voice coming from behind the curtain. It was louder and louder, like the sound of a chicken before it broke its shell. I am happier now, because although our eyes cannot penetrate the curtain, the world behind the curtain is watching us. Suddenly, the voice from behind the curtain apparently signaled to us that it had become an extremely majestic triple noise, as moving as the signal from Mars. When the curtain opened, quite ordinary desks and fireplaces appeared on the stage, which showed that it wasn't the recitators I saw in one night's performance that were coming on, but the ordinary people who lived in the family; I broke into their lives, and they couldn't see me. At this time, my pleasure was increasing, but it was interrupted by a short period of uneasiness, because just as I waited for the show to begin with my breath holding still, two men stepped onto the stage, they were fierce and loud, and more than a thousand audiences in the theatre heard them very clearly (in the small coffee shop, we need to know what the two fighters were talking about). Do you have to ask the waiter? At this time, I was surprised to see that the audience was not protesting, but listening attentively, and immersed in silence, occasionally laughing from here or there, so I understood that these two insolent people were actors, and that the little play called the opening play had begun. Then there was a long intermission, and when the audience was seated again, they stamped impatiently. This worries me a lot. Whenever I read in the report of the lawsuit that a noble man put his own interests aside to defend the innocent in court, I always feel worried, lest people be unkind to him, not grateful enough, not giving him a generous reward, so that he is sad and discouraged and turn to the side of injustice. In this respect, I compare genius with virtue, and I am equally concerned that Rabema will be annoyed by the rudeness of an ill-bred audience. I really hope that she will be satisfied in the audience with the recognition of several celebrities whose judgments are of great weight, so she will not exert herself to express her dissatisfaction and contempt for them. I looked at the stamping savages with imploring eyes, whose anger would shatter the fragile and precious impression I was seeking here. Finally, the first few scenes of Fidel brought me pleasant moments. At the beginning of the second act, the character Fidel did not appear. However, the first curtain, followed by the second red velvet curtain, which strengthens the stage depth in the star's performance, opened, and an actress appeared from the bottom of the stage, looking and sounding like the Rabema people had portrayed to me. So Rabema changed roles, and my careful study of Theseus'wife was a waste of time. However, another actress came on and talked to the first one. It was obviously wrong for me to regard the first one as Rabema, because the second one was more like her and the tone of the recitation was perfect. Both of them added noble gestures to the characters * they lifted their beautiful sleeveless gowns, which I noticed clearly, and they understood the relationship between gestures and lines --- and the clever tone of voice. It was warm and ironic at times, and I understood what poems I had read at home without paying attention to actually meant. Suddenly, however, a woman appeared at the opening of the red velvet curtain of the temple (as if it were a frame). So I felt frightened, and that fear might be more frightening than Rabema herself. I was afraid that someone would open the window and make her uncomfortable; that someone would rub up the program to destroy one of her lines; and that people would not applaud her warmly enough to make her unhappy. I had a more absolute idea than Rabema himself, that from now on, theatres, audiences, actors, plays, and my own body are just sound media, and they are valuable only when they are conducive to the cadence of voices. I immediately realized that the two actresses I had just enjoyed had nothing in common with the woman I had come to listen to. However, my pleasure suddenly ceased. My eyes, ears and thoughts were all focused on Rabema, lest I should miss any reason worthy of my admiration, but nothing was gained. I didn't even find the clever tones and beautiful postures her companions used in her recitations and performances. I listened to her as if she were reading Fidel, or as if Fidel was speaking to me, and Rabema's talent did not seem to add anything to the discourse. How I want the artist's every voice, every facial expression to freeze, for a long time, so that I can go deep in and try to find the beauty they contain. I should at least be quick-minded and prepare and adjust my attention before every verse, so that I would not waste my time preparing for every word or gesture she read. I want to rely on this kind of concentrated effort to get into the depths of lines and gestures as if I had a long hours. But time is short after all! As soon as one voice came into my ear, it was immediately replaced by another. In one scene, Rabema was still for a moment, her arms were raised to the top of her face, her whole body was immersed in the dark green light, the background was the sea, the applause was thunderous, but in a moment the actress had changed her position, and the picture I wanted to appreciate carefully no longer existed. I told my grandmother I couldn't see clearly, so she handed me the telescope. However, when you are convinced of the authenticity of something, observing it artificially does not make you feel closer to it. I think what I see in the magnifying glass is not Rabema, but her image. I put down my telescope, but the image I got with my eyes that was narrowed by distance might not be more accurate. Which of the two Rabema is true? I had great hopes for the play, and her companions kept revealing to me the subtle voices in much worse clips. I suppose Rabema's intonation is more amazing than I thought when I read the script at home. However, she has not even reached the level of recitation skills that Onona or Arisi might use. She recites that long, contrasting monologue with unchanged monotony, which is so striking. So that a less intelligent tragic actor, even a middle school student, can not be unaware of its effect. She read very fast, and when she finished the last sentence, my mind realized the monotony she deliberately used in the previous lines.
Fidel, Hipotos, Onona and Arisi are all the characters in Fidel.
