MTL - I Am Louis XIV-Chapter 548 Five years later (middle)

   Chapter 548 Five years later (middle)

Since M. Champagne declined the help of the Marquis de Lafayette, the Marquis would not insist on it. After all, an officer would never be courteous to a fat old man, although M. Champagne is now full of clothes. All kinds of fashionable elements - no worse than any lady.

Ask the Marquis to say that he is also willing to ride his horse on the sycamore road slowly, while enjoying the rustling sound of the dead leaves breaking, as well as the clean water flow and the fragrance of camellia, while looking left and right, he is the first time. When he entered Paris as a child, his mother came to her from his father, who was loved by the Duchess of Montpensier (the lady had separated from his husband by then), in order to gain a share in the king's court future.

He watched Paris change with his own eyes, just like an unfortunate and fallen lady being pulled back into the sky again, it became so beautiful, so orderly, full of humanity and love, you can't see it here Anything that makes you feel pain and sadness, everyone walks by, whether on foot, on horseback, or in a carriage, smiling and cheerful.

And Paris five years ago was different from what it is now. People's spirits have obviously gone up to a new level. You can even see a lot of fat, white and tender people like Mr. Champagne, and you can also see bright colors. woolen and silk shoes - silk shoes have always been reserved for the wealthy because the material is so easy to wear, but now six or seven out of ten people wear shiny silk shoes.

Originally, he could still see the cobblestone or small stone brick pavement, but now it has been changed to a gray-white concrete road, and the main road such as Queen's Road is wide enough to accommodate two carriages, two horses, and two teams of arms. The pedestrians who started walking together, the marquis said this because the laws of the king are now so detailed that they teach people how to walk - the gray and white road is divided by copper wire and black stones, fifty feet or a hundred feet. Some marble arrows indicate the direction they are heading. The buildings on both sides of the street have built light arch bridges at a height of about three stories. People in the buildings can walk on it, cross the road, or go down to the ground.

The marquis heard the sound of bells shaking behind him, and when he looked back, it was a red oak carriage, a four-wheeled carriage of Serra horse. He immediately turned to the right and gave way. The carriage was passing by his At that time, the gauze curtain on the glass window was pulled up, revealing a charming face. When she found out that this person was the Marquis, the lady who might have danced with the Marquis in the Palace of Versailles smiled and waved a handkerchief. Express thankfulness.

   The Marquis bowed and returned the salute. The lady behind the gauze paused, seeing that he had no intention of continuing to communicate, she pulled the gauze again and hid her beautiful face behind the delicate lace.

If he wants, he can just catch up, or ride with this lady, or **** him on horseback, and when he gets to her house, he can be invited, have a cup of tea, talk, and then things will be logical. Happened...but...

He retracted his thoughts and focused his eyes and attention on the house number. At first, his mother did not understand why he was so stubborn in requesting to go to the New World. To establish merit, he could go to Italy, the Netherlands or even Poland, why should he go To a place so far and desolate? But when he got on the boat, his mother's letter also caught up - children's willfulness is often because of their fearlessness - when the Marquis received not only the letter, but also two or three boxes of luggage, he couldn't help thinking of what His Majesty had said. .

After    their communication continued, albeit at long intervals. Last time my mother wrote to say that the street where they are located has been renovated again, and it can even be said that the entire street has been renovated - because Paris is a basin, it is very prone to floods. Although His Majesty has laid down the water like an underground river before. Pipes, but the residents of the ground floor often think they have been moved to Amsterdam by the devil after a violent downpour.

   So the houses on this street are raised as a whole.

The marquis looked up at the golden house number on the black wooden door. This is nothing new. When the Duke of Orleans was in charge of public projects, there was a unified regulation of street names and house numbers. The apartment doors were painted black—the artists protested, but, of course, they were ignored.

He looked at the familiar number, and even hesitated a little, but soon the door was opened—the Marchioness must have known that he was back today, and looking out through the gap in the window curtains on the second or third floor, when she saw it was him, He went downstairs early and opened the door for him personally.

  The Marquis immediately dismounted from his horse, trotted forward, and shook the Marquise with a powerful embrace. "My God," she said, "you smell like a horse!"

He laughed suddenly, picked up the Marquise, and in the exclamations of the maids, turned around several times in a row, shaking the Marquise dizzy, and finally had to let out a loud laugh intermittently. Voice.

However, a few minutes later, the Marquis was still pressed into the bathtub by the maids. He was lying comfortably. The maids deliberately sent those luxurious furs to the Marquise, causing an indecent scream. - Although these furs are precious, they are all tanned in the New World. The tanning techniques and potions in the New World are still inferior to the workers in Paris and Florence. The smell and leather surface treatment are not satisfactory. They are reworked in familiar workshops.

The marquis    looked in amazement at the hot water flowing directly from the brass tap: "Mom!" he exclaimed: "Now we can take hot baths at home like the Romans did?"

   "It's just a boiler." The Marchioness called out from the door: "Didn't I write to you?"

   "I didn't know it was this kind of… wonderful," said the Marquis.

After enjoying hot water, scented oils and baths like an ancient Roman nobleman, he shaved again, put on a lace-studded shirt, tights and silk shoes, finally looking like a young Parisian before he arrived. In the still-familiar little room—perhaps more comfortable than the Marchioness's bedroom, where the Madame spends two-thirds of her time every day.

