[La Traviata] The Road to Celebrities in Paris

Lord Vanville looked at her.After not seeing her for several months, the way he looked at her didn't seem to change, as if they were still chatting and laughing yesterday.

He walked towards her step by step, but Margaret could only tighten her lips.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," whispered Baron Vanville.

"Good afternoon, Baron," replied Marguerite.

The baron looked at the camellia in her hand, and then took a comprehensive and detailed look at her. This kind of presumptuous behavior always seemed too natural for him to do.

Margaret sighed softly in her heart, but a smile appeared on her face.

"Congratulations on your engagement to the princess, Baron."

Baron Vanville looked at her and smiled: "I don't think the congratulations from the woman's mouth are serious," he restrained his smile after saying this.

"But you are always very different."

Margaret couldn't answer. From the baron's point of view, there was no conflict between wife and lover. No, from the perspective of this society, wives are used to consolidate their status, while lovers are used to show off to the world. Yes, really, so ridiculous.

But she can't say anything, if a person doesn't even give you the right to speak, even if you are full of complaints and dissatisfaction, it's useless.

"What flowers do you want to buy today?" Margaret asked casually.The man looked at her before speaking for a while.

"White lilies."

Margaret smiled lightly. She walked to the flower area and stroked the delicate stems and leaves of the plants with her fingers.

"Look, how different they are! One raises its head high among the branches and leaves, and the other hides among them."

When Naning came out with Madam Barron, she happened to see the back of Baron Fanville leaving.

The little girl opened her eyes wide, ran over with a small bag of seeds in her hand, and asked worriedly, "Did he do anything to you, madam."

"Nothing."

"He's a bad guy." The little girl bit her lips, and when she said this, her expression was a little sad.But Lady Margaret stroked her hair and whispered, "He's not a bad man."

Nanin did not understand again.

When she saw the baron carrying his sick lady to the doctor, she later told Julie that he was a good man, but Julie said no.

When she saw the baron and the princess betrothed and left the lady alone, she thought he was a bad man, but the lady said he was not.

The adult's world is so complicated, Naning really didn't understand what she should do, so when she went back, she squatted in the yard digging with Eric and asked him.

The boy sprinkled some seeds into the pit and said, "He doesn't love his wife, it's as simple as that."

The little girl looked at each other in surprise: "How do you know?"

"I just know." Eric pouted.

Naning circled her knees curiously, blinked and asked Eric, "Then what do you think love is?"

Eric's face was a little red from the sun, he thought for a while, tried to pick out an easy-to-understand sentence from his cognitive level, and then heaved a sigh of relief and said: "To love someone is to treat her well." , make her happy, don't think about anything except what to eat for dinner."

Naning looked at the boy who habitually wiped the mud on his trouser legs. The latter suddenly remembered something, curled his lips angrily, and then walked quickly to the place where there was water.

The bright sun made the tip of Naning's nose a little red. She buried her head low, like a penguin lost from the Antarctic to the North Pole. redness.

Inside, Margaret is working on a parent-child collection.

She drew several styles, and as before, they were all independent styles, never repeating the same.

When the little girl came in from outside to refill her tea, Margaret didn't care at first.After getting along for so long, Naning has been able to lightly add things to the house without disturbing Margaret, but today she knocked over a glass.

"What's the matter?" Margaret asked, putting down what she was doing.

"It's all right, ma'am, it was Nanin's carelessness." The little girl picked up the cup from the table and wiped it with a clean veil.

The tip of the nose is reddish, and the small freckles scattered on it are not ugly.Naning was serious and careful in her work. Seeing what she said, Margaret didn't care too much because she was still thinking about the design.It wasn't until the evening that Naning dropped the fork again that she felt that something was wrong.

After supper Marguerite called Nanin into the bedroom.

"Is there something on your mind?"

The little girl's face was a little red, and she nodded.

"Can you tell me?"

The little girl shook her head, but bit her lip after a while and nodded again.

"If you don't want to, you can refuse." Margaret told the other party, but Naning just shook her head.

"Then tell me." Margaret stroked the little girl's hair and told her to sit down.