Finally, in the enthusiastic applause of the audience, my initial feeling of admiration broke out. I also applauded, and for a long time, hoping that Rabema would work harder out of gratitude, so that I could say that I had seen her most exquisite acting skills. Strangely enough, the moment when the audience was enthusiastic was also the moment when Rabema made wonderful innovations (which I later learned). When certain transcendental realities radiate around, the masses are the earliest observers. For example, when major events took place, when the army was in danger or defeated or succeeded at the border, the news was vague and did not bring any important information to the educated, but it caused tremendous shock among the masses. Educated people are shocked by the shock, but when they learn from experts about the true military shape, they cannot help admiring the ability of the people to perceive this halo, which is accompanied by major events and can be seen a hundred miles away. People are aware of the war bulletin, either after the event, after the end of the war, or at that time, from the gaiety of the doorman. Likewise, Rabema was found to be skilled in acting, either from critics a week after the show, or from the applause of the audience on the spot. However, this direct understanding of the masses is often intertwined with hundreds of misconceptions. Therefore, applause is often wrong. Moreover, it is the mechanical consequence of applause in front, just as storms make the sea boil, even when the wind is no longer increasing, the waves are still rough. Regardless of him, the more I applaud, the better Rabema acts. An ordinary woman sitting next to me said, "She really works hard, knocks herself hard and runs all over the stage, which is called acting." I'm glad to find these reasons to prove Rabema's skill, but at the same time I think they can't explain the problem. The farmer sighed and said, "How well painted! What a wonderful pen! Look how beautiful it is! How thin! Can this explain the Mona Lisa or Benvenuto's Perseus? But I'm still drunk with the enthusiasm of the masses. However, when the curtain came down, I was disappointed that the pleasure I had dreamed of was nothing more than that, but at the same time, I needed to extend it. I didn't want to leave the theatre to end the experience of the theatre - it had been my life for a few hours, and I felt that going straight home was like exile; fortunately, I was looking forward to it when I got home. I heard about her again from Rabema's admirer, who was the man who allowed me to see Fidel, Mr. de Nobwa.
Benvenuto (1500-1571), Italian sculptor.
Before dinner, my father called me into his study and introduced me to Mr. de Nobwa. When I entered, the ambassador stood up, bent down his tall body and held out his hand to me. Blue eyes looked at me attentively. During his tenure as a representative of France, he was often introduced to foreigners, many of whom were somewhat famous, even famous singers; and he knew that one day when people mentioned these people in Paris or Petersburg, he could boast of having been in Munich or Sofia with him. They spent the night together, so he developed the habit of showing each other how honored it was to know him. In addition, he believed that during his stay in foreign capitals, he could contact not only interesting people who traveled to and from capitals, but also the customs of local residents, thus gaining in-depth knowledge of the history, geography, customs of different nationalities and the cultural movements in Europe, so that he had no knowledge in books. Therefore, he was a newcomer to every country. Apply sharp observation so that you can immediately find out who is standing in front of him. For a long time, he was no longer stationed abroad, but whenever strangers were introduced to him, his eyes immediately made fruitful observations, as if they had not been suspended, and his manner and speech attempted to show that the new comer's name was not unfamiliar to him. Therefore, he talked to me in an air of self-knowledge and experience, with keen curiosity, and in his own interest, he kept watching me as if I were an exotic, instructive monumental building, or a star on tour. So he was as solemn and kind as the wise Mantor, and as diligent and curious as the young Anagassis.
Mantor, the wise man in ancient Greek mythology.
(2) Anagassis, a philosopher of the sixth century B.C. This refers to the 18th century publication of Young Anagassis Greek Travels.
Regarding the Two World Review, he never mentioned mediating for me, but he raised a series of questions about my past life and study and interest in me. This is the first time I've heard people talk about their hobbies as a reasonable thing, because before that, I always thought that they should be suppressed. Since I like literature, he makes the topic around literature and talks about it with great respect, as if it were a respectable and charming lady in the upper class. He had a wonderful memory of meeting her in Rome or Dresden, but seldom had the chance to meet her again because of the pressure of life. He smiled with an almost dissolute look, as if he envied me for being luckier and more leisurely than him and having a good time with him. However, the literature in his words is totally different from what I imagined when I was in Gombre, so I understand that I have double reasons to abandon literature. I used to realize that I lacked creative talent, but now Mr. De Nobwa has deprived me of creative desire. I want to explain my dream to him. I shuddered with excitement lest all words fail to express what I felt most sincerely, but never tried to express to myself. I speak incoherently, and Mr. de Nobwa, perhaps out of professional habits, perhaps out of the usual indifference of people (since he has been consulted, he has the initiative to talk, let the other person be uncomfortable, make his whole body count, and he is indifferent), perhaps out of the desire to highlight the characteristics of the head. Desire (he thinks he has a Greek head, despite his thick cheek whiskers), when you explain to him, his face is absolutely motionless, making you think that in front of him is an ancient chest statue in the Stone Gallery - and deaf! Suddenly, like the hammer of an auctioneer's valuer or the oracle of Dalf, an ambassador's answer rang out, and it was exciting because you could not guess his impression of you or what he was about to say from his dull face.
"Just as it happens," he said, without blinking an eye, staring at me stuttering, suddenly concluding, "I have a friend, his son, mutatis mutandis, just like you. (So he spoke in a comforting tone of voice about our common tendencies, as if it were not literature, but rheumatism, and he wanted to tell me that I would not die as a result). He abandoned the diplomatic career his father had arranged for him and devoted himself to writing despite rumors. Of course, he has nothing to regret. Two years ago - his age is certainly much older than yours - he published a work about his feelings about the'infinity'of the West Bank of Lake Victoria-Nyonza. This year, I wrote another pamphlet, which is a little short, but with a sharp and even sharp pen. It talks about the serial guns in the Bulgarian army. These two books made him a great character. He has gone a long way and won't stop halfway. In the Academy of Ethical Sciences, he has been mentioned twice or three times without any relegation, although he has not yet been considered as a candidate. In a word, he can not be regarded as a person of great reputation, but his tenacious struggle has won a superior position and achievements. It's important to know that success does not always belong to the rioters, provocators, and chaos-makers (who are almost pretentious). He made a name for himself by working hard."
Latin means basically.
Lake Victoria-Nyonza is a large lake in Equatorial Africa.
Father had seen me become a member of the Academy of Sciences in a few years, and he was very proud of it, and Mr. de Nobwa pushed it to the top, because after a moment of hesitation as if to estimate the consequences of his actions, he handed me a business card and said, "Go and see him, and say I introduced it." He'll give you some useful advice." His words agitated me as if he had announced that I would board the sailing boat the next day as a probationary sailor.
