The second more

The atmosphere became silent, and the middle-aged man couldn't tell the details of the man in front of him, so he could only ask tentatively, "Who are you?" ”

"My name is Garion, the one who saved your life."

Garion leaned against the table, looked at the man in front of him, and said calmly, "If I hadn't made a move, you might have been cold at that time." Don't worry, although the doctor is only a veterinarian, you can still rest assured that his medical skills have not left you missing arms and legs. ”

The middle-aged man looked at the strange young man in front of him, hesitated for a moment, and finally spoke, "My name is Davis. ”

Garion turned his head and looked at him with interest, leaning his hips against the table and shaking his head, "No, your name is not Davis, I wasn't sure before, but with the memory in my head......"

His index finger pointed to his temple and he said, word for word, "You should be called Blanqui, Louis Auguste Blanqui." ”

The man in front of him turned pale instantly, and he stared at Garion and clenched his fists.

"How do you know!"

Garion smiled slightly, but did not speak. Although he was not as well known as Marx in later generations, and his bearded and convex forehead portraits were printed all over the literature, he at least left a strong mark on the history of the French revolution.

"How do I know it's you It doesn't matter, I saved you more out of curiosity, you have fought for the republican system for so long, is there any effect? Louis Bonaparte's empire is impregnable, and everything you have done is in vain. What have you gained beyond a lifetime of prison? ”

Garian threw a question that hit the nail on the head, leaving Blanqui in front of him stunned. Even at the time of the Paris Commune movement, he was still imprisoned by the big bourgeois regime of Thiers, although the Commune offered to replace people, but Thiers refused.

A Blanqui's ability to fan is much more terrifying than an army.

"As long as there is an emperor in Paris, the revolt of the revolutionaries will not cease."

Blanqui raised his head and said coldly, "Even if you don't agree with our ideas, at least don't bow to the conservatives." ”

Garion said slowly, "It is said that you little bourgeois rebelled, and it will not be possible in ten years, but now it seems that this sentence is very pertinent, just fanning the workers' strike, the revolt of the citizens of Paris, can you change the country?" I am not optimistic about the outcome of your rebellion in Paris, but it will end in vain. ”

"Not in Paris?"

This time, Blanqui froze in place.

Garion looked at his puzzled eyes and said, "The countryside surrounds the city and takes power by force. ”

"Thank God, after so many failed insurrections and victories since the French Revolution, haven't you Republicans figured out one thing? Paris will always be the stronghold of entrenched royalists and conservatives, who control the economic lifeblood of the Banque de France, control the army, and are far more powerful than you might think. Even if the Paris Revolution succeeds and a democratic regime is established? They can also mobilize provincial troops for suppression, Blanqui, what you need is an army, not a revolutionary gamble, in the face of endless careerists, the masses without a single party cohesion are like a plate of loose sand, without the wind blowing, scattered in a few steps. ”

After listening to Garion's story, Blanqui fell into deep thought. No one has ever given such clarity as he did to the history of the French Revolution.

In Galian's view, the guillotining of the Bourbons and the change of power for nearly a hundred years were a mob upheaval, and the lack of unified guidance of the workers' movement was the key to repeatedly stealing the fruits of the revolution.

The bourgeoisie coaxed civilians into ramming the guns of the army and hid behind their backs to enjoy the fruits of victory.

A distraught Blanqui turned his head, trying to ease his anxiety by diverting his attention. His gaze was once again on the manuscript on the table, and the 1984 on it caught his eye.

“1984？ Do you write novels? ”

Garion handed him the bread and replied, "Yes, he wrote some poetry and tried to write novels. ”

Blanqui asked, "What type of novel?" ”

"It tells the story of an ordinary person living under the totalitarian society of rulers, a world that is repressed and deprived of all freedoms. People live the life of the walking dead, and the seed of rebellion germinates in the protagonist's mind, only to be exterminated in despair and become a screw under the cold dictatorship again. ”

"A tragedy? Very interesting story. ”

Blanqui said with emotion, "From resistance to obedience, it tells the birth of a tragedy. Are you alluding to the current French Empire? ”

"I'm just like you, Lord Blanqui."

Garion raised his head, looked at the other party like a torch, and said emphatically, "Even an insignificant screw has the power to make a shout. It's just that in my eyes, your revolution is more like a tragedy of a moth to a fire. ”

"It's just that in my eyes, if the sky is dark, then live in the dark; If it is dangerous to make a sound, then keep silent; If you feel powerless to shine, then curl up in the corner. Don't get used to the darkness and justify it; Don't be complacent about your own stubbornness; Don't mock those who are braver and more passionate than yourself. We can be humble as dust, and we cannot be twisted like maggots. ”

We can be humble as dust, and we cannot be twisted like maggots.

This passage of Garian made Blanqui suddenly lose his mind, and he remembered that he had seen the wall of poetry, and the author complained in the same way.

The young man in front of him slowly walked from the dark corner to the place covered with sunlight.

Blanqui gradually saw the face clearly—the deep outline outlined a resolute expression, and in the depths of those eyes, there was a deeper emotion.

"What you just said reminds me of a good poem I saw a while ago, he is a poet who has not left his name, he is the first person willing to speak for us, for those who are still fighting, for the republic and freedom of Paris, compared to those who write praises for the emperor and defend the big capitalists!"

Blanqui fondly recalls the poems written on the wall that inspired him to move forward in the face of adversity. Even if there is only a long darkness ahead, he will illuminate the shadows for those who come after him.

The radiant Blanqui turned his head and said to Garion, "By the way, you just said that you wrote poetry, what poetry?" ”

"Maybe you've heard the name of poetry."

Garion bit into the bread and said slowly, "That poem is called 'Answer'. ”