And Chopin's days of playing the wind spectrum month

George Sand

Everything is like a dream.

Just like a group of little bean dings playing house in childhood, once the roles are assigned, the game officially begins.

Churches, weddings, priests, vows...

Aurora's memory is only "I do", the cheers of friends on the bench behind her, and the rustle of the priest's pen when recording.

When she stood in the sun again, the man holding her hand whispered "My Lady" in her ear with a smile.So far, all memories and senses seem to be overwhelmed by the sea of ​​stars and flowers falling from the sky.

Perhaps her Mr. Chopin planned everything well from the very beginning—starting with an ingenious marriage proposal, after putting Aurora into a blissful dizziness, directly following the booing of her friends, and ending with marriage naturally...

There was no wedding dress or wedding march, and Aurora even had a vague memory of that day.

It is hasty, fresh, real, with some regrets but never regrets.

Whether it is to have a lover or to be owned by a lover, it is an extremely happy thing.

At least Aurora was happy when he was at the Hotel de France holding Chopin's hand and holding the invitation letter from Liszt - it was the first time that the Pole was willing to leave his Pleyel after returning from Europe. Piano, put down the pen and paper to record music thoughts, and attend social occasions.

Especially on the invitation letter, the words "Chopin and his wife" were bolded and blacked out by the Hungarians.

Despite scoffing at this childish behavior, someone still pretended to be serious and asked her if she wanted to go with her.How could Aurora give him a negative answer to someone whom even God favored?

Together they received a warm hug from Liszt.

"Happy wedding, my dear Fried."

"You don't have to keep reminding me that I'm happy already, Franz."

After the polite greetings, the lady next to Liszt took a step forward.Arrogant and alienated, elegant and glamorous, exquisite and melancholy...these words all fit her perfectly.

After being slightly surprised, she looked at the strange woman beside Chopin with a slight smile.

"Long time no see, your beauty is still the same, Mrs. Dagu."

"It seems that my salon is just in time...won't you introduce your people to me, Mr. Chopin?"

The female voice was gentle and gentle, and for some reason, Aurora felt a little uneasy.

It seemed that there would be some special events happening in this salon.

"She is my wife, Aurora."

Chopin calmly narrated the answer.

Tonight's salon is more personal.Although there were not many people present, they were all popular figures in the Paris salon, and they all had a close personal relationship with the hostess—of course, some of them were related to Liszt.Aurora classifies herself as the latter.

After leaving Madam Dagu's sight, her heart gradually returned to calm.Even after greeting Balzac just now, there are no ripples in his mind anymore.She began to pay attention to the furnishings in the salon.Perhaps the Hotel de France itself is endowed with unique conditions, but the layout of the salon is indeed ingenious, unique and comfortable, luxurious yet friendly; the division of areas is natural, and the social area and rest area are independent of each other.

Chopin didn't seem to be very interested. As soon as he entered the door, he pulled Aurora straight to the direction indicated by Liszt.Berlioz and Harriet were there.

Sitting with acquainted friends, even if two male musicians have different aesthetic preferences, Aurora found that Chopin was obviously less nervous after sitting down.

Across a small coffee table with drinks and drinks, men and women on the long sofa and short sofa began their relaxed chat.

"Excuse me, folks, would you mind having an old friend join you?"

Mrs. Dagu brought people to this small corner with a smile on her face.

"George, there's still a vacant seat, just right."

Seeing that the person in front of her was a little dazed, Mrs. Dagu patted her on the shoulder and pushed her to sit next to Chopin.

Aurora's heart skipped a beat for no reason.

Obvious lady's face, dark curly hair and eyes, not tall, slightly fat, not only dressed in men's clothes, but also with a little masculinity in every gesture...Seeing Mrs. Dagu's actions, no matter how slow Aurora is, she can guess Find out who this "old friend" who just arrived is.

George Sand.

Although Aurora couldn't be sure about the writer's emotional state in this year, she knew the cause of the uneasiness caused by the meeting with Mrs. Dagu.

"Long time no see, everyone. Who is this unfamiliar face? I'm George Sand, a writer."

Sang didn't evade any excuses, and sat generously on the last vacant space in the three-person sofa.She first greeted Chopin nearby, and after seeing him nodding, she greeted the surroundings in French with a Beric accent.The female writer crossed her legs and leaned forward, interested in knocking on the chatterbox from the newcomer.

Mrs. Dagu raised her eyebrows and left the stage silently with a satisfied smile.