I inherited from Aunt Leonie a lot of untreatable items and furniture, as well as almost all cash assets (she expressed her love for me after she died, and I knew nothing about her before she died). The money will be in my father's custody until I grow up, so my father asked Mr. de Nobwa where to invest. Mr. De Nobwa suggests buying what he considers to be very secure low-rate securities, especially British Unified Bonds and Russian Bonds with an annual interest rate of 4%. "This is the first-class securities. Although the interest rate is not too high, the principal will not depreciate at least," he said. As for the others, the father simply told the guests what he had bought, and the guests showed an imperceptible smile to congratulate them. Like all capitalists, Mr. De Nobwa believes that wealth is something to be admired, but when it comes to other people's property, he thinks it's more appropriate to congratulate them with a tacit manner. On the other hand, because of his wealth, he regards people who are far less wealthy than him as great wealth, and at the same time, he savors his superior position in wealth with satisfaction. He did not hesitate to congratulate his father on his "very stable, elegant and keen appreciation" of the "structure" of securities, as if he had given some aesthetic value to the relationship between securities traded and even to the securities traded themselves. When his father talked about a relatively new and unknown security, Mr. de Nobwa said (you think you've only read this book, but he has read it too): "Of course I know, for a while I paid attention to it, and it was interesting." At the same time, he smiled fascinated with memories, as if he were a subscriber to a magazine. I've read the latest novel in a long series on it, paragraph by paragraph. I don't discourage you from buying the securities that will be issued. They are very attractive and the price is very favorable. As for some old securities, the father could not remember their names and often confused them with similar securities, so he opened the drawer and took them out for the ambassador to see. I was fascinated at first sight; they were decorated with church spires and imagery, much like some fantastic old books and magazines I had read in the past. Everything that belongs to the same period is very similar. The artist painted poems of a certain period and was also employed by financial companies at that time. The registered securities issued by Hebo Development Company are a long, patterned securities held at four corners by the river god. It immediately reminds me of the books of Notre Dame de Paris and Gerald de Neval hanging in the window of Gombre's grocery store.
(1) Gerald de Neval (1808-1855), a famous French writer.
My father despised my intelligence of this type, but this scorn was often restrained by the love of his parents and children, so, on the whole, he took a blind attitude toward what I did. Without thinking, he asked me to fetch a short prose poem I had written while walking in Gombre. I wrote it with passion, so I think anyone who read it would be moved. However, Mr. De Nobwa was not touched at all, and he did not say a word when he handed it back to me.
Mother had always been respectful to her father's business, when she came in and timidly asked if she could have dinner. The Catcher in the Rye
She was afraid to interrupt a conversation she should not intervene in. At this moment, my father was indeed talking to the Marquis about the necessary measures to be proposed at the next committee meeting. His special tone reminded me of the tone of two colleagues - like two middle school students - talking in front of the layman, who shared the same memories because of their professional habits, but since the layman knew nothing about it, they were in the presence of one another. These laymen can only use an apologetic tone when referring to the past.
At this moment, Mr. De Nobwa's facial muscles have achieved perfect independence, so he can listen to people with a deaf expression: Father is finally embarrassed: "I wanted to ask the committee's advice..." After rounding the corner, he finally said. However, from the face of this aristocratic player, from the face of his musician waiting for the moment to play, it is not slow, almost with another tone* to end the already started phrase: "Of course, you can call the members to a meeting, not to mention that you know each of them." One person, just let them come." Obviously, this closing remark is nothing new in itself, but its former state makes it stand out, making it as clear and shining as the lines on the piano, so ingenious and refreshing as in Mozart's concerto, the silent piano replaces the big one just played at the prescribed time. Violin.
"Well, are you satisfied with the play?" As I sat at the table, my father asked me. He deliberately showed me that my excitement would win Mr. Nobwa's favor." He's just been to Rabema's play. You remember we talked about it." Turning to the diplomat, he said, in a mysterious, technically * tone of retrospect, as if he were talking about the committee.
"You must be very satisfied, especially if this is your first time to see her perform. Your father was afraid that this little entertainment would be harmful to your health. It seems that you are not very strong, a weak scholar. But I reassure him that the theatre today is quite different from that 20 years ago. The seats are comfortable and the air is constantly changing. Of course, we still have to work hard to catch up with Germany and Britain, who are more advanced than us in this and many other aspects. I haven't seen Mrs. Rabema play Fidel, but I heard that her acting is excellent. Are you sure you're satisfied?
Mr. De Nobwa is a thousand times smarter than I am. He must have mastered the truth that I had not learned from Rabema's acting skills. He would reveal it to me. I have to answer his questions and ask him to tell me the truth, so that he can prove to me that I really deserve to go to see Rabema. There is not much time to ask questions about the basic points. However, what are the basic points? I was so engrossed in thinking about the vague impression I had received that I had no time to think about how to win the admiration of De Nobwa, but how to get the truth I expected from him, that I stuttered, not to borrow ready-made phrases to make up for the lack of words, and, in the end, to inspire him to say Rabema. The beauty, I admit, is my great disappointment.
"Why," cried his father angrily, because my self-confession left a bad impression on Mr. De Nobwa: "How can you say you're not having any fun? Grandma said you listened attentively to every line of Rabema, staring big eyes, and no audience like you.
"Yes, I'm really absorbed. I want to know where her excellence lies. Of course, she did a good job..."
"Now that it's good, what else do you ask for?"
