Chapter 1982 "Cannon Beast"

There is a famous French dish called foie gras. Normal goose liver is not that fat, but the farmer will use an iron pipe to pour food into the goose's throat, and then start pouring another meal before the goose has time to digest it.

It is precisely because of such long-term force-feeding that a fatty liver became 6-10 times larger than normal foie gras.

The capacity of the stomach bag is limited. If too much is given at one time, the stomach will burst, so it must be increased one at a time.

It was precisely because she heard that farmers in Alsace were borrowing money at usury that people there were angry and resentful that Georgiana came up with the Farm Loan Law. But she didn’t know where the bottom line was, and the issuance of finger bonds was rampant for a time. At that time, it

It does not represent precious metals such as gold and silver, but land.

No one wants to borrow money. If you are debt-free, you will be light. During the Great Revolution, the land was released and the cancellation of debt rights was very popular. However, sometimes there is no way not to borrow money.

When she was worried, the carriage stopped, and this time it was Figel who opened the door for her.

"We stopped for lunch, ma'am," said Figel. "I heard there are Normandy mussels here."

She got out of the car and looked at the vast plain. Except for the slightly undulating hillsides, she couldn't find any mountains or rivers to use as a reference. It was a "middle of nowhere" in the true sense.

"Lead the way," said Georgiana.

"Madam, there is actually someone you might want to meet." Figel said, and then she took a half step back, and there was a girl standing behind her.

She greeted Georgiana with a standard court curtsy.

"Who are you?" Georgiana asked.

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

Georgiana was stunned for a moment.

Then she remembered that the Archbishop of Rouen once said that he would introduce a girl. At that time, they lived in a manor called Renard Rich.

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

"You arranged for me to have another girl." Mrs. Barrion said from behind her at this time. "Let her get up, madam."

Only then did Georgiana react and quickly asked Leila to stand up.

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

She was about 16 years old, with curly chestnut hair and a few freckles on her face, but they were not ugly. Instead, she looked youthful and lively. She was wearing a woolen skirt and the collar was wrapped with fur, which made her look warm and pleasing to the eye.

"How did you get here?" Georgiana asked.

"Father sent a boat to bring me here." Leila said softly, "The banquet has been arranged."

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

"He has some business friends in San Roman, and my uncles helped me prepare it," Leila said happily.

Georgiana glanced at Madame Ballon.

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

There was an Italian-style manor castle outside the small town, which belonged to the previous lord, but that was not the place Leila took them to.

There seemed to be a festival going on in the city. Even though it was not an industrial city, an exhibition of local products was held here. It seemed as if it had just experienced a bumper harvest and no food failure had occurred. There were food and entertainment everywhere, and a local girl gave Georgiana flowers.

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

Logically speaking, the people who come to this place are all peddlers and lackeys, but at this moment, they are basically all well-dressed people. All the tables are covered with snow-white tablecloths, the sterling silver tableware is all shiny, and the high-end tables placed on

The cup is also made of crystal.

Although it was a bit deliberate, you could tell that it was done with care, and it was pretty good for a girl's first social appearance.

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

She looked back at the other end, where the hostess should be sitting. She kept smiling and sat down on his left side. Opposite her was Chapthar.

"Remember these people." He pointed to the senior officials sitting at the same table with him and said, "You have to send them invitations. Don't do what you did last time."

She looked at the familiar and unfamiliar faces, including those wearing military uniforms and some dressed as scholars. They were basically middle-aged people, and young people were rarely seen.

"Georgina will never forget it," she said in a deliberately sweet voice.

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

Duloc took the attendants and arranged for them to sit down. The girls were placed at a table alone. Madame Ballon sat with her husband. That table was full of bankers.

"Brandy?"

Napoleon's classmate, Colonel Loriston, who once conveyed messages to her in Lyon, said.

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

"That's what children drink," she said dissatisfied.

"Do you want some apple brandy?"

She thought of the bottle of bad-tasting cider she drank yesterday.

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

"Which region has the best apple brandy?" Georgiana asked.

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

None of the officials present answered the call.

"The top talents in France are gathered here, but they don't even know where the cider is the best." He said sarcastically, like the "social queen" making trouble in the salon.

"Has any master sommelier ever tasted Brittany's cider?" Schaptal immediately asked, "I'd like to hear their professional opinion."

"Is it fashionable to drink cider in England?" General Andrei, who was sitting at the same table as them, asked Georgiana.

"Of course you have to drink cider when you come to Brittany. Do you have any good recommendations?" Colonel Lauriston said, putting down the brandy in his hand.

"You may not be used to our cider," the restaurant owner said nervously.

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

Georgiana expected someone to whisper, but found that everyone was looking at him.

"Serve." He ordered, and the restaurant owner quickly called the waiter to bring the mussels.

She thought they were boiled, but she found that these mussels were topped with butter and prosciutto, which was a way of eating them that she had never seen before.

"This is Brittany country style." The boss stood next to Georgiana like a waiter and introduced it to her.

"Is the local cream used?" Bonaparte asked again, looking for trouble.

"This... this is made in the UK." The boss said as if he was doing something wrong, "I promise, this was bought through a formal channel."

He didn't say it was okay, but if he said so, it would be like buying smuggled goods.

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

"In fact, compared to manual twisting, Italy produces a special twisting machine, and the quality of the silk twisted with it is more stable and uniform than the quality of the manual twisting we saw in the factory yesterday." Schaptal said, "There is one in the UK.

In a factory using twisting machines made in Italy, one worker can do the work of fifty workers."

"Is it that efficient?" Colonel Loriston asked.

"This was once a secret in Italy. A British explorer went to Leghorn. Originally he was not allowed to see the machine, but he got the connivance of an Italian monk, so he secretly drew a pattern and hid the pattern on a silk

Burri was sent to England, and his actions were soon discovered. It is said that the Italians sent a ship to chase him. Although he survived by chance, he died mysteriously a few years later," Shaptal said.

"Why does it sound the same as when Venice brought the body of St. Mark back?" Colonel Loriston said with a smile.

"The British explorer was like the Venetian glassmaker who found an island near Derbyshire to build his factory." Schaptal said with a smile.

"Because that explorer stole Italy's secrets, so he was poisoned?" General Andre asked.

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

It took about two minutes after he swallowed it, and they saw that he was fine before anyone else took action. Georgiana looked at the poor boss, who was so frightened that he broke into a cold sweat.

"Is it delicious?" Bonaparte asked her.

"It's delicious." She nodded and said, eating the creamy and bacon-flavored seafood calmly.

Then he talked about Italian literature with Fontanelli, who was also an acolyte, but an Italian. At first they talked about the Decameron, and later about Tacitus.

"I feel that Tacitus did not study the causes and inner motives of things. His investigation into the mystery of human behavior and mentality was not deep enough to leave an unbiased evaluation to future generations. A historian

Human beings and nations should be reflected truthfully, with reference to the environment of the times in which they live, and they should be evaluated realistically. I have seen people praise him because he wants to make tyrants fear the people, but that will be unfortunate for the people. Maybe I have made you feel sad

Things have gotten worse, we are not here to discuss Tacitus, come on, continue to enjoy these rich delicacies."

"The people are easy to change. As long as you take on the task of leading them, they will flatter Vespasianus like Vitellius." A person suddenly said loudly, "What you are afraid of is disaster.

I can’t stand the test before me.”

"Who is speaking?" asked Bonaparte.

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

He looks to be in his twenties, has a hooked nose, and a pair of very sharp eyes.

"Good afternoon, First Consul of France." The man said in French with an accent, "My name is Robert Peel, and I am a student at Oxford University."

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