Nor do I think they can be accused of excessively despising great possessions, horses and carriages, good land, and all that guarantees a comfortable position in society. They do not see only boredom in these benefits, which are generally the object of the most tenacious desires, and if they have passion in their hearts, it is passion for these things. It is not love that can provide a future for such a talented young man as Julien. They are closely attached to a small group. If the small group is prosperous, the good things in society will fall on them one after another. It is unfortunate that scholars who do not belong to any small group will be criticized even if they are not sure of their small success, and the virtuous will become famous by stealing him. Well, sir, a novel is a mirror passing along the road. What it reflects in your eyes is sometimes the blue sky and sometimes the mud in the mire on the road. And the man with the mirror in the basket will be accused of immorality by you! They reflect the mud in the mirror, and you blame the mirror! You might as well blame the road for its quagmire, and still less the procureur of the road, who allowed the water to form a quagmire. Now that we are agreed that Mathilde's character is impossible in our age of prudence and morality, I am less afraid of arousing indignation by continuing to describe the madness of this lovely girl. All the next day, she looked for an opportunity to confirm that she had conquered her mad passion. Her main purpose was to make Julien dislike her everywhere, but to watch his every move. Julien was too unfortunate, especially too excited, to see through such a complicated love trick, let alone all the things in it that were good for him. He had been the victim of such a ruse, and perhaps his misfortune had never been so strong. He was already so little guided by reason in his actions, that he would not have understood it if some morose philosopher had said to him, "Make haste to avail yourself of the situation to your advantage; in the kind of intelligent love you see in Paris, one attitude cannot last more than two days.". No matter how fanatical he is, he has a sense of honor. His first duty is discretion. He knows that. It may be a kind of happiness to ask advice from any person and pour out pain,water bottling line, which can be compared to an unfortunate person who travels through a hot desert and suddenly receives a drop of ice water from the sky. He realized the danger, and he was afraid that he would burst into tears when he met a rash person who asked him, so he shut himself up in his room. He saw Mathilde walking up and down the garden for a long time, and after she had gone, he came down from upstairs. He went to a rose where she had picked a flower. The night was dark, and he could be completely immersed in misfortune without fear of being seen. It seemed obvious to him that Mademoiselle de Lamour was in love with one of the young military palaces with whom she had been joking. She had loved him, but she already knew that he had few advantages. Indeed, I have very few strengths! Julien said to himself, convinced, "I am at best a very ordinary person, very vulgar, very annoying, I can not stand it." He was sick to death of all that was good in him, Edible oil filling machine ,bottle blowing machine, of all that he had ever ardently loved; and in this state of inverted imagination he began to judge life by his imagination. This kind of mistake is the mistake of an outstanding person. He thought of suicide several times, and the scene was full of charm, like a wonderful and comfortable rest; it was a glass of ice water for a poor man dying of thirst and heat in the desert. My death will deepen her contempt for me! He exclaimed, "What memories I will leave behind!" There is no other way but courage for a man to fall into the last abyss of misfortune. Julien was not gifted enough to say to himself, "Be bold." But when he looked at the window of Mathilde's room, he saw through the blinds that she had turned out the light, and he imagined this his whole life, alas! The lovely room he had only seen once, and his imagination ended there. The clock struck one and he heard it. At once he said to himself, "I'll climb up with a ladder!" It was really a brainwave, and the right reasons came one after another, "Can I be more unfortunate?" He thought to himself. He ran to fetch the ladder, which the gardener had locked. Julien smashed the hammer of a small pistol, and with superhuman strength he broke a link in the chain with the hammer, and in a short time he knocked the ladder away and leaned against Mathilde's window. She's going to get angry and treat me with contempt. What does that matter? I kissed her, one last kiss, then went back to my room and killed myself.. My lips will touch her cheek before I die: He flew up the ladder and knocked on the shutters; after a while Mathilde heard him and tried to open the shutters, but the ladder resisted, and Julien, holding on to the iron hook that held the open shutters, pushed the ladder a little, risking to fall down with it. Matilda was finally able to open the window. He jumped into the house, half dead. Sure enough, it's you! She said, throwing herself into his arms. Who can describe Julien's extreme happiness? Mathilde's happiness is not much different. She told him that she was not good and confessed all her faults. "Punish me for my cruel pride," she said to him, clasping him so tightly that he could hardly breathe; "you are my master, and I am your slave, and I will kneel down and beg your forgiveness for trying to resist." She broke away from his embrace and threw herself to the ground. "Yes, you are my master," she said to him, still intoxicated with happiness and love. "Master me forever, and punish your slave severely if she wants to resist." After a while, she broke away from his embrace and lit a candle to cut off the whole side of her hair, but Julien refused to let her. "I will remember," she said to him, "that I am your slave, and if I should ever lose my head in abominable pride, you will show me this head, and say," It is no longer a question of love,water bottle packaging machine, it is no longer a question of what your heart can feel, you have sworn to obey, on your honor. " ” Confusion and happiness have reached such a level that it is better to omit the description. gzxilinear.com