[Titanic] I can't help myself

"So you mean I'll entertain Karl?" said the mother. "Haven't you always been on good terms? Why can't you even show him around the estate now?"

"No, Mom." I said weakly, "It's just that since Rose has agreed to Carl's marriage proposal, I shouldn't be doing the things that should be done by her. And I want to rest in the afternoon, Acton Things that have been piled up for so long should be dealt with."

My mother stood there looking at me for a long time, and finally said: "Okay, then I will entertain Carl, you and Rose have a good rest." After speaking, she walked towards the door.

"Mom!" I sighed, she was always quick to find a way to make me compromise.

Mother stopped and looked at me.I raised my hands as if surrendering: "I'll come, I'll come, okay."

"It would be great if Rose was as considerate as you are." The mother smiled softly, "Just this time, give her a little buffer time."

The gong sounded to remind people to change clothes before the meal, and the mother opened the door: "Thank you, dear. Then I will go down first."

So, the vow I just made was easily broken in this way, and I had to stand in the corridor with Karl after lunch, suppressing the complex emotions of joy and depression in my heart because I was about to be alone with Karl.

"So," I began, "where do you want to start? With the house, or with the garden?"

Karl was looking up at the reliefs on the vaulted ceiling of the corridor carefully. When he heard my question, he looked at me and said, "Let's start with the house. After all, it's winter now, and the garden in winter is always a bit gloomy."

"But we have greenhouses, and there's still some color," I said. "Then start with the study, which is at the end of this corridor."

The study is the office of the Earl of Charmond, and it is the largest room in the entire castle.At the beginning, it was just a little bigger than the average room. Later, after several expansions, several surrounding rooms were merged, and the walls separating the rooms were replaced with columns. Finally, it became the current narrow and long layout.

"My grandfather's grandfather, the No. 12th Earl, was a person who was keen on charity activities. He allowed the servants in the manor, and even people in the whole town to come to the study to borrow books. After that, it became a custom and survived. .”

Carl took out a German book, flipped through two pages and put it back, "He is really a kind man."

We walked slowly through rows of tall mahogany bookshelves that almost reached the ceiling, and walked inside.The number of books has reached a terrifying level, which is the result of each earl of Richardmond spending a lot of manpower and material resources to purchase various books for collection.These collections are first placed separately according to the seniority of the collectors, and then organized according to the category of the books. The further you go, the longer the age of the books.

"From the sixth generation of Earl of Chamond, every subsequent generation of earls has a book collection habit. Every year, they will send people to buy new books everywhere, regardless of the subject matter and evaluation. It can be said that most of the works You can find the first editions here, including works that were strongly criticized or not favored when they first came out. Of course, there are also literary garbage that has been out of print. Although we have been ridiculed as arty because of this, this hobby It has been passed down from generation to generation.

As I said that, I stopped in front of the bookshelf of the sixth earl: "But I guess the origin of the sixth earl's collection may be because he is also a writer. He wrote a lot of things, but unfortunately no one reads them. I have read his diary, in which he angrily accuses those who do not appreciate his works as superficial idiots." I smiled and pointed to the books that filled three rows of bookshelves, "These are his works. Copies of his works, the originals including first editions and manuscripts are carefully kept in another room. I have also read his books, and to be fair, they are not very well written.”

"Perhaps because of the same sympathy, he collected all kinds of neglected books on the market and put them together with well-received masterpieces to show that he thought these works had the same value. Later, it evolved into the habit of collecting books. "

"Maybe we need to thank his books for not being well received, otherwise there wouldn't be such a spectacular collection." Carl looked back at the rows of bookshelves behind him and said with emotion.

"You're not the first person I've heard say that," I said.

"Who was the first one?" He looked at me. "Is it you?"

When I met his eyes, I suddenly felt guilty, and I couldn't help taking half a step back, avoiding his gaze, "It's my father, and Rose."

Carl didn't seem to notice my abnormality, and continued to ask: "So, this study room is now yours. Did you read and study here before?"

"Only once in a while," I said, "my study room is in another room, and sometimes I come over to find some books or something."

"Take me there," Carl said. "I want to see where you lived."

