[Infrastructure] Rose kissed Barcelona

The courtyard of the Fernandez House is brightly lit, and the deep and shallow aromas of red wine, sherry and champagne are overflowing, and the grilled steaks are sizzling and shiny.

The hot barbecue scent dispelled the cool evening breeze, and the whole courtyard was full of excited chatter and laughter.

"We can certainly understand why Carmen was not received well in Paris."

Renoir held the newspaper in one hand and the leg of lamb in the other, and imitated the yin and yang tone of the review article vividly.

“After all, no one there goes to the theater for the music and the stories. They just do it to show their status and good taste.”

"So when the aristocrats in lace gloves, diamond brooches, and gold stopper perfume go together to the opera house after a banquet, looking for a tasteful diversion, they find that the story being played The story of a love triangle between a cigarette worker, a depraved soldier and a rough bullfighter ended in death, and I felt that my pure and noble eyes had been desecrated."

"Ah, that's mean - but that's what it is!" Pissarro slapped the table and laughed, and several other Impressionists nodded sympathetically.

"Toast to you, dear friend!" Pissarro was going to clink glasses with Bizet with a cup.

Bizet laughed shyly, and was about to clink glasses with him when Renoir inserted a glass over: "Great musician! I want to clink glasses with you too!"

Renoir, with his thin and long face, was the most active of the Impressionist painters, talking almost all the time, making one suspect that he would not keep his mouth shut when he was painting.

After clinking glasses, he continued to pick up the newspaper and read aloud.

"But whatever they think, it doesn't change the fact that it's an outstanding, even great, work."

The excited crowd applauded Bizai, and the composer's face soon turned as red as a lobster in a steam pot.

"Of course, it is especially dear to us Spaniards. We have no trouble recognizing the familiar folk tunes that the composer runs through the play. Whether it's the arias of the gypsies or the dances of Aragon, it has to be said that although It's French, but he really captured the essence of Spanish music - that 'shade in the sun' feeling!"

"Quick answer!" Vincent stood up suddenly, shaking the bottle and shouted, "Excuse me, what does 'Shadow in the Sun' feel like?"

"Why are you a Dutchman?" Olanpu wanted to push him back to his seat.

"What happened to the Dutchman?" Vincent glared at her arrogantly.

"Don't pay attention to him, this idiot drank too much." Morisot smiled and held Olanpu back.

Although one of them has big round eyes and the other has slender cat eyes, they hit it off right away, especially on one point, they quickly developed a tacit understanding-this is not a group of artists, but a group of childish lunatics.

"I guess, there is both sunlight and shadow?" Monet laughed.

"Brother, you are such a genius!" Renoir slapped the table with a smile, "We should award you a trophy of the master of the nonsense academy."

"It's so disappointing," Vincent shook his head, "Music and painting are all under the light of the goddess of art, but we can't understand the beauty of music! Forget it, let the musician who is being commented do it himself." Answer—"

Vincent leaned in front of Bizet: "Interview, great musician! What do you mean by 'Shadow in the Sun'? This is the Spanish praise for you!"

"Ah?" The honest Bizei blinked in confusion, "I...I don't know."

Everyone burst into earth-shattering laughter.

"Look!" Even Olanpu covered his stomach with laughter, "Imagine later music school students being asked to appreciate this great opera - how to understand that it depicts a kind of 'shade in the sun' , How could they know, even the original author can't answer!"

Bizet cast his eyes on Sarasate for help: "Brother, you can definitely help me—"

Sarasate shook his head sadly while laughing: "You have disappointed me so much, George! Well, as a Spaniard, I will tell you with difficulty, this is obviously the literal meaning-in the enthusiasm, but also implied with pathos and sadness in stark contrast."

"As long as you have listened to my "Song of the Wanderer" well." He cast a teasing look at his friend with a flushed face.

"As expected of Sarasate." Everyone laughed and cheered, and Renoir waved his hand again, "Do you think so, Your Royal Highness?"

"Huh?" Joey was caught off guard by the question and nodded repeatedly: "That's right."

Just kidding, can she give a more authoritative interpretation of music than Sarasate?

Everyone chatted and laughed again, when a small plate was suddenly placed in front of Joey.

