"The king who betrayed the Statue of Liberty?" Sir John scoffed: "Joan of Arc is nothing but a village girl to be sung." You must admit that Joan of Arc disrupted the process of Anglo-French unification www.biquge.info if Henry V really succeeded to the throne of England and France at the same time, Europe would be clenched into an invincible iron fist, and the era of the Great European Continent had already radiated its noble influence to the whole world, and there was no stage for East Asia and North America to play - the Statue of Liberty was just a stone in the way, holding the wheel of the times, and complacent self-esteem that she was favored by God. ”

"You dangerous British." Baron Cotton was categorical: "My hereditary glory and reserve do not allow me to betray my country." I'm sorry, but both the Burgundian parliamentarians and the French Liberals in Dijon will firmly oppose the humiliating fleet annexation plan. If you encourage my guest at a reception, I will knock you out of my estate on the spot, hoping that you will cherish your dignity. ”

Baron Cotton's cane slammed the carpet twice, his locked eyebrows trembling with anger. Even when he angrily refused, the baron remained polite and polite.

Sir John looked up into Cotton's eyes, and slowly stood up, their gaze changing from overlooking to eye level, and after a long confrontation, the Englishman bowed his head in humiliation.

"As you wish, noble baron. Please forgive me for being presumptuous. Sir John relented.

Baron Cotton nodded majestically, then stooped down and pushed the door open, stepping under the water in the swept rain whip. As soon as his leather shoes stepped onto the watery gravel road, the drenched butler hurriedly came up, gave up his umbrella, and faithfully covered Lord Cotton. Cotton tugged at his coat and strode with the butler to the majestic mansion, knowing that his nephew would naturally be polite to entertain guests.

Richard Cotton rushed up with a hospitable umbrella to catch Sir John who had gotten out of the car in embarrassment, and said apologetically: "Uncle is so nostalgic, in his eyes, carriages and umbrellas are more meaningful than luxury cars in the underground parking lot." Makes you suffer. ”

Sir John snatched the umbrella from young Richard's hand and held it himself, his lips twitching and cursing, "Old stubbornness that eats old age." ”

"Uncle refused." Richard and the butler sent the two nobles to the mansion in the wind and rain one after another, and the distance between them was more than a dozen paces, and their ears were full of the sound of wind and rain, and they were not worried that this whisper would fall into Baron Cotton's ears.

"He deserved not to have children, and infertility was a just punishment for him." Sir John cursed the noble back in the distance in the meanest words, and his gaze shot into flames: "He refused, and looked down on me with the eyes of an ant—Richard, you ought him to know that his ridiculous glory was nothing but an old coffin, shattered at the touch of the winds of the new age." ”

"He shouldn't have been against London." Richard thought it was a wise answer.

"He shouldn't have gone against history." John gritted his teeth and crushed the cigar in his hand, threw the cigarette crumbs into the puddle, and hurried to keep up with Baron Cotton.

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In the brightly lit tasting hall, where the wine on the solid wood table had already woken up, everyone was anxiously resisting the urge to taste, eagerly waiting for Baron Cotton's appearance.

The baron twisted like a lady at a banquet, and changed his clothes and longed to toss for an hour. Finally, the butler and the Burgundian deputies who came in civilian clothes looked at each other and said embarrassedly, "I'll take a look." ”

The housekeeper hurried to the cloakroom, pushed the door and looked, and saw that the hanger had collapsed, and a pair of stiff legs were buried in the mess of various coats.

"Doctor!" The butler let out a heart-rending scream, like the crowing of a donkey. Then he swooped down and ripped off his expensive clothes, and dug out the Baron Cotton underneath, and saw that the baron's face was white, and his vomit had stained his delicate tie, and he was clutching his heart desperately, his eyes were wide open, and his body temperature was still hot, but he had stopped breathing. His right foot was on the ground, as if he was still plowing the floor in pain before he died.

When the people in the tasting hall heard this scream, they all changed color, and rushed to the corridor outside the cloakroom to see the scene. Richard Cotton, the closest immediate member of the Cotton family, was the fastest runner, leaning against the door of the cloakroom, staring blankly at his uncle who was frozen on the ground, unable to speak with his mouth wide open, and slowly slid to the ground in distraction, like a helpless widow, sitting there crying silently.

