Nineteenth Century Medical Guide

Chapter 421 417. Toys and Canaries

Under the blessing of his father, Geiser is a well-known figure in Switzerland, and even among the second generation, he is a top figure. Although he can't make everyone obey him, no one will cause trouble for him, let alone humiliate him in this way.

However, when he came to France, to Paris, where a brick thrown at him could knock down a group of artists and aristocrats, Geiser was nothing.

Neutral Switzerland was ultimately too weak, and Geiser had always been well aware of this.

His painting skills and talent were also very weak, which Geizer only realized now.

  Recalling the whole thing, it turns out that the salon invitation and the price tags of the paintings sent by Mathilde were all fake, which was a compensation made in advance at this moment.

Kavey still knows Geiser. It is not easy for a young man to make a decision immediately in such a situation. There are many things that the person involved dare not say, and he doesn't know how to say them. It still takes bystanders like him to help out:

"Your Highness, everyone's body is different, and the postoperative results will definitely be different. I think it's better to look at the surgical atlas. I have typical anatomy here, and there are many hand-drawn comparisons of pre- and post-operative pictures, which are better than a single one."

"Doctor Kavi!" It was not Mathilde but Geiser who interrupted him. "This is my own business. Let me handle it myself."

Seeing how determined he was, Kavi stopped talking.

"Have you figured it out?" Mathilde sat upright on the sofa, carefully adjusting her skirt. "If you have figured it out, take it off quickly. I'll just take a look at the shape and length. I won't eat you."

Geiser was not as obedient as the other party expected. He just lowered his head to glance at the button of his trousers and continued, "Your Highness, you are also a painter with excellent skills. You also love art and even devote your whole life to art. Your judgment of art has always been accurate. I want to know now, is my painting worth your 1000 francs?"

"You can tell whether it's worth it by looking at the reactions of the people around you. Actually," Mathilde sighed, "The fact that you can ask such a question speaks volumes."

Geizer let out most of the breath he had been holding.

His body softened and he took a half step back. Fortunately, there was a dressing table behind him, so he supported himself with his hands and did not fall to the ground: "Then, how much is my painting worth?"

"It is worthless."

Now that the conversation was over, Mathilde turned back into the outspoken and sharp-tongued princess: "To be honest, you are not even as good as Dr. Kavi in ​​terms of painting skills. The lines of his anatomical drawings of corpses are clear, and the proportions of structure and shadow are very appropriate. A few sloppy strokes outline the coldness and precision of the surgical operation, which is much more vivid than your wild horses running wildly.

You are even worse when it comes to artistic aesthetics. Not to mention those art masters present, even the gardener I hired in my estate is better than you. At least the bushes he trims don’t disgust me.”

  Geizer felt like he was thrown into a dirt pit, and then shovel after shovel of dirt hit him head on. He knew he would never be able to climb up in this lifetime, and his artistic career might end here, but he couldn't help but struggle a few more times:

"I'm still young, don't I have a chance?"

"Young?" Mathilde said with a smile, "Mr. Hans is only a few years older than you. Although he was not so famous at your age, he was appreciated by Karl Bilotti, the head of the Prussian Realism School, and became his student. What about you? Which school do your paintings belong to? Who appreciates them?"

"It doesn't matter whether I am appreciated or not, I am willing to learn!" Geiser said, "Mr. Hans was also considered to have no talent by the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts, and he persisted for several years before he was able to stand out. I can do the same, as long as I study in Mr. Hans' studio for a few more years!"

Mathilde shook her head, not disguising the contempt in her smile: "Did he teach you to paint?"

Geize felt like he had just dug away the dirt covering his body, but a bullet pierced his chest again: "."

"Hmm? Why are you silent?" Mathilde said with a smile, "You also said that he was said to have no talent before. It was with the guidance of his teacher and his own efforts that he found a new path and became famous today. Just imagine, if you really have even a little talent and are in the same situation as him, would he not teach you?"