If a stranger comes here, he will think that this is a gentleman, and a study that can only be owned by a learned gentleman. This room is surrounded by bookshelves from top to bottom, and a long movable ladder hangs at the highest on top of a shelf. Apart from a small blank on the desk facing the window, there were various letters and brochures everywhere, and the ground was also full of books. The Marquis took a few books and sat down as usual. More books for small tables and refreshments.

It's not that the Marquis intends to trouble them so much. The Marquise has only been able to feel at ease in this room from a long time ago, and is not disturbed by auditory hallucinations and hallucinations. The Marquis has only heard of it, and it seems to be related to a certain wizard. Some kind of dishonorable thing, so although he wanted to kill the man himself, he endured it, but the Duchess of Montpensier still implicitly hinted to him that the despicable villain had already paid for his sins due price.

   Seeing his mother stretch out her hand, the Marquis immediately reached out and held it.

   To a mother and son who have been separated for five years, no matter how many words can be said, but only when she mentioned the gift that the marquis brought to her mother, the marquise suddenly realized that the marquis came back alone.

   "Where is your servant?"

"I missed you, so I left alone." The Marquis didn't dare to say how he walked the last hundred leagues day and night, but said, "They're still behind, probably..." he mumbled. Although she was not a soldier, she had a soldier's son, and she was smart enough to guess the reason at once.

The Marquis cried a few times—he certainly didn't care about a little finger or two twisting, but it was the attitude of a son, and then he smiled and moved off the subject, talking to the Marquise about how he had done "the bull's horns". "The son's godfather thing.

  ——

   The servants of the marquis arrived three days later.

The maids stared at them for a while in amazement. "What is there to be curious about," said the Marchioness, "isn't there a lot of Celts in Paris now?"

   "But they're so tall." And rude, like a piece of unpolished red-brown granite, intimidating to look at.

   "They are all good men," said the Marquis. "Loyal and trustworthy, mother, treat them like my friends who saved my life in battle."

   "It's our duty," said the pair of identical red-haired valet: "You saved our family."

   "How can you make your benefactor your servant?" asked the marquise, when they were brought into the kitchen to eat.

   "They were very insistent, and so did their parents and wives—they didn't want to leave my side—well, Mom, you don't know how miserable they were."

   "Why don't I know," said the Marchioness, "I'm writing about the Irish potato famine."

Speaking of which, this is still a commission from the Duke of Orleans. He did this in revenge for the unbelievable James II, yes, the Duke of York. He is still at war with Charles II, but he can't wait to be enthroned in Edinburgh, Scotland. As soon as he ascended the throne, he condemned the shameless seizure of the colonies belonging to Great Britain by King Louis XIV of France.

Louis XIV just thought it was ridiculous, but he didn't take it seriously, but the Duke of Orleans was the kind of guy who would pay back. .

   "Then you can ask them. I probably can't repeat this to you. Well, mother, if I didn't know that you have a pair of hands, I wouldn't want you to hear such a tragic thing."

When the Marchioness heard this, she couldn't help but feel a little more pity. "Let them rest for a few days," she said. "You can go and ask me first if they are willing to tell me." It is cruel to repeat the punishment he had received, like cutting on a scar, but in this case, the Marquise has really never contacted the victim in person. There were certainly plenty of Irishmen in Paris, but they were usually handymen, servants or soldiers, and the Marquise's rash contact with them would only frighten them.

   Even the two servants of the marquis had to persuade the housekeeper and the male servants for a long time before they dared to sit in front of the lady.

  —The Great Famine in Ireland occurred four years ago.

   Just as the Duke of York - James II and Charles II were in full swing, a germ that would make potatoes moldy underground spread silently in the dark.

   We all know that it was none other than Louis XIV who first introduced the high-yielding crop of potatoes to Europa. When the people discovered that this kind of crop does not pick soil, does not care about drought, as long as it is fertile enough, it can grow hundreds of thousands of pounds, and immediately pursued this lady from the New World as enthusiastically as Louis XIV expected. , It can be said that the potatoes have contributed to the stability of the internal turmoil in France.

When the French didn't need to rely on potatoes for life, the crops flowed to the outside world - it was not a secret at all, they saved the lives of countless poor people, and countless people regarded it as a gift from God , but things in the world always seem to have two sides, one is heaven and the other is hell, and potatoes are no exception.

   Potatoes can be deadly when they are green, and when they get sick like humans do, the disease spreads surprisingly fast.

  The former can be guarded against, while the latter cannot be easily detected, let alone contained.

  In 1542, Henry VIII became the king of Ireland, and although the Irish resisted countless times, they never succeeded.

Just like the former Flanders, Brittany or any other colony, Ireland, this once vibrant green island, eventually had to become the purse and blood bag of the British. When the trend gradually spread to Ireland, the British would not have any compassion for these red-haired Celts.

At that time, almost all the land in Ireland had been annexed, engulfed or occupied by the British in various ways. The Irish could only be reduced to tenant farmers. As tenant farmers, their allotment was only a very small piece of land. When the British allowed them to grow wheat When the time comes, they can barely survive. When the British pull up the wheat and start planting yew grass, will they still be able to eat grass?

  In order to maximise their access to food, almost all Irish people no longer grow wheat, but potatoes, a crop that will keep them alive.

   One more point:

Some readers asked, "Nero" is not written, it is written, but because of my Nero, the protagonist is still an "emperor" - well, understand, because some readers have said that my Louis X Four is too "king".

   Because a lot of things have happened recently, when Nero was writing the manuscript, he found that he couldn’t continue to sway along the original outline, so I put the writing aside and waited until the emotions subsided before writing.

   But when the new article ends, it will still be mentioned, please rest assured.

   (end of this chapter)