The days of eating soft rice in London

At the beginning of the trial, the poor women will deny these false charges in profane language.

But all the council officials in London know that they must use the law to curb the forces of evil.

The judge investigated these trivial matters one by one, and showed no mercy to the women who were hanged there.

Under torture, my aunt refused to admit those nonsense crimes. In order to save her own life, Mrs. Morris not only admitted that she was a witch, but also made up a non-existent devil and other white believers. s story.

Other women also took the opportunity to testify against the wicked neighbors in the residential area who were using witchcraft to harm people.

The poor poor district is not what it looks like now.

Everyone is thinking of revenge, all enemies are in prison or hanged on the gallows, and all grievances are being repaid repeatedly.

Rumors abounded throughout London, people were panicked, and everyone was in fear.Every night there are women praying to God at home, and the Inquisition has also encountered unprecedented challenges. The screams of women can be heard almost everywhere in the prison.

Once anyone hooks up with the devil, it is difficult to get rid of the stain.Selfishness and despicableness, the truth of human nature are all exposed at this moment.

These psychic traces are based on an innocent man's fear of the devil, not on cholera itself.

On that cold early spring day, on the embankment not far from the residential area, the aunt accused of being a witch was to be burned at the stake.

People long chained to the horrors of cholera, overjoyed that the demon had been subdued, walked out of their homes for the first time in January.

Under the embankment and across the river, there were crowds of London citizens who came to watch. The poor aunt had her hands nailed to the cross, and her body was covered with glistening grease.

The bishop, wearing a golden crown and cassock, shouted from the dais to the crowd below: "O wicked devil, you have repeatedly committed dangerous crimes and shameful excesses, and now we have found your black sheep. !"

"This witch has endangered her own soul, blasphemed the holy God, and was instigated by the devil to spread disease! She made us plagued by cholera, was shackled by disease, and even prevented the spring of London from coming! The Holy See is the power of God Helper, we did our best to find this witch, and we have the responsibility to punish her!"

"Burn her to death!"

"Burn her to death!"

The crowd of onlookers began to burst into bursts of cheers, and then one after another became uniform, like thousands of ugly fish in the fish season, shouting loudly with their mouths open, looking for food.

My aunt's head drooped in front of the cross because she couldn't straighten her neck anymore. "You're all crazy... you're all crazy..."

Seeing the blood splattered under the hanging, the citizens broke out into a loud noise again, as if they had won a battle.

People watched the aunt's whole body burst into flames, shining like a big torch, and felt that it was extremely spectacular.

Her tortured body and the silence of death can give them a deformed sensory stimulation. Under the platform where the torture was carried out, or beside the bridge that threw the river, there are many small stalls lined up, and many lovers gather, it seems that they are in the past. festival.

People's heads are moving around on the embankment, with happy smiles on their faces. Even children follow the cart loaded with corpses and head to the crematorium outside the city together with adults.

And Mrs. Morris was still locked in a damp and dark cell, she didn't know anything about the outside world, and she also enjoyed the taste of spending the night with the mice for a few days.

The court investigated her, so that Mrs. Morris had stabbed a young manservant to death with a fruit knife, which was also exposed by the previous housekeeper.

She has evidence of murder!

In the eyes of judges, she is more hateful than ordinary witches.

The former noble lady is about to be placed in a human-shaped mold called "Iron Maiden". Inside the mold are sharp needles, neither long nor short, piercing into the skin and flesh.

Only if the executioner shows a little sympathy and plunges his spear into the hole will the person inside die.

And the hole was impartial, facing Mrs. Morris' abdominal cavity.

Soon, she was taken out of the cell.

As soon as the iron maiden closed the lid, all the sharp iron thorns inside pierced into Mrs. Morris' flesh and blood, and she immediately let out a huge distorted scream.

The clergy also claimed to hang her body on the city wall. You know, in the past, only those who committed treason would be humiliated in this way.

January nineteenth.

Mrs. Morris, who was covered in holes and bleeding profusely, was locked in an iron cage and hung on the city wall of London.

***

Lewis leaves.

This is what Simon told him with the front page of the London Illustrated.

The blond-haired young man raised his head from the pitifully small amount of luggage, his hands froze immediately.

That considerate and gentle gentleman has gone back to Sheffield...

Their life trajectories have finally announced the end of the intersection, and they all have to walk in the direction they were originally heading.It's just that those eyes full of sadness still appear in his mind from time to time, and the gentleman's breath seems to be brushing across his face when he speaks...

everything is over.