Geizer's last bit of spirit was gone.

Mathilde stood up and lost her patience with him: "I'm in a hurry. There are countless people waiting for me downstairs."

Geiser could already foresee the consequences of his refusal. Perhaps the other party would remove his painting as soon as he came downstairs and declare it a failed work, and all previous bids would be invalidated.

Money is secondary. He doesn't care about the money. What he really cares about is the painting itself, the art! If he really has no talent or skills, why bother to force it?

  Is it the art that is forced upon you or the art that you have been pursuing for so many years?

Geize's eyes were firm, even firmer than when he refused Kavi's help just now: "Your Highness, I am not your servant, let alone your pet. I also have dignity. Even if the quality of my paintings is terrible, they are the result of my hard work."

  Mathilde：???

"If you can raise the price to 8000 francs, I'm willing to make a sacrifice." Geiser raised his head and fought against the injustice of fate, but his hand had already touched the waistband of his pants. "If you think that just taking a look is not enough, and you want to take a photo or leave a sketch for you to compare later, then you have to buy another painting and help me a little more."

The more Mathilde listened, the more outrageous it seemed to her: "I don't have the habit of collecting garbage. The base price of 1000 francs is already helping you. I have my own artistic bottom line."

Geiser didn't seem to understand, and his hands had already swiftly untied his belt: "How about raising it to 6500 francs? That's 1500 francs less."

"Not so good." Mathilde stood up and looked away from him towards the door. "I've already said that I have my own principles and I can't raise the price any more."

"Six thousand francs?"

"5600?"

"5000?"

Geiser's trousers fell down as fast as his offer price, until Mathilde opened the door and his dress trousers had completely left his legs and hung on his shoulders. At the same time, his request changed, no longer a specific amount: "Just make another offer! Really, just one offer, any amount of francs will do!"

"No, that's impossible!"

Mathilde stood firm to her bottom line and walked out of the room. There was no need for any verbal threats. Just these few steps forced Geiser to give up all his demands: "Okay, okay! Come on!!!"

Five minutes later, Kavey and Geiser came downstairs.

"I didn't expect you would agree."

"I can't help it. Her Royal Highness the Princess has already praised me to such a high level. If I don't appreciate her kindness, I will be betraying her kindness and will also damage the princess's image." It seems that what Geizer adjusted was not the angle of the collar, but his view on art. "This is definitely not what a gentleman does." "You are so shameless."

"Who said that the princess's comments could directly change a painter's artistic career?" Once the idea was changed, the previous resistance became motivation, and even the steps when going downstairs became easy. "My artistic career begins now. Aren't you happy for me?"

"Happy, happy"

Bullshit!!!

Geiser passed this level, and now the problem is all in Kavi's hands.

Lengthening surgery is not difficult, and modern urology often performs this surgery because there are always people who have all kinds of strange requests. However, the risks of surgery are still very high, and surgery is not suitable for dealing with such minor problems, as the benefits are not proportional to the risks.

Of course, this was not something Rochester could refuse. His destiny was never in his own hands.

Since arriving in Paris, he has become the canary in Mathilde's cage, and must stay by her side at all times. Sometimes he has to cooperate with her to satisfy her special fetishes, and he has no personal freedom and dignity. He even thought about jumping into the Seine River to end it all, but he hesitated several times and finally found that he didn't have the courage.

Rochester finally survived and gradually gained the freedom to go out.

The two of them are in a romantic relationship, and it is not appropriate to restrict their freedom in the manor for a long time. The man still needs to appear in the public eye occasionally, participate in some simple social activities, and transmit some "positive energy" related to the princess, which can not only destroy rumors, but also accumulate fame for the princess.

However, the freer Rochester is, the more he wants freedom. In the past half month, he has reached the point where he can only feel at ease when he is away from Mathilde's control.

