And Chopin's days of playing the wind spectrum month

【Oath of Sovereignty】

Aurora sat in front of Francois' desk, looking out the window at Anting Street, which had already fallen into night, and remained silent.

The candle flickered, and the candle light suddenly dimmed.She came back to her senses, hurriedly picked up the candle scissors, and carefully repaired the overlong wick.After a while, the faint candlelight gradually lit up again.

Gently putting down the scissors, Aurora stared at the small flame, and his consciousness began to blur again.

The slight pain from being tightly clasped on the wrist still seemed to stay there, becoming more and more obvious as the candlelight swayed.But she knew that the pain was just an illusion, because the person holding it had already let go.

The clock began to strike the hour, and the sound of the bell made the room quieter.By the time the hour hand points, the night is dark.

Pettit had followed the little master's instructions, and went to rest after the last dinner.Mammy had already noticed something was wrong, but she didn't point it out, and she didn't refuse Aurora's request.He even hugged her as he left and gave her a goodnight kiss.

In the dead of night, besides rubbing ears and temples together, the most suitable thing is to be alone.

The current Aurora has no one who can share her pillow, but she can sort out everything about her in her own solitude.All kinds of events during the day appeared in front of her eyes, and she replayed today's experience in her mind, trying to find the problem.

François was angry, and very angry.

But he restrained himself from breaking out at her.The young man dragged the girl into the carriage, without saying a word all the way, like a storm was rolling dark clouds, he gave her time to escape, and secretly changed the path of her arrival.

"I'm going out for a while, don't wait for me."

These were the last words left by Francois after sending Aurora to the door.

The girl thought hard about where the inflection point of the matter appeared.

It was definitely not "married"—even the second time, she thought she would be given an affirmative answer like signing a marriage letter.

That's where "Because, I want to be named by your last name" goes wrong - exactly, that's where all the teenage troubles start.

But what's wrong with this sentence?

If you really want to enter into a marriage relationship, isn't it a normal process to use your husband's surname—replacing Waldsinska with Pison?

Woldsinska ah...

Aurora opened her eyes wide in an instant, and the beautiful amber was immediately ground into two round beads.

The rumors in the theater, the talk with Harriet, and the walk with Francois... The sudden flash of inspiration instantly completed all the clues and put them together.

She had joked to Harriet that "the last name Wodzynski is a sin" because of the recent rumors.And Harriet is her good friend, and her husband and Francois are also good friends. She is not in a good state these days. With Harriet's temperament, she must have contacted Francois in private.

And her husband must have heard the news of Chopin at the recent salon party attended by her husband - plus the information given by Harriet, and her never-hidden reverence for Chopin...

Oh my God!

Aurora propped herself up on the desk abruptly and stood up—wouldn't Francois... think she wanted to marry Chopin because of him?

That's right, it can only be like this.

According to Francois's tortuous brain circuit, coupled with his sensitive and suspicious thinking, this kind of answer that is so stupid that you can cross it at a glance, maybe it will become the truth for him!

Aurora really wants to hammer François' head off right now - sorry, it's too violent, she shouldn't be thinking like that...but she really wants to know, is this person's brain different from normal people , Did he put n large mazes in his mind, and accidentally even got lost himself.

If it's because of Chopin...then she would marry Chopin, why would she say such things to François himself.

The girl patted her chest to comfort herself.

She has some grievances, even if it is preconceived, he should give her a chance to justify, right?If this continues, who would dare to like this troublesome hedgehog?Whenever he feels something is wrong, he flashes his spikes. Isn't he afraid that the person who really loves him will be stabbed away?

like.

Aurora's fire was extinguished in an instant.

Does she like Francois?like.

But why can she proclaim "j'aimechopin" loudly in front of him, but she is only stingy to say "I like you" to him?

Aurora found the final knot.

His fiancé probably came to see her with a sincere heart, but she unintentionally hurt him severely.He played the piano clumsily for her, took her for a walk to calm down, and asked her if she could still tell her about marriage, hoping that the answer she gave would never be impulsive or momentary.

He was overjoyed by her second response, but she broke his heart easily with one sentence.

It's too bad, why can't I just say "I like you" honestly!

