[Comprehensive Classics] Traveled all over Europe to demolish CP

Chapter42 ghosts also need to eat and drink,

"It seems that you exercise this horse a lot, at least it's not like the fat and lazy guy in the stables of the upper class." She swayed her body gently with the horse's pace, and joked casually.

"I ride it every day and run dozens of laps underground, ma'am, the horse needs exercise, and your servant needs to patrol the territory."

... I light a candle to light the way for the poor horse who has to run night and night in the dark.

"The People's Opera House has changed managers, how are you going to continue exploiting them,"

"Oh, ma'am, I only charge a fair and reasonable salary. I wrote to the managers and asked them to pay the remaining annual salary of 23 four francs and 420 centimes. The deadline for payment is the evening of the tenth of this month. .”

"What if they took it as a joke?"

"Then people will die, ma'am, until my salary is in place." Eric took into account the existence of Seryozha, and he changed his answer in English.His tone was very calm, as if Sakyamuni was preaching to the believers.

"Didn't I forbid you to pinch people's necks?!" Katyusha also switched to English graciously.If it wasn't for riding a horse, she would have choked Eric's neck and questioned him.

"I have followed your instructions for a long time, and I no longer use this method-although it is convenient and quick, it needs to be done by myself. I will introduce the prey into the torture chamber, and let them automatically twitch their necks in thirst, heat and hallucinations. Put it in the rope." He explained the principle of the torture chamber to Katyusha in detail.

……peat!

The three of them went down the spiral staircase without stopping until they reached the end of the abyss.

"My head is spinning, mother..." Seryozha covered his eyes weakly.

"Well, my dear, your head is no longer turning."

The night dissipated before their eyes, and a faint blue light enveloped them.

Ahead, a lake became the end of the corridor, and the endless stretch of sleep that was motionless turned into darkness in the distance.A blue light illuminated the shore of the lake, on which a small boat was hung by hoops.

"This is simply a wizard's castle, a labyrinth of the gods!" She handed Seryozha to Eric, rolled over from the horse, and smiled at Eric approvingly, "You have a genius brain, a craftsman's brain!" The hands, the cunning of a beast, the cruelty of a child and the imagination of a madman, and you certainly lived up to your talents."

"... Are you complimenting me, madam?" The ghost trembled from the "craftsman's hands" and almost threw Seryozha into the lake.

"What do you think, Eric?" She gave the ghost a slight look with a half-smile in her mouth.

Then, Eric trembled as if his whole body was electrified.

They stepped onto the small boat with gas lamps on the bow and stern. Eric held the oars and drew silky ripples on the originally calm lake.

Eric's hands were as long and thin as his body, but he rowed powerfully and quickly, with bursts of surprising and sustained force.He didn't look ahead—Eric knew this waterway well enough to complete it with his eyes closed—the eyes under the mask stared at Katyusha motionlessly, with the madness and desire of a hungry wolf watching its prey. , and the hound's humility and loyalty to his master.

The lake was silent, they rowed into the blue halo, and the night fell again.

They passed through the huge stone statues, the weird carvings on the walls, and the iron fence covered with water plants rose slowly. What appeared in front of her was a dreamlike world at midnight...

In front of you is a living room filled with flowers and candles.Golden statues, golden candlesticks, golden firelight, reflected in golden caves and stone walls...

Although Eric was tall, his movements of jumping off the boat were not stiff, but graceful and brisk like a beast.He turned around quickly—the cloak flung out Batman's FEEL handsomely—then held Katyusha's hand tremblingly, polite and attentive like all French gentlemen.

Then, his lipless mouth, hidden behind the opening of the mask, opened, and a soothing, tender serenade flowed from it, filling the brightly lit living room for an instant.

He sang the serenade Marguerite once sang to him, which was used as a farewell 31 years ago.

In the ghost's strong control over the music, he turned this beautiful serenade into a soft, winding and soothing lullaby.

In 1849, Eric’s voice was full of youthful innocence and thinness, but now in 1880, every turn and every breath of him is perfect, like wine that has been cellared for 30 years, and the bitterness has faded. Taste, the wine is more full-bodied, mellow and full of layers...

