I believe that characters can only be created after a deep study of people, just as a language must be learned in order to speak it.Since I'm not yet old enough to be creative, I'll just have to be content with blunt narration. Therefore, I ask the reader to believe in the truth of this story, that all the characters in the story, except the heroine, are still alive. Besides, most of the facts I have recorded here have other witnesses in Paris;Due to a special opportunity, only I can write this story, because only I have insight into the whole story of this matter, and no one but me can write a complete and moving story.

Here's how I know these details. On the twelfth of March, 1847, I saw a large yellow advertisement in the Rue Laffitte announcing that furniture and a great deal of curiosities were to be auctioned.The auction was held posthumously.The advertisement did not mention the name of the deceased, but said that the auction would be held at 9 rue d'Antin on the sixteenth from noon to five o'clock in the afternoon. There is also a notice attached to the advertisement that everyone can visit the house and furniture on the 13th and 14th. I have always been a curio lover.I thought to myself, this time I can't let this opportunity pass by, even if I don't buy it, I still have to go and see it.

The next day I went to 9 Rue d'Antin. It was still early, but there were already visitors in the house, even women.Although these female guests were dressed in velvet dresses and cashmere shawls, and there was a gorgeous four-wheeled carriage waiting at the gate, they all stared at the luxurious furnishings displayed in front of their eyes with surprise and even admiration. Before long I understood the reason for their admiration and astonishment.I also looked around, and soon saw that I was in the room of a high-class prostitute.But it was this kind of women's boudoirs that upper-class women -- and there were some upper-class women -- wanted to see.Such a woman dresses so often that these noble ladies are put to shame; such a woman, like them, has her own box at the Grand Opera and the Italian Opera, and sits right next to them; Show off their beauty, show off their jewelry, and broadcast their "love affairs" in the streets of Paris.

①The original text refers to "a woman supported by a lover". The prostitute in this house is dead, so now even the most chaste woman can enter her bedroom.Death had purged the air of this rich and obscene place.Besides, if necessary, they can excuse that they came for the auction, and they have no idea what kind of family this is.They saw the advertisement, wanted to see what was introduced in the advertisement, and there was nothing more common than pre-selecting it; and this did not prevent them from exploring the traces of the life of the prostitute in all these exquisite furnishings.They must have heard some very bizarre stories about whores.

Unfortunately, those mysteries have died away with this peerless beauty.No matter how great the expectations of these noble ladies were, they could only admire the things that were to be auctioned behind the deceased, but they could not see any traces of the goddess career that the female tenant had practiced when she was alive. However, there are quite a few things to buy.The room was magnificently furnished, with Boolean carved and rosewood furniture, Sevres and Chinese vases, Saxon statuettes, satins, velvets, and lacework; I wandered through