"One thing is sure to contribute to Mrs. Rabema's success," said Mr. de Nobwa. In particular, he turned to his mother to avoid leaving her out of the conversation and to show her due courtesy to the hostess. "That's the perfect taste she displayed in choosing roles. It's appreciation that brought her real success and real success. She rarely plays mediocre roles, this time Fidel. Besides, her appreciation is also reflected in clothing and acting skills. She often travels to England and the United States and is highly appreciated, but she is not vulgar. I don't mean John Bull. That's not fair enough, at least not for Victorian Britain. I mean Uncle Sam. She has never been too striking in color, nor has she ever shouted hoarsely and exhaustively. Her beautiful and melodious voice adds luster to her, and her use of voice is so ingenious that she can be called a vocalist! ____________
Now that the performance is over, my interest in Rabema's art is no longer suppressed and constrained by reality. It's getting stronger and stronger, but I have to find an explanation for it. Moreover, when Rabema performed, what she offered to my eyes and ears was a whole thing in life. My interest was only a general concern, without any distinction or discrimination. Therefore, at this moment, she was glad to find a reasonable explanation in this praise of the artist's simplicity and nobility. It exerts its attraction and takes the words of praise for itself, just like a happy drunk who takes the actions of his neighbors for himself and sighs with emotion. Yes, "I thought to myself," what a beautiful voice, no shouting, what a simple dress! How wise it was to pick Fidel! No, I'm not disappointed.
A cold dish of carrot beef appeared. Under the design of Michelangelo in my kitchen, beef lay on a crystal crystal of frozen juice like crystal quartz. Your cook is the best, madam, "said Mr. de Nobwa." Rare! When I'm abroad, I often have to talk about acting, so I understand how difficult it is to find a good cook. You're a real feast."
Indeed, Franois was delighted to prepare a delicious meal for the distinguished guests so as to show off her skill. She tried hard to re-perform her stunts in Gombre, and she was reluctant to bother so much when no guests came to dinner.
"It's in a nightclub, I mean the most advanced nightclub, which you can't taste. Braised beef, frozen juice has no paste odor, beef has the smell of carrot, it is amazing! Allow me to add a little more." As he said, he gestured that he needed a little more frozen juice. "I really want to try another kind of Fadel's craft in the palace, for example, the Stroganov type beef she made."
(1) Fadel, the famous chief dietary officer of the 17th century French Prince of the Great Confucius.
(2) Stroganov, a Russian financier, named after his family for this dish is milk beef.
In order to spice up the dining table, Mr. De Nobwa brought us all kinds of stories that he often entertained his colleagues. Sometimes he quotes the ridiculous compound sentence in a politician's speech (which he is accustomed to), which is both long and bloated and full of self-contradictory images. Sometimes he quotes the quick words of an elegant diplomat. In fact, his criteria for judging these two styles have nothing in common with my criteria for judging literature. I don't understand many subtle differences. The words he laughed at and mocked were not much different from the words he praised. He's another kind of person, about my favorite works, he would say, "You understand? To be honest, I don't understand. I'm not good at it." And I can treat others in the same way; I can't understand the wit or stupidity, eloquence or exaggeration he sees in his refutations or speeches. Since there is no perceptible reason to explain the merits and demerits, this kind of literature is more mysterious and obscure in my eyes. I realized that repeating other people's ideas is not a sign of weakness in politics, but a sign of strength. When Mr. De Nobwa used some of the words he had picked up in the newspapers and accompanied by emphatic tones, those words, once used for him, turned into action and noticeable action.
Mother had great expectations for pineapple lumps. The Ambassador gazed at the dish for a moment with the deep eyes of the observer, then ate it, but maintained the diplomat's cautious attitude and did not reveal his thoughts any more. Mother insisted that he eat a little more, and Mr. de Nobwa added one more time, but did not say the compliments people expected, but said, "Yes, madam, since this is your order."
"The newspaper says you have had a long talk with King Diodosie." The father said.
"Good. The king had an amazing memory of faces. When he saw me sitting in the front of the main hall that day, he remembered me, because I had seen him several times in the Bavarian court, and he had not thought of the Eastern throne (you know, he was invited by the European Congress to assume the throne, and he even hesitated for a long time before agreeing that he did not think of the throne and his most noble family in Europe. It's too proportionate. An adjutant came to invite me to see His Majesty the King, and of course I was happy to follow his orders."
"Are you satisfied with the results of his visit?"
"Very satisfied! It is understandable that some people were worried about whether the young monarch could get out of such a complicated situation. As for me, I fully believe in his political sense, and the facts far exceed my expectations. According to the authoritative information, his speech at the Elysee Palace, from the first word to the last word, was drafted by him personally, which deserves to arouse good feelings from all sides. It's really a good trick. Of course, it is too bold, but facts have proved that this boldness is correct. Although diplomatic tradition has its advantages, it is precisely because of it that the relationship between our two countries is enveloped in a suffocating and closed atmosphere. The way to change fresh air is to break the window. Of course, no one else can make such a proposal. Only Diodosie can do so, and he does. His open-minded attitude attracted many people. He used appropriate words and was worthy of being the offspring of the learned and versatile princes and nobles. When he talks about the relationship between his country and France, he uses the word "kinship", which is extremely rare in diplomatic terms, but very appropriate here. You see, literature is harmless, even to diplomacy and to the monarch, "his last sentence is to me." Of course, there are signs that the relationship between the two powers has improved a lot, but it was in his mouth after all. His words were exactly what people expected, and his words were clever, so the effect was astonishing. Of course I agree with both hands."
"Your friend, Mr. Fogube, has devoted himself to improving relations between the two countries for many years. He must be very happy."