"My study room and Rose's are not in the same room. After all, she is a girl and she studies different things." I said, "But they are all very beautiful rooms, worth seeing." (Note)

The study room is next to the study.There are many huge oil paintings on the walls of the two study rooms.

"This is my great-grandfather." I introduced Carl to the largest painting, which was nine feet high.In the painting, the young great-grandfather is sitting behind the desk in the study room, the silver wig is tied neatly behind his head with a green hair band, he is slightly sideways, the same green eyes are looking out of the picture, and there is a saint at his feet. Bernard.

"Your eyes look alike." Carl said after carefully admiring the portrait for a while.

"This can be regarded as one of the characteristics of the Bukett family." I said, and then introduced the origin of each painting to him. These paintings are all extraordinary, whether it is the content or the painter who made the painting, there is something to introduce content.

"I was educated at home until I was 13 years old, and then I went to Eton. When my father passed away, I took a leave of absence." I grabbed the back of the chair and said nostalgicly, "Speaking of it, that time was really boring. This teacher has only me as a student, and I can't even be lazy. But although it's boring, it's the most relaxing time."

Carl added, "When we were young, we always hoped to get rid of those constraints as soon as possible, but when we grew up, we began to miss the carefreeness behind those constraints."

I nodded, stroked the scratches on the table, and sighed softly. When I was 13 years old, the situation at home was very bad, but my mother still insisted that I go to Eton to go to school as planned. For this reason, she even secretly sold some antiques at home to pay for the expensive tuition at Eton.The situation of the nobles is deteriorating, and it is nothing new to sell their property, but for a mother with very strong self-esteem, this is more intolerable than killing her.

"So you're going back to Eaton?" Carl asked.

"While my mother would very much like me to continue my education," I said, "I personally don't want to. The secondary school courses don't help me much anymore, and besides, I don't need an Eton diploma to apply to university."

"I remember you want to go to the United States to study in college."

"Yes, I'm afraid I will need your help then, Carl."

"My pleasure." Carl said with a smile.

Next door, in Rose's study room, there are portraits of ladies on the wall.It was the portrait of the Countess No. 11. In the painting, the Countess was sitting in front of the piano, with a few gorgeous feathers on her high wig, and a long skirt piled behind her.The background in the painting is this study room. Even the position of the piano has not changed, but it has been replaced with a new one.

Seeing that Carl's eyes fell on the piano, I said: "Rose plays the piano very well, and my mother hired a teacher for her with a lot of money."

"how about you?"

"Me?" I smiled helplessly, "My level is average, and I haven't played for a long time."

"Try playing a piece?" Carl walked to the piano, lifted the lid, and looked back at me.

I quickly waved my hand, "I won't show my ugliness."

Carl raised his eyebrows, "Then let me try." He sat down after speaking.

I also sat down.I know Carl can play some instruments, but I don't know how good he is, but even if he plays badly, I think I will feel like a god.But judging by his posture, he must be at a good level.

Sure enough, he first practiced a few scales and arpeggios to find his feeling, and soon, a piece of Bach's well-tempered piece that sped up the speed flowed cheerfully.I have also learned this piece as an etude, but even when I played it best, the teacher would sigh and shake my head when I played it, but now, I have long forgotten the fingering.I don't know if the elderly piano teacher will have a cerebral hemorrhage if he finds out.

At the end of the performance, I applauded vigorously, "Very nice."

"Thank you," Carl said. "You like Bach?"

"Um, yes." I thought for a while, and added, "Actually, I'm not too picky about the style and genre of music, as long as it sounds good, I like it."

"This is not how a nobleman should behave." Carl played a very simple melody casually, "Generally speaking, you British nobles have a very deep study of music. For orthodox traditional music, especially A father of music like Bach, who is admired so much, is dismissive of the latest popular music. If you say that to people, you will be ridiculed."

In fact, the popular music you think is also classical music to me. I thought to myself, and thought of the reminder in Carl’s words. I felt warm, touched my nose embarrassingly, and said, “Thank you, Carl, but I’m not to anyone. I’m so frank, to others, I usually say that I like Bach and Haydn.” As I spoke, I only felt that my words were ambiguous, and the more I spoke, my voice became softer, and I couldn’t help feeling annoyed at myself.