Chapter 5 Chapter Four

The crying lasted about five minutes, ending in a series of trembling breaths.Quese asks what happened to Lori, but gets no answer.After Luo Li calmed down, she pushed Quesetti away and escaped into the bathroom cubicle, and then he heard the sound of running water, footsteps, and the rustling of changing clothes.Quesetti thought with unprecedented anticipation: her body slipped into something more comfortable. When she appeared, he found that she had just changed into a gray overalls, her hair was lightly tied up with an indigo scarf, and the light makeup on her face had been wiped off, so she couldn't see the emotional storm just now. Be a prisoner or a nun.

Do you feel better?As she walked past him, he asked.But instead of answering, she started changing the absorbent paper towels that had soaked between the pages of the book. He walked over and pulled the wet wipes out of the third book.After working in silence for a few minutes, he asked again: So? no answer. Lori? What? Shall we talk about what just happened? What's the meaning? I mean, you just had that hysterical bout. It's not hysteria.I just get a little bit crying when I drink. A little crybaby?He stared at her, and she looked back at him, and apart from a slight redness on her eyelids, there was no sign that she was the cruel Caroline.Lori.She said coldly: I'm sorry if I bother you, if you don't mind, I really don't want to discuss this.She went back to work again.

It's clear that there's no way for them to develop any further intimacy, they're not sharing their dark secrets with each other, and there's no further physical contact, just silent work.Quesetti cleaned up leftovers from dinner and used tissues, and Lori sat on a stool using her medieval tools to dispose of half-destroyed books, Quesetti couldn't figure out what the hell she was doing. Quesetti didn't know what to say, so he picked up the manuscript he found, which was almost dry now.He spread out the manuscript and put it on the long kitchen table and stool, grabbed the magnifying glass from Luo Li's table, picked a page at random and began to examine it.Some words are clear because the vowel letters are similar to the current words; shorter and familiar letters, such as the and to, can also be easily recognized.But actually reading it was another problem, with many characters looking jagged and nearly half of them not legible at all.There were also pages of writing that looked like a foreign language, and he wasn't even sure, because the words were so illegible.Is there really such a word as hrtxd or yfdpg?

He decided to ignore the content and focus on the fibers and characteristics of the paper.The forty-eight sheets are the size of the largest format and are divided into three parts.The first part has eighteen pages, composed of delicate and thin paper, carefully written, quite neat, but many words and lines have traces of deletion, and each page has been folded twice. The second set consisted of twenty-six pages of hard paper, with writing on both sides, the handwriting was larger and more messy, and there were many ink stains.Even so, to Quesetti's superficial vision, both sets of pages were written by the same person.Each page of the second group has fairly even and regular tear marks on the edges of the paper, as if it had been ripped from a book.Stranger still, the group's handwriting appeared to be overlaid on a faded hazel graphic.

The word parchment documents suddenly appeared in Quesetti's mind. Although he knew that the answer was incorrect, he felt inexplicably satisfied.Generally speaking, parchment literature is to scrape the words on the old manuscripts and write new contents.But it is clear that this group of manuscripts was written directly on paper for a specific purpose.The remaining four sheets had correction marks written in pencil, obviously on a different kind of paper, and in a different font.Quesetti held each sheet up to the overhead light, and this confirmed what he had in mind: there were three distinct watermarks in all: eighteen exquisite sheets of paper with a curved Stagecoach watermark, and There are two letters A and M; another twenty-six pierced sheets have watermarks in the shape of military jackets; the last four chapters are printed with a crown pattern.

But how did this pile of paper get stuffed into the book cover in the mid-eighteenth century?Quesetti had in mind a bookbinder of the day with a large sheaf of scrap paper on a desk not even remotely dissimilar to the one used by Lori, who is now working under a hinged desk lamp. (Her slender neck now glistens against her dark scarf).An eighteenth-century bookseller's desk was probably made of solid English oak, rather than thin plank wood, with its marks and spots.The bookbinder sat at the table, reached for the stack of papers, pulled out six sheets, cut the papers into the same size with a blade, and leaned neatly beside the book cover.

He was just lucky, Quesetti thought.So many manuscripts that seem to have been written by the same person just happened to be placed in this "Anthology of Voyages and Voyages".But on second thought, maybe it wasn't a coincidence.The picture he imagined was this: Some old fellow died in the eighteenth century, and his widow or heir decided to clean up all the papers of the deceased; Looking for a merchant who collects old paper, the merchant came and made a price, and took the whole package away.We finally have room to put our belongings, the heir's wife would say: all the nasty trash cleared out, huh!And the dealer who recycled old paper threw the whole bundle of documents into the storage box.After a while, an old client in the bookbinding business in London sent him a message, saying that he would buy some bundles of waste paper from him.