"Of course, besides, His Majesty, as usual, deliberately surprised him. Besides, since the beginning of the Foreign Minister, everyone has been shocked, without exception. It is said that the foreign minister is not satisfied with the matter. When asked, he raised his voice so that people around him could hear his blunt answer:'I was neither asked for advice nor notified', in order to make it clear that he had nothing to do with the matter. Of course, this has caused a lot of discussion, "he said with a sly laugh." I can't guarantee that colleagues who believe in inaction as the highest creed don't get upset about it. As for Fogube, you know that he was severely criticized for his pro-French policy, which made him sad, not to mention that he was kind-hearted and sensitive. I can testify to that. Although he is much younger than me, we are old friends and have frequent contacts. I know him very well. And who doesn't know him? His clarity of mind is the only drawback he can be blamed for, because diplomats need not be as transparent as he is.
Now someone has proposed sending him to Rome, which is certainly a promotion, but it is also a "biting the bone". I'm telling you privately that Faugubei, despite his lack of ambition, will not be unhappy with his new job. He will never refuse this bitter drink. He may do something extraordinary. He was the man Consorta agreed with. For such an artist, the Palace of Farnez and the Karash Corridor are the most suitable places. At least no one will hate him. Around King Diodosie, there were a group of traitors attached to William Street. They obeyed the intention of carrying out the rank of William and tried their best to disrupt Faugubert. Faugubei had to deal not only with court conspiracy, but also with the abuse of idle scholars. They later begged for mercy as cowardly as all the journalists who were censored, but at the same time they still published the unjustified accusations of our representatives by hooligans and scoundrels. For more than a month, the enemy danced the scalp around Fogube. Mr. De Nobwa put particular emphasis on this last word: "However, as the saying goes:'Preventive measures should be taken to avoid plotting'." He kicked away the slander and abuse." His voice was louder and his eyes shone so fiercely that we stopped eating for a moment. There is a beautiful Arabic proverb:'Let the dogs bark, the caravan still marches forward. Mr. De Nobwa threw out the proverb and looked at us to see what effect it had on us. The effect is remarkable. We are familiar with it, because that year it was popular among people with identities, while another proverb: "Tribulus growers get thorns" was eliminated, because it lacked energy, not as "married" as never fatigue and vitality. It is important to know that the language of these celebrities is a three-year rotation system.
(Former) Konsurta, seat of the Italian Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
(Former) The Palace of Farnez, the French Embassy in Rome, has a corridor decorated by the 16th century painter Karash.
(Former) William Street is the seat of the German Foreign Ministry.
This is an Indian dance. The winner dances around the defeated man before he cuts off his scalp.
Mr. De Nobwa is good at using this type of citation in the articles of Two World Review. In fact, they are totally redundant in well-founded and reliable articles. Mr. de Nobwa does not need these decorations at all, just pick the critical moment, which he did, such as "St. James is in danger"; or "Singer Bridge" is agitated and anxiously watching the selfish and ingenious policies of both dynasties"; or"Montecitorio, alarm. Or "the two-sided technique used forever by Plaza Plaza". Even the layman reader, upon seeing these terms, immediately understands that the author is a professional diplomat and expresses his appreciation. But some people say that he is not only a professional diplomat, his accomplishment is more excellent, because he uses proverbs appropriately, and the most perfect example is "as Baron Louis said, you give me good politics, I give you good finance." (Because there was no Japanese proverb coming from the East at that time: "In a war, if you insist on it for a moment, you will win." It was this reputation of celebrity scholars, and the genius of conspiracy hidden under the mask of indifference, that made Mr. De Nobwa an academician of the Institute of Ethical Sciences, and some even thought that he had to go to the French Academy, because once he was pointing out that he had allied with Russia in order to reconcile with Britain. When it came to necessity, he wrote, "One thing should be made clear to the people at Orsay Pier_, that it should be included in all the geography textbooks (there are indeed omissions in this respect), and that it should be used as a criterion for high school graduates to obtain their bachelor's degree. That is, if"all roads lead to Rome", then it is necessary to go from Paris to London. It must pass through Petersburg."
Refers to the British Foreign Office.
(2) Referring to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Austria
(3) Referring to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Russia.
(4) Italian Parliament.
Baron Louis was the finance minister of King Louis XVIII and Louis Philip.
_Refers to the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
"All in all," continued Mr. De Nobwa to his father, "Fogube has been a great success this time, even beyond his own estimates. Of course, he expected to have a very decent toast (which was remarkable after the clouds and clouds in recent years), but he did not expect to be better than that artist. His reading and pause were very meticulous, so that the audience could appreciate all kinds of implications and subtleties. I've heard an interesting story that proves once again that King Diodosie is full of that popular youth. The term "kinship" can be said to be a major innovation in the speech. You see, it will become a topic of long-term discussion among embassies. When His Majesty uttered this word, he probably thought it would make our ambassador very happy - it was a just reward for his efforts, even his dreams, and would give him the scepter of Marshal - so he turned halfway towards Fogube and stared at him with the glamorous eyes of the Odanzans, syllables by syllables. Say "kinship" is a very appropriate and novel word. His tone of voice showed that he was very careful in using the word, and he knew its weight well. It is said that Fogube was so excited that to some extent, I think I can understand his mood. According to very reliable information, after the banquet, His Majesty approached Fogube, who was among the crowd, and whispered to him,'Are you satisfied with my student, dear Marquis?' Obviously, "said Mr. de Nobwa," this toast has been more effective than two decades of negotiations, and it has brought the two countries closer to each other -- "kinship" in the vivid language of Diodosie II. It's just a word, but as you see, it's going to go all the way. Newspapers all over Europe are repeating it. It has aroused widespread interest and made a new voice. In other words, this is the King's usual style. I dare not say that he finds such a pure diamond every day, but in his carefully prepared speech, or in his impromptu conversation, he inserts a witty remark as his mark - or signature. At this point, I am absolutely unbiased, because I have always opposed such witty remarks, 19 out of 20 sentences are dangerous.
"Yes. I think the German Emperor's latest telegram is not to your taste.
The father said.
