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After venting his frustration, Garion tossed the pen through a parabola in the dark air.

Then, with great effort, Garion put one hand on the other's shoulder, and only then did he stagger the hangover Zola back to the room, and after settling him in, he tiptoed through the dark corridor, while carefully controlling the strength to avoid waking the sleeping landlady.

There was a babbling sound in the quiet hallway, and the rusty wooden door slowly closed, and everything was silent again.

Garion walked into the bathroom and got a basin of water, then brought it to the bathroom window, rubbed the cold moonlight in the basin with both hands, and wiped his face with a soaked towel. At this moment, there was a burst of intermittent barking dogs in the cold streets, and the tavern saw off the last drunken guest, hung a closing sign at the door, and slowly extinguished the last light.

The whole St. Anthony Street slowly fell asleep in the moonlight, and after washing his face, Garion felt the strength of the wine start to rise, and fell asleep on the bed in a daze.

The next day, the morning sun slowly rose, and the hustle and bustle of Paris began to resume after a night of desertion. Hungoverd, Galian and Zola are still dreaming, and Paris has begun to get busy.

Noan Manor.

The early morning sun envelops the entire estate, and the blooming tulips are bathed in golden sunlight.

George Sand's breakfast was as usual, with a few slices of bread on the table, and he flipped through Le Figaro with a cup of coffee.

It was a rare time for her in recent years, when the Manor had been full of friends and guests. But since three years ago, George Sand has rarely held literary salons.

Originally, she was just going to take a few quick glances, but her eyes were attracted by a line of headlines with small headlines.

"The Afternoon of the Faun", a poem strongly recommended by the great poet Baudelaire. Well? When did Baudelaire also start recommending poetry? ”

George Sand, with curiosity and questions, read slowly as he took his coffee.

At this time, a horse-drawn carriage stopped at the gate of the manor, and from the carriage stepped down a middle-aged man on crutches, with slightly balding hair, a neatly trimmed figure-of-eight beard and a black Clark, which looked like a popular middle-class standard. He knocked softly on George Sand's door.

The door opened a crack, and the maid poked her head out to look at the door.

The middle-aged man said in a steady voice, "Is Mrs. George Sand here?" ”

"Yes, Monsieur Dumas, please come with me, Madame Georgesand is dining."

Seeing that it was Dumas who had come to visit, the servant hurriedly opened the door and let the other party in.

The servant led Dumas in the direction of George Sand's drawing-room, where he was engrossed in admiring the poem and did not notice the arrival of the guest.

Seeing George Sand, who was concentrated, the maid was about to speak, but was interrupted by a gentle wave of his hand from Alexandre Dumas.

"Go get busy, I'll wait a minute."

Dumas stared at the woman in front of him, who was twenty years older than him, and his eyes were full of pampering.

In the quiet Manor of Noan, Georges Sandou received a number of famous figures in the history of literature and art, including the poet Muse, the musician Chopin, Liszt, the writers Flaubert, Mérimée, Turgenev and Balzac, the painter Delacroix, and even Napoleon's younger brother, Prince Jérôme Bonaparte. Most of them fell under pomegranate skirts and became part of a large army of lovers.

However, the only thing George Sand really went crazy about was Chopin, who died young.

Even Alexandre Dumas once said jealously, "How I envy Chopin." ”

At this time, in the quiet living room, the crisp wind blows the curtains, the tulips placed in clay pots decorate the monotonous dining table, and George San, who is reclining on the sofa, holds the newspaper and reads in a gentle tone, "O faun, the illusion is from the purest of narcissus. The blue and cold eyes flowed like a fountain of tears, but the other person opposite her sighed, do you feel like a summer breeze blowing on your wool? ”

Dumas's lips were originally smiling, but when he heard this, his expression slowly became serious.

"No, there is no such thing! In the silence and drowsiness of the faint, if you want to resist in the cool morning, you will be suffocated by the heat, how can there be any murmuring water? Only my reed flute. Sprinkle chords into the bushes; The only wind. Swiftly blowing out of the double-piped reed flute, along the horizon that did not even move in wrinkles before it turned into a dry rain and two flutes. ”

……

"Farewell, fairies, I'll see your shadows again."

After George Sand had finished reading the last sentence, applause rang out at the door.

George Sand turned his head and saw Dumas leaning against the door, giving her the warmest applause.

"It's so well written."

Dumas walked quickly to George Sand's side and said in a somewhat excited tone, "Is this a new work?" ”

"It's not."

George Sand handed the newspaper to Dumas, and she pointed to the name on it and said, "It's a young man named Garion, and it's rare that Baudelaire actually recommended it himself." ”

Baudelaire was also a guest of honour at Georges-Sand, and he was well aware of his critical eye, and if the young man could gain Baudelaire's appreciation, he would have a bright future.

"What? Newcomer? ”

Hearing Baudelaire's name, Dumas was a little incredulous at first, and looked at the paper curiously, slowly reading the long poem.

After reading the poem, he took a deep breath and tried to calm his mind.

"It's a very well written poem."

"Since the death of Muse three years ago, there have been few wonderful chapters, and it seems that a new star is about to rise in the French poetry scene." ”

When Dumas mentioned Muse, George Sand's eyes darkened, but they quickly returned to their original state. "With poetry written to such a standard," she chimed in, "it is no wonder that Baudelaire would strongly recommend this young man named Garion, who has a bright future ahead of him." ”

All of a sudden, both of them began to take a keen interest in the young man named Garion.

"Dumas, I want to hold a literary salon."

George Sand suddenly said, "I hope that Baudelaire will invite this young man to my salon party." ”

Dumas was stunned for a moment, looking at the woman in front of him in disbelief. She had rarely held a literary salon since three years ago, and now George Sand was going to re-host it for a young man?

"Are you sure you want to reopen the salon?"

"Of course."

Dumas shook his head with a wry smile, even he didn't have this honor, and he began to be vaguely jealous of this rising star in his heart.

"A poem becomes famous, ......"

Dumas glanced at George Sand meaningfully, and said teasingly, "It seems that your poetry scene is about to cause a sensation." ”