"For your dear brother, Your Excellency Bonaparte, I am doing this for your own good. Your language art is really intolerable to me. You should talk to the delicate swan just now about history and art. Ko Naiyi's "Xi"
"Germany", Racine's "Andromache", if that doesn't work, I can also talk about Haydn, Mozart, and the roses in her back garden."
Kane talked eloquently, and it was obvious that he was familiar with topics such as how to chat with noble ladies and had countless experiences.
Bonaparte frowned slightly, "Classicism is rigid and outdated. This era needs more critical art. Besides, she really likes to hear me talk about the sea."
"Oh please, my brother...you are really hopeless." Kane slapped his forehead, "Can the magnificent sea color of Kogasi Island make her and you willing to be in the middle of the crowd?
Dance with you?"
Bonaparte said nothing, just picked up the wine glass and shook it gently.
Through the translucent wine, the light is deflected and reflects the bustling ballroom behind into the oval wine glass, as if every prosperity is put into the wine glass. This reminds Bonaparte of the time in Ajaccio.
It was so lively, but only with the anti-French liberation organizations.
And now when he looked at the current scene, he only smelled the rancid odor that was unbearable, and he had to accept the fact that he was French. It was really a contradictory experience. Maybe he would never be able to forgive his father in this life, but he could not deny it either.
, it was his father's sober understanding of the situation that enabled Bonaparte himself to study at Brienne at public expense.
Kane shook his head helplessly, leaned over and whispered in Bonaparte's ear:
"It's up to you. Did you see that sexy girl in the black skirt?"
"who?"
"Carmilla, the nightingale of the Liszt family, Sabrina's best friend, her singing voice can impress the sirens and wake up the sleeping Endymion."
"ha?"
"You just lack humor. You should really let a famous Austrian internal medicine doctor take a look at your brain and hope that a panacea can cure your emotional intelligence."
Kane slapped Bonaparte on the shoulder dissatisfied.
"What does this have to do with Austria? No, I mean, where is your dance partner just now?" Bonaparte could not connect to the playboy's brain circuit.
"You mean Patrice? That's just social etiquette. Let's be honest, she's not my type. Oh, you may not understand. You can't even find a dance partner." Kane glanced at the person who was twirling on the dance floor with him just now.
The girl was already talking to another tall man, and was made to laugh from time to time.
"Stop teasing me."
"Look, how do I win the favor of Miss Camilla and hug her on the next dance floor? Maybe tonight will be even more wonderful. Learn from me, man, I don't want you to be alone in the middle of the night.
If you go back lonely, I will laugh at you all your life. When you grow up, you are no longer a child who goes home for late-night snacks."
Kane was full of confidence, straightened his collar, patted the non-existent dust on his cufflinks, and walked slowly away.
Bonaparte saw him going to the center of the crowd. Kane seemed to want to show him how to communicate at a noble banquet, although such communication was completely different from what Bonaparte had imagined.
Kane separated from the crowd and walked to his target, Miss Camilla. He first listened to the conversations between the men around her and her for a while, focusing on Queen Mary who liked luxury and enjoyment, spending the national finance on clothing, jewelry, and villa dances.