However, the fonts on the paper marked with a pencil are different from the other papers. How can this be explained?It may be that the bookbinder accidentally mixed other unrelated printing papers with the waste paper of Quesetti's imaginary heiress, so that the pages are not consecutive.Yes, it made sense, and the idea made him jump, because what he wanted was not a random draft but a new discovery.He inspected the font with a magnifying glass, and the unreadable black-brown cursive script gave him a headache, so he put down the magnifying glass and paced back and forth in the attic. do you have aspirinHe asked Lori, twice.

No.Lori answered him with a low growl. Lori, everyone's gonna have an aspirin. She dropped the tool she was using, sighed exaggeratedly, got off the high stool, strode away, and returned with a can of plastic bottles.She squeezed the bottle so hard that it rattled like a castanet. Thanks.He thanked them politely, went to the kitchen sink and ate three.Usually Quesetti wants to lie down in a quiet place when he has a headache.Waiting for the layer upon layer of pain to subside, but Luo Li didn't have a more comfortable seat at home, and he didn't dare to use her bed at will, so he sat on the dining table and chair, moping, moving a few bundles of papers around.He thought, if Caroline.If Lori is really smart, we can work together to solve the puzzle, she probably has some reference books on watermarks and Jacobean script, or at least she knows more about this pile of garbage than I do

As soon as he thought this way, he suddenly had a flash of inspiration, grabbed the phone from his pocket, and checked the time.It's not eleven o'clock, eleven o'clock is when his mother watches the Tonight Show, and she will never miss this TV apocalypse just to answer the phone during this hour, but now she should be sitting on the recliner and reading a book. Mom, it's me.When she answered the phone, he said. Where are you? I'm in the Red Bend, in Carolyn.Willie's home. She lives in the Red Bend? Mom, this place isn't what it used to be. It's full of outlaws and gangs, how can a nice girl live in a place like Red Bend?

Mrs. Quesetti had met Lori on various occasions, including in the shop, and had told his son her assessment of Lori afterward, strongly implying to him that if Quesetti had been smarter, he should have acted.She asked hopefully: Why are you at her house?You are dating her. No, the store was affected by the fire, and she had to deal with some thick books directly at her residence. She was a bit like an amateur antique book binder, so I helped her bring the books from the city. Then you stay. We had dinner together and I was just about to leave. So, I don't have to borrow the wedding hall, and I don't have to tell Father Lazzaro? I don't think so.Mom, sorry to interrupt, listen to me, I'm calling because you know anything about seventeenth century watermarks?Or the Jacobean script?I mean, do you know how to decode it? Oh, handwriting, you should use Dawson and Kennedy.The Elizabethan Writing that Sketon co-authored, but that was just an introductory booklet.I do know that there are some good resources online, kind of like interactive instructions.Regarding those watermarks, there is Guiffer’s book No, wait, the earliest materials included by Guiffer only start from 1700.Wait, let me see, yes, it should be Heywood's "Watermarks of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries".What are you asking for? Inside some of the book covers she was restoring, I found some old manuscripts, and I wondered what they were.He pulls a credit card receipt stub out of his wallet and writes down the references. You should talk to Fanny in the library.Talk to Dubowitz, I can contact her if you want. No thanks, maybe it's not worth her time at all unless I'm sure what I'm looking at isn't an old shopping list or something.A few pages are still in foreign languages. real?Which foreign language? I don't know, it looks interesting, it's not French or Italian, it's more like Armenian or Albanian, maybe I don't understand it at all. Interesting, good, just enough to use your brain, I hope you go back to school. Mom, I'm doing this right now, I'm saving up to go back to school. I mean the real school. Mom, film