He backed away slowly, his slender hands in black leather gloves were waving, and his steps were like rumba dance steps...It's amazing that a person with such an imbalanced height and width can walk so gracefully...

Seryozha slowly fell to the ground as if hypnotized.

Eric caught the boy quickly, carried him to the boat, and wrapped him in his coat.

When his angelic chant stopped, the dizzy feeling disappeared from Katyusha's head.

She raised her thin, curved eyebrows, and before she could make a comment, a strong, cold hand in a black leather glove reached out to her, took her by the arm, and led Katyusha into the living room sofa.

The ghost gently held her wrist and made Katyusha sit down comfortably.Then, he knelt down in front of the hostess, raised his head and stared at her.

Eric's underground palace is arranged exquisitely and luxuriously, and his amazing understanding and perception of art permeates every corner in all directions.Tapestries, furniture, candlesticks, vases and flowers, these common furnishings, under his care and arrangement, constitute a part of the dream.

Katyusha felt that if she did not speak, the silent ghost would kneel at her skirts and remain silent until death.

So she picked a topic that could stretch her muscles: "Show me around your palace, Eric."

"Yes, ma'am." This time, Eric stood up significantly slower - he was crying.

He moaned and cried, unable to control the emotions that erupted in his heart, just like the little boy with scars 30 years ago, he threw himself on Katyusha's lap and grabbed her skirt tightly , holding on with a force that tears cloth and grabs at straws.The ghost's head was buried on the mistress's knee, and he was incoherent, inarticulate, and weeping intermittently: "You have been away for 30 years like this! How cruel you are! In the first few years you left, Eric I have been looking forward to it! Until there is no more news about you... Eric decided to find you. He traveled all over the European continent, the British Isles, and even the distant eastern countries... He couldn't even find your shadow So, ma'am... At last, the disheartened Eric returned to Paris. Poor Eric returned to the People's Opera House you often set foot in, and reserved your favorite box No. [-] on the second floor for you. Built a residence to avoid the strange eyes of the world, waiting for you to come back..."

His words were filled with joy, fear, longing and heartbreaking desperation.

The only thing Katyusha can do now is to smooth the hair of this black-haired dog that is rolling all over the floor.

"I'm sorry, Eric, I'm sorry..." She murmured softly, taking off her gloves, and wiped the tears from the edge of his mask with her well-wrapped, soft, smooth hands, "Okay, be a brave child, stand up, and Show me your paradise."

Katyusha's quiet and gentle words soothed the ghost's heart. Eric, who was 45 years old and still called a child, stood up with his head down, and said in a calm voice: "It's already eleven o'clock, madam, if If you're hungry, we can have supper."

"Good idea, it makes me feel very happy to see you again, I must have a big meal tonight, even if I gain a pound." Katyusha stretched her waist, and then she was like 30 years ago In that way, holding Eric's hand, smooth, delicate and warm, through his leather gloves, passing through capillaries and veins, pouring straight into Eric's atrium.

"Please feel free to visit first, madam, I will prepare supper for you. If you need Eric, just call and Eric will come to you immediately."

"How did you do it, Eric?"

There was a hint of pride in Ghost's tone: "The entire People's Opera House is under the control of your servant. Don't forget that your servant is a master builder and an expert in mechanism."

"You are awesome, Eric." She praised without hesitation.

Because of the mask, Katyusha couldn't see Eric's expression, but she was sure his back was straighter.

He kissed her hand, turned a corner and disappeared.

Katyusha smiled knowingly, opened a door casually, and walked in.

God, this is definitely Eric's bedroom! ——Who else would decorate the sleeping place so unconventional and unique?

——The walls are covered with black curtains, and where the white curtains should usually be placed, a giant music stand stands steadily, with music scores on it.In the center of the room, hung a red satin tent, below which was an open coffin.

...Even your bed has personality, Eric.

She appraised the coffin from top to bottom, turned her head, and her eyes fell on a pipe organ, which almost occupied an entire wall.On the piano stand was a sheet of music, covered with notes written in red ink.

