[La Traviata] The Road to Celebrities in Paris

"What are you doing?" the Prince Beaumont asked in a low voice. There was no emotion in his voice, but Marguerite could clearly feel that Gaston was holding her hand tightly.

"Prince Beaumont." Gaston called out in a low voice, and at the same time let go of the hand that had been holding Marguerite just now.

The man's eyes looked up and down Gaston's clothes, and then he looked at Margaret, and his voice was flat.

"Did you not know that men's clothes are always made by private tailors?"

He didn't wait for Margaret to say anything, and said again: "Or, someone really needs to stop this farce?"

He never mentioned Margaret's name during this, as if her name was not worth mentioning.

The prince defined everything as a farce, so understated, and so contemptuous of others.

There was fire in Margaret's eyes, and she said in a suppressed voice: "This is not a farce, you can see the clothes I made."

"But so what?" Prince Beaumont looked up at Margaret with mockery in his eyes.He stepped forward, flipped Gaston's suit jacket with his white-gloved fingers, and glanced at it.

"Or, your status is worthy of them?"

That white camellia was so conspicuous in the sun, delicate and small, but at this moment, it became something used to insult her.

Margaret struggled to control her emotions.

"A tailor and the clothes she makes, I think, have no identity other than that," she declared in public.

Although many people in Paris understood that Marguerite Gautier might not be a courtesan again, people would never fully believe these things until they said it from their own mouths.

Margaret knew what it meant to speak, which meant that she could not retreat, and that her determination was about to be revealed to people at this moment.

She was up against the world, Margaret knew, and for the first time since that layer of cover, without those indecisions, she felt at ease.

Prince Beaumont withdrew his hand, looked at Margaret, and said slowly:

"How did you gain a firm foothold in Paris, but now you are talking about your identity?"

His volume is not loud, but since he came over, almost everyone has been staring with bated breath, so this call is like a slap in the face of Margaret, hot and without self-respect .

Prince Beaumont didn't care about Marguerite, he looked at Gaston, and said in an indifferent voice: "Remember your identity, those who make clothes for the nobles in Paris will not be reduced to this," he said Slowly spit out the next few words.

"Humble status."

These words seem to have unstoppable power, like the frost shaking off in June, sharp and cold, every word is deeply pierced in Margaret's heart, her self-esteem, her Pride, everything about her, was so easily destroyed and trampled upon.

After Prince Beaumont finished speaking, he turned around and walked towards his carriage. He walked at a leisurely pace, maintaining a tone that a nobleman should have. His tone was never high, but almost everyone present knew it.

People thought: the Prince Regent had spoken, and Marguerite Gautier was going to die.

A small number of people felt pity for Margaret, while more people happily jumped to the other side in their hearts, secretly mocking Margaret's overthinking.Among them, Marshall was the happiest.

"I sincerely advise you to leave." The little man said hypocritically, Gaston showed a cold face for the first time, and he said bluntly: "I can't even hear what they say about reptiles and the like , for they lie prostrate on the ground all day long."

"You..." Marshall looked at Gaston angrily, but he didn't dare to say anything, he could only hold back his breath, gave them a hard look, and then strode away.

The crowd gradually dispersed, and the prosperity just now turned into depression in an instant.

Margaret stood with her lips pursed, Eric and Nanin stood aside, the boy's palm was pinched with red marks, just now, he had been stopping himself, because he knew what that Prince Beaumont meant , if he makes any moves, it means that those will be slapped in the face of Mrs. Margaret as a shame.

Gaston looked at Marguerite, he wanted to say something, but the latter had already spoken first.

"Clean up first."

After Margaret finished speaking, she was about to turn around and leave. She had to pay the rest of the remuneration to the models. Also, these tables had to be dismantled. She still had a lot of things to do, and everything was better than the current one Mood matters.

"and many more……"

Margaret looked up, and Gaston took her hand, which then relaxed.

