Chapter 2939 Can't ride the wind (6)

In a room where you can see the Yulian fountain, a group of children are competing in poetry recitation.

It can be seen that they performed very seriously, but no one really cared about their performance except the parents of the children. After all, no matter how deep the child pretended to be, he could not really understand Macbeth.

"What do you think?" asked Richard Edgeworth.

"Very good." Georgiana said heavily. It just so happened that a child's performance came to an end. She applauded with the others, but her mind was elsewhere.

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Phoebe joined the frog chorus, that dark dungeon actually has a great echo effect, no one noticed it before, after the semester started, many people heard the mermaid singing echoing in the lounge, with this music, you need Is it a gramophone?

"Why is it black?" Pomona said, looking at the renovated walls of the dungeon.

"The designer told me so," said Isabella Sidney.

"You should fire him," Pomona said, leaning closer to the wall, where she caught a whiff of wine.

"This is the paint he made according to the Ten Books of Architecture." Isabella said, "My father ordered it from France."

"Wine lees?" asked Pomona.

Isabella nodded, "And it's from a Bordeaux winery."

Damn rich people.

Pomona groaned and stopped commenting on the dark wall.

In fact, wine lees can also be squeezed once to make brandy. Although the taste is a little worse than that of directly brewed brandy, I am afraid that only those who were "thirsty" during the Prohibition would drink it.

There is still a lot of extractable pigment in the lees, which means that these seemingly dark walls are actually a deep purple.

Vitruvius said that if it is made of good quality wine lees, it can also imitate Indian blue, but this process is quite complicated. It is widely used in steam baths. The walls of the dungeon are very damp, just a bit like a steam bath, except for the water barrier. In addition, it can produce a fragrant wine aroma, which was used by Roman nobles for pleasure.

"You know this paint?" Isabella asked.

"How about we put up some murals or something?" Pomona asked.

"I don't think it's necessary. No one is coming anyway." Isabella said coldly.

"You have to give them a little time to adjust," Pomona said.

"What do you want to decorate?" Isabella asked.

"I'm wondering whether to choose the solar system or the constellation map." Pomona mused. "It just coincides with the sky of the day."

"Wow, this is really refreshing." Isabella said slightly shocked.

"I have a question. What's the purpose of having a telescope by your lounge window?" Pomona asked. "And you can't see the stars."

Isabella was left speechless by the question.

"So, it's just a show?" Pomona asked.

"Maybe." Isabella said perfunctorily.

Pomona stopped asking her.

It may be that Delphi was still the "center of the earth", Vitruvius believed that because the climate in the north is cold, the brain is like a frozen snake, and it needs a warm climate to be active, so "southerners" are smarter .

Some things are deeply ingrained. Now I think that many children of pure-blood families are named after constellations. Compared with decoration, what this place needs most is lighting.

She told Isabella to set up some braziers first, which would bring both light and heat, and make the cold dungeon a little warmer, if they really planned to invite living people to their party.

Then they returned to the ground.

The news that Gerald Rohart is coming to the celestial ball has excited many of his admirers, as if everything is a foregone conclusion.

"Do you like Rohart?" Pomona asked Isabella.

"I don't have time for idle reading," Isabella said. "I have a lot of lessons to make up."

"Do you speak French?" Pomona asked.

"know a little."

"What do you mean by Repères?" asked Pomona.

"Positioning?" Isabella said.

Pomona looked at Isabella in surprise.

"My dad likes French and philosophy, he taught me." Isabella said.

Pomona didn't know whether to invite Isabella to the Fat Friar's class, after all, she didn't ask him.

Fortunately, the auditorium will arrive soon, and it's time to eat, and you can smell the aroma of food and the loud voices of people from a long distance away.

One after the other, they entered the open double doors.

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"Do you think learning can still bring honor and respect as before, sir?" Miss Lamont asked.

Georgiana glanced back, probably because Elizabeth also lacked interest in poetry recitation, and chatted with the architect Mott next to her.

"Of course." Mott raised his tone and said, "Who would deny this fact? There are many French academicians among the current members."

"I mean, instead of appointing any great office, but when there is a debate between the two sides, one side always expresses an opposing opinion, so that both sides will inevitably get into trouble, and no matter which side he belongs to, he will always be in trouble first or later. corner," said Miss Lamont, "unless he is shrewd enough to vary his views as the larger and stronger party changes point of view and pace."

"Then such a person is just a sensationalist." Mott smiled arrogantly.

"I have met some people who, in order to avoid trouble, did not argue with others about any issues, especially after they had obtained honor and eminence, and their knowledge no longer brought them honor and respect, but trouble, Loss and distress," Lamont said.

"Because they're afraid they're wrong? Like the ones arguing with Galileo?"

"That's not what you told me just now," said Miss Lamont, laughing. "Who would deny the fact that learning brings honor and respect?"

Mort thought it was funny, Georgiana didn't think so.

"Just chatting," Richard whispered in her ear. "You don't need to worry too much."

"I don't care about it." Georgiana said indifferently.

"It's written all over your face," said Richard.

She almost touched her face.

Because she is used to living without a mask, she has almost forgotten how to wear a mask.

And the self who was so happy that he needed heartworm honey to calm down because of the dog sledding ride.

On the way to Venice, she was bouncing up and down on the train bed, and Severus watched her bouncing around without stopping.

Probably because dog sledding is public, while train suites are private.

"One of the great things about being a parent is being able to relive your childhood," Georgiana said. "You can buy toys that you like, and then use that as an excuse to buy toys for your kids."

Richard looked at her in surprise.

"Then we will find that we used to be happy about such small things." She sighed, looking at the children with serious faces and pretending to be sad, "and worrying about such small things."

"The past is a memory, the future is a fantasy, and we live in the present," Richard said. "What do you think, Georgiana?"

She looked at Richard.

"That's what I improvised," he said lightly.

"Not everyone lives in the present," Georgiana said. "Some live in the past, and some live in the future."

"Let's go to the next hall before anyone protests," said Richard.

Georgiana made no objection, and left the room where the poem was read with him.