school is a real school.Mrs. Quesetti said nothing.But her son can imagine the expression on her face. When she started to have a full-time job, she was older than him now, but it didn't mean much to her. She was willing to sponsor him to complete his orthodox graduate studies, but Make Movie?No need, don't think about it!He sighed, and she said: I'm going to hang up, will you be home later? It might be late, we're dealing with wet pages. Yeah?Why don't you use a vacuum cleaner?Or send it to Andover for processing? It's complicated, anyway, Luo Li is in charge, and I'm just a helper.He heard the faint sound of TV music and applause in the background.He was always amazed that a woman whose mother's profession gave her so much knowledge that she could complete a New York Times Sunday crossword in twenty-two minutes would waste time watching celebrity talk shows and listening to limited talent. Comedians tell corny jokes and tune in on time every night.She said that the night would not be too lonely, but he thinks that lonely people are actually the main audience of this type of program.He wondered if Lori would watch the Tonight Show, he didn't watch TV at her house, maybe vampires wouldn't be lonely. Quesetti got up from his uncomfortable chair to stretch, and now that his back was hurting, he checked the time and walked to the other side of the loft, where Lori was still bent over her work. what?She made a sound when he approached. It's time to change the absorbent paper.what are you doing I'm working on the cover of book 4, and I'm going to replace the covers of both book 1 and book 2, and I think I can get the stain out of this one. What are you going to replace the inside of the manuscript with? I have some folios from the same era. Just happen to have it on hand, right? Yes, frankly, she retorted: from books with mangled maps and illustrations.Who did you just talk to on the phone? my mother.He pointed to the entire wall of bookcases, do you happen to have a book about watermarks?I need some references.He reached for his wallet. Well, of course I have the Heywood copy. He opened the credit card receipt and smiled: Of course.Dawson and Kennedy.What about Sketon? There are also. I thought you were not a paleographer. I'm not, but Glaser suggested I take a class on ancient books and early manuscripts, which I did, and people in that field use those books. So you can understand those words? You know, that was a few years ago.He heard the chilling tone of her voice again, stopping him from asking further. Can I take a look at the books after we're done with the pages? Of course, she said: but the early cursive script was difficult to understand, it was like learning to read all over again.After they changed the absorbent paper, she pulled out two books from the bookcase.She went back to work at her desk, and he sat by the bench with those primers. It's really hard to understand, just like Dawson and Kennedy.Mentioned in the preface of Sketon's co-authored book: Paleographers generally agree that among all scripts, the Gothic cursive script in Britain and parts of Europe from the 15th to the 17th century is the most difficult to read .Quesetti learned from the book that people in the time of Elizabeth and James I would not distinguish between n, u, and v, i, and j, and there would be no dot on i, and s has two different meanings. There are four types of r, and h, s, t are connected with other letters, so that the shape of the letter itself is distorted.They punctuated as they pleased, had no fixed spelling for words, and invented incomprehensible abbreviations to save expensive parchment.In the age of paper, these abbreviations continued to be used.Even so, Quesetti was still stubborn. He buried himself in the exercises provided in the manual, starting with Nicholas.The article by Sir Bacon began, entitled "An Exhortation to High Lawyers Sworn in Court, 1559."Even if there is a translation next to it, you still have to look it up in the dictionary for almost every word.When he finally reached the third row, it was past midnight.Lori was still working, and he wanted to rest his eyes and aching back so he could recover.So he took off his sneakers and lay down on the edge of the crib. He heard a strange noise, sat up, cursed, and