Sir John parted the crowd, put on his white gloves, knelt half-on the right side of the butler, gently blocked the butler's hand, and said in a loud voice, "I have a license to practise medicine - let me see." ”

Before the Cotton family's personal physician arrived, the butler looked out of the way in a panic, and watched helplessly as Sir John skilfully examined the body's signs.

After looking at his pupils, looking at his mouth, and examining them up and down, Sir John straightened up with a sigh, shook his head as he tore off his white gloves, and said, "Call the doctors and the police." In my medical experience, the baron died of a sudden cerebral hemorrhage, which killed him from a hematoma that caused a surge in pressure within his skull. If I'm not mistaken, the mass of the baron's intracerebral hemorrhage should be near the temporal lobe. I express my sincere condolences that the Baron was a generous nobleman, and the loss of him was a great loss to all of France. ”

The House of Representatives was depressed in the crowd, and when he was held up by his hands and feet, he was still thinking in distraction: "He is so strong, so strong - how can he have a cerebral hemorrhage?" ”

Sir John frowned and reminded the butler: "Do not forget to call a lawyer at this time—I think Baron Cotton's will needs to be announced publicly." ”

The deputies finally came to their senses, resolutely looked back at the nobles who went to the banquet, and said categorically: "Baron Cotton has fought for huge profits and markets for Burgundy, but he has not asked for too much in return. As ruler of this beautiful land, I have an obligation to witness the ownership of the great Cotton legacy, and we must protect that lonely heir and pass on the blessings of Baron Cotton. ”

The butler had no choice but to confess in despair: "The baron has already written a will, which is kept in his personal safe, and the password is known only to his dear friend Edward. ”

"Edward?" The congressman frowned and asked. He met Attorney Edward by chance at Cotton House.

"Yes."

"We need him." Sir John couldn't wait.

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"I, Frian Cotton, have converted all my stocks, funds, and savings into a donation to the hungry children of Africa, which will be supervised by Edward's lawyers. My Cotton House is a gift to my dear niece Isabella, and I wish you eternal happiness. And my title, my honor, my estate, my factory, my vineyard, my chain of restaurants, and all the real estate in my demarcated area—" Attorney Edward read the will, and his face suddenly changed so much that he could not go on.

There was a dead silence in the audience, and the more than thirty Burgundian deputies, estate owners, honest businessmen, and celebrities of the trade all stared straight at Edward's hooked nose, waiting for the two thin lips to read the most crucial name.

But lawyer Edward couldn't read it anymore, his hands were shaking, and he almost couldn't hold the thin will.

His mind was a mess. Obviously, he was in full view of everyone, personally pushed open the bookcase, revealed the hidden safe, and used the unique code to take out the suicide note that decided Cotton's estate. Under the watchful eyes of Burgundy's most prestigious nobles, every word he uttered would be finalized, and every franc of the Cotton family would be decided.

This is the grand gift that the Burgundian nobles have come together to bestow on Baron Cotton: justice. This notarial authority and supreme absolute fairness will carry out the will of Baron Cotton himself with a thunderous blow, and send his magnificent inheritance to the heirs - even if it is a homeless man on the streets of Paris, the nobles will stubbornly carry it out.

It was their last salute to Baron Cotton.

But Edward had repeatedly heard Baron Cotton speak of his niece, Isabella, a kind and reserved girl who had inherited all the good qualities of a French lady, and who had tirelessly pursued art and peace—and Edward guessed that at least sixty-five percent of Cotton's estate belonged to Isabella.

But Isabella only got an empty mansion.

"Gift?" The congressman couldn't bear the sultry silence and couldn't help but ask.

Lawyer Edward's mouth was dry, and he smashed his tongue for a moment before he read it again with difficulty: "My title, my reputation, my estate, my factory, my vineyards, my chain of restaurants, and all the real estate in my demarcated area are given to the good Richard Cotton, and may your wisdom and courage be able to give full play to the value of your wealth." ”

Richard Cotton, who was slumped on the ground and weeping, looked up in astonishment, looking up at the will with tears on his face, but the elegant parchment was just hanging down, and Richard just met the eyes of Attorney Edward.

Richard swallowed a mouthful of tears, his eyes moistened again.

"Take good care of Isabella." Attorney Edward gently rolled up the will, unable to think of anything else, and finally said this: "Mourning." (To be continued.) )