It contained a small piece of tapas bread stacked with ham and cheese slices.

"Don't just drink, you will feel uncomfortable in the middle of the night." A cold voice came from the side.

Joey turned his head and smiled at Antonio, "I didn't just drink."

Then she blew on him, grinning.

"I'm still watching you."

Antonio shook his hand and almost dipped his fork into the plate.

"Dig deep into the past of the author of "Carmen"—" Renoir read aloud again in cadence, "this genius composer has been a musical prodigy since he was a child, and he is called the 'living Mozart'..."

"Okay, okay, stop reading." Bicai hurriedly reached out to grab the newspaper, his neck was so red that it was bleeding.

He was immediately held down by many hands: "Stop! Sit down and let us hear your story!"

Bizet had never seen such a battle before, so he could only shrink his neck against his hot and red head.

"...This child prodigy entered the Paris Conservatory of Music before he was ten years old, and many music masters are vying to teach him—"

"Wow——" Everyone immediately cast envious eyes, "George, look at you, you have been recognized by the mainstream from the very beginning! It's not like us, we are all called rubbish by the authoritative academics."

"At the age of 23, he played as a guest at the home of Franz Liszt, and was highly praised by the virtuoso pianist."

“He said he thought there were only two people who could handle that level of difficulty, but now there’s a third one—and the youngest one is probably the most fearless and the brightest!”*

"To George Bizet!" Joey raised his glass first.

"To Georges Bizet! To Carmen!" The crowd laughed and toasted.

Bizet finished his glass of wine, and Sarasate poured him another glass with a smile: "George, how about our Spanish sherry? Shakespeare compared it to 'Spanish sunshine in a bottle'. "

"It's very appropriate! It's Shakespeare." Vincent said first.

"I'm actually not very good at wine tasting." Bizet said honestly.

He raised his glass and looked at the pale golden wine with a honey color against the light, "But it's sweet, and it tastes good. It's a waste to just give it to me. Uh... this reminds me of the previous "Carmen" The evaluation received."

He recalled with lingering fear: "You don't know, the Paris newspapers said that my opera is 'red wine and onions'-incomprehensible, but disgusting."

Sarasate picked up the wine glass and protested with a smile: "Obviously there are still many people who praised it, for example, Saint-Saëns said that this work will definitely be popular in the future, and I think so too—it's just that you pretend that we don't exist. , only focus on the blind critics."

Bizet blinked, and suddenly hesitated: "Speaking of which, I actually received a letter from Tchaikovsky a month ago, saying..."

"Wow—" everyone exclaimed, "What did you say?"

Tchaikovsky!The famous composer who graduated from the St. Petersburg Conservatory.

He scratched his head and smiled a little shyly, "He said he watched "Carmen" and he believed that this opera would conquer the world."

"God, I was blinded by the ostentatious light." Pissarro pretended to cover his eyes and laughed, and the crowd gave Bicai a toast noisily.

Just then, a voice rang out: "Mr. Bizet, there is a letter for you from Switzerland! It was written by a Prussian—"

"Prussians?" All the French present changed their faces.

The Franco-Prussian War has only passed a few years, and they have national hatred and family hatred with the Prussians.

Bizet was taken aback, and hurriedly waved his hands: "Wait, everyone, I really don't know what's going on."

"How can there be a Prussian writing to me..." He took the letter wonderingly and opened it.

"who is it?"

A bunch of heads squeezed through.

"Ah, it's a professor at the University of Basel in Switzerland."

"Still in literature, eh. Friedrich Nietzsche?"

"See what rhetoric he can come up with!"

Everyone was talking about it.

"Wait, Nietzsche?" Joey froze.

Germans, who study literature, Nietzsche... only the Nietzsche she thought of, right?

"Dear Mr. Bizet, your "Carmen" is a masterpiece that I have never seen before, and I think I can't help but appreciate this work again and again. I would like to call you the sun of Mediterranean art!"*

"Tsk, the sun of Mediterranean art!"

Pissarro had a weird expression, as if he didn't know whether to be angry or to laugh: "I have to say, this metaphor is very vivid... But does he, a Prussian, think that he is the center of the universe? Can he draw this conclusion on behalf of the Mediterranean Sea? ?"