started groping around until he found the source of the noise: it was an old alarm clock, like the ones in cartoons, with two bells on top There is also a bell and a large white clock face.Lori wrapped the bell with a strap so that it wouldn't wake her up when it rang.Typical low-tech workaround.He turned off the alarm clock, and saw a note tied with a ribbon on it, which read: It's your turn, I finished the last two by myself. It was written in black ink on an old piece of paper, in elegant italics.Quesetti's impatience disappeared immediately, and he looked at her who was still breathing deeply on the next bed, only seeing a strand of hair on the pillow, ears, and the soft curve of her cheek.He carefully leaned over, put his face close, only a few inches away, and then took a long, deep breath, smelling soap, some kind of shampoo, glue and old leather, the innermost layer is the girl's innermost layer. Intimate fragrance.Quesetti also had a lingering experience. Although there are girls in the world who like good men, but as far as his experience is concerned, there are more women who like bad boys.He wasn't even sure if he really liked the woman in front of him, but in fact, he was sure He had never in his past life been like this moment, just smelling Caroline.Luo Li's skin inexplicably produced a strong impulse. At that moment, he immediately left the bed, feeling like a jerk.No way, his knees were really shaking, and even his dick was erect.He cursed God damn it a few times, and then told himself, yes, come on, it's impossible.He marched like a soldier to the sink and soaked his face in cold water. He wanted to take a shower, but there wasn't even a bathtub.An image suddenly flashed in his mind, the owner of the house stood naked, wiping his body with towels and sponge balls, he used super willpower to dispel this image, and began to replace the absorbent paper. The next time to replace the absorbent paper was five o'clock in the morning, and only then did he realize that there were still several hours to kill.After thinking for a while, he wanted to flip through Luo Li's things to see her underwear, medicine, and documents.He imagined this scene in his mind, and then decided to give up the idea.The important thing now is not to find out what weird things she is doing, but to finish this stupid task quickly and escape from this place.So, the mature Quesetti preached to the crazy Quesetti, and this new crazy personality wanted to sneak into the quilt and tear Caroline down.Lori's underwear; if you can't do this, you have to collect enough information to be a successful stalker. He searched the kitchen anyway and found a bag of cookies in the cupboard and some hazelnut-flavored instant coffee in a tin can, the kind he used to see on supermarket shelves and wondered who would buy that Kind of crap, now he understands.For caffeine, he boiled a pot of water to make disgusting coffee, and ate all the biscuits, which tasted dry and flat and chewed like sweet plaster.Judging by her pantry, Lori has a clear preference for buy-and-eat. The coffee and dessert somewhat revived him a bit, and Quesetti reset the alarm for five and buried himself in his old files.After an hour and a half, he finally believed that he was either crazy, or he couldn't make out the language of the eighteen watermarked pages.Maybe some kind of code no, not a code, a cipher, well, a cipher would be interesting, four of the manuscript pages are marked with crowns, the handwriting looks different and simpler, it seems to be some kind of religious teaching: The tears of the world drop into the earth, and the tears of the gods are stored in the bottle; The Holy Spirit's tears are not lightly flicked, The fire of guilt must be quenched, so that it does not burn the soul. He began to think about what kind of tears Lori had, and then put the page down.Of particular interest to him were the twenty-six sheets bearing the watermark of the Great Britain Coat of Arms, written in what seemed to be the same as those written in a strange language.He was soon thankful that the pages were obviously written in English. He picks out familiar short words like of, and is, and so on.After a while, he locked on to the beginning of the manuscript, or what he thought