Mr. de Nobwa looked up at the ceiling as if to say, "Ah! This fellow! First of all, this is ingratitude, not only a mistake, but also a crime, which can be said to be horrible stupidity! Secondly, if no one stops it, then the man who drove Bismarck away is likely to gradually abandon all Bismarck's policies, and nobody knows what will happen then. The German Emperor William II forced Bismarck to resign and have bad relations with him.
"My husband told me, sir, that you might let him go to Spain with you in the summer of two or three years. I'm really happy for him."
"Yes, it's an attractive plan. I'm glad. I'd like to travel with you, dear friend. What about you, madam, how are you going to spend your holiday?
"I don't know. Maybe we'll go to Barbeck with our son."
"Ah! Barbeck is a good place. I went there a few years ago. There are beautiful villas being built. I think you will like them. But can you tell me why I like this place?
"My son really wants to see churches, especially Balbeck Church. At first, I was a little worried that the fatigue of the journey, especially the inconvenience of eating and living, would affect his health. But recently I heard that there is a very good hotel built there, which has all the comfort equipment he needs, so he can stay for some time.
"Ah! I have to tell this to a lady who cares a lot about it."
"Barbeck Church is great, sir?" I asked, restraining my displeasure, because in his eyes, Balbeck's charm lies in his beautiful and chic villa.
"It's not bad, it's not bad, but after all, it can't be compared with the finely crafted real treasures, such as the Lance Church, the Chartres Church, and the treasure of the treasures - my favorite Paris Church."
"Is part of Balbeck Church Romantic?"
"Yes, it's Roman style. It's very old-fashioned in itself. It's not as good as Gothic architecture later on. Gothic style is beautiful and novel. The stone is carved with lace. Balbeck Church is really a bit different. Now that you're there, it's certainly worth visiting. If it rains any day and you have nowhere to go, you can go and see Tuvel's grave."
Tuville (1642-1701), Marshal of France.
"Did you attend the banquet of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs yesterday? I can't get away." The father said.
"No," Mr. de Nobwa answered with a smile. "Frankly, I didn't go, but I went to another completely different party. I went to a lady's house for dinner, and you probably heard of her, the beautiful Mrs. Swan."
Mother controlled a tremor, for she was more sensitive than her father, and she was already worried about his impending unhappiness. His unhappiness is often first perceived by her, just as bad news in France is first known abroad and then at home. However, she wanted to know who the Swans had received, so she asked Mr. de Nobwa who he had met there.
"My God... It seems that the main reason for going there is ___________. Men. There were several married men, but their wives were not in good health and did not go." The Ambassador spoke in a delicate tone of naivety, and looking around, his soft and prudent eyes seemed to want to dilute the mockery, but in fact, they had more subtly enhanced the effect of the mockery.
"It should be said," he went on, "to be fair, there are some ladies there, but... They belong to... How can we say that it belongs to the Republican rather than Swan's social circle? Who knows? Maybe one day it will become a political salon or a cultural salon, and they seem to be very satisfied. I think Swan flaunts too much. He always says that somebody and somebody invite their couple next week. In fact, what is there to boast about his contacts with these people? It is surprising that such an elegant scholar as him should behave so unsteadily and uninterestingly that he hardly knows the proper measure. He keeps saying,'We have dinners every night,'It's as if it's glorious as if he's a new rich man, but he's not. He used to have many friends, even many girlfriends. I don't want to overstate or be too presumptuous here, but I think at least one of his girlfriends (though not all or most of them) - who is eminent in status - will not refuse to get acquainted with Mrs. Swan. In that way, many people will become Panil's hot sheep and follow suit. Nevertheless, Swan seems to have made no effort. Gee, and Necelord pudding! After this Luculus 3 feast, I could see Carlsbad 4 convalescing. Maybe Swan felt too much resistance to overcome. It is certain that his marriage is unpleasant. It's nonsense to say that the lady is rich. In short, all this seems to be unpleasant. Swan has an aunt of great wealth and prestige. Her husband, in terms of wealth, is powerful. But she not only refused to receive Mrs. Swan, but also launched a real campaign to make her friends and acquaintances boycott Mrs. Swan. I am not saying that any educated Parisian has shown disrespect to Mrs. Swan... No Absolutely not! Besides, her husband is a duel fighter. In short, it is odd that Swan, who has a wide range of contacts and frequent access to the upper classes, should show great courtesy to these people, who can at least be called "three religions and nine classes". I used to know him. He was a well-educated and well-known person in the highest social circles. But now he thanked the Chief of Postal Office for his presence and asked Mrs. Swan if she was lucky to visit the Chief's wife, which made me both surprised and amused. He's probably not comfortable, because it's obviously two different worlds. But I don't think he's suffering. In the years before marriage, the woman did play a lot of tricks to extort him. Whenever he refused her, she took her daughter away from him. Poor, Swan was too naive. He always thought that his daughter's abduction was just a coincidence. He didn't want to face the reality. She was furious with him from time to time. So people thought that once she achieved her goal and became his wife, she would be more reckless and their life would become hell. On the contrary! Swan's tone of talking about his wife often becomes a laughing stock, even a malicious mockery. You can't ask for a vague feeling that you're being fooled... (You know that word of Moliere_) Swan is going to go wild................................................... Nevertheless, it is too much for him to speak so wisely of his wife. In other words, all this is not as false as people imagine. Obviously, she has feelings for him, but this is her unique way, not all husbands like it. Let's say it in private. Since Swan has known her for many years, he's not an idiot. Of course he knows the details. I do not deny that she is water-based * poplar, but Swan himself, according to the gossip you can imagine flying in the sky at this moment, he also likes to ask for flowers and willows. However, she appreciated what he had done for her, so contrary to everyone's fears, she became as gentle as an angel."
(1) The story of the French writer Rabelais in the sixteenth century refers to the blind imitation of Panier's sheep.
