噺 (8) 壹 Chinese 網ωωω.χ8.1zщ.còм 哽噺繓赽捌 (一) Novel 説蛧

Tang Zhangwei is a very smart person, he knows that the rebellion of those people strangely helped that Tang Zhaozong to break the siege.

However, he immediately said to Chen Sisi: "We people should not be unhappy about this little thing. After all, Tang Zhaozong is the emperor, and we should pardon those who accompanied Tang Zhaozong's rebellion. “

Wei Wan'er said: "Yes, we should have done this a long time ago. ”

Tang Zhangwei nodded and said, "Only in this way will Tang Zhaozong come back with confidence." ”

Wei Wan'er said to Tang Zhangwei: "Then you can give an order!" ”

Because he, Richis, is the one who, after all, has seen through the tricks of his opponents with his own carefully analyzed reason!

If he, Richis himself, had the same fanatical ideals of a murderer, he would not have acted differently from what the murderer had done so far, and would have done as hard as he did, and had failed to complete his madness by killing the beautiful and incomparable Lore.

This last thought he particularly liked. He was able to put himself in his daughter's shoes for his daughter's future murderer, and this made him far superior to the murderer. For it is certain that the murderer, even if he is extremely intelligent, could not have put himself in the shoes of Riches in any case—and even if it were possible, he would certainly not have expected it, and Richis had already put himself in the shoes of the murderer. At the end of the day, it's no different than doing business – it's understandable to make the necessary corrections. To see through the intention of a competitor is to defeat the competitor; He will never be in his ears again, his name is Antoine Riches, he is scheming, and he has the nature of a warrior. France's largest spice trade. His wealth and the office of the second senator, after all, did not fall into his bosom by gift, but he gained it by struggle, resistance, and deception, when he saw the danger in time, and wittily guessed the plans of his rivals, and squeezed out his opponents. His future goals, the power and gentrification of his descendants, he will achieve the same. He will thwart the murderer, the contender for Lore, and only because Lore is also the last stone of the edifice that he Riches himself has planned. He loved her, not bad; But he needed her too. In order to achieve his greatest ambition, what he needs must not be taken away from him, he must keep it with his teeth and hands!

Now he feels better. After he had succeeded in reducing his nightly thoughts about fighting the demon to business competition, he felt a sense of vibrancy, conceit, controlling him. The last vestiges of fear had been overcome, the feeling of frustration and depression that had tormented him like an old and infirm man had dissipated, and the cloud of melancholy that had been hanging over him for weeks had dissipated. Now he feels that he can withstand any challenge in a familiar territory.

He jumped up from his bed easily, almost pleasantly, to pull the strap of the bell, and instructed his sleepy-eyed, staggered servant to pack up his clothes and dry rations, for he intended to travel to Grenoble at dawn accompanied by his daughter. Then he put on his clothes and woke the others out of bed one by one.

In the middle of the night, the house on the rue drois woke up to the hustle and bustle. The fire was burning in the kitchen, the excited maids were shuttling through the aisles, the manservant was going up and down the stairs at one time, the storekeeper's key was ringing in the basement, the torches were shining brightly in the yard, the hired hands were running around the horses, the others were pulling the mules and horses out of the pens, and the people were putting on their hitches, preparing their saddles, loading their goods, and running—one would think, as in 1746 A.D., that the tribes of the southern retreat to Dingmo were marching, burning and plundering, and the inhabitants were terrified and hurried to flee. But it's not the case! The master was sitting confidently like the Marshal of France at his desk in his accounting room, sipping milk and coffee, giving instructions to the servants who broke in from time to time. At the same time, he wrote by the way to the mayor and first senator, his notary, his lawyer, his banker in Marseille. Baron Bouillon and various business associates.

At about six o'clock in the morning, he wrote a letter j, giving all the necessary instructions for the plan he had booked. He snatched the two trips with his little hands, fastened his purse, and put the desk in town. Then he went to wake up his daughter.

At eight o'clock, the small tour group departs. Riches rode in front of him, and he looked very beautiful in a grape red gold-trimmed tunic and black coat, and a black top hat with a bunch of feathers on it. Behind him was his daughter, dressed modestly, but so beautifully so that the people in the street and leaning against the windows only looked at her, and the crowd was full of admiration, and the men took off their hats in respect—ostensibly to the second senator, but in fact to the princess-like maiden. He was followed by a scarcely unnoticed maid, followed by a manservant with two horses running his luggage—the road to Grenoble was too rough to use a cart—and at the end of the procession was twelve loaded mules and horses driven by two hired men. At the Boulevard Gate, the guards raised their rifles in salute and did not put their guns down until the last mule and horse had passed. The children followed for a long time, watching the group slowly descend the steep, winding road.

Antoine Richs' departure with his daughter made a very strong impression on everyone. They felt as if they had participated in an ancient ritual. Legend has it that Riches went to Grenoble to the city where the monster who killed the maiden was newly hiding. People don't know what to say about the trip. Was it an unforgivable act of indiscretion or an act of admirable bravery? Is this a challenge, or is it a comfort from God? They had a vague premonition that this was the last time they would see this beautiful red-haired girl. They guessed that Riches would lose Lore.

Although this speculation is based on a completely wrong premise, it should show that it is correct. Riches did not go to Grenoble at all. His swaggering move is nothing more than a trick. One and a half miles northwest of Grasse, near the village of Saint-Falière, he ordered the procession to stop. He personally handed over the certificate of full accompaniment to the manservant, and ordered him to lead the hired men alone to bring the mule and horse procession to Grenoble.

He himself turned to Cabrish with Lore and the maid, rested there for noon, and then rode across Mount Tanellon to the south. The road was bumpy, but he allowed a great bend to the west to bypass Grasse and the Grasse Basin until the evening unnoticedly reached the waterfront...... The next set of maintenance period is planned

(End of chapter)

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