was the beginning.Just at the top right of all the texts there is a line stating the date: October 25, A.D. 1642; and the location, Bamber fans, no, it should be wrong, or Versh, or It was he who double-checked the contents, and suddenly he was sure he was seeing the place of Banbury.Quesetti felt an eerie shudder in himself, the kind of pleasure he felt when a film edit went well, pure joy full of meaning.He immediately discovered that it was a letter from home, a man named Richard.Brace Gordo wrote to his wife Nan, and this was not just an ordinary letter from home, but a last letter.It appears that Bryce Grace was mortally wounded in a battle that Quesetti did not know where or which battle it was.Like many Americans, he knew only the outlines of European history. What happened in 1642?He had to check, but Lori didn't even have a computer with broadband.He read the first page and turned to the next page. There was a signature on it, indicating that it was the last page of this letter.But he continued to read, because the pages were not numbered, and it was impossible to tell the order of the manuscript without first reading it through in its entirety. So he studied unremittingly, deciphering Brace Godo's handwriting line by line, his speed gradually became faster, and finally he found that the content became much easier, just like the long-lost soldier who lived with him in the chat room Communication is average.After reading the content, the joy was doubled, and the romance of the ancient text gave him a blow: no one else knew about it!No one else has read this letter in all these centuries, and perhaps no one has ever read it except Brace Godou and his wife.It was like poking your head out of the back window of an apartment building and peering into all the intimate activities of strangers going about their daily lives. I'm running out of time and can hardly write any more, but I have something important to tell you.The anguish of my death grips me.You know that I have a suitcase in my closet, in which you can find some encrypted letters written in a font I specially designed, you must keep it safe and don't show it to anyone.The letter was about Sir Deng's plan, and the results of our spying on Shakespeare. We used to think that he was secretly following the Holy See, but now I'm not so sure. Anyway, with his eccentric way of life, we You shouldn't worry about him.I once asked him to write a play about Mary Queen of Scots in the name of the King, and now he and I are both dead, and the play he wrote himself is left in a place known only to me, and there it will be forever. Quesetti was so intent on understanding every word that he didn't discover the secret at all when he finished the first reading. It wasn't until the second reading that he realized the connection between the words Shakespeare and the play.He frowned, gasped, sweat broke out on his back, and stood staring at Bracegard's scrawled handwriting, hoping that the words would fade away like counterfeit metal, but Shakespeare, like a play, The two words stopped there without moving. Quesetti was no academic, at least he majored in English literature and had taken Shakespeare as a freshman, so he knew he had a huge discovery in his hands.He knew that there were many different spellings of the name Shakespeare, and he also knew that there had never been any official investigation on Shakespeare, let alone because of the relationship of the Holy See!In the field of Shakespeare, which religion Shakespeare supported has always been an important issue. If an official figure at the time thought so, who is this Lord Deng?Maybe what he should ask is, this Richard.And who is Bryce Grace?The point is that the script mentioned in the manuscript still existed in at least 1642.Quesetti tried to recall which play had the king's name mentioned?Damn, why didn't he put more thought into that class?etc!It seems to have something to do with James I, some nobles trying to assassinate him in a Scottish castle, and witchcraft, which seems to be mentioned in the BBC documentary he watched with her mother.He grabbed the phone, wait, it's too early to call mom, maybe Lori will know.No, he couldn't imagine the consequences of waking her up at four fifty in the morning with this