The gods crowned her [Famous Book]

As St. Patrick's Day approached, although the weather was getting colder, the manor was still busy and excited about arranging the ball.

The servants were all excited, each busy with their own errands, all with cheerful smiles on their faces.

"God knows how many years we haven't seen a ball." The gardener sighed as he pruned the green leaves of the camellia bushes clean, "You know, the last time I had a ball was when I was a child. For many years, my father led me to stand at the door to watch, the bustling scene was really extravagant, I still remember it until now, I dare say that was the time when I saw the most gentlemen and ladies.”

"Oh, it's been decades! Poor Martin, I still remember that grand event. I thought it was a good beginning, but I didn't expect it to be the end."

The elderly housekeeper couldn't help shaking her head regretfully, her cloudy eyes in the reading glasses showed sadness, "I still remember the scene when the incomparably beautiful Mrs. Rodman led the dance. in my heart."

"Speaking of which, Mrs. Rodman is still the aunt of the Duchess according to her seniority. Their family is really beautiful. Whether she or the Duchess, she deserves to be the focus of the ball."

"Good Martin, I can tell you that I can't wait! Not only to see again, but to see how pretty our princess will be."

The young maid passed by with a bucket and couldn't help but stop after hearing their conversation, her bright round eyes were full of longing: "I don't even know what a country dance is like. It will be held frequently. It's a pity that we can't even have enough food here, let alone that.

Fortunately, our beautiful princess not only brought us food, but also allowed me to look at noble things, which is a luxury I never dared to have in the past twenty years. "

"To be honest, I would bet my age that the princess must be the messenger sent by God to save us. We have been struggling in the abyss of pain for too long, and only by her hand can we be rescued," said the old housekeeper.

"Hey, little girl, lend me the bucket." The gardener waved to the young maid, walked over to take the wooden bucket, scooped up a few ladles of water, poured it into the watering can, and poured it into the flowers.

The snow-white and purple-red camellias trembled happily, reflecting a delicate and charming light under the sunlight.

"You're right." He admired the results of his careful cultivation with satisfaction, "Only she is willing to consider us sincerely. I have seen so many high-ranking nobles, only she stands by our side and sees us eating Not full, and her spine bent by poverty, she took out her own money to help us and help us solve the problem of eating. Although she is young, she is the kindest and most selfless of all people I know , and, undeniably, charming."

"Yes, charm!" the housekeeper praised loudly, "there is no shortage of beautiful women in the world, but there is only one like the princess. Her charm makes me fall in love with it as a woman. But it is not only the source Attracted by her appearance, I think I am more impressed by her intelligence and heart."

"Wisdom and heart..." Byron, who was hidden behind the chestnut tree, couldn't help showing an ambiguous smile when he heard the conversation, and turned to look at Ivy, "Princess, it seems that you have successfully captured have broken their hearts, and there is no doubt that they are now completely obedient to you."

There was no expression on her face, the wide-brimmed hat trimmed with lace and ink blue covered the upper half of her face, and her eyes were hidden in the shadows.

She now looked like an elegant old-fashioned lady, wearing a pair of black velvet mittens and a light gauze silk scarf wrapped around her slender neck.Just like the elegant, restrained aristocratic girl in the oil painting of Frans Hals.

However, in the next second, Byron watched her raise her hand and move the brim of the hat up, and the moment her pupils were exposed, the sharpness turned sharply, and the gentleness and softness quickly faded away, and the lady became a duchess again.

She quietly listened to all the people's evaluations about herself, from beginning to end, but her expression never changed.

Byron's eyes were fixed on this face, expecting to see some joy in her eyebrows and eyes.

But it was just a futile attempt, because it was impossible to peep any clues related to the mood on that frosty face.

As long as she wants to, she can hide her emotions to the freezing point, even the hottest things are not enough to melt it, causing her unhappiness or joy.

At least even if she hates her deeply in her heart, she can maintain a completely opposite attitude on her face, and even smile happily and express her response with those bright cornflower blue eyes. Everyone will feel that her joy comes from the heart.

According to Byron, such a character is a disaster for a poet who needs to keep his emotions at all times, but it is undoubtedly an excellent mask for a superior person.

People only need to see what they want to see.But the enemy can't detect the real intention from this face which is always noble, gentle and polite. An ambitious man who greets with a smile on the surface but actually has ulterior motives is always more terrifying than an opponent who is angry and angry.

