Chapter 2939 Don’t ride on the wind (6)

In a room where you can see the Xiaolian Fountain, a group of children are having a poetry recitation competition.

It can be seen that they are performing very seriously, but no one except the children's parents really cares about their performance. After all, no matter how serious the child is, he cannot really understand Macbeth.

"What do you think?" asked Richard Edgeworth.

"Very good." Georgiana said seriously. It happened that a child's performance came to an end. She applauded with the others, but her mind was elsewhere.

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Phoebe joined the Frog Choir. The dark dungeon actually had a great echo effect. No one noticed it before. After the semester started, many people heard the mermaid's singing echoing in the lounge. With this music, it is also necessary to

A gramophone?

"Why is it black?" Pomona said, looking at the renovated walls of the dungeon.

"That's what the designer told me," said Isabella Sidney.

"You should fire him." Pomona said, leaning closer to the wall, she smelled the smell of wine.

"This is the paint he made according to the Ten Architecture Books." Isabella said, "My dad ordered it from France."

“Wine lees used?” Pomona asked.

Isabella nodded, "And it's from a Bordeaux winery."

Damn rich people.

Pomona cursed, no longer commenting on the dark wall.

In fact, wine lees can be pressed once to make brandy. Although the taste is a little worse than directly brewed brandy, I am afraid that only people who were "thirsty" during Prohibition would drink it.

There are still a lot of extractable pigments in the wine lees, which means these dark-looking walls are actually a very deep purple.

Vitruvius said that if you use high-quality wine lees to make it, you can also imitate Indian blue, but the process is quite complicated. It is widely used in steam baths. The walls of the dungeon are very humid, which is similar to a steam bath, except that it is water-proof.

In addition, it can also produce a fragrant wine aroma, which was used by Roman nobles for enjoyment.

"You know this paint?" Isabella asked.

"How about we decorate some murals or something?" Pomona asked.

"I don't think it's necessary. No one is coming anyway," Isabella said coldly.

"You have to give them a little time to adjust," Pomona said.

"What do you want to decorate?" Isabella asked.

"I was wondering whether I should choose the solar system or the constellation chart." Pomona mused. "It just matches the starry sky that day."

"Wow, this is really refreshing." Isabella said slightly shocked.

"I have a question, what is the purpose of putting a telescope by the window of your lounge?" Pomona asked. "You can't see the stars."

Isabella was left speechless by the question.

"So, it's just a decoration?" Pomona asked.

"Maybe." Isabella said perfunctorily.

Pomona asked her no more questions.

Perhaps because he thought that in an era when Delphi was still the "center of the earth", Vitruvius believed that because the northern climate was cold, the brain was like a frozen snake and needed a warm climate to be active, so "southern people" were smarter

.

Some things are deeply ingrained. Nowadays, many children from pure-blood families are named after zodiac signs. What this place urgently needs more than decoration is lighting.

She told Isabella to set up some braziers first, which would bring light as well as heat, and make this cold dungeon a little warmer, if they really planned to invite living people to their party.

Then they returned to the ground.

The news that Gerald Rohart was going to attend the Celestial Ball made many of his admirers excited, as if everything was a foregone conclusion.

"Do you like Rohart?" Pomona asked Isabella.

"I don't have time to read." Isabella said. "I have a lot of courses to make up for."

"Do you speak French?" Pomona asked.

"know a little."

"What does Repères mean?" Pomona asked.

"Positioning?" Isabella said.

Pomona looked at Isabella in surprise.

"My father likes French and philosophy, and he taught me that." Isabella said.

Pomona didn't know whether to invite Isabella to the Fat Monk's class, after all, she hadn't asked him.

Fortunately, we arrived at the auditorium soon. It was now dinner time, and we could smell the aroma of food and the noise of people from a long distance away.

One after another, they entered the open double doors.

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"Do you think knowledge can still bring honor and respect as before? Sir," Miss Lamont asked.

Georgiana looked back, probably because Elizabeth also lacked interest in poetry recitation, and started chatting with the architect Mott next to her.

"Of course." Mott raised his tone and said, "Who would deny this fact? There are many French academicians among the current parliamentarians."

"I mean, it's not about appointing someone to a prestigious position, but when the two sides are debating, there is always one side who expresses opposing opinions, so both sides will inevitably get into trouble. No matter which side he belongs to, he will always be in trouble first or later.

"Only in a corner," said Miss Lamont, "unless he is shrewd enough to change his views as the more numerous and powerful party changes its views and pace."

"Then such people are just sensationalists." Mott smiled rather arrogantly.

"I have met some people who, in order to avoid trouble, did not argue with others about any issues. Especially after they gained honor and prominent status, knowledge brought them no longer honor and respect, but trouble.

Loss and distress," Lamont said.

"Because they're afraid they're wrong? Like the people who argued with Galileo?"

"That's not what you just told me." Miss Lamont said with a smile. "Who can deny the fact that knowledge brings honor and respect?"

Mort thought it was funny, but Georgiana didn't.

"Just chatting." Richard said in her ear, "You don't need to care too much."

"I don't care." Georgiana said coldly.

"It says it all on your face," said Richard.

She almost touched her face.

Because she is used to living without a mask, she has almost forgotten how to wear a mask.

There is also the self who is so happy because of riding a dog sled that he needs to drink heartbreak honey to calm down.

On the way to Venice, she was still jumping up and down on the train bed, and Severus watched her jump without stopping her at all.

Maybe it's because dog sledding is in a public place, while train suites are private spaces.

"One of the great things about being a parent is that you can relive your childhood," Georgiana said. "You can buy toys that you like and then use them as an excuse to buy toys for your children."

Richard looked at her in surprise.

"Then we will discover that we were actually happy over such small things before." She sighed, looking at the serious-faced, pretending-to-be-sad children. "And we were sad over such small things."

"The past belongs to memories, the future belongs to fantasy, and we live in the present." Richard said, "What do you think? Georgiana?"

She looked at Richard.

"That's what I did on the spur of the moment." He said easily.

"Not everyone lives in the present," Georgiana said. "Some live in the past, and some live in the future."

"Let's go to the next hall before anyone protests," said Richard.

Georgiana made no objection and left the room where the poem was recited with him.
Chapter completed!