kind of question. In this way, an idea popped into his mind: at that time, Shakespeare’s King’s Troupe needed a Scottish script to congratulate the new king. Weird new king's fondness for witchcraft.So Shakespeare, the exclusive writer of the troupe, wrote "Macbeth" in this way. Quesetti now finally remembered the importance of breathing, and he gasped.He knew that Shakespeare had left no handwriting, only a few signatures and a few suspicious lines from a script manuscript.He didn't write any scripts himself, not at all.The "Macbeth" written by himself is likely to be buried somewhere in an English cellar. In the head of Quesetti, he doesn't know the value of the manuscript. Guess.So he stopped thinking about the possible value of the manuscript.But the manuscript he's holding, the Brace Godo letter, could be a record investigating Shakespeare's rebellion against the Church of England, and should be worth enough to pay for his film school tuition. Alright.Film school!The script was perfectly doable and would allow him to make his first film. Assuming that the eighteen watermarked documents were the secret letters mentioned by Brace Godou, then these encrypted English texts could not be some kind of foreign language.Now it was time to see if the heiress theory he had just conceived was reliable.Perhaps these manuscripts originally came from the scrap piles of bookbinders, and were used in order to fill the cover pages of the Voyages of Voyages.He flattened one of the sheets and examined it with a magnifying glass. Pruug u kimn lf rmmhofl Or not, maybe those words are Ptmmg or Ptmng, and you have to rely on the context to judge the meaning of the text in order to know what the meaning of those English letters is, so it is almost impossible to interpret it correctly, at least he thinks so.He guessed that the original recipient was quite familiar with Brace Godo's font, so he could decipher his coded letter.Quesetti didn't know much about decoding. All he knew was from movies, spy novels, and TV.He knew what a message written in ciphers should look like, a bunch of five or six letter or number strings on the page, but these manuscripts looked nothing like that, they looked like ordinary articles , made up of words of varying lengths, perhaps the Jacobean ciphers looked like this.He didn't know anything about this matter. If we compare the progress of human science and technology, then the code in front of him should also be quite primitive.As he pondered, he recalled the difference between ciphers and codes: to decipher a code one must have a code book, or a checklist, with a series of written words indicating other meanings of reference.But if this is the case, the message will look more like a simple text description. For example, the priest did not buy a pig, which may mean that the target is suspected of hiding the priest; and because of this, the secret information that can be hidden is really limited.But the immediate situation is different.He was pretty sure the letter was written in cipher, and indeed, Bracegordo said it was cipher in his last letter. The alarm clock clicked, and Quesetti hurried to press the switch.Luo Li turned over on the bed, muttering something, she opened her eyes, Quesetti saw her face was full of fear, her body twitched, she closed her eyes again and turned around, pulling the quilt over her head. Quesetti opened his mouth to ease the atmosphere.Lori, are you okay? no answer.Quesetti shrugged and went over to change the blotting paper.The blotting paper is barely wet, and the pages are almost dry to the touch, well, maybe a little cool, but the capillary action is still working.The edge of the page was a little warped because it was soaked in water; the gilded part didn't feel as perfect and smooth to the touch as before, and he wondered how she would fix it next. He continued to work, but heard noises from the sleeping area: throat clearing, cloth rustling, water rushing, teeth being brushed, more cloth rubbing, water again, There was the sound of pots being turned, and the sound of cupboards being opened repeatedly.He had just finished changing the blotting paper for the last few books when she appeared next to him, still wearing yesterday's clothes, bright blue socks, wrapped in a pair