Katyusha walked around this gothic eerie and dark bedroom, feeling an urge to "Eric, I want to beat you up".

——This mood is exactly the same as when my mother saw a rebellious child with dyed red hair, wearing a beggar's outfit and hanging a skull necklace!

At this time, Katyusha's eyes fell on the right side of the organ.

Nima woo woo woo woo!In the world of Lang Lang, he actually saw hell in the daytime!

—How could Marguerite Gautier be here!

Katyusha restrained her running away, moved forward slowly, and then heaved a sigh of relief: the "Marguerite Gautier" in front of her was just according to her more than 30 years ago. It's just a statue made of it.

The statue has black hair like jade, big shiny eyes, peach-like skin, rose petal-like cherry lips, slender neck, graceful collarbone and slender figure...every detail, every arc The lines are exactly the same as she looked 31 years ago.

The statue wears a garland of flowers and white gauze, and a beautiful white satin wedding dress wraps around its waist...

"You are the source of my artistic inspiration, ma'am." Eric's cautious and respectful voice sounded outside the door. "Supper is ready."

He put on the most formal tuxedo, and the most fashionable white shirt with ruffled pleats, a gleaming silver chain hanging on the vest, and a white mask, which unexpectedly had a strange warmth and beauty.

"Except for art, there is nothing related to religion in your underground palace." Katyusha answered the question in order to avoid the embarrassment caused by the statue.

There was a strange, self-deprecating bitterness in Eric's voice: "Because of this face, I can't maintain an ounce of respect for God, madam."

"Don't blame the gods for your looks, Eric. Since you don't believe in God, do you have any other beliefs?"

"No, ma'am, I don't believe in any gods, I only believe in myself." Eric replied arrogantly.

"If you don't have faith, why isn't it a kind of faith?" She knocked on the ghost's bed—the coffin, "I'm like you, Eric, I've been to too many different places and seen too many different ways of life , have seen so many so-called faiths—Catholic France, Protestant England, Orthodox Russia—there are countless sects that simply claim to believe in God, let alone believe in other gods. Each sect identifies itself It is authentic, but denounces others’ heresy... And I believe that the gods, in a time and space different from ours, look down on the appearance of people who are mutually exclusive as heretics fighting for life and death, just like we watch children quarreling over a piece of candy. with tolerance, understanding and a sense of humor."

"Then what is your religion, madam?"

"

My belief is - for the believers, the gods are the guides of the heart; for the unbelievers, the gods are nothing more than exquisite works of art, as well as singing and cigarettes in the hall. Katyusha shook her head indifferently, her eyes with thick eyelashes were slightly closed, as if she was trying to avoid something, "Let's have dinner." "

They came to a small round table, and Katyusha whetted her appetite and ate slices of shrimp and a chicken wing drenched in a tonkatsu, which Eric told her was specially made before he came to Falstaff. Bought from the Kennesburg Cellars I frequent.And he himself neither ate nor drank.

After Katyusha chewed for 3 minutes, she suddenly remembered something. She faced Eric with a serious face, and the ghost thought he had made a mistake, and he was so frightened that he almost knelt down.

"You feed me, Eric, and if you refuse, I'll force salad, pastry, meat and vegetables down your throat." Katyusha said aggressively, "You're already skinny enough!"

Eric: "..."

He originally wanted to say that he only needs to rely on red wine for a living.But Katyusha forked a piece of chicken breast recklessly, and stayed on his mouth firmly and irresistibly. The ghost, who had never been able to resist the orders of the hostess, opened its mouth subconsciously, chewed it strangely and clumsily, and then laboriously Swallow the chicken breast down.

"Very good, drink some more wine to moisten your throat, your throat looks as dry as a chimney." Katyusha's domineering mode was completely turned on.

For children who don't eat well, how can there be so much nonsense!

Under the white mask, the ghost's lipless mouth slowly rises—a sad, melancholy, moving and sweet smile.

The author has something to say: Katyusha: Eat well.

Ghost: You feed me. (Tsundere face)

Katyusha (blue veins): To eat or not to eat?

Ghost (panic): Eat, eat, eat...