Chapter 33: Punching the Air

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A black carriage drove slowly through the early morning alley, making its way through the uneven pits. The occasional jolt from side to side made the man sitting in the carriage frown. Impatiently, he opened the window and looked out of the windowβ€”the dirty passer-by looked at the carriage passing in front of him, and there was a huge class gap between the tattered worker and the luxurious and elegant gentleman.

The people in the carriage enjoyed the symphony at the Paris Opera, while the workers on the side of the road could only whistle to passing women.

Michel straightened his collar, the whole carriage smelled of rose, and every time he stepped into the street he felt a strong sense of disgust, and he was also very puzzled and surprised that in a street where prostitutes, thieves and poor people hid filth, there was a talented poet. Who would have thought that the son of a peasant from another province could write a poem that the court poet was full of praise for, "like the summer breeze blowing on your wool".

The Michel publishing house has regarded him as a reserve seed, and after solving the problems of Mr. Dumas's publishing, it will do its best to build the seedlings that have been discovered.

The corners of his mouth sketched a smile, this is a profitable business, and he doesn't even have to promote it himself.

After a moment of contemplation, the carriage had stopped at the doorway, and he poked his head out of the window to see Garion and Zola standing on the side of the road, already waiting.

"Come on, boys."

Michel opened the door enthusiastically, and the two got into the car, he looked at Zola's expectant gaze, and said, "Welcome to Monsieur Baudelaire's literary salon." ”

"By the way, Mr. Michelle, do we need to pay attention to anything?"

It was the first time for Garion to attend such a party, and he was not sure what the great writers would like. In his impression, apart from the well-known ones who like to visit brothels and mistresses, he really can't find other hobbies.

It's as if history has played a joke on writers, leaving only the imprint of literature and romance in posterity.

"Just talk about your understanding of literature and art, and by the way, your insights into what's new in Paris."

Michelle seemed to see through Gary's worries, and based on his own experience, he whispered, "Don't worry that Your Excellency Baudelaire will suddenly test you for something. It's not an education entrance exam, it's just ordinary small talk. ”

Garion squeezed out a smile, and most of Michelle was in the shadows, and the small space filled with the smell of rose perfume exposed the sense of smell to the sweet smell. Zola was a little uncomfortable with the smell and kept rubbing his nose with his hands, indicating that he was uncomfortable.

Michelle didn't pay much attention to the detail, though, and instead started a conversation with Garion. Although the serialization of "Bistro" in Le Figaro aroused the popularity of the Parisian public, Michel was even more impressed by the young man who had won Baudelaire's attention with a poem, although he did not have a good work yet. But talent, like a fine wine, can stand the wait of time.

Garian silently opened the window a little to relieve Zola's allergy.

"Has Mr. Garrian been writing any other books lately?"

Michelle asked expectantly, "Since the publication of "The Afternoon of the Faun", you have attracted the attention of most of the Parisian literary and artistic circles, and they see you as a dark horse that may rise this year. ”

"Recently, I've been trying to write a novel, but I've only written 20,000 or 30,000 words so far, which can only be regarded as a beginning. When the time comes, I hope to get the guidance of the masters. ”

Of course, Garian would not tell Michel that he was preparing to visit Baudelaire with his manuscript in his arms.

If "Afternoon of the Faun" is just a graffiti in his spare time, he values the sensation that "1984" can cause.

Hearing that Garion began to write a novel, Michelle's gaze became hot.

"Great, if I can, can I take a look?"

Garion blinked and said with a smile, "There will be a chance, Mr. Michelle." ”

The carriage slowly drove away from St. Anthony's Street and disappeared at the end of the long street, but the few pairs of vigilant eyes in the dark did not let their guard down.

The policemen in charge of the arrest were watching with cold eyes, and when the carriage appeared at the door, they were almost ecstatic, thinking that they finally had a chance to arrest the revolutionary, only to be disappointed.

Except for the departure of two unknown little people, they did not find Blanqui, which even made them suspicious for a while.

Suspect that the fat woman had lied to them.

One of the officers hesitantly asked, "What should I do if the carriage leaves?" Are we going to go along? ”

After all, there was no Blanqui among those who left, and their main goal was to capture the staunch revolutionary.

Finally gritted his teeth and made up his mind.

"Yes, of course, in case they go to contact the traitorous party, we will not escape the blame, you two follow the carriage, follow me closely. If the whereabouts of the traitor are discovered, they will be encircled and suppressed immediately. I don't know how many people are still in the rental house now, but the police station is coming, and we will mainly arrest Blanqui when the time comes. The other small fish and shrimp don't pay attention, as for the young man named Garion, he must be taken care of. ”

The sergeant in charge of leading the team looked serious, and the chief of police and the prefect of the Seine district put double pressure, he already felt a great headache, not to mention that the other party also put on an attitude of solving you if you don't solve the trouble, so that he had to define all those who might come into contact with Blanqui as revolutionaries first.

The two policemen looked at each other, mounted their horses, and followed the advancing carriage from behind.

At this time, the police who supported the team also arrived, and the sergeant who led the team gave a few words of advice and walked in the direction of the rental house.

Bang bang bang.

The rough knock at the door attracted the sleeping Mrs. Florand, who stood up sleepily and walked to the door, and when she opened it, she saw a group of policemen standing in the doorway with a gloomy expression.

As soon as she wanted to speak, she was rudely pushed aside by the other party, and the sheriff pointed at him and said, "Arrest the revolutionary party, no one will stand aside, and if you dare to make a move, you will be dealt with as a traitor!" ”

"Sir, I don't have any revolutionaries here! I swear! ”

Madame de Ferrorand was so frightened that she leaned against the wall, not daring to move. A group of people rushed in with rough movements, and the police took out their revolvers, and crept slowly upstairs.

The blood stains on the wooden floor of the hallway had not yet been completely wiped clean, and it stretched all the way to Garion's doorway.

The sheriff was overjoyed, and hurriedly waved his hand and made a silent gesture to signal the people behind him to follow him.

They stepped cautiously on the plank, suppressed the sound of their footsteps, and slowly moved in the direction of the doorway. Even his breathing was suppressed to the extreme, and his boots moved inch by inch to the door.

The sheriff nodded, and one of them raised his foot and kicked towards the lock. With a bang, the door was slammed open, and several police officers rushed in, aiming their guns at every corner of the house.

"Don't move!"

However, when the voice fell, he saw that the whole room was empty.

Only the flickering curtains seemed to echo his performance.

The corners of the sheriff's mouth twitched, and his face became extremely ugly. He turned his head and glanced sharply at the police officer behind him.

Everyone gasped in fright at the chief's eyes.

"What about people?"

Angry roars echoed through the empty corridors.

"Where did the Blanquians die???"

"Bring me that whistleblower!!"