With such a mentality and Mathilde's figure and appearance of nearly fifty years old, it is impossible for him to have any reaction. The more useless he is in bed, the more she complains about him, and the more Rochester wants to get rid of her, which finally forms a vicious circle.

However, Rochester only felt disgust towards her, and what he really hated was Mick and Casper who pushed him into the fire pit. This hatred or the malice it bred also contributed to another force, which constantly influenced his thoughts and eventually pushed him into another fire pit.

The woman he was secretly meeting was not a mistress, nor was she a streetwalker. He didn't have the guts to do that. In fact, this was all made up by someone who was jealous of the princess and saw the gap between them.

Every time Rochester went out, except for the last time he went to the Mu Lu Tavern to meet Mick, he would just wander around, go wherever he wanted, and return the same way when the time was almost up. Sometimes he would also want to just pull a woman into the small building and vent. But when he thought of what he would have to face when he returned, his legs that were about to take a step back shrank.

But this time it was different, the woman came to him herself.

As usual, Rochester left the manor as soon as the princess got on the carriage. After walking two blocks, he was ready to take a public carriage and go north. This time he wanted to see the northern wall of Paris.

However, he had not walked far when a woman stopped him.

She stood in the shadow beside the street lamp, wearing a simple skirt that could be seen everywhere. She left the shadow only when she saw Rochester approaching, revealing half of her face under the hood.

She had no ostentatious jewelry, and her light makeup could not hide her light brown skin, and she looked like a maid doing rough work. But her every move drew a clear line between low class and dissoluteness.

"You are..." Rochester looked at him carefully, "It's you! Why are you here?"

"follow me."

Perhaps because he had been with Mathilde for too long and was accustomed to a life of passive acceptance, Rochester did not resist, but followed his heart and fell into her gentle eyes.

The two found a cheap coffee shop and sat down. They ordered two cups of coffee. The woman explained her purpose: "Did you receive the letter from Budapest?"

"you also.?"

Rochester was slow to become alert. After his lips moved, he realized that he shouldn't have replied so bluntly. "Those letters came from unknown sources and contained unrealistic things. I destroyed them all."

"But you didn't give it to Mick." The woman hit the point.

"I'm afraid of complications." Rochester said, then looked around and said, "Also, aren't you afraid that those people will find out when you come to me privately? If they find out, we may lose our usefulness, and the ending may be even worse than it is now."

The woman pulled down her hood. "The parliamentary discussion in Budapest is about to end. Perhaps it has already ended. It's just that it will take some time for the news to reach Paris. Oh no, now we have a telegraph. The news may have already arrived."

"what news?"

"News of the voluntary annexation of Austria."

The woman spoke softly, but Rochester was frightened: "This is impossible!"

"This is the truth. It's over, and our mission should be over too. You should know what this means to Mick." The woman handed over the letter in her hand. "This is the letter that was put into the shopping basket this afternoon. It contains some news from Budapest. Their conspiracy has been accomplished, Hungary has become a part of them, and the culprit, the Austrian Emperor, will soon come to Paris with his beloved queen to have fun."

"Are you talking about this?" Rochester glanced at the familiar yet somewhat unfamiliar words on the letter and made a gesture of wiping his neck in a very covert manner.

"Yes, this is our destiny."

Rochester really hated Austria, especially after being thrown into Mathilde's arms by Mick, this hatred became even deeper. At the same time, he also opposed the Austro-Hungarian merger, not for anything else, but because his ancestors were the most prominent nobles in Hungary, and his generation should not hand over the nation and land to Austria.

But he didn't dare to do what was said in the letter. If he did, all his future plans would be in jeopardy. "What if the Emperor changes his schedule and doesn't come to Paris, or if he comes but never shows up, what should we do?"

"No, the Emperor of Austria will definitely come. At least he must come to Paris once before accepting the throne at the end of the year." Ayesha seemed to see through his tricks, and her eyes became strange. "Are you afraid?"