of black high-top sneakers inside.She was holding two cups of coffee, from an automatic brewer, that didn't taste very good.She handed him a glass. Sorry, I have no creamer and no milk. It doesn't matter.He said: "I'm sorry I scared you when the alarm went off, you looked like you were about to jump." With a blank expression and a slight shrug of her shoulders, she opened a volume of Voyagers and touched the paper.Great, almost done. What do you do with warped pages? Flatten, otherwise heat.The paper is kind of like cloth, and when it comes to cutting and gilding, I iron every corner.She turned to him and smiled.Thank you for helping me, and I'm sorry I lost my temper with you last night, I'm not very social. He replied: Our first date, you let me share the bed with you, I think this is good communication.As soon as she heard these words, she immediately restrained her smile, put on a vigilant expression, and even let out a soft snort, which was a standard sneer.Quesett immediately regretted saying so.She pretended nothing happened and started announcing what she was going to do for the day.It's typical Lori social style.She's going out to buy leather covers, and she's going to find a shop to remake model covers, which are offered by certain shops in New York. After she finished speaking, he asked: Do you want me to come again? I don't think it's necessary. The next work is quite boring and lengthy. I have to do coolies, really. I am coolie. No thanks, I think I can do it myself.Also, I'm about to start work. Are you chasing me? I didn't say that, but I think you have your own things to do Staying by your side is the most important thing, helping you with the package, I hope to see your smile. She actually smiled, just for a moment.Quesett still wanted to do more, so he asked: Don't you want to know, what new discoveries have I made after reading the manuscript that was used to fill the cover? What did you find? Oh, up front: those manuscripts were written by a man who knew William.Written by Shakespeare. His words immediately got her reaction, although it was not the kind he wanted: her eyes widened with surprise, and then she rolled her eyes again, representing a strong doubt: impossible. Come here and I'll show you.As he spoke, he led her to the bench table, where the folios were placed.He pointed out the key lines and explained the encrypted pages to her.She took a moment to examine the handwriting with a magnifying glass, and he sat beside her, smelling the scent of her hair, clenching his teeth to keep himself from kissing the back of her neck. I can't see it.At last she spoke: Shakespeare is a common name in some parts of England, and can also be spelled Shawford, Sharpspur; but not Shaxpure. Oh please!He cried: Sharpspur who wrote plays for kings?Suspected of being Catholic and important enough to have an entire intelligence agency on his heels? Shakespeare was not a Catholic. Maybe he used to be.I saw a show on public television where he was a secret Catholic, or at least he was pro-Catholic. So you spend two hours deciphering Jacobean script, plus watching a TV show, and you think you've discovered one of the great secrets of literary history? So how do you interpret the cipher letter? That might just be written in Dutch. oh!Dutch size!This is the password. So you're a decoding expert too?An expert in Jacobean codes? Well, forget it, my mother has a friend named Fanny.Dubowitz, she's the Director of Manuscripts and Documents Archives at the New York Public Library, and I'll show her. As he said this, he looked at her face, and he could observe her shortness of breath, and the slight whiteness around the nostrils. What did it mean?A sudden change of thought?Or a plan in the making?He also saw this expression when he exposed her scam of opening books to swindle money.Now here it is again. She shrugged, take it if you want, I don't think it's possible to find a world-class expert on Jacobean script in the New York Public Library.Ninety percent of their collection comes from North America, mostly local authors and important family documents. You look like you know it all, Lori.Well, then I'm a big jerk, and I'm going to have him stack up the manuscripts now with exaggerated motions, get out of here, and take