Human dimension reduction

His Majesty Louis XII, the great and peace-giving emperor crowned by God, blessed and loved by all peoples, ruler of Gaul and Sica, rested forever in the Palace of Versailles on a night when an angel walked by In the bedroom.

After waiting for 26 years to be named Dauphin at the tender age of four, little Louis finally wore the crown symbolizing royal power, which was Louis XIII.

Louis XII died not at the right time, but at the right time.

At this moment of rebellion, the banners of the rebel army had already parked outside the gates of Paris, and only Paris, the capital of Gaul, was left under the leadership of the royal family. The death of Louis XII was like a A cowardly and well-timed escape, throwing all the terrible mess behind him to his hapless heir.

Everyone knows that the group of "humble people" surrounded by spears and cannons outside the door, crawling out of the mud together with their vulgar commander, is about to do an unprecedented horrible thing-to overthrow the supreme royal family, Smash the crown bestowed by the Heavenly Father, and let the peasants whose ancestors walked barefoot in the dirt climb to the Palace of Versailles, which only the nobles are eligible to enter.

The slogan "Execute Louis XII and establish our republic" resounded throughout Gaul as they marched. Peasants holding rakes and farm tools joined this majestic team, under the invincible horseshoes of the commander Like a fire, it swept across the land of Gaul and burned down to the city of Paris.

On the second day after arriving in Paris, the slogan was very practically changed to "Execute Louis XIII and establish our republic".

The unlucky heir who was driven off the shelves was obese, but had extraordinary artistic attainments. Facing the menacing artillery fire outside the city, he completely let go of himself after he succeeded to the throne, indulged in pleasure and feast day and night, and under the king's order Next, Paris is brightly lit day and night, singing and dancing are incessant. The royal family and nobles who cannot escape are completely intoxicated before dying. Buckets of endless champagne and red wine are poured into the Seine River. The frothy Seine River flowed outside the city, and the rebels stationed here smelled the fragrance floating in the air, looked at the magnificent dome of the palace in the night, and were almost taken away by this flashy dream.

"There is no better place!"

A down-and-out painter was sitting on the side of the street, raising his paintbrush to describe this splendid city, the obsession in his eyes almost turned into substance and flowed out.

"It was as if the kingdom of heaven had opened its gates to me. I could hear the singing of the doves and the voice of the angels!"

He praised loudly, immersing himself in his own world like no one else, his disheveled hair was caught in his hat, and his cheeks with thin cheekbones were flushed.

"What you heard was not the voice of an angel," said a middle-aged gentleman who looked at his painting behind him for a while. "It was the choir of Notre Dame Cathedral practicing."

The people at the upper class can spend money and spend money and money, using money and wealth to save their lives in the hands of the rebels, but the people at the bottom do not have such confidence. They wander around in the smelly houses day and night, listening to the news outside the city. No movement, holding all the poor property in his arms, hoping to jump up and run for his life the first time he heard the gunfire.

At the same time, a large amount of supplies in the city of Paris were supplied to the banquets of the nobles, and more and more people died of starvation as the closure of the city prolongs. Undercurrents invisible to the naked eye are rolling in the city, and small-scale riots occur every night. It's all happening, and after dawn, a few poor people's bodies can always be found in the streets and alleys.

So at this moment, those who can sit quietly under the tree and paint are either noble people with noble backgrounds and guards, or idiots who are obsessed with art.

In the same way, it is definitely one of these two types of people who can stop and talk to him about art without running around for bread.

"However, your praise is not too high." The gentleman changed his subject, his mouth covered by a thick beard turned up, as if thinking of something, he showed an uncontrollable smile. This smile is a bit weird, with a hint of meaning Shen Chang said, "If you can't go to see the queen, go and see our Paris."

If you can't meet the queen at Versailles, meet Paris at Notre-Dame Cathedral.

This phrase first appeared three years ago.

The arrogance of the Gauls is engraved in their bones. As their capital, Paris, a crown of beauty recognized as the capital of art by the world, has always been the city they are most proud of. Using Paris as a metaphor, it can be said that Their highest praises are truer than citations of the Bible or the name of God.

The man who uttered it, a priest intern at Notre-Dame, under what circumstances he uttered it is unknown, but it is certain that it soon became the favorite of all Parisians. Words.

In the palace of Versailles there are the noblest women of Gaul, but the most beautiful Paris falls in the arms of the Virgin.

