Harry Potter’s Morning Light

  Chapter 1982 "Cannon Beast"

  There is a famous French dish called foie gras. Normal goose liver is not so fat, but the farmer will use an iron pipe to pour the food into the goose’s throat, and then start to feed it again when the goose has not been able to digest it in the future. It is precisely because of this long-term feeding that a fatty liver that is 6-10 times larger than normal foie gras is made.

  The capacity of the stomach pouch is limited. If you instill too much at one time, it will break the stomach, so you have to increase it one at a time.

  It was because they heard that the peasants in the Alsace region borrowed usury, which made people complain about Georgiana and came up with the farming borrowing method. But she didn't know where people's bottom line lay. Reference coupons were also issued overwhelmingly. At that time, they did not represent precious metals such as gold and silver, but land.

  No one wants to borrow money. No debt is easy. During the Revolution, it was very popular to divide the land and cancel the debt. However, sometimes there is no way without borrowing.

  The carriage stopped when she was worried, and it was Figl who opened the door for her this time.

   "We stopped for lunch, madam." Figer said, "I heard that there are Normandy mussels here."

  She got out of the car and looked at the plain of Yimapingchuan. Except for the slightly undulating slopes, she couldn't find any mountains or rivers that could be used as reference objects. They were "middle of nowhere" in the true sense.

   "Lead the way." Georgiana said.

   "Madam, there is actually someone you might want to see." Figer said, and then she took a half step back, and behind her stood a young girl.

  She greeted Georgiana with a standard court curtsey.

   "Who are you?" Georgiana asked.

   "Madam, I am Leila du Renard, the daughter of Rouen's timber merchant." The girl said in a crisp voice.

  Georgiana was taken aback.

  Then she remembered that the Archbishop of Rouen once said to introduce a girl who was living in a rich manor named Leonard.

   "I thought you went to Paris." Georgiana said.

   "You arranged for me to be another girl." Mrs. Barryon said behind her at this moment, "Let her get up, madam."

  Georgiana reacted and quickly made Leila stand up.

  Leila obviously learned aristocratic etiquette, although it is still a little bit different from the real court etiquette.

  She is about 16 years old. She has maroon curly hair like broken waves. There are a little freckles on her face, but it is not ugly. On the contrary, she looks youthful and lively. She wears a woolen skirt with a fringe on the collar, which looks warm and pleasing to the eye.

   "How did you get here?" Georgiana asked.

   "Father sent me a boat." Leyla said softly, "The banquet has been set up."

   "Your father also has a villa here?" Georgiana asked.

   "He has a few business friends in Saint-Romain. The uncles helped me prepare them." Leyla said happily.

  Georgiana glanced at Mrs. Barryon.

   "Let's go." Mrs. Barryon helped Georgiana "I'm hungry too."

  There is an Italian-style manor castle outside the small town. It belongs to the former lord, but Leila took them to that place.

  It seems that festivals are being held in the city. Even if it is not an industrial city, there are exhibitions of local products. It seems that there has been a bumper harvest, and there has been no grain failure. There are delicious food and juggling everywhere, and local girls have sent Georgianah flowers.

  She glanced at Bonaparte not far away. He seemed very happy. After a little stroll, they went to a medieval-style tavern next to the market.

It is reasonable to say that the people who came to this place were pawns, but at the moment they were basically well-dressed people. All the tables were covered with snow-white tablecloths, the sterling silver tableware was all shiny, and there were tall feet on the tables. The cup is also crystal.

  Although it was a little deliberate, it can be seen that it was done with care, and it was already very good for a girl’s first social appearance.

   "Georgiana, come here." Bonaparte waved at her, and then sat down at one end of the long table.

  She looked back at the other end, which should be where the hostess was sitting, smiling, and sitting down on his left hand, opposite her was Sharptal.

   "Remember these people." He pointed to the senior officials sitting on the table with him and said, "You are going to send them invitations. Don't be like the last time."

  She looked at those familiar and unfamiliar faces. Some of them were dressed in military uniforms and some were dressed up as literati. They were mostly middle-aged, and young people were rarely seen.

   "Georgiana will not forget." She deliberately said in a very sweet voice.

  Now Bonaparte is happy. His long table can only seat 12 people, and there is still a place for the hostess. The rest of the entourage had to sit in other places in the tavern.

  Dilloc took the attendants to arrange their seats. The girls were arranged at a table alone, and Mrs. Barryon sat with her husband. The table was full of bankers.

"Brandy?"

  Napoleon’s classmate, said Colonel Lorisdon, who had helped her pass a message in Lyon.

  "You don't want to drink cider anymore?" Bonaparte asked suddenly.

   "It was a child's drink." She said dissatisfied.

  "Do you want to drink apple brandy?"

  She remembered the bottle of cider that tasted so bad yesterday.

  But she looked into Bonaparte’s eyes and felt that what he meant was not what he meant.

  "Which area is the best apple brandy?" Georgiana asked.

   "I don't know, do you know?" Bonaparte asked everyone.

  The officials sitting there did not answer.

  "Here is where the top talents in France are gathered. I don't even know where the cider is best." He sarcastically said, just like the "social queen" in the salon.

