[La Traviata] The Road to Celebrities in Paris

Eric ran fast, as if his heart was about to jump out. When he stepped on the last step, he fell hard. He frowned, hissed, and then got up again, still holding his hand. Holding ice cubes wrapped in a handkerchief.

He ran to the door of Mrs. Margaret's room, and turned the handle, but fortunately, the door handle did not close.

He opened the door and walked in.

In the room, the black-haired woman is brewing black tea. Her happy expression in the past is gone. She looks so focused, as if she is not brewing hot tea, but is shattering her shattered soul. Dot by dot to complete the fight.

Eric walked over step by step. He stood next to Margaret when she was sitting. Now, he was much taller than her.

The boy raised his hand, and let the ice cube through the satin handkerchief lightly apply to Margaret's swollen face.

The woman frowned, then raised her hand and pressed the handkerchief.

Eric let go of his hand as promised, but after a while, he took another small step forward. He gently hugged Margaret and comforted her silently.

"You can't accept an adult's comfort, but what about the child's?"

Margaret's eyelashes trembled, she raised her cheeks slightly, silently acquiescing to all this.

Under the light, one side of the woman's white and tender cheeks was abnormally red and swollen, and her thick eyelashes were spread out like a small fan, with a little moisture on them.

The night was very long, the grandfather clock struck many times, and the lights in the house seemed quiet and warm.

In the country villa, on the balcony on the second floor, there are white hollow tables and chairs. A handsome man lights a cigar, and the flickering red light is a bit eye-catching in the night.

Baron Vanville narrowed his eyes slightly, staring at a certain point in the air, outlining the picture of the day.

That black hair, those eyes, that swollen and piercing cheek.

The smoke rings slowly dissipate in the air, the night is still long...

The next morning, Margaret and the others temporarily bid farewell to Aunt Sabina, who frowned and said that Margaret didn't have to worry at all.

"That kind of proud young lady like a little cock is nothing to be afraid of!" Aunt Sabina snorted. Aunt Sabina didn't grab her by the hair when she bossed her around.

"No, that's not the reason. I'm not afraid of her." Margaret said, the redness on her face still hasn't completely dissipated, but it's not as scary as yesterday.

Margaret hugged Aunt Sabina, and she whispered, "I just think it's time for me to get back on my own."

After hearing this, Aunt Sabina's originally angry face softened again. She patted Magori's back lightly and said softly, "Then go, honey."

Marguerite kissed Aunt Sabina and said good-bye to her and Uncle Franco, and the men who had been drinking in the hotel toasted again.

Marguerite got into the carriage, and Armand sent them off, but Gaston was not inside, and Armand said he left before dawn.

"Why has he gone?" asked Nanin.

Armand shook his head, indicating that Gaston didn't say anything.

Armand sent them to the red house, he hesitated, they all delivered the medicine later last night, so now, for a while, he couldn't think of any excuse to let himself stay for a while.

"You don't need any excuses, I think, we're friends," said Margaret.

The blond-haired young man breathed a sigh of relief, he smiled slightly, and Julie quickly brought out the tea. Marguerite and Armand were in the hall, facing the fireplace.

They gave up the regular couch, but sat alone on the single sofa next to the fireplace. If it is winter, the warm fire light will make people feel warm, but it is summer now, and the cold fireplace will not bring a little warmth. comfortable.

Armand wanted to check the injuries on Margaret's face, but he was afraid that his behavior would appear abrupt, but Margaret said again: "I have nothing left."

Margaret looked at each other with a gentle smile on her face.

"real."

"I think I'm a little self-righteous." Armand said apologetically.

Nanin had already told Marguerite what happened at that time, so she shook her head now.

"Self-righteousness brings people discomfort and discomfort, which is not good, but you," she paused, "I am touched by your actions, which have exceeded my expectations by far."

The black-haired woman's voice was still calm, as if it wasn't her who was humiliated yesterday, as if she wasn't the one who was vulnerable last night.

Her dark eyes looked at each other, and the sharpness between her brows and eyes was no longer the sharpness of last night, but it was still impossible to ignore.

"I," Margaret said, "was indeed insulted yesterday, and it can even be said that I was shocked."

"But it's the same, and it made me realize one thing."

"What?" Armand asked involuntarily.

Margaret pursed her lips and smiled, her voice was very soft, but her words were shocking.

"Clothing is not just clothing. Here, people have more power to speak than clothing."

"you……"

"Armand," said Marguerite, "may I call you that?"