Renoir shook his head, and said mysteriously: "Cough, George, listen to me, during the years of war with Prussia, I was mistakenly arrested as a spy... Be careful, you may be targeted!"

Bizet was startled, and folded the paper anxiously: "Forget it, I'd better burn this letter..."

It is indeed more sensitive to keep a Prussian thing.

"Wait!" Joey turned pale in shock, "Well, Mr. Bizet, why don't you keep it first... After all, you just received the letter and didn't do anything, right? If you really don't worry, I'll It’s okay to help you collect it.”

That's a letter from Nietzsche!Burned so distressed her to death.

Morisot clapped his hands: "Okay, you people, don't scare our music prodigy friend. He doesn't live as rough as you, so don't be scared."

Olanpu also raised his glass with a smile: "Don't worry, George, there are never too many words of praise."

The barbecue party that night was a success, and everyone quickly got drunk with Bizei, who honestly drank every glass of wine that others touched, and was so drunk that he lay on the sidelines and snored.

Gradually, fewer and fewer people were able to chat soberly.

In the end, even Pissarro put the wine bottle on his shoulder, gestured with a fork in his right hand, and began to learn how to play the violin from Sarasate.

Monet finally let out a long sigh.

"Ah, I wish we could hit it off like George did."

He rubbed his hands nervously.

Because of this nervousness, he has actually been unable to drink to his heart's content.

Tonight is the composer's triumphal feast, but tomorrow it will be their battle - on Saint George's Day, the Impressionist exhibition will be held in the Plaza de Aragon.

"Don't worry!" Joey replied with a smile.

Renoir seemed to be still in good spirits, chattering more than when he was not drinking: "Oh, I really want to be famous too! Your Highness, do you know? During the most difficult days before you sponsored us, Ke and I Lauder can't afford anything and lives on two foods a day. Guess what?"

Claude is Monet's name.

"What is it?" Joey asked very cooperatively.

"Green beans and lentils! Hahahaha!"

"Hahahaha!" Joey couldn't stop laughing.

Monet silently glanced at Antonio.

Fortunately, it seems that he is not the only one thinking, what's so funny about this?

"That's what we eat every day—our faces turn green!" Renoir danced.

"Oh." Monet couldn't help rubbing the center of his brows.

"Fortunately, Claude still has a few decent clothes, so we often go to other people's dinners - every time we go to rich people's banquets, we crazily gnaw on the turkey that is sizzling, and we can't wait to have a drink The Graves red wine in the whole cellar is like a locust, and after drinking and eating, they still have to plan how to drink the next meal."

Renoir hiccupped and hugged his head suddenly in distress.

"Oh, everyone was struggling at first, but now that George is out of the sea of ​​suffering, I should be happy for him, but why do I feel more anxious..."

"It's so normal!" Joey waved his hand indifferently, "Your friend failed the exam, you will be very sad-but your friend got No.1 in the exam, you will be even more sad!"

Renoir's eyes widened: "You are so right, Your Royal Highness! Did you ever have such a friend?"

Joey blinked, suddenly looked at Antonio, raised his finger and pointed: "You—"

She muttered angrily: "Why do you design such a beautiful building...it can't be imitated at all, it's very disappointing..."

Antonio stared at her carefully for several seconds.

Then, he smiled slightly at Renoir: "She's drunk."

Naturally, he grabbed Joy's hand pointing at him, hugged her straight across, and left after saying "excuse me".

You can only vaguely see Joey grumbling and complaining, while reaching out to wrap his arms around his neck, and gesticulating in the air with the other hand.

Renoir was stunned for a long time, then turned his head angrily and complained to Monet: "Look, the industrial revolution has eroded our society, and today's young people are so unmannered!"

But Monet ignored him at all.

He held his chin and looked at the two people's backs with a smile, and murmured: "It's so good, two young people. I miss my dear Camille."

Renoir: "..."

God, he wants sweet love too!

The author has something to say: God: Dear Renoir, there will be - in 15 years' time, when you are almost 50 years old.

*Quoted from Liszt and Nietzsche's real evaluation of Bicai.

Thank you for being really sick (Bao, you really don’t plan to change your name hahahaha), Jiuxian, x_xjin, 34432507’s nutrient solution~