"Ma'am," Naning opened her mouth, "I think I like Eric." She then nodded again, "Yes, I like him."

Margaret was not surprised.

Nanin is a naive and simple girl, she likes many people, she seems to be born with a tolerant and kind heart.

"Then do you think this liking is any different from liking us?" Margaret asked her.

The little girl thought for a while and said: "He is a good man, and I feel happy whenever I see him, and I always want to talk to him."

"anything else?"

"Also..." The little girl frowned, "I can't say, ma'am, do you think this is liking? Or, is this love?"

Margaret was a little surprised to hear the word love from Naning. It didn't mean loving relatives, parents or friends, but the kind between lovers.

But she thought again: Although Naning has not developed much yet, she is still a 13-year-old girl. Maybe this is the so-called precursor of puberty?

Marguerite was thinking about it, and Nanin shook her hand.

"is it?"

"I can't give you a good answer, Nanin." Margaret said honestly, "But I think liking should be an instinct, and love should be a consideration. It's not just as simple as liking. , you have to think about a lot of things."

"Like what? Madame."

"For example, identity, background..." Before Margaret finished speaking, she stopped herself, because Naning's eyes were obviously puzzled, she smiled, and stroked the little girl's hair again.

"For example, if you like to eat strawberry cake, but Eric likes to eat chocolate cake, then if you love him, you have to compromise and accommodate him a little, otherwise this love cannot continue."

The little girl suddenly realized, and not long after, Margaret saw the little girl sitting on the long table in a daze.Margaret went to ask her.

Nanin said distressedly: "I think I still don't love Eric, because I really prefer strawberry cake."

Margaret was stunned for a moment, then laughed, she kissed Naning on the cheek and said, "Then let's talk about it when you want."

The little girl nodded, her troubles were swept away, and she became happy again.

Margaret looked at the back of the little girl, and seemed to have another idea about what happened during the day.

"What a wonderful child!" she thought.

"Like and love are sometimes just a matter of strawberry shortcake and brownie."

Margaret returned to her bedroom. Instead of working, she put the soft chair by the bay window, next to a white round wooden table with fresh camellia in a vase.

The woman's fingers fiddled with the petals, and the night wind blew up the tulle of the curtain.

Margaret looked at the summer sky.

"It's beautiful," she thought.

The vast night sky, the time and space that traveled through a hundred years is her original place, but it is out of reach.

In her mind, she remembered the good news that Uncle Lamadon told her in the evening. For some reason, those people who said that Margaret Gautier was so frustrated because of the engagement of Baron Fanville and the Duchess that they moved suddenly No one talked about it anymore, as if they weren't being discussed in full swing.

This cannot be because it has no argumentative value.There are only two ways to calm the public opinion temporarily, one is to create a bigger public opinion, and the other is to stop it forcibly.

Margaret didn't know what method the man used, but since he could do it, if he didn't do it before, he couldn't be forcing her.

He's always pushing her.

Sometimes loose and sometimes hard.

If he hadn't been engaged, Margaret thought, perhaps she would have surrendered.

But maybe it has always been just maybe. Constantly assuming what happened is what Margaret hated the most in the past, and it is still the same now.

She stood up, and the scarlet nightgown looked flamboyant and enthusiastic, as if the quiet woman before was just a phantom.

The white camellia seemed to shake its petals in the night wind, and seemed to be afraid of something. It was submissive and humble, and never shook.

Gaston Garrel came to visit the next morning.

He was holding a bouquet of white camellias. The branches were fresh and the petals were white. It looked good with the man's black hair.

Margaret liked to appreciate beautiful things, including people, and Gaston Garrel was a funny fellow.He said some half-truths to her, complimented her without flattery, comforted her without sympathy, just like at this moment, the man holding the camellia bent his eyes and said:

"I found that this flower is the best when it is freshest in the morning. If I picked it last night, I'm afraid it would not be so beautiful."

"Should we give the flowers some independent space?" Margaret smiled and took the bouquet.

The young man raised his eyebrows: "Exactly."

Marguerite sat down with Gaston in soft chairs, and Nanin brought tea.

After the young man took a few sips, Margaret spoke.

"I want to ask you to do me a favor."