  "Have a master taster tasted Brittany cider?" Sharptal said immediately, "I want to hear their professional advice."

  "Does the UK drink cider in fashion?" General Andrey, who was sitting at the table with them, asked Georgiana.

   "Of course I have to drink cider when I come to Brittany. Is there any good introduction?" Colonel Lorrisdon put down Brandan in his hand and said.

   "Our cider may not be used to you," the restaurant owner said nervously.

  "Find a time, hold a wine tasting, and select the best cider." Bonaparte said coldly. "The prize is a quintessential distiller. The winner can use it to expand production and enjoy the same qualifications as wine."

  Georgiana thought someone would be whispering, but found that everyone was looking at him.

   "Serve." He ordered, and the restaurant owner hurriedly asked the waiter to bring the green mouth up.

  She thought it was boiled, but found that these mussels were topped with cream and smoked ham, which was a way she hadn’t seen it before.

  "This is a Brittany country flavor." The boss stood beside Georgiana like a waiter and introduced her to her.

   "Are you using local cream?" Bonaparte asked again like finding fault.

  "This...this is made in the UK." The boss said as if he had done something wrong, "I promise, this is the official way."

  It’s okay if he doesn’t say it, but it’s like buying smuggled goods.

   "Normandy should have its own animal husbandry. I heard that there are people who drink animal milk, just like Romans." Bonaparte said.

"In fact, compared with manual twisting, Italy produces a special twisting machine. The quality of the silk twisted with it is more stable and even than the quality of the manual twist we saw yesterday in the factory." Sharptal said, "The UK has it. In a factory that uses twisting machines made in Italy, one worker can do the work of fifty workers."

   "Is that efficient?" Colonel Lorrisdon asked.

"This used to be a secret in Italy. A British explorer went to Liwo. He could not look at the machine, but he was condoned by an Italian monk, so he secretly drew the pattern and hid the pattern in the silk. Brie sent to the UK, and his actions were quickly discovered. It is said that the Italians sent a boat to chase him. Although he was lucky enough to survive, he died strangely a few years later," Sharptal said.

   "How does it sound like Venice transporting the body of San Marco back." Colonel Lorrisdon said with a smile.

   "The British explorer is like a glassmaker in Venice. He found an island near Derbyshire to build his factory." Sharptal said with a smile.

   "Because that explorer stole Italian secrets, he was poisoned?" General Andre asked.

  As if suddenly realized, the boss took a mussel and ate it by himself.

  About two minutes after he swallowed it, and seeing that he was okay, the other talents started to do it. Georgiana looked at the poor boss, and his cold sweat was frightened for a while.

   "Is it delicious?" Bonaparte asked her.

   "It's delicious." She nodded and said, calmly eating seafood with creamy and bacon flavours.

  Then he talked about Italian literature with Fontanelli. Fontanelli was also an attendant, but he was Italian. At first they talked for ten days, and then they talked about Tacitus.

"I think Tacitus has never studied the causes and internal motives of things. His investigation of the mystery and mentality of human behavior is not deep enough, so that he can not leave an unbiased evaluation for future generations. A historian It should reflect human beings and nations truthfully, refer to the environment in which they live, and evaluate them in a realistic manner. I have seen people praise him because he wants to make the tyrant fear the people, but it will be unfortunate for the people. Maybe I make you feel It's getting worse, we are not here to discuss Tacitus, come and continue to enjoy these rich dishes."

"The people are easy to change. As long as you take up the task of leading them, they will be as flattery as Avidirius." A person suddenly said loudly, "The fear is disaster. I can't stand the test in front of me."

   "Who is talking?" Bonaparte asked.

  With the sound of dragging a stool, a young man walked into the restaurant from next door.

  He looked at him in his twenties, with a hooked nose and sharp eyes.

  "Good afternoon, France is first in power." The man said in accented French, "My name is Robert Peel and I am a student at Oxford University."

   "He moved in two weeks ago." The boss explained immediately.

   "What are you doing in France?" Bonaparte asked.

  "Zhuangyou, this is a British custom, do you say I am right, Georgiana." The young man looked at Georgiana and said.

  Her heart is beating.

  Not because of love, but because of fear that they will fight now.

   "Robert Peel? Do you know the Viscount Robert Peel who has a good relationship with Prime Minister Pete?" Bonaparte asked.

   "He is my father." Robert Peel said.

   Bonaparte looked him up and down.

   "I heard that you were talking about Tacitus just now, how about we talk?" Robert Peel Jr. smiled.

   "Sit across from me, Georgianna." Bonaparte ordered, "Make room for the guests."

  She stood up and sat on the opposite side as usual, and then Robert Peel Jr. sat down where she was before.

  Menival sitting in the last seat looked at her.

   "Don't waste food." She said harshly, "Eat!"

  So a group of high-ranking French officials took up their knives and forks, but did not talk, but listened to the "chat" with their ears.

  The boss hadn't seen this scene before, and he hesitated for a while and left the hall.

  She glanced at the maid’s table, and Matilda seemed to be triumphantly saying something to Leyla.

  She shook her head and continued to eat late lunch.

  (End of this chapter)