[La Traviata] The Road to Celebrities in Paris

A man was sitting on the chair in the study, wearing a navy blue court uniform with gold trim, holding a law code with a golden lettering cover in his hand, just like a judge.

Gaston didn't make a sound, just stood not far from the desk, he knew the man's preferences, and being calm didn't mean nothing happened.

After about twenty or ten minutes, the man finally put down the law code in his hand, and looked up at him. There seemed to be a dark space hidden in his black eyes.His eyebrows are so deep, and his slightly thin lips usually maintain a relaxed arc, which makes him look less strict, but at this moment, his expression is light, showing a strange majesty.It's like, you know this is a gentle person, but you dare not act rashly.

Prince Beaumont's gaze swept across Gaston's body, as if examining with a scope.

"I thought you were smart enough." He said, there was no joy or anger in his voice, which made him even more at a loss.

Gaston pretended to be relaxed, and he smiled: "You don't control me very much on weekdays, even if I become a playboy known to all Paris, you won't frown." He alluded to this incident and It wasn't the same before.

Prince Beaumont looked at the young man in front of him. He raised his hand to caress his little finger. It was a lady's ring with bright green gemstones inlaid on it, small and delicate.

Gaston's eyes couldn't help but fall on the ring, and he lowered his eyes, as if, all of a sudden, all his emotions were forcibly suppressed.

"Where have you been?" asked the older man, a knowing question, and an obvious temptation.

Gaston raised his head without concealing it, and the corners of his mouth curled up.

"Marguerite Gautier's."

The man frowned, as if hearing this name felt harsh.

"You didn't listen to me."

"I apologize." Gaston said bluntly, his eyes looked out of the window, as if in a carriage, a little far away.

"But it's raining, and I can't help myself." He whispered, as if explaining, or as if, expounding a fact.

"That woman reminds you of her, doesn't she?"

No response was heard.The man stopped stroking the tail ring, his eyes fell on the ring, and then he said lightly: "You know what to do."

Gaston's body shivered, he was silent for a while, and then he took off his shirt quickly.

The young man's body was as white as plaster, with a few harmless freckles scattered on his shoulders, and his curly black hair was half-dried now, hanging over his shoulders, covering his earlobe and a small mole on his cheek.

The knocking of leather shoes deliberately sounded along the edge of the carpet, and the young man gave a muffled grunt after a while, and then fell silent.

The welts gradually appeared bloody marks on the skin, bloodshot, sharp and clear across the back.

When he was sure that the smooth back could no longer bear the whip, the older man stopped, he walked around in front of the young man, raised his chin, and asked, "Will you leave me?"

The young man's eyes were already a little dazed because of the pain, and he said in a daze, "No."

The man showed a faint smile and said, "Good boy."

Prince Beaumont held Gaston in his arms, as if he were holding a child, or a petite woman. Although Gaston was a grown man, his strong arms carried him effortlessly.

He touched Gaston's back to make sure there would be no scars, and left his room.

The bedroom door was closed.

Ten minutes later, in the darkness, the young man opened his eyes.

His eyes were clear, and his body was a little stiff from lying on his stomach. He raised the pillow a little higher, covering the lower half of his face, revealing only a pair of black eyes.

It rained for three days and three nights in Paris, until the sky cleared, and no one came to Marguerite again. The ladies who had placed orders with Marguerite all canceled their orders. People are willing to come to her to make clothes.

At noon, there was a guest in the hut, oh, once.

Margaret quietly looked at some clothes on the coffee table, and a petite but bumpy woman with blond hair in front of her blinked and said, "Dear Margaret, you know how much I like the clothes you made. Clothes, they make me look good."

Margaret waited for the other party's next sentence.

"But," Olanpu showed a very apologetic expression, "you also know that I am Baron Cassel's mistress now."

When she said the latter sentence, she was always a little complacent, as if adding the word "mistress" to a rich and powerful owner could make her noble.

"Baron Cassel needs to rely on that prince, and I can't make it difficult for him." Olanpu said, and then pouted again, as if she was Margaret's good friend, complaining dissatisfiedly about those who treated her Bad people are the same.

"Oh, I don't understand what men are thinking. Their eyes can always complicate things. Such a beautiful dress they have to have something to do with politics. It's too bad, man..." She After finishing speaking, she let out a coquettish voice again, as if she was complaining, but also as if she was trying to explain that she did not do it out of her own will.

Margaret is not stupid, and Olanpu is not a very superb person in essence even though he has a delicate mind.

Everyone knows how to seek advantages and avoid disadvantages, not to mention courtesans who look at people's eyes and do things.

Margaret didn't expect to get any sincere gratitude from this woman Olanpu. Now, the immediate benefits are not enough for Olanpu to maintain the role of a bystander, and neither side can offend, so she can't be blamed So cleared up his behavior.

"Of course, it's nothing." Margaret said lightly, and Olanpu rolled her eyes. When she left, she was still trying to let Margaret understand that she was forced, and it seemed that she was preparing to give herself Leaving a way out, she also pretended to tell Margaret that she would always be her listener.

After Olanpu's carriage left, Julie, who had been in the small room, couldn't help but rushed out, took a strange looking potato and smashed it at Olanpu's carriage.