A silver-haired gentleman followed the crowd into the chapel of the Notre-Dame Basilica with a cane. It was not the time for worship, but because that hateful low-class person blocked Paris, people in the city were panicked, and they came to the chapel to pray for There are still a lot of soul comforters. These men, women, young and old all have strange excitement and blush on their faces, and fire-like enthusiasm in their eyes. If the Virgin Mary is in front of them, they will probably be driven back by such a fanatical atmosphere.

They walked into the chapel with a strange piety, sat down quietly, and made no sound during the whole process. During this process, the only sound was the majestic organ and the loud and clear hymns echoing in the empty building.

The choir children wearing plain white gowns stood in several rows according to their height. The children in the front were short in stature and still had childish faces. In the last row, they were already tall and beautiful teenagers.

They clasped their hands together, closed their eyes, and their pure and beautiful singing accompanied the organ all the way up, like water rising against gravity and returning to the sky. The sound without any impurities was like feathers falling from heaven, with the power to purify people's hearts.

The children who can sing in the choir of Notre-Dame Cathedral have undergone rigorous training. Each of them sings very hard, but all the audience's attention is focused on only one person.

That boy stood in the middle of the last row. He was standing there just like the other companions, but his beauty had already illuminated the surroundings like the sun, making the other beautiful boys on both sides disappear. The usual plain white robe has a different taste on him, as if he is also one of the angels who walked down from the church murals.

If that down-and-out painter was here, he would definitely raise his hands madly and obsessively, and praise loudly, God, how could such a character be born in the world!Paris was nothing but a hotbed for his birth!

—His beauty illuminates Paris and makes Paris more glorious.

After the organ played a short interlude, the other children stopped singing, and he was the only one who sang slowly following the melody. As the sound of the piano rose steadily, his voice echoed in the air like a clear crystal. In the wide chapel, the sunset glow slanting in from the big flower window shone on him, and the transparent and loud high-pitched sound like the sound of nature hit the heart's heart. The singing voice of Angel Kissed is mellow and graceful, breaking through the highest imagination of beauty that people can perceive. When he makes a gorgeous vibrato, the voice is so beautiful that it breaks the heart.

Transparent tears accumulated in many people's eyes, and they didn't know why they were crying, but they couldn't control the trembling of their bodies, the throbbing of their hearts, the desire to cry, to talk, to embrace, to kiss The desire is uncontrollable, like a river rushing, almost making the most restrained person cry bitterly, venting the most suppressed emotions.

"Only the singing of angels can be so moving." An old woman muttered to herself with her palms folded devoutly.

"What's the child's name?" She asked the stranger next to her voice.

The woman who was wiping the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief turned her head and replied softly, "His name is Ellianora."

The old woman was taken aback for a moment: "Oh, this name is a bit girly, but it suits him very well."

Eleanora is actually a unisex name, which can be used by both men and women, but obviously most people will choose the simpler and clearer Alice, or the more prominent Arianna, or choose Allen or Alexander for boys. .

But for some reason, this name has a very high sense of fit with the people on stage.

They are all so ambiguous, vague, out of place and psychedelic.

The woman smiled slightly when she heard the words, and said casually: "Your perception is correct. He is an eunuch selected by Notre Dame Cathedral last year, and he usually sings at the Royal Theater in Paris."

The old woman was shocked by the information in the woman's mouth, and after a long time, she raised her hand and drew a sign of the cross on her chest, sighing, "Holy Mother..."

But what exactly is the sigh, even she herself can't understand.

Louis XII was a very devout believer. After he ascended the throne, the number of churches in Gaul almost doubled. The churches collected so many miscellaneous taxes that they could even feed another Vatican. Heavy taxes It was the reason that led to the uprising of the rebel army.

Not only that, the secular concept at the moment believes that women, as appendages of men, are not qualified to sing in public, let alone sing for God, so whether it is an opera house or a church choir, they are all composed entirely of men.

However, young boys have high-pitched voices and can still sing difficult hymns, but when boys with skilled singing skills reach the developmental stage, their voices will quickly become low, not only unable to control hymns, even ordinary operas Not all female roles are available.

In order to solve this problem, a group of eunuchs came into being.

If the boys are castrated before they reach the age of development, they will always retain the clear and bright voices of children, as well as their slender and slender figures, and even their immature beauty can last longer.

As for those eunuchs who died in the castration operation, or were deformed and developed strangely after many years, they were easily ignored by the public.

In order to support these churches, Louis XII allowed the churches to select young boys with good looks and good age to train them into eunuchs to form a choir, so the businessmen who bought and sold people suddenly discovered that compared with women, little boys are also expensive. goods, this order caused many families to lose their children.