my ridiculous manuscripts to my low-level expert, and she'll be able to tell me that this letter is Written by some Jacobean wretch just complaining about his gout. He strode over to her work chair, snatched up the brown papers, which still contained yesterday's Voyages, and pulled out the manuscript, expressing his anger in a stupid, clumsy way. Come on, she stood behind him and said in a rare high voice: I'm sorry, I don't know how to behave, you are so excited about this, but I When he turned, her mouth opened in a comical inverted U, like those unreadable raised symbols in manuscripts that make Jacobean cursive even harder to read.It looked like she was going to cry again, but she continued in a subdued voice: I've never dated anyone, I have no social life, the only person I've talked to for years is Gracer, who'd love to be My good teacher and elder, which means he sometimes sticks out his hands and Will Glaser stretch out his hands? Yeah, harmless, he thinks he's a rich playboy in a way, but all he does is take me to expensive dinners and pinch my legs under the tablecloth.Sometimes when we make a big deal in the store, he would grab my buttocks if he was in a good mood, and he would touch me for a little too long; The last person in New York City still eating peppermint fruit lozenges.That's about it for my life as a slut.我需要工作，需要錢買食物，這些事情我只跟你一個人說過，真的很可悲！我沒有朋友、沒有錢、沒有住所 妳住這裡 是非法的，你猜對了，依法倉庫不能當住宅，這棟建築物根本不該是人類住的地方。這裡以前是儲放殺蟲劑的地方，完全被汙染了。擁有這個倉庫的那個傢伙以為我把這裡當工作室，但他也想要對我伸鹹豬手。這麼多年來，你是我認識的第一個年紀相近的男生。 這個人也非常想跟你調情，奎塞提心裡想著。但他口裡說出來的是：嗯，好哀傷的故事呀。 是啊，值得同情吧？你對我很好，我卻對你很惡劣，典型的男人不壞女人不愛。如果你是個徹頭徹尾的壞胚子，說不定我就會像奴隸一樣跪在你腳前。 我願意努力當個壞胚子，羅莉，我可以馬上去壞胚子學校修課。 她看著他，過了不久笑了，笑聲聽起來像是怪異的吠叫聲，也像啜泣聲。 你一定很討厭我，不是嗎？ 沒有，奎塞提盡全力讓自己的語氣中充滿真誠，他不知道為何她要孤立自己。她又不胖，也不難看，標緻是他母親對她的評價，這樣的人沒有理由要把自己藏匿在城市的陰影裡面。就算她不是個絕世美女，也還是怎麼說呢？很吸引人。像現在這樣，她的五官舒展開時，沒有繃著臉或空洞到可怕的地步時，就算他人遠在坦尚尼亞的首都尚吉巴，都會被她吸引過來。 我完全不討厭妳，他又加上一句，真的。 不討厭我嗎？但我對你這麼壞。 沒錯，不過現在我可以給妳時間，讓妳想想要怎麼補償我。他輕聲說，低下頭看錶，腳敲著地面。 我知道我該怎麼做，過一會兒她回答：我介紹你一個真正的詹姆斯一世時期書寫體專家，全球頂尖的，我會打電話給他，安排你們見面。你可以跟我一起出門去辦事，我去談牛皮和大理石花紋扉頁紙的時候，你可能會無聊到發狂，然後我們就一起去見安德魯。 安德魯？ 沒錯，安德魯．布斯卓，是葛雷瑟介紹我和他認識的。我就是修他的課，叫做英語手稿與早期起源。 他也想碰妳嗎？ No.不過我認為你想。 I can not wait anymore. 你得等，一下下就好。我要去廁所，然後打個電話，不如你到樓下等我吧？ 布瑞斯葛斗的第四封信 儘管馬修先生過著不撿點的生活，他的生意卻很好，因為他的確手藝精湛，是蘇塞克郡威爾德鎮最好的鐵匠。他和皇家砲兵團有契約，所以我們主要的工作就是製造鑄鐵砲。我因為什麼都不懂，所以先被派去裝卸搬運貨品，這簡直像是驢子做的勞力工作。雖然失去舒適生活還有讀書的時間，讓我很傷心，但是也不會因此失去了奮發向上的心志。因為上帝說，無論做什麼工作都要全力以赴，人一旦踏進墳墓就學不到任何工作或機械、知識或智慧了。 冬天和春天我們才能鑄鐵，因為夏天水量不足，水車無法運轉，火爐和用來鑄造鐵器的鏈球就沒辦法動。所以夏天的工作就是得在雨水把道路變得泥濘之前，把鐵石和煤炭運來，還要把成品運走。因此那幾個月我們工作得像狗一樣疲累，每個星期不是搬生鐵，就是搬運鐵石和煤炭到火爐邊去，要不就是修補心軸、開模，把坑裡已經冷卻的鐵器拉起來，清理燒注口。老闆說，我是最懶散笨拙、笨手笨腳的一個，他和其他助手們總給我吃苦頭，給我取綽號，叫我懶蟲或是笨傢伙，或是比這還糟糕的綽號。但是我聽從基督耶穌的教誨，沒有反抗或是以牙還牙，我發誓就算辛苦也一定要學會這項技藝，這樣老闆就沒有任何藉口能輕視我了。這裡瀰漫熱氣和煙霧，我想沒有哪裡比這裡更像地獄了，地獄也就是罪人最後的下場。可是出乎意料之外，我卻感受到一絲喜悦，看到冒著烈焰的鐵漿從火爐口流進模子，冒出點點火花，猶如天空中的星星；我想，這也許有那麼一點類似上帝創造我們世界的情景。雖然不喜歡這項工作，但是我喜歡把工作完成，因為這些火槍將會護衛英國和新教，所有人都知道英國人的大砲舉世無敵，我們的射擊能力也是絕佳，就讓西班牙人嘆氣吧。 就這樣過了一、兩年，第三年的三月二十五日報喜節這天，我去跟馬修主人領薪水的時候，他說，理查，你想必覺得我讓你過得很苦吧？我老實說的確是。他大笑著說，但是你還長高了兩個指幅，胖了六、七公斤，不再是個文弱的職員，而是個真正的鑄造工人。我們敲打鐵塊並非是因為討厭鐵，而是要讓鐵變得堅固。 從那之後，他對我好很多，開始教我那些鑄造的技術，例如如何分辨好的鐵石，知道裡面有足夠的鐵份。每種東西鑄造時該加熱的時間和該有的火候都不同，才不至於讓熱氣毀了鐵材，像是鑄生鐵、鐵條和爐板、工具、小型砲、狼隼加農砲、大型砲、長管重砲、半加農砲，還有大型皇家火砲等等，每樣器具都不同。他也教我如何用黏土修復車床心軸，如何整理模具才不會裂開或是漏水，如何綁繩索來拉抬重物。就這樣又過了一年，我的手藝進步，體格也變好，因為他讓我跟他同桌吃飯，伙食很好，那一年年底，他教我如何上膛和開槍。 愛妻小南，妳身為一個女人可能很難想像，但是當我第一次聽到火槍的響聲，我就被迷惑了，恨不得再聽一次，看到子彈飛出去，這是一種力量和能力的極致。我表哥看到我的樣子，出於好心說，這是第五年的夏天了，你已經長成十五來歲的小伙子，既然我必須留在這裡監督修復風車，你就負責運送我們的火銃去倫敦，順便看皇家砲兵團演練。這麼久沒見到父母親，我急著想回家，所以就跟著這兩輛車走了。一車需要一個車夫來駕駛六頭牛拉動，火槍放在稻草裡運送，從提曲菲德到樸資茅斯，再乘四角帆船到葛文賽得，最後換船抵達倫敦，我之前從來沒搭過船，還滿喜歡的，也不像其他人一樣會暈船。 運送火槍到倫敦一路都很順利，我實在感謝上帝，因為這兩大車共有四千八百磅，可不是小東西。一路上路面崎嶇，車夫也常喝醉，或是受苦於河面上的顛簸。我回到費許街，家人都很熱切歡迎我，看到我長大成人的模樣都很驚喜，不停告訴我，自我離開之後發生了什麼事。但是我父親就像以前一樣討厭我，如今我已身為一個男人而非男孩，實在很難忍受他，但是為了媽媽和家中的和諧，我還是忍耐。我們有個新女僕瑪格莉特．艾姆斯，儘管是個基督徒，卻尖酸偽善，她不知為何不喜歡我。 第二天早上我就到了倫敦。砲兵團的軍官彼得．哈斯丁看到我這麼年輕很是驚訝，他以為我表哥會像以前一樣親自護送。兩門砲都要上膛測試，看看有否阻塞，感謝上帝並沒有這種情況。之後我和哈斯丁先生還有其他軍官會面，相談甚歡，但是因為在座很多人都是剛從荷蘭戰爭歸來的砲兵，所以談話很粗俗。我很喜歡跟他們說話，因為我很想獲得知識，頻頻追問他們，像是戰場上怎麼擺置大炮最有利，怎樣才能瞄準擊中目標，各種不同火藥粉的優劣和用量，怎樣混合這些火藥粉和保存，如何知道最遠射程等等，最後這個問題引起了熱烈討論。有人說用肉眼判別，有人說實彈測試，增加或是減少火藥粉，看看每次射擊砲彈掉到哪裡，另外也根據火槍的熱度斟酌火藥粉的增減，因為在同樣用量下，溫度較高的砲可以射得比較遠。 我問他們為什麼不用三角定位法來測量，他們從來沒聽過這個，所以感到很驚奇，我畫了一張圖，向他們說明如何利用砲手所處的象限、一個方形，拿支棍子來測量兩點之間距離。他們急著想要試試這個方法，我準備好了以後，他們就射擊一棵遠方的樹，然後測量射程，他們看到數字和我算出來的答案相符，覺得很高興。有個親切的大塊頭湯馬斯．基恩拍拍我肩膀說，小伙子你可以隨我上戰場當助手，向那些西班牙人開火，當助手就是協助開砲的，我謝謝他的好意，說我沒想過從軍。上帝啊，我們實在無法預知你的計畫或是旨意。