Chapter 2001 "Bullfighting Dance" (5)

Every morning at seven o'clock, Constant opened the curtains, whether Bonaparte was awake or not.

This is a rule set by Bonaparte himself, just like an alarm clock.

She thought that after graduation she wouldn't have to go through this anymore and could sleep as long as she wanted.

She turned around, intending to turn her back to the dazzling sunlight. She thought the place next to her was empty.

When she slowly opened her eyes, Leon was still lying next to her. In fact, he might have woken up long ago because his eyes were so clear.

There are many hotels with a design like this. There is a door between two seemingly completely separated rooms. After the welcome party last night, she went through that door to the next room.

What was very strange was that every time he went to her room, he always walked through the main door outside, as if he deliberately let people outside see her.

The two suites are equally luxurious, but his room is more spacious and the color is mainly green.

Sleeping was really just sleeping. They were all well-dressed in pajamas. Strangely, it felt good to rest like this, because she soon woke up too.

There was a smell of gunpowder in the air, which was either left by fireworks that had been set off all night, or possibly by cannonballs fired by warships at sea.

Anyway, he kissed her in the early morning with the sound of seagulls chirping.

"How beautiful," he said as she gasped for breath, "like a Damascus rose blooming with dew."

She stared at him blankly.

"Get up, princess, we have guests to meet later."

After saying that, he stood up neatly, and his valets began to prepare toiletries for him, but Georgiana didn't know if it was time to get up at this time.

Soon Margaret came in with the maids. They surrounded Georgiana and helped her back to the next room.

She felt very tired and had no strength at all, and the maids really treated her as if she had no bones. She didn't even need to lift a finger before she was dressed up and ready to go out to meet people.

She looked at the woman in the mirror and thought she was a stranger.

"Ready?" Leon's voice came from next door.

"Yes, sir." Georgiana said listlessly, and stood up again with the help of the maids.

After walking to the corridor outside, he was already waiting for her outside the door. This time he was wearing black clothes with gold trim.

He looked her up and down for a while, showed a satisfied smile, and then led her to the restaurant with his arms bent.

When they opened the door to the dining room attached to the suite, Arthur Young, the British Director of Agriculture, was already waiting for them, accompanied by Fontane.

Originally they were talking in a low voice, but when they saw the two of them appear, they both ended their previous topics and bowed to them.

"Please take a seat," said Bonaparte, and then went to the table and pulled out a chair for Georgiana.

She sat down at his elbow, opposite Arthur Young, and at Arthur Young's elbow sat Fontane. After they sat down, the empty table was soon filled with butter, bread, sherbet,

Foods such as ham can only be considered a relatively luxurious breakfast among common people.

"Did you have fun last night? Mr. Director," Bonaparte asked.

"Yes." Arthur Young said with a smile, "I had a great time yesterday."

"I have read your article and you also support the large-scale farm system," Bonaparte said.

"This is what the Physiocrats of our time generally believed." Arthur Young said with a wry smile, "Mr. Quesnay also thinks so."

Georgiana said nothing.

This large farm system is similar to the large tenant farms in the British countryside and the colonial farms in North America. Many of the large farms that were later bought by "black gangs" and divided into small pieces were left by the former Quesnay. According to Quesnay's standards,

Large farms are those that use horses for precision farming, while small farmers use oxen for farming. In this way, large farms that meet his standards only account for one-eighth of the total cultivated land in the country.

Whether it is oxen, horses, wheel plows, or harvesters and threshing machines, they all require money to buy. Farmers are keen on taking out loans to buy more small pieces of land. They have spent all their savings and have no money to buy new ones.

farm tools.

She was worried about inflation. The Bank of France, like the Bank of England, also had the power to issue bank notes, but the bank notes they issued were in denominations of 500 and were generally used for large transactions.

This may be a characteristic of the French in the 18th and 19th centuries. If their savings are all spent, they will not continue to mortgage the newly purchased land and then take out more loans, but will farm and repay the debt honestly.

"What do you think, Georgiana?" asked Bonaparte.

"I know French farmers tie their cattle in their fields," Georgiana said, "and they prefer to use shovels."

"Yes, that's exactly what I want to ask." Arthur Young frowned and asked, "Why don't you popularize it?"

"It depends on how you define intensive farming. Small plots of land do not require horse-drawn plows at all. Large farms in North America have not been divided. In rural areas, primogeniture is still practiced. He owns the vast majority of the land left by his father.

The remaining brothers will be given smaller shares. This is also done to prevent the land from being further fragmented. I think you have seen those walls in France..."

"Besides, we don't have that many horses." Bonaparte said at this time, "draft horses are used more in the mines now."

Arthur Young fell silent.

Georgiana realized something.

Napoleon wanted to import fine British horses.

"We are implementing a partnership model." Georgiana said, "We will integrate the scattered land without changing the ownership. For example, the land adjacent to me belongs to two or three families, and I rent livestock and agricultural machinery in partnership with them.

Livestock can also be grazed on the land of several cooperative families. Colonial agriculture and Aboriginal agriculture are different, Mr. Director."

"British farming is not colonial agriculture," said Arthur Young.

You only drove farmers into factories through the enclosure movement. You did not drive the indigenous people to the west like the pioneers of North America, or infect them with smallpox.

"For historical reasons, there are people on the land in France, so we can only integrate people and let them love each other and cooperate, rather than annexing the land." Georgiana said, "In the past, there were lords to manage and plan fallow rotation, but now we have to

Farmers have to plan and manage it themselves, which will be a slow process."

"Let's talk about other issues," said Bonaparte. "How much does Mr. Director know about the beer industry?"

Arthur Young didn't react.

So Bonaparte began to talk about the flavor problems caused by using various grains to make wine, and then talked about the taste difference between British wheat and French wheat, and talked about the impact of sunshine, latitude and temperature on grain production.

Georgiana was so unhappy that she ate her breakfast and stopped talking midway, as if she was not only worse at dancing than Bonaparte, but also much worse at chatting and making friends.

So this breakfast meeting ended in a not entirely harmonious atmosphere.

When the guest left, Bonaparte tilted his head and looked at her.

"What?" she said grumpily.

"Mutual love requires cooperation?" He smiled and said, "Isn't it joint labor and distribution according to the contract?"

"I just hope that the countryside will not be in chaos." She told him what she had just discovered yesterday, that the feasibility of using agriculture to absorb the unemployed people had decreased.

He might not be paying attention to what she was saying, but she held him in her arms.

"Are you listening to me?" she said unhappily.

"Shh, let me enjoy this moment."

Then she could only stand there stupidly, blowing the sea breeze with him.

But at this peaceful moment, singing came from downstairs:

La belle s'est endormie, the beauty has fallen asleep,

Sur un beau lit de rose, on a rose-colored bed,

Blanche comme la neige, beauty is as white as snow,

Belle comme le jour, as beautiful as day,

Ils sont trois capitaines, these are the three captains,

Qui veulent lui faire la cour, they all courted her,

Le plus jeune des trois, the oldest captain,

Le prend par sa main blanche, white hands hold her,

Montez, montez ma belle, my beauty,

Sur mon beau cheval gris, get on my gray horse,

A Paris je vous mene, I will take you to Paris,

Halfway through singing, they were chased away by the local police.

Bonaparte sighed and let her go.

"My beauty, I'm afraid you're going to cause me a lot of trouble."

She stuck her tongue out at him, went back to her room to pack her luggage, and was ready to go.
Chapter completed!