The merchants trained the gifted boys like prostitutes, making them feminine and mellow, maintaining a slender figure to win the favor of the priests, and when they were too old to stay in the choir , would enter the mansion of the aristocrat, or go to the opera house to sing. In the year before the death of Louis XII, the number of eunuchs in Gaul had exceeded [-].

The choir training was over, and the young children followed the priest back to the reading room to study, while the older children tacitly opened up and boarded the carriages guarding the back door one after another. The family crest, and a few stagecoachs that were rented.

Elianora was last, and while untying the headband that tied her hair, she walked out of the garden full of laurel trees.

At the end of the garden was a stone archway carved with ivy, and there stood a man with a fat body, his arms were a little out of proportion to his body, his chest and abdomen were distended, his face was puffy and wrinkled, but smooth Needless to say, he looked like a weirdly swollen sourdough bun, and the hard woolen coat with exquisite embroidery was worn on him, which was no different from strangling a piece of soft bread.

He was stretching his neck to look into the path in the garden, and when he saw Ellianora's figure appearing at the end of the path, he turned his head and said something to the outside.

At this moment, the lilac bushes on the side were stirred, and the leaves of the orange tree rustled on Elianola's arms. The garden of Notre Dame Cathedral occupies a vast area, connecting with a small hill behind , the straight corpse of the dead pines and cypresses stood upright in the swamp, and the fallen bones of Acacia viburnum were covered with fluffy and thick green moss, which could absorb all sounds—even if it was a heart-piercing scream, it could only be heard outside. Heard the silence of death.

He lifted up his transparent lavender eyes, and the strangely colored pupils looked at the periphery of the carefully repaired garden, a corner of snow-white cloth leaked from behind the orange tree, and then the priest's benevolent face.

The priest stared at Ellianora as if he was gazing at a precious child. He had a pair of blue eyes that still retained the pure look of a baby, and a big fluffy red nose embedded in the center of his chubby face, which looked like the most The kind of Santa that's popular with kids.

"Father Humbert," Eleanora turned her body slightly and looked at the priest standing behind the orange tree, "What do you want?"

Humbert held a sheepskin-bound scripture in one hand, with a gentle expression: "The rebels outside Paris are about to move, the church is blessed by God, they dare not step their dirty boots on the steps here, Eliano La, you have to be careful these few days, go back to church to sleep at night, your room has been reserved for you."

Elianola tore off a piece of orange leaf and crushed it with his hands. A strong and bitter smell rushed out. He replied absent-mindedly, "Okay, I remembered it. Thank you, Father Humbert."

"No matter what promises those nobles have made to you," said Father Humbert, "you must know that no place can really tolerate people like you except the church, which is why you have always stayed in the choir. cheated by them."

Ellianora threw away the group of broken leaves in her hand, and used her nails to scrape the sticky sap that had solidified on her palm. A snow-like smile filled her lavender eyes: "I won't forget it."

Arad waited at the door for a while before he saw Ellianora come out through the path. He showed a relieved expression, and said hurriedly: "I thought you were in trouble again, did someone come to pester you?" ?”

Different from his weird and fat appearance, his voice is sweet and pure, but coupled with his distorted appearance, the original sweet voice also looks a bit creepy, like an adult crying a baby.

Ellianora quickly passed him: "No."

The man nodded: "That's good, our time is a bit tight, the opera at the Royal Theater is about to start, you have to change your clothes and make up, I heard that His Majesty will come today, you... Do you want to go with him tonight ?”

He asked the last sentence a little cautiously, secretly observing the expression of the overly stunning young man.

The other party didn't feel any discomfort with this question. He was calm and a little indifferent. He grabbed the handrail of the carriage with one hand and jumped into the carriage as briskly as a deer: "That depends on what he is willing to pay today."

"Okay, let's go, Paris is still waiting for me tonight."

The man lowered his head and sighed softly, and the door of the carriage opened with a snap, revealing Ellianora's delicate and beautiful face: "Allard, I'm going to be late!"

Arad looked at the little master's slightly impatient face, and subconsciously smiled: "Yes, my Paris."

When Arad moved his fat body and squeezed into the carriage, the driver who had been waiting for a long time immediately waved his thin whip, and the two furry horses kicked their hooves, stepping on the bluestone roads of Paris, and quickly passed the ragged clothes on both sides of the street. Refugees in crowded shirts ran towards the banks of the Seine, where the lights were shining brightly and the fragrance was floating, in their eyes of hunger and envy.