The carriage bumped violently, and Olanpu's scream came from inside the carriage.

"Don't do it again! You ungrateful bastard!" Julie yelled fiercely, and then she turned around quickly and gave Margaret a hug.

"My poor lady..." Julie sobbed, and Margaret raised her arms to hug Julie back.

"Things will be fine, Julie." Margaret reassured the woman who could be her mother.

After Julie had calmed down, Marguerite called Nanin over.

"What's the matter, ma'am?"

"Let's take our clothes into the yard, Nanin, I don't want them anymore," said Marguerite.

"But ma'am, you have worked so hard to sew these!" Nanin asked incomprehensibly, her heart seemed to be broken, as if some little rabbit had snatched her strawberry cake.

"These are not designs, not clothes, but 'failures'." Margaret whispered, then hugged a few clothes in her arms and walked to the yard.

Naning didn't understand what Madam meant, her eye circles were a little red, she gritted her teeth, picked up the remaining pieces and followed Madam's footsteps to the yard.

Margaret found an open field and piled the clothes together, and it was very wet after several days of heavy rain, so she asked Eric to bring some oil, and poured it on top of the clothes, and then, the torch was thrown went in.

The raging fire was burning, and there was an unpleasant smell in the air.

Those bright and complicated silks and satins became ugly at the moment of burning, and the woolen fabric curled together, as if struggling.

Marguerite looked at everything in front of her, she was so calm, and Nanin was already sobbing softly.

Eric took a step forward, he lowered his head, then grabbed the white hand and held it tightly.

Margaret blinked, and her eyes fell on Eric. The boy didn't look at her, but stared straight ahead.

Margaret shook that hand back tightly, as if they had found the strength to support each other.

In the evening, in the kitchen, Naning asked Julie while washing the dishes: "Is the regent really that powerful?"

Julie paused while washing the dishes, and frowned: "I don't know about other regents, but this one..." She didn't continue, but sighed fiercely.

"Then what should Madam do?" Naning lowered her eyes and muttered to herself.

"What can I do, woman, you should accept your fate." Julie sighed again thinking of Mrs. Margaret burning clothes in the yard at noon today, and no one spoke for a while.

Until Eric came in, he was holding repair tools, and Naning told him in the morning that the bowl shelf was a little loose.

"Is this it?" Eric asked, Nanin nodded, and Julie wiped the dishes and went out first.

Eric took the tool and began to tap and fiddle with it, with Nanin as an assistant.

"Eric."

"kindness?"

"Do you know this Prince Beaumont?" Naning was not in Paris before, she came from a small county last year. The small county doesn't care who the emperor is, let alone the regent. All they care about is the bread in their mouths. .

When the boy heard the name of the regent, his movements paused, and then he continued to do what he was doing.

"He is the eighth brother of the former emperor, and he assisted the current emperor." Eric explained simply, not to mention that Prince Beaumont was the brother of the former emperor, and even the current emperor was supported by him alone. Know how powerful he is.

"Then," the little girl bit her lips, her big eyes sparkled, "does it mean that all the hard work Madam made before was in vain?"

Eric hit the hammer hard, the force was so strong that Naning was startled.

"No." The boy said with his lips tightly pressed together, he relaxed his strength and repeated, "No."

Nanin didn't say anything more. After repairing the bowl shelf, Eric packed up his things and left the kitchen.

The boy put the tool bag away, then glanced at the second floor, moved his body, and then walked towards the second floor.

When Eric came in, Margaret was drawing some design drafts. Those design drafts were drawn with a more modern perspective. They were all men's outerwear. Apart from suits, there were also woolen coats and trench coats.

"These are different from the current clothes." Eric said, Margaret raised her head, looked at him and smiled.

"Then what do you think?"

"It's kind of weird, but it's beautiful." Eric said honestly, pointing to one of them. "I like this one. It doesn't look like the material we wear."

Eric was referring to a leather jacket, fine patent leather and a fur collar made of black sable underarms, which looked simple and stiff.

"This is a leather jacket. It's very warm in winter." Margaret was happy that Eric liked this design. After all, judging from the current perspective, it may be a little different.

"When you get older, I can find the best sable fur, and I'll make one for you."

Eric's eyes lit up like some kind of pointy-eared animal, and Margaret almost pinched his face, but she held back.

The boy is also happy with the look of being happy for the woman. For this reason, he doesn't even mind being treated as a child.

"Madam, your efforts will never be in vain." Eric said, his expression was so serious, like a kitten with firm confidence.

Eagles always grow into eagles, Margaret knew.

"I also believe that the hard work you put in will never be destroyed just like that." Margaret said softly.

Although now, she seems to have been beaten back to the original point, but what has happened and worked hard, will not just be forgotten.She has to look for opportunities again, that's okay, Margaret thought, people always need to keep trying to succeed, not to mention, when she looked at the boy in front of her, she thought of more people.

What's more, there are so many people who trust her and support her.

Marguerite Gautier will never be beaten.

Eric looked at the woman in front of him, showing the dimples on his cheeks, and he secretly thought, this is right, this is the real Mrs. Margaret.

Four days after that rainy night, Margaret met Gaston who came to visit in the morning.