Pudding named after British diplomat Neselrod (the main raw material is chestnut mud).
(3) Luculus was a general of ancient Rome, famous for his gourmet.
(4) Karlsbade, a sanatorium in Bohemia.
(5) The word "king eight" used by Moliere.
In fact, Audrey's change was not as great as Mr. de Nobwa had imagined. She had always thought that Swan would never marry her. She had insinuated that a decent man and his mistress were married, and Swan was always silent. If she asks him straightforwardly, "Why, don't you think it's great that he repays the woman who devotes his youth to him in this way?" At most, he just answered coldly, "I didn't say that's bad. Everyone has his own way of doing it." She even almost believed that, as he said in his anger, he would completely abandon her, because she had heard a female sculptor say, "Men can do anything, they are heartless and unjust." Odette was shocked by this profound and pessimistic motto, and quoted it from time to time as a creed. Her disappointed air seemed to say, "Nothing is impossible. I'll try my luck." And the optimistic life motto she used to follow was, "You can do whatever you want with men who love you. They are idiots." Her face just blinked as if to say, "Don't be afraid, he won't break anything." A girlfriend of Odette lived with a man for a shorter time than Odette and Swan, and had no children, but she let him marry her. Now she is quite respected and invited to the Elysee Palace dance. What would she think of Swan's behavior? Audrey was very upset about it. If there was a doctor who was more thoughtful than Mr. Nobwa, he would probably diagnose that Audret's cruelty came from this sense of humiliation and shame. Her fierce externality was not her essence, not an incurable disease; she would easily predict what would happen later, a new one. Relationships - marital relationships - will miraculously silence these intolerable, daily, but by no means temperamental conflicts immediately. Surprisingly, almost all people are surprised by this marriage. They probably don't understand that love is a purely subjective phenomenon. It is a kind of creation. It attaches many factors of ourselves to someone in society, thus creating a person who is not like this celebrity. People often find it incomprehensible that someone is so important in our eyes that they are not the same person as what we see. However, when it comes to Odette, one should see that although (of course) she does not fully understand Swan's spiritual life, she at least knows his research topic and all the details. She knows the name of Vermeer as well as the name of her tailor. She knows Swan's all-round personality, which is often ignored or ridiculed by the world, and only in the eyes of mistresses or sisters can it have a real and lovely image. We value our sexuality, even our desire to correct it, so when a woman becomes accustomed to it and takes an attitude of tolerance and goodwill (as we are accustomed to it, as our parents are accustomed to it), old love is as tender and strong as family feelings. Fierce. When someone comments on our shortcomings from our point of view, the relationship between him and us becomes sacred. Among these traits, some involve Swan's intelligence as well as his sexual personality, and since the roots lie in sexual personality, Audret is most sensitive to them. She complained that people did not notice that Swan's many characteristics in letters and conversations were also reflected in his writing and research articles. She advised him to give full play to these characteristics. She likes them because they are what she appreciates in him and she loves them because they belong to him, so she naturally hopes that people will find them in his works. Perhaps she thought that the more vivid works would eventually make him famous and enable her to achieve the higher than anything she had ever dreamed of in the Villandilans: Salon.
(1) Vermeer (1632-1675), Dutch painter.
Some people think this marriage is ridiculous. They put themselves in a position to ask themselves, "What would Mr. de Gelmont think if I married Miss de Montmorancy?" What would Breyo say? Twenty years ago, Swan probably had the same social ideal as them. He had taken great pains to join the horse racing club. He had hoped to conclude a prominent marriage to consolidate his position and eventually become the most famous person in Paris. However, like any image, the image of marriage in the eyes of the parties must be constantly nourished from the outside, so that it will not gradually decline until it completely disappears. Your most fervent wish is to insult someone who has offended you, but if you change places and never hear people talk about him, the enemy will eventually become insignificant in your eyes. At the beginning, you were eager to enter the race club or the French Academy for some people, but if you don't meet them for 20 years, the prospect of entering this institution will lose all its charm. Long-term love, like retirement, illness or conversion, replaces the old image with a new one. Swan's marriage to Audrey does not mean that he abandons his social ambition, because Audrey has already disengaged him from that ambition (in a playful sense), and if he has not, he is more respected, because generally speaking, disgraceful marriages are most respected (so-called disgraceful, not money). Marriage: Couples married by a business relationship are eventually accepted by the upper class, either because of tradition or precedent, for the sake of equality, because it means giving up their superior position to achieve pure pleasure in emotional life. In addition, marrying people of different races, grand ladies or flirtatious women, and marrying noble or humble women (like the hybridization practiced by Mendel's theorists or described in myth) may bring some pleasure to Swan as an artist, or even a degenerate. When he considered marrying Audrey, the only person he feared was Duchess de Gelmont, not out of appendage. Instead, Audrey did not take Mrs. de Gelmont seriously. She did not think of those who lived in the vast sky, but only those who were directly above her. People. Whenever Swan daydreamed of Odette becoming his wife, he always imagined how to introduce her, especially her daughter, to Princess Lom, who became Duchess de Gelmont immediately after the death of her father-in-law. He would not take them to another salon. He fantasized excitedly about how the Duchess would talk to Audrey about him and what Audrey would say. He fancied that Mrs. de Gelmont would like Hilbert, spoil her and make him proud of his daughter. He was happy to fantasize about the scenes he was introducing, with precise details, just as the lottery buyer carefully considered how to use the money he had assumed in case of winning the lottery. If the image people assume when making a decision often becomes the motive of this decision, it can be said that Swan married Audrey just to introduce her and Hillbert to Duchess de Gelmont in private (if necessary, no one else will ever know). In the following passage, we will see that Swan's sole ambition of expecting his wife and daughters to enter the upper classes has not been realized and has been categorically rejected. Therefore, when Swan died, he thought that the Duchess would never meet them. We will also see that, on the contrary, it was after Swan's death that Mrs. de Gelmont and Audrey began their association with Hilbert. Perhaps he could be wiser --- not to mention that he attaches so much importance to trivial matters for the time being --- without being too pessimistic about the future, believing that the meeting he hoped for would come true, but that he could not see the day. The law of cause and effect can ultimately produce almost all effects, including those previously considered impossible, which sometimes progresses slowly, due to our desire to speed it up, the opposite of the result, and our existence itself. Therefore, it can only be realized when we stop hope, or even when we stop living. Wasn't Swan already aware of this from his own experience? The marriage between him and Audrey in his life --- which foreshadows what will happen after his death --- is like happiness after death. He had loved her enthusiastically - if not at first sight - and when he married her, he no longer loved her, and the desperate man in his body who was so eager to make a lifelong companion with Audrey had died.
