Flowers, Swords and France

Early the next morning, Charles got up and quickly came to the study because he had many things to deal with.

After all, it was morning, and Ciel's thoughts were quite smooth. Soon, he wrote several letters on personal matters, then sealed the envelopes and prepared to give them to his servants to take to the post office for delivery.

"Dong dong dong", just when he was about to finish writing the last letter, there was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in." Charles didn't even raise his head.

"Sir?" The door opened, and then a soft greeting came from the door.

"Huh?" Charles raised his head in surprise.

Ciel's surprise did not come from the fact that he didn't know who the visitor was, but from the fact that he was surprised that the other party would greet him in this tone. He couldn't remember the last time Fran greeted him gently instead of with a hint of anger?

"Morning." But no matter what, Ciel still said hello.

"Good morning." Fran greeted her with a smile, and then continued, "It's time for breakfast. Grandpa asked me to come over and hurry you up..."

Her smile was extremely warm and flattering, but she didn't know what it meant.

What's going on, why are you so happy so early in the morning?

Forget it, no matter what, it's better than losing your temper.

"Okay, thank you. I'll go over as soon as I finish writing this letter." Charles nodded.

"Then you must hurry up!" Fran urged, then turned and left, her steps very light and cheerful. Charles could faintly feel that Fran's expression seemed to contain secret joy that could not be suppressed.

What's going on? Could it be related to what happened last night? No, it is definitely related.

So why is she still so happy? He obviously beat her? Ciel became even more confused.

Until now, he still couldn't forget the impact of yesterday.

For the first time in his life, he felt uncontrollable anger towards Fran and even made a move. At that moment, he really forgot how much he loved his sister.

To be honest, although the subsequent punishment was very justifiable and he did not regret it, he still felt a little guilty and depressed in his heart. Therefore, he did not understand Fran's current excitement even more.

Is it because the words "I will never leave you alone in this life" make my sister very happy?

Ciel had an idea.

That should be it, and that’s fine too.

He shook his head slightly, then put away these distracting thoughts and quickly finished writing the last letter.

The bond he received from the Duke of Treville's house last night has been carefully stored in the mailbox in his room. As the old Marquis said, this is the reward he deserves and the fuel for him to continue moving forward.

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Breakfast was also being eaten at the house of Count Dillion, the current Lord Seal.

The Lord Privy Seal sat on the main seat, and his son, Viscount Dillion, sat beside him.

Since both generations of Mr. Dillion held positions in the court and had many affairs, the number of times they met for dinner was actually very few. Today, in fact, Viscount Dilion was specially asked by his old father to stay for breakfast.

Viscount Dillion, who is still charming even in his middle age, gently spreads jam on the bread with elegant palace movements, and then eats it in small bites. But his mind was not on his food, but on keeping glances at his father.

Considering that the Earl has been very strict with the Viscount since he was a child, it is easy to understand the caution of little Dilion.

To this day, he still doesn't understand why his father specially called him over to have breakfast with him, and he doesn't dare to ask.

The minister didn't seem to want to speak, he just slowly ate the pastry in front of him - due to his old age, this powerful man now only likes to eat this kind of sticky food, and his movements are also very slow.

As time passed, the Viscount was on pins and needles, because his schedule was full and he could not waste too much time on breakfast.

Just as he was working up the courage to ask, his father finally spoke, slowly and in a low voice.

"You have neither patience nor brains. Don't you think that since I will specially call you here, could it be because of some boring things? But you are worried, for fear of delaying the schedule... You are your day The master of the schedule, not the slave!"

"I'm sorry, father." The middle-aged man was so embarrassed by his father's harsh preaching that he had to smile.

After rebuking his son, the count fell silent again and ate his pastry slowly.

After a while, he spoke again and said something meaningless.

"It's so empty here, it's uncomfortable."

The Viscount was stunned for a moment, then lowered his head.

Normally, the old man would have his two granddaughters accompany him when he had breakfast, and they would often chat with him to relieve his boredom. But now, one of them is still locked in the study, and the other...

When he thought of this, the Viscount himself felt uncomfortable.

Maybe he is too harsh on his daughters? His heart ached secretly.

But...but...

While the middle-aged man was still struggling in his heart, his father spoke again.

"Mr. Guizot spoke to me yesterday at the palace and asked me for help."

Upon hearing this, the instinct of a courtier and a statesman immediately revived the Viscount's spirits.

"Help? What does he need you to do for him?"

The Lord Privy Seal lowered his eyes and looked at the remaining cakes on the table expressionlessly.

"He wants to bring down our prime minister so he can put himself in that position."

"Ah?" The Viscount exclaimed in surprise.