"Look, no matter you are male or female, old or young, everyone is full of praise for you. I really have to admire your way of winning people's hearts." He sighed, which attracted her to cast her deep eyes on him.

"It's not as good as you, Mr. Lord. You can capture a group of them with a pen. And I have to use my painstaking inventions or small favors to tie their hearts. God is so unfair sometimes. I have given you the ultimate talent, but I am stingy in rewarding me with the same talent as you."

"It's a pity..." He shook his head with a smile, "I have to think that apart from this so-called talent, I couldn't make the princess favor me, and it's worth making me regret it for the rest of my life."

"Look at your slick face, such outdated words. If it is written in a love poem, I wonder if it came from the stone of Hammurabi 2000 years ago."

"Sometimes I wonder if your heart of stone has never loved anyone." Byron sighed with a half-smile, with a mixture of jokes and regrets in his brown pupils, "If you have tasted the sweetness of love, You wouldn't be so contemptuous of it, you know, love is a potion that makes angels happy, but a holy thing that makes devils terrified."

"You said it was medicine. We all know that medicine is three-point poisonous, and I don't suffer from any disease that must be caused by it. Why do you need to test the poison yourself?"

"I have to think that a man who can be admired by you will inevitably be a bit miserable, and it is easy to worry about gains and losses like a girl."

He sighed and said, "I seem to understand a little bit of that feeling, and I can even imagine how you remind him, 'I can give you everything. Except love', God, if my beloved lover promised me like this, I can write mournful poems for three days and three nights. "

"Not everyone has to depend on love to survive, sir, and it's much more interesting to me to choke men and watch them suffocate than to kiss them on the lips."

"Oh, forget it, we are all different people." Byron felt that whenever he and the Duchess of Wellington stayed together, the topic would inevitably lead to a disagreement.

So this time he immediately stopped this direction, glanced at the busy people in the manor, and saw that the garden courtyard and the rose garden had been decorated with kerosene lamps. The whole house was quite different from the original view, and it began to show the characteristics of festivals and banquets. lively atmosphere.

Newly hired handymen refinished the aqua-blue floor in the lobby, with a bohemian wool rug that served as the dance floor for the evening's main event.

There are many long tables for light meals in the living room, and some delicacies such as bacon and ham, sturgeon sandwiches, and strawberry bombs with blueberry sauce will be put on and waiting for guests.

As far as I looked, I could see almost all the helpers called from the farm or the slums next door, and there was a busy scene of preparing for the ball everywhere, but everything was orderly and orderly.

When Ivy passed the porch, all the servants bowed to her, the expressions on their faces and eyes almost adoring.

"Princess, the dining table you ordered has been installed." Someone stepped forward to report.

"Well done! The roses are to be placed in silver vases, and all placed neatly on the table, and all covered with a white tablecloth, as I emphasized."

"Yes, ma'am."

The servants retreated respectfully, and Byron looked at the gorgeous and eye-catching hall. The surrounding corners were filled with flowers cultivated in the greenhouse glass room. In the bard gallery above, the band's music shelf, harp, Violins, French horns and other musical instruments have been laid out one by one, showing an unusual atmosphere of waiting for guests to arrive.

"You are really good at giving orders. If you were in London or Paris, you would also be the central figure hosting the banquet salon. Why didn't I realize that you still have such talents?"

He approached one of the bright heather clusters, bent down to knead the petals swaying in the wind, and let out a sigh of emotion that he didn't know whether it was sincerity or flattery.

"What kind of talent is it to prepare a dinner party? If you can't handle this stuff, then I don't want to command the whole of Ireland."

Hearing this, Byron was a little surprised, straightened up instantly, and looked at her in shock: "You are really...well, you don't like to hide, I thought you would be more cautious about it."

"Why hide it? It's not necessary at all." Ivy shrugged extremely simply, "I've never been ashamed to expose my ambitions, as long as I'm capable enough, I'll make everything worthy of my desires."

"We all believe that you will be a good consul." He rarely expressed sincerity, "Whether you can get what you want in the end, at least you dare to change the rules, and you are already a warrior."

"Only those who firmly believe that Rome can be built can take over the torch of mythology." Ivy raised her chin, smiling proudly with contempt, "Mr. People, let them be at my mercy, be my puppets, that's the joy of being a warrior."

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