(1) The Czechoslovak monk Mendel (1822-1884) had studied the hybridization of different plants.
I mentioned the Count of Paris and asked him if he was Swan's friend because I didn't want to talk about Swan." Yes, yes." Mr. De Nobwa turned to me and said that his blue eyes were fixed on the little man, and his enormous ability to work and absorb was floating like a fish in water. "Well," he continued to his father, "I'll tell you something interesting, which is probably not disrespectful to the prince whom I respect (because of my position - although not official status, I don't have personal contact with him). Just four years ago, at a small railway station in Central European countries, the prince came across Mrs. Swan. Of course, none of his acquaintances dared to ask his Highness how she was impressed. That would be too disgraceful. However, when her name was occasionally mentioned in conversation, the prince seemed to have a good impression of her from the imperceptible but unquestionable signs.
"Is it impossible to introduce her to the Count of Paris?" The father asked. Sound and Fury
"Cough! Who knows? It's hard to say anything about the princes. Mr. de Nobwa answered, "The dignitaries are good at asking for rewards, but sometimes they take the world's greatest risk in order to reward someone's loyalty. Obviously, the Count of Paris has always admired Swan's loyalty, and Swan is really interesting."
"What's your impression, Mr. Ambassador?" Mother asked out of courtesy and curiosity.
Mr. De Nobwa, contrary to his dignified norm, said enthusiastically in an expert's tone:
"Great!"
Old diplomats know that acknowledging a strong interest in a woman and acknowledging it in a playful tone is the most admired form of conversational skills, so suddenly he laughed softly, and the laughter lasted for a moment. His blue eyes were wet and his nose wings were moving with red * fine fibers.
"She's very charming!"
"Is a writer named Bergott also a guest, sir?" I asked timidly, trying to get the topic around Swan.
"Yes. Bergott is here too." Mr. de Nobwa answered, nodding politely in my direction. Since he wanted to be attentive to his father, he took seriously all matters relating to his father, including questions raised by children of my age (and seldom respected by people of his age). Do you know him?" He gazed at me with deep and bright eyes that Bismarck had admired.
"My son doesn't know him, but he admires him very much." Mother said.
"Ah ah!" Mr. de Nobwa said (he made me most suspicious of my intelligence, because what I thought was the noblest thing in the world, thousands of times more precious than myself, was at the bottom of the rating of appreciation in his eyes), "I can't agree. Bergott is what I call a flute player. He should be admitted to be euphemistic, but too artificial. After all, it's just playing the flute. It's not very valuable. His works are loose and lacking in so-called structure. Lack of plot, or the plot is too simple, more importantly, meaningless. His works are flawed in their foundations, or simply lacking in them. In our times, life is becoming more and more complex, we seldom have time to read books, the situation in Europe has changed profoundly and may be about to change even more. We are confronted with all kinds of new threatening problems. In this era, you will agree with me that writers should be another kind of person, not a scholar. Because scholars are keen to make empty and useless discussions on the merits of pure forms, we neglect the barbarian invasion, the double invasion of external and internal barbarians, which may occur at any time. I know that this is a blasphemy against what gentlemen call the "art for art" school, the sacred and inviolable school, but in our time, there is something more pressing than deliberating on beautiful words waiting for us. Bergott's writing is quite charming, I don't deny it, but in general it's too artificial, too thin and too lacking in masculinity. You think too highly of Bergott, but now I understand the lines you just took out. I don't think it's necessary to mention it anymore, since you admit that it's just a kid's nonsense (I did say it, but it's never in your mind). We should be lenient with our mistakes, especially those of young people. In short, all kinds of faults, others have, in a period of time as a poet is not just you. But the article you showed me showed you were badly influenced by Bergott. You haven't learned any of his strengths, and I'm not surprised to say that, because he's a master of some kind of style and technique, though rather shallow, and at your age he can't even master his fur. But you've shown the same shortcomings as him --- putting the clanky words in a perverse order before considering their implications. Isn't this the reverse of the end? Even in Bergott's works, what are the meanings of the obscure forms and the tedious words of the decadent literati? Occasionally, a writer releases several beautiful fireworks, and everyone immediately exclaims that he is a masterpiece. Where are so many masterpieces? No novel in Bergott's house is a highly successful one, and no book is worth putting in the bookcase to attract attention. I don't have a copy. And he himself is even worse than his works. Ah! A gifted scholar once said that a man is as good as his words, which is a real counter-evidence to him. He is one hundred and eighty thousand miles apart from his works. He's a serious, pretentious, uncultured, and sometimes very mediocre man who talks to people like a book, not even a book he wrote himself, but a disgusting book (because his book is at least not disgusting). That's the Beckett. This is a chaotic and over-elaborated man, who was known as an exaggerator by his predecessors, and the way he spoke made the content of his speech offensive. I don't remember whether it was Lomeni or St. Berf who once said that Winnie was unpleasant with similar eccentricities, but Bergott never wrote such wonderful works as "Sang-Mars" and "Red Seal".