It's been a bit long since I've been looking for information in this chapter.,So the update is late.,Sorry.。

Although Zola said no, his body was very honest, and he involuntarily rubbed up, and after negotiating the price with a girl with golden curly hair, he took the other party's hand and said to Garion, "Then Garion, will you go back by yourself tonight?" I'm not going back. ”

Garion nodded, but seemed to remember something, and threw the money bag into Zola's hand, gesturing, "Bring this, you'll need it." Also, go to a better hotel. ”

The tavern was a little noisy, and Zola had to ask at the top of his voice, "Then tomorrow at noon you will pick me up at the Ritz next to the Louvre Square, and we will go to have dinner together?" ”

"You take care of yourself first, I'll look for you tomorrow at half past eleven."

With that, Garion waved his hand and walked out the door by himself. After the wine came up, he almost bumped into a young 1~ prostitute who pushed the door in, he glanced at the other party's immature face but painted with untimely mature makeup, and couldn't help but sigh. I think that the Second Empire of Lancy is really a man's paradise, as long as you pay for it, it is legal to connect a Lori.

Fortunately, in this conservative era, no feminist activists have come to the door to crusade.

A steady stream of money is born out of sin and depravity.

After coming out of the hustle and bustle of the tavern, Garion stopped a carriage on the cold street, then reported the address of his home to the coachman, and slowly snoozed against the carriage - until the coachman woke him violently from his sleep, and realized that he had arrived at the door.

When he returned to his new accommodation, he felt a dazed rush of alcohol as soon as he entered the door, and he fell directly on the bed, without even taking off his clothes, and fell asleep.

By the time he reopened his eyes, the sunlight had already crept up his cheeks through the window.

Garion touched his head and pulled out his pocket watch from the pocket of his coat, only to find that it was already past ten o'clock in the afternoon. Hurriedly got up from the bed, washed up briefly, rubbed his bloodshot eyes in the mirror, and immediately set off in the direction of the Ritz Hotel.

After asking the front desk clerk at the Ritz Hotel, I walked quickly to the room where Zola stayed last night.

He walked to the room at the end of the hallway on the third floor, raised his hand and knocked on the door, but there was no sign of the door.

Then the door next door slowly opened, but the moment it opened, both the people in the room and Garion were stunned at the same time.

Flaubert stood in the doorway, followed by his friend Lepuvalivan. The two of them walked out of the room talking and laughing,

Seeing Garion in the hallway, Flaubert's face was full of horror.

And Lepu Valivan behind him looked even more flustered, and even deliberately took half a step back into the room.

"Plus...... Lord Garrian? ”

And Garion immediately understood what was going on, and nodded pretending to be calm, "Ah, what a coincidence, I didn't expect to meet His Excellency Flaubert here." ”

Flaubert scratched his head and explained, "I recently visited Paris, and I went to have a drink with my friends last night, but I drank too much, so I opened a room here to sleep......"

And Garion looked at Flaubert in front of him with a look of "you don't have to explain, I understand", it seems that the previous rumors that Flaubert and his friends went to Egypt to play with men are not groundless. Two men who have an ambiguous relationship share a bed and claim that they just drank too much.

I wonder if Princess Mathilde will gargle desperately in disgust after learning about Flaubert's fetish for-stirring sticks?

Just as he didn't know how to get the conversation going, the closed door in front of Garion slowly opened, and Zola stepped out of it. He saw the two people looking at each other awkwardly in the corridor, and said in surprise, "Huh? Mr. Flaubert, are you there? ”

Flaubert looked at Zola who came out of the next room, and the situation became even more awkward.

The atmosphere becomes delicate.

"Your Excellency Flaubert, why don't we have a meal together? You've just arrived in Paris, haven't you? ”

In order to alleviate the embarrassment, Garian made a request for the three of them to have lunch together.

"Okay, I haven't officially eaten with you last time."

Flaubert immediately agreed to the invitation, and Lepuvalivin took the opportunity to say goodbye to Flaubert and quickly left the room.

The three of them went downstairs to the Ritz restaurant, where they found an empty seat to sit down.

Flaubert's expression was visibly unnatural as he sat down in his chair, and when he saw Garion looking at him, he explained, "I'm sorry, I didn't sleep well last night, and my waist twisted. ”

Garion just smiled and didn't speak.

A newspaper was placed on every table, and Zola naturally picked it up to see what news was there, but when he saw the headlines, his expression became solemn.

Garian asked, "What's wrong?" ”

The solemn face sitting across from him spoke, reading the headline.

"On October 18, the British and French forces moved most of the wealth of the Old Summer Palace, and Commander James Prouss allegedly ordered arson to burn the Old Summer Palace to the ground as a retaliation for the Qing government's disagreement with the terms of the agreement......"

After reading the news, Zola couldn't suppress the anger in his heart and scolded, "This group of thugs is really hateful! Damn imperialism! Our army not only does not protect the people, but also burns and loots abroad! It's a bunch of brutes! ”

As a progressive socialist youth, Zola angrily protested against the atrocities committed by the French army. Yet these weak voices pale in the mainstream media's trumpet of victory.

"There's no such thing as a great palace."

Flaubert lamented, "What the Imperial army has done is truly outrageous. ”

The atrocities committed by Britain and France in the East were what Marx on the other side of the Channel called bandit-like and shameless expansion. A group of intellectuals representing the socialist position also stood up and attacked this inhumane plunder, but their voices have been suppressed by the mainstream of the country.

The two patronized the newspaper, not even noticing that Garion's face turned blue after Zola finished reading the headlines.

It was as if it had been hit hard.

He put down the cutlery in his hand and said calmly, "I'm sorry, I'm out for a while." ”

Garion pushed open the door and walked briskly outside, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm his mind.

Wrath.

The anger was suppressed in his chest, but there was nowhere to vent it.

The only thing he could do was clench his fists.

The ugly face of imperialism and capitalism is clearly exposed.

Although he knew that in the face of the torrent of history, he could do very little, but as a traitor hidden in the Second French Empire, he felt that he had to do something now.

Delle Cruz.

The central figure of the secret society of French socialism.

It's the only name that can be thought of in Gary's peace of mind, and now he needs the help of this socialist secret society.

Blanqui still owes him a favor before, and it's time to pay it back.

Since the Second French Empire can survive for ten years, he will start with other figures.

While intellectuals were still protesting imperialist aggression with their mouths and pens, and verbally and penally criticizing the mainstream media, Garion had already decided to do it.

There are still more than two months left before this group of robbers return home in triumph, and Garian is also free to fully prepare.

Garion felt a tap on the shoulder, and he looked back to see Zola standing behind him.

"What's wrong? Why did the face become so ugly? ”

"Oh, nothing."

Garion shook his head, and he said to Zola, "You have dinner with Mr. Flaubert, I have something to do, so I'll take my leave." ”

"Wait, Galion!"

He ignored Zola's shouts behind him and walked forward without looking back.

A true revolutionary literati have never been a party of words, and they will never be ambiguous when it is time to do so.

All he could remember was a sentence written by Shakespeare.

"Those brutal pleasures will end in brutality." - Romeo and Juliet