Remorsefully, the girl grabbed the young man's dip pen, tapped the ink, and casually wrote a sentence on the paper in enlarged font.But I still feel that it is not enough, and I used a completely different continuous stroke below to make a small supplement.

I will definitely wait for your return.

No matter how late, François, I will wait for you.

……

There was the sound of a carriage stopping outside the window, and Aurora pricked up her ears, and after confirming that there were indeed footsteps coming this way, she happily rushed to the door and opened it.

"F—"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Aurora. It's 'Franz,' not 'François.'"

Liszt, who was about to knock on the door, withdrew his hand, saluted the hostess and answered her wittily.Seeing her expression, he knew that his judgment was never wrong.

Aurora's accident only lasted for a moment, she opened the door and welcomed the guests in for a chat.

"Good evening, Franz. Are you here to see Francois? He... has something to do today and hasn't come back yet."

"Good night, Aurora. Don't make me tea, I'm here to find you."

"Look, look for me?"

"Yes, my sweetest young lady. Have you . . . dresses for the feast?"

The girl blinked at him, and Liszt smiled mysteriously.

"Want to go to the salon with me? Go to your 'François', I think you must have something to say to him face to face?"

"Please, please wait for me!"

Ha, François...

Franz Liszt, nothing short of an angel, right?

Liszt took a glass of wine and went straight to his friend who hid himself well in the corner.

The Pole smelled faintly of vodka, and the Hungarian glanced at him, and deserved a mild response, to know he hadn't had too much.

Chopin, who is weak and weak, hardly drinks much.He will only drink some table wine according to the dining etiquette at the banquet he is interested in; other than that, he will only drink spirits when he is most unhappy, and he will only choose Polish vodka-if not, he Will vent his madness on the piano.

Perhaps this kind of wine doesn't match Chopin at all, but because of the completely opposite expression, there is an inexplicable sense of harmony.

"How many cups?"

Liszt jokingly tapped Chopin's wine on the small table beside him with his wine glass, only to get a succinct cold snort from the other party.

"I brought her."

The Hungarian was satisfied to hear the Pole's breath catch, and happily pecked at the aroma of the wine.

"Yes, that's the one you thought of, Aurora—ah, I seem to have accidentally lost her in the salon?"

"Frantz!"

"Where did I leave that child, what should I do, I can't remember?"

"Frantz Liszt!"

The Pole snatched his glass and threw it aside, glaring at him.

If it weren't for the instinct in the other party's bones, he could almost imagine the scene of his neckline and even the tie being held in his hands.

"How could you—how could you leave her alone!"

"Because that child only has eyes for you, my Fried, she mustered up the courage to step into a strange territory she has never touched, just to come here to look for you, and apologize to you face to face."

Liszt sneered and looked at Chopin, he was not Aurora, and he would never retreat under his eyes.

"Admitting that you care about her and love her, is it hard to regret what you did to her, Monsieur François Pisson? Your expression already tells me that you would like to fly to her now. Ah, how many people are there in the salon?" Where's the flamboyant predator? Her rare oriental face, indeed—"

"Shut up, Franz. Where have you lost her!"

Liszt took out a folded piece of paper from his arms, and threw it into Chopin's arms in disgust.

"Here is the answer you were expecting first. If you miss her, Fried, you will never find someone more worthy of your love. Go, she is over there on the balcony—be careful if you don't want to be exposed."

"Someone loves you."

"I love you."

This is the paper that Liszt stole from his desk and Aurora left on it.

Chopin staggered away from the crowd, hoping to get to the place where she was lost soon.There were so many gray areas in Sharon that even though he never cared about those things, the thought of his tits alone made him want to throw Liszt into the Seine ten times.

The voice of the girl Qingyue was over there.

Chopin was suddenly thankful that his hearing was still sharp.

His joy froze at the corner of his mouth, and his mind buzzed into a cacophony.

Aurora smiled at Yanyan, and was talking naturally with someone on the balcony.Along that half of the curtain, Chopin saw the hem of a man's evening dress—a style commonly used by young people.

The young man panicked suddenly.His little bird was an absolute delight, and if she was given the sky, she might not be partial to him as a tree.

He couldn't hear what they were talking about, he just noticed her happy mood.

Don't smile at others, don't talk to strangers.

You're here for me, look over here, I'm right here!