"Aurora, this is my name, I'm a pianist."

"Aurora? It seems that we are very destined. I also have Aurore in my discarded name. What about my surname? Pianist? There are two most popular pianists in Paris in this salon...Which piece do you like, Liszt Or Chopin?"

There was no response to the series of questions, and time seemed to be stopped.

The eyes of the Berlioz couple kept jumping over the three of them.Aurora could clearly tell that Sang's question didn't have any other meaning, but at the same time she was being watched by pure and inexplicable eyes, and she was so embarrassed by the "prophet" that she didn't know how to answer it.

"Chopin."

"Ok?"

Sang didn't hear Chopin's whispering voice clearly, subconsciously asked to repeat.

Only then did she discover that Mr. Poland moved his body at some point, making the gap between them more obvious.This frustrates her a bit.

"Her surname is Chopin. Ms. Sang, she is my wife. I don't think there is a need to choose between me and Liszt. She must like me."

"..."

San gasps, staring at the calm Cho-pin in amazement.

She absentmindedly took out a cigarette from her coat pocket, and her hand that struck the match was trembling.

"Ms. Sang, my husband doesn't like the smell of smoke..."

"Harriet, please change places with me, thank you."

Sang stared blankly at the couple speaking in unison, and stopped moving.

Chopin and Harriet changed positions instantly.Terrible silence enveloped the space again.The female writer immediately threw away the matchbox, and the small box was particularly conspicuous on the white lace tablecloth.

"I... just hold it..."

Sang's expression was a little strange, and after a while, she realized that she should leave here with an excuse rather than throwing away the match.

But Liszt has gone to the piano.The applause sounded, and the music performance immediately began——

San can't leave.

Marie Dagu was not a woman as beautiful and gentle as she looked.

This was the conclusion Sang had drawn long ago.

But tonight, after living with that conclusion, she feels infinitely ridiculous and hurt by it.

The female writer who has always been carefree is by no means innocent.On the contrary, in some respects, she has always possessed extremely keen intuition.

She probably knew what the purpose of tonight's salon was.

Jealousy and fighting back, what else is Dagu better at?

She said she was a close friend, but in the end she became a part of her plan.

Since when?

It may be the first letter Dagu wrote to her when Chopin just got engaged.

Even when attending this salon today, Sang didn't want to go directly to see Chopin like this.

But under Dagu's constant instigation, she was finally bewitched to regain the courage of "putting on a white dress and a scarlet belt", and once again stood in front of the person she liked.Sang does not deny that she is completely loyal to everything in her heart, she likes it, and she really doesn't mind being known by anyone.

Liking is different from pursuing. Although Sang will not be restricted by moral conditions, she doesn't like to make unrewarded attempts.

You Qi let herself be passive, she would never be so hasty.

Marie Dagou probably knew that Chopin was married.

Her behavior tonight was impeccable, she was damn successful—Sang just felt the heat in her cheeks, the way she offered it so innocently, she begged to be humiliated.

Women writers have ten thousand swear words to put on paper!

Sang knows that Dagu has not been going well recently

The lady imitated herself and wrote a novel, "Daniel Stern", also using a male name as a pseudonym-like a pebble thrown into the sea, without much splash.She was eager to get rid of the shackles of elopement, and she was very eager to prove her "investment" was right-unfortunately, Liszt was not as she wished, the Hungarian soul was free and noble, and he was unwilling to sink down and become a "composer". ", and he is unwilling to float up and become the "leader" of the Parisian music scene.

With all these troubles, Sang could predict that her house would definitely have cleaned no less than ten tea sets.

The bright piano sound broke into my ears.

Sang sneered, determined not to dwell on it.

Writing is bad enough, and writers don't want to be ashamed of their inner embarrassment.

She didn't do anything wrong... If liking is also wrong, then there is no innocent person in the world.Besides, that lady named Aurora didn't say anything at all - not only didn't she say anything, but she was more embarrassed and nervous than herself?

Sang bit the cigarette in his mouth, and suddenly relaxed on the sofa.

She and Aurora looked at each other, but the other party was stunned, then suddenly looked away, and finally looked back cautiously... This time the young lady did not avoid, although every cell in her was clamoring for anxiety, her gaze was not timid, Always gentle and gentle, until the end of the piano sound.

applause.

Sang didn't pay much attention to Liszt's performance, she just thought this child named Aurora was very interesting.