Although Armand was a little surprised by Marguerite's abrupt address, he still said without hesitation: "Of course, of course you can."

Margaret smiled: "In that case, please also call me Margaret, Armand."

"I……"

"Margaret."

The young man blinked his eyes slowly, and finally smiled lightly: "Okay, Margaret."

"I will remember, Armand," Marguerite looked at each other, her eyelashes are so thick, under the black eyelashes are a pair of expressive eyes, the eye sockets are deep, and there is always a special kind of smile when she smiles. Charm, she whispered, her voice soft but firm, "you were the first person to call me Marguerite, you were the first friend I met when I came here, besides Nanin and Julie. "

"My pleasure." The blond young man leaned forward and kissed Margaret's hand.

In a luxurious mansion in the center of Paris, there is a beautiful white fountain in front of the house. The saint is holding a wine jar and pouring holy water out. That beautiful mansion seems to be in a dense forest.

Inside the mansion, the isolated furnishings are extremely luxurious but not tasteless, everything is placed in the most appropriate position, and there is a large flower garden behind the house, planted with various A rose with plump and showy petals.

Inside the house, in the study on the second floor, the young man with dark hair was quietly waiting for his question.

Although it was no longer young, the hand that looked irresistible was put down, closed the pages of the book, and the neatly trimmed fingers were scrubbing the bronzing lettering on the book cover.

"You stayed in Bougival for nearly a month." The man said in a calm voice.

"Yes."

"You have brought me too many surprises, child."

Gaston looked up at the other party, and he smiled slightly: "I hope you like it."

The man looked at him and folded his hands on the table. He didn't seem to be intimidated at all, but said calmly: "If you only have this ability, I'm really disappointed."

The black-haired young man walked over slowly, then knelt on the floor on one knee, he asked the other person with his eyes, and the latter raised his hand in the next second.

Gaston kissed the ring, his eyes lingered on the ring for a while, then raised his head, looking at Prince Beaumont like the most humble child looking at his father.

"She's like my mother, so I can't let it go."

The man's eyes flashed, and he raised his right hand to caress the young face. From the peak of the brow to the corner of the mouth, there was a shadow of the woman on this beautiful face.

It's really...hateful...

The man suddenly exerted some strength and pinched the young man's chin. The latter frowned, and then tried to remain calm again.

Prince Beaumont stared at the young man in front of him, his head tilted slightly to one side, and he made a somewhat absent-minded movement, then he let go of his hand, lowered his eyes and said, "Let's go."

Gaston stood up, he gave a perfect salute and took his leave.

After the door was closed, the eyes of the person inside slipped to the ring on his hand. His eyes were so hateful that one almost suspected that he would vent his hatred on this poor ring in the next second.But he didn't, he just looked at it, like a cancerous tumor growing on his body, which couldn't be dug out or ignored, so he let himself grow with the cancerous tumor and forced himself to face it every day. All cancerous tumors that do not belong to him are digested and become a part of his own flesh and blood.

"Do you regret it?"

He kissed the ring, asked in a low voice, and then sneered.

"You should regret it."

Outside the door, on the top of the exquisite carpet, the light-colored skirt gently brushed, and the shoe uppers that are sometimes exposed as you walk are so delicate, Italian calfskin shoes, with pointed toes, There is a round bead embellished on it, which fits so well with the brown upper.

Those footsteps were so light, clearly belonged to a young girl, a girl in love, happy and full of youthful breath.

Not long after, the door was unlocked again.

The thick and towering door made no sound when it was closed. It faithfully fulfilled its responsibilities and guarded everything.

In the carriage, the black-haired man didn't sit on the cushion, he sat lazily on the ground, leaning against it.

He looked ahead, the corners of his mouth slightly raised, and then, a woman's figure came to mind.

The smile stopped, and Gaston raised his right hand to cover his eyes.

He was in darkness, but he knew where the light was.

He murmured, some words that were not clear enough, like raving, or something else.

The sound of the carriage was transmitted to his eardrums through the sound of the wind. After arriving at the destination, the young man got up and straightened his clothes to make them neat and clean.

He got out of the carriage, and the expression on his face became casual and relaxed again.

He held a document in his hand, so he seemed so calm when he walked.

The red hut was so harmonious with the forest. Gaston glanced at the document in his hand, blinked his eyes, and then raised his legs and entered the yard.

door, open.

There was a charming smile on the young man's face, and he looked at the slender woman, his eyes shifted from the harsh redness to her eyes.

"Your chance has come, Marguerite Gautier."