Jealousy gnawed at his heart crazily, he didn't want his sanity anymore, he just wanted to take her away - he was willing to do what she wanted, whether it was marriage, going to church right away, or taking off his vest , as long as she goes with him, he is willing to do anything.

But not.

She was having a pleasant conversation with someone else—after he said such exaggerated words to her during the day, what reason would he have to stand beside her again in a dignified way, to put away those damned eyes that coveted his treasure, all How about covering it?

Liszt was right, if he missed Aurora, he would never find someone more worthy of his love.

How proud——Chopin saw himself clearly now, it turned out that he was so capricious, squandering her feelings so recklessly.The confidence of all his actions is just relying on "Aurora likes Chopin".

He seems to hold the gold medal for avoiding death. As long as he is Chopin for a day, he can rely on this identity, use another identity shamefully to admire her, and get angry at himself hypocritically.

Chopin likes Aurora.

I like it so much that I lose my mind, eating my own jealousy in the two identities infinitely.

The wandering poet leaned against the wall with a sad and painful expression on his face.

"Mr. Poland, are you still hurt by love... Oh, you deserve better love."

The white gloves held Chopin's hand humbly, and the visitor sang an aria in French with his unique taste.

Marquis Justin.

Chopin's pupils trembled slightly, and the physiological discomfort rushed from his toes to his whole body. His scalp was numb, and he almost screamed out.He waved his hands vigorously, and after breaking away from the caress of the gloves, he put his hands behind his back.

Chopin loved white gloves, and as a pianist, he was always too careful to protect his fingers.In addition, white gloves are in line with his elegant aesthetic taste, and such things are never missing in his travel equipment.

He used to lose a pair of gloves every time he attended a salon, because too many fanatical ladies would steal them when he played the piano.Slowly he learned how to be good, and since he learned to keep his gloves on, "Chopin's white gloves" have become another fashion in Paris.

Chopin didn't mind other people wearing white gloves, but the Marquis was an exception.

The white gloves of the Marquis de Gustin only reminded him of something morbid and not beautiful—the Marquis was also a well-known figure in Paris, and he loved beautiful women, masculine beauties.

And he, who did not know when, actually aroused the interest of the Marquis.

"Count, etiquette."

"Hey, I just hope you can treat yourself better and stop being hurt by those fearless... You deserve the best."

Chopin's eyes flickered slightly.

Regarding the spread of rumors about him, this man must not be innocent.

"A humble person like me may not be worth it. Just looking forward to it is already too difficult."

"No, it's not difficult. You have only one decision to make, to be cared for like a child and a sick person. Please come and live in Ems for three months—in my house, on the Rhine![1]"

The Marquis's courteous company bored him.Chopin frowned, bluntly expressing his inner dislike.

He didn't want to cause a commotion and decided to stay away from here for the time being.

"Please allow me to resign."

"Are you so unwilling to respond to me, my pianist?"

Chopin's arms were once again entangled in white gloves, and the Polish man, who was not good at dealing with such occasions, stood up with his hair all over his body.

He began to tremble all over, and the approach of the other party brought him to the verge of emotional collapse.

Snapped--

A crisp blow freed Chopin.He was hugged behind him, and he watched the earl bared his teeth and raised the back of his hand to cry out for pain.

A folded female folding fan, like a knight's sword, warns strangers not to approach.

Because of the figure in front of him, the Polish man's eyes were once again filled with shimmering light, and his heart started beating again.

"Which family are you from, it's none of your business here, get out of the way."

"No, why is it none of my business?"

Chopin's hand was pulled up by Aurora, and his fingers were tightly clasped, inseparable.

"This man, mine."

"Yes, I am hers."

At this moment, there has never been a fanatical pianist willing to bow his head to worship God for the first time.

The author has something to say: 【Note·op.50】

[1] "You have only one decision to make...": This is what the Marquis Gusting once said to Chopin in history.It should be noted that the Marquis was notoriously gay at the time.His behavior was not fabricated by me, nor was it a bloody plot that I deliberately set up, but it was indeed documented, so I made such an arrangement.

Marquis Gusting had known Chopin as early as 1833, and he affectionately called the pianist "Mr. Poland" and wrote many suggestive notes.But unfortunately, like Miss Camille Mork, they all hit a snag with the Pole, who only had pianos in his eyes.