Dagu seemed to say something at the piano.The writer heard Liszt stand up, and his voice drifted towards their table.

"And Fried, how do you think I played just now?"

"Play as I write, or don't play."

The house was full of silence.

The laughing question was met with a cold reply from Lai Sheng.

Although I don't know the beginning, and although I don't have much communication with Chopin... But Sang knows that Mr. Poland is angry.

"Then play it yourself—"

Liszt knocked on the piano cover like a demonstration, not wanting Chopin to stand up and walk towards the piano.

Sang watched everything silently, and she saw Dagu showing a faint smile.

There was a chill behind my back.

She thought, she probably knew why this salon was held.

Humiliation of oneself is probably a temporary icing on the cake.

The real purpose is probably only Chopin from the beginning.

Chopin didn't really like the evening events at the hotel.But he never showed this tendency clearly, nor was it seen.

As when the music is not to his liking, the Pole will bring out the gentleman's reticence when the subject of the gathering turns to political, philosophical and academic issues.Perhaps it has something to do with his nature. Friends all know that he has always been cautious, and he does not express too many opinions even in private.It is normal for Chopin to be reticent.

From stepping into the inner court of the salon, and roughly scanning the faces of the people present, Chopin vaguely judged that tonight would not meet his taste.

If it wasn't for Aurora, he might have found an excuse to leave without a trace.

The misfortune began when San sat beside him—

Ever since this alternative novelist appeared, Chopin had been keenly aware that something was wrong with Aurora.His wife was restless, wavering, and uncertain, and he could not guess why.

Because of Sang?

What is so scary about this writer who is not a woman?

Chopin confirmed that he and Sang didn't have much communication, and only met on occasional occasions...even, they didn't like each other—after all, this female gentleman didn't fit his aesthetics at all.

His wife was better until he made it clear and sat next to Aurora.

The tit seemed to recover, and the Pole took her hand and began to listen to the Hungarian.

— This is real misfortune!

Who is so evil, want to hear Chopin in Liszt style?

The suggestion from Mrs. Dacoud's mouth, "play that nocturne, which often appears in the salon, dedicated to Mrs. Pleyel", made him frown.

If Nocturne in E-flat major has any trace of hazy moonlight, Liszt's gorgeous and crooked adaptation is a disaster.

The fancy decorative sound not only led to the moonlight, but also changed the night into day.

Especially the applause at the end of the song made him extremely ashamed and indignant.

"The composer is also present, why don't you ask him how he feels?" Daguqing raised the topic lightly.

"Then Fried, what do you think of my playing just now?" Liszt asked with a smile.

"Play as I write, or don't play." Chopin's answer was extremely cold.

Maybe it's immune to this sentence, maybe someone is used to being treated like this.

Liszt may have mistaken it for an episode of the lively atmosphere in the salon, but the "spoilment" of this piece of music that has another meaning for Chopin actually touched his bottom line.

"Then play it yourself—"

The Pole has probably never been so out of control. For the first time, his heart is so strong that he wants to pull the Hungarian off the piano completely.

Chopin sat in front of the piano to calm himself down.

The candlestick on the piano was extinguished for unknown reasons, and the light suddenly dimmed.Liszt was about to help him relight it, but he refused with the reason of "this is just right", and even asked to blow out the surrounding candles.

The piano was completely shrouded in darkness, only a faint shadow remained.

Fingers on the keys.The moonlight and the night, the wind and the clouds... The crystal-clear timbre touched by those magical hands reappeared in everyone's mind.

Seems like no comment.

Chopin was right.

"How do you feel, Franz?"

"Such a tune really shouldn't be messed up. Please don't rush to light candles..."

I couldn't see everything beside the piano clearly, only heard some rustling sounds.

Then, the nocturne sounded again.

——Exactly the same as Moonlight Night and Wind and Cloud just now, not the slightest difference.

Matches were struck, candles lit.

Chopin stood by the piano and saw Liszt smiling unabashedly. .

"Look, Liszt can become Chopin when he's happy, but can Chopin become Liszt?"

"..."

Poles cannot answer this question.

He could even hear the humiliation in that simple sentence - but he knew that was not the intention of the simple-minded Hungarian - so irritating and yet unable to throw a punch.

"Yes...Chopin...can also become Liszt..."

Following the voice, Chopin saw Aurora standing up dizzily, with a red face full of alcohol and seven points of firmness.

Mrs. Dagu, who had gone to Sang's side at some time, had the triumphant smile on her face instantly shattered.