Let's hope Sheffield doesn't have rampant cholera.

"Ah."

Oscar's lips parted and closed slightly for a long time, only uttering a short syllable.

"What on earth are you thinking? Oscar?" Simon can always see this melancholy expression from time to time these days.

He snatched the coat that Oscar was packing, "You need to talk to someone, it's nothing to be ashamed of, is there?"

Oscar didn't answer, he stared at his empty palm in a daze.

"You like him." Simon glanced at his good friend and made a direct conclusion.

Oscar suddenly raised his head to look into Simon's eyes, and subconsciously wanted to deny it.

"No, it shouldn't be like this."

"Look," Simon raised his eyebrows, "how about going to him now?"

Oscar still shook his head when he remembered the days when he was under house arrest in a disguised form. "You know, Simon, I can't."

"Okay," my good friend sighed, "it's the same old saying."

He put the coat back in Oscar's hand, turned and left, "The only thing that can forget the pain is the new love, except for time."

Uncle Burton has been a different man lately.

He has given up drinking.

We all know that.

All the living people in the residential area saw him holding his wife's charred corpse.

Old Burton now gets up early every day to go to work, and goes home silently without saying a word.

When he came home from get off work, he bumped into Oscar who was carrying a suitcase.

"uncle?"

Burton looked at the suitcase in his hand with yellow eyes, and the young man replied shyly:

"I want to go back to Ireland and have a look. It's safer there."

"Uncle, here is some money I earned from painting. You can deal with this winter first. The coal for the stove is not enough. I bought a new stone and put it in the warehouse."

"I also have a salary." The uncle pushed away the few pounds he handed over, "You keep it yourself, be careful on the road, the whole of England is about to be driven crazy by cholera."

Oscar talked to him again, then left with his luggage.

The whole street is covered with muddy pools of stagnant water, the streets are getting more and more dirty, the hair of women who love beauty is tied up, men have no time to take care of work and business, and just hide in the house all day long, like cattle and sheep in groups die.

As Oscar was traveling in the dark, he would occasionally pass by a Christian in the cold wind.These people were bare-chested, walked through the dirty water on the ground, and beat their backs with whips to atone for their sins.

He stopped and stopped all the way, and finally came to several towns with low incidence rates.Over the past ten days or so, he has almost run out of money, so he can only earn travel expenses while painting in this lively village.

Until this town, too, becomes lifeless...

He was also nearly infected by the kid who asked to paint a house.

Fortunately, he was taken away by Winston, who was going to Newcastle in a carriage.

Don't forget that Winston was also a painter. As long as he talked about painting, he always had such relish, and he couldn't help gesturing to Oscar.

But what fool would paint a portrait during a cholera?

He is the only rich guy.

Oscar and him came to Newcastle, and Winston claimed that he admired the young man's work, and promised to sell it and share it with him, so that he could save enough travel expenses to go home.

He stayed here for just half a month, using those incredible brand-name dyes and expensive drawing paper that only belonged to the window.

Oscar was arranged to live in a simple small house. In the pursuit of the feeling of light, Oscar used bright and transparent colors to make the most perfect combination of classical tradition and impressionist painting.

Whether it is a plump goddess, an innocent child, or a mottled old man, under his brush, they are all full of warm, vivid, intoxicating and dreamlike charm.

The landscape paintings are also hazy and poetic. Whether it is the fresh and soft sunshine in the morning or the golden lake water in the evening, the towering Irish mountains are all people yearn for.

The strokes of the oil painting bloom slowly on the paper and solidify in the field of vision. Bright colors are intertwined in the eyes and split in the psychedelic fingers. So many turbulent thoughts and inspirations have all turned into legends on the paper.

The scenes that once appeared in memory are gorgeous colors, wandering in the heart.

slowly.

It has begun to take shape, and the figure of who is still lingering in front of my eyes, finally freezes.

The expensive paintbrush suddenly fell on the carpet, and the white plush was stained with jet-black dye.

Oscar stared at the easel in a daze.

In winter, the elm tree was so depressed that there was only one leaf left. The man standing in front of the villa stood there, chuckled against the light, and immediately walked towards him with big strides.

The author has something to say: it has been changed.

The religious trials in these chapters have a feeling of returning to the Middle Ages. It would be more appropriate if they were placed in the first 200 years.

Ask for collection, roll around.