"Is it weird?" The count glanced at his son dissatisfied. "What's surprising about an ambitious person who wants to take over that person's position when he is serving as a second-in-command? I'm actually curious that he can endure it for so long."

"That's true." The Viscount quickly regained his composure and nodded. "Then are you going to help him?"

The minister did not answer.

After a moment of silence, he spoke again. "Who do you think is better, Mr. Guizot or Mr. Duke of Dalmatia?"

After hearing this question, the Viscount couldn't help laughing.

Is there any need to compare in terms of ability between a person who has fought his way out of mountains of swords and seas of fire, and who has weathered all kinds of storms without falling? and a person who just slowly made his way into the political world?

He considered his words and answered in a courtly euphemistic tone. "I'm afraid Mr. Prime Minister is better in terms of experience and experience..."

"Yes, it seems that even you can tell which one of them is stronger." The old earl sighed softly.

Read the original article in Liu#9@书/吧!

The Viscount carefully guessed his father's tone, and then asked cautiously. "So you have no confidence in Mr. Guizot and are planning to refuse his request?"

"No!" The count suddenly raised his head and looked at his son sternly, causing the viscount to shudder reflexively. "Haven't you figured out the real problem?"

"Essence...?" The Viscount's voice was trembling.

The old man sighed softly, then lowered his head again, looking at the table listlessly.

"What kind of person do you think our king is?"

The Viscount pondered for a moment, then answered in a low voice.

"A good king who is kind-hearted and pays attention to his reputation and conducts his life in a disciplined manner. He is much more disciplined than the dissolute Bourbon monarchs of the previous generation..."

The Viscount still used a palace-style euphemism.

The actual meaning is: "He acts indecisively and pays attention to false reputation."

"Yes, he cares about reputation, so he hates being remembered as 'a good monarch for Soult.' What he wants is for people to remember Soult as 'a good minister for King Louis-Philippe.' "The old earl said coldly, "I have been paying close attention to him for many years as I have been the Lord Privy Seal. His thoughts cannot be hidden from me. "

The viscount understood something. "So what you're saying is... His Majesty has actually acquiesced..."

"If he didn't have confidence in His Majesty the King's attitude, would Guizot come to me for cooperation? Would he dare? Is he not afraid that I would inform the Prime Minister?" The minister looked at his son, "My son, you have to consider The essence of the problem."

"That's it." The Viscount suddenly realized. "Then what should we do?"

The count was still looking at the pastries on the table. "Considering this situation, I plan to cooperate with this gentleman to a limited extent, but it is not yet time to fully support him. I still can't see clearly who will lose and who will win."

"Hmm..." The Viscount fell into deep thought.

"And you, you have to inform the Prime Minister. Tell him that Mr. Guizot is busy dealing with him. You secretly snooped the information from your father and came to tell the Prime Minister behind his father's back." The old count gave instructions to his son. "He's going to find out sooner or later, and the first person to tell him will always get the greatest gratitude. If he has a chance to win, he will come to me and bribe me."

"I understand." The Viscount nodded. "We need to hedge our bets so that we don't live up to His Majesty the King's favor without offending the Prime Minister."

The minister didn't speak, he just continued to look down at the pastries on the table.

The Viscount was ready to take his leave.

"No, it's not just hedging your bets, it's not enough now." The count suddenly shouted softly again.

"What's wrong? Father?" The Viscount was confused.

"Do you remember what Matilda said that day?" The Earl looked at his son.

, the Viscount bit his lip, and the words his daughter said that day sounded in his father's ears again like a spell.

"Look, how long can the current dynasty last? There are famines everywhere but no one can help. The palace is constantly in chaos, and everywhere is filled with malicious conspiracies against the king..."

"Father..." He looked at the count with some horror. "You shouldn't..."

"Even Matilda, a girl, can see that this dynasty is in turmoil. As a result, the top leaders of this dynasty are still busy fighting each other..." The minister shook his head, his tone full of regret, "Now it's not enough to hedge your bets. It’s time to use it.”

"Father...but..." The Viscount was still frightened.

"This room is uncomfortably empty, isn't it?" the count said again, "Let Julie come back. Matilda was right what she said that time. We may really need that republic then. group."

"But……"

"Call Matilda over and ask her to have breakfast with me. I haven't seen her for many days. I miss her." The minister impatiently ordered his son, "There is no point in eating with you."

Looking at his father, the Viscount swallowed.

Finally, he succumbed to his father's stern gaze.

"Okay, father, I'll have the servant bring her here right away."

The minister glanced at his son, who was wearing a court embroidered dress.

Yes, this son is indeed handsome and elegant, and still very charming even in middle age. However, he is probably just like this dress - he can only wear it outside to show people.

The old noble sighed softly.

"If you had half the brains of your little daughter, it would be great."