Margaret lowered her eyes, struggled with her wrist, and said in a low voice, "I have to get things done." Then, she withdrew her hand, straightened her back and walked forward.

The wind blew, the hair on the woman's cheeks fluttered, and the fragrant orange skirt looked more light and shiny in the sun, but at this moment, everyone's heart was heavy.

They packed everything up and sent the models away.Uncle Ramadon drove over in a carriage, and Marguerite was stopped by Gaston.

"I can't see you for a while."

"I know." Margaret nodded, she was about to get on the carriage again, but the young man held her hand again, showing a wry smile.

"No, I think I'd better explain clearly, so as not to cause any misunderstanding."

Gaston took a deep breath: "I don't care what others say, I only believe in my own judgment, but please forgive me, there are always things that I can't do by myself, please believe me, now I am far away from you for the time being Yes, is the best way, and I will always explain it to you afterwards."

Margaret looked up at the other party, then nodded slowly and even stiffly.

Gaston didn't say anything anymore, he let go of Margaret's hand, and then walked quickly to his carriage, his brows were wrinkled, and he was no longer in that light and meaningless look.

"Ma'am." Uncle Ramadon called out, Margaret looked away, and then got into the carriage.

The sound of the carriage turns around, and behind you is the usual appearance of the streets of Paris. In this brief moment, it regains its comfort, as if nothing has changed before, and the efforts people have made for it, and their It's not worth mentioning.

"Madame..." cried Nanin with red eyes, and Marguerite kissed her hair, but she could no longer say don't worry.

Julie, already soaking a handkerchief with tears and snot, cursed vaguely at some people, including, of course, the steaming hot Prince Beaumont fresh from the oven.

Eric didn't speak, he just looked at Margaret until she patted his arm.

Margaret returned home, she told Julie, please leave her alone, then she shut herself in the room.

Nanin brought her food, and Marguerite took it, but she did not eat much.

She forced herself to eat a few mouthfuls just for this body, hoping it wouldn't collapse so early.

Margaret sat on a soft chair near the balcony. She didn't do anything for the first time, she just let go of her thoughts, as if in a daze, or more like a daze.

The scariest thing in the world is not not getting what you want, but losing what you already have.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but only knew that when the grandfather clock rang, she suddenly realized that the sky was completely dark, and there were no stars outside the window. Even if she couldn't see anything, she could still feel surprised.

Margaret took a deep breath of the air and smelled something fishy. Maybe it was going to rain, and the dust was rolled up by the water vapor.

10 minutes later, the rain poured down.

Margaret moved her body. She walked to the desk and put away the drawings. She put them away very slowly. Her eyes flicked over those lines. She remembered every stroke and every stroke, and her mood at that time And never forget.

She worked so hard and endured for so long, but in the end, everything was wiped out just because of one person's words?

Her fingers trembled, her lips trembled, and she turned sharply.

The pattering rain was beating on the window, Margaret simply opened the balcony door, she took three steps back, some splashed water droplets occasionally rushed towards her face, her chest heaved violently.

"Why?" asked Margaret, whether she was asking herself or someone else.

Margaret stood there like a statue.

Just when Margaret fell into her own emotions, she didn't notice that the briar vines on the balcony moved, and then a thunderclap sounded, and when the lightning illuminated the sky, a pair of eyes that had been soaked white by the rain After reaching the edge of the balcony, a somewhat embarrassed young man appeared.

Margaret's eyes widened.

From Gaston's point of view, the black-haired woman clenched her teeth tightly, clenched her hands into fists, and her pale face clearly looked like a female ghost.

He exhaled, mixed with some rainwater, turned over with some strength, and then collapsed on the balcony in embarrassment, holding a clump of briar vines in his hand, leaning on the ground with one hand, and said with a trembling smile: "Not yet crying, I have to say, which surprised me a bit."

Margaret continued to stare at each other, the black-haired young man grinned, then wiped the rain from his face, and said: "Come here, help me, although it's a bit embarrassing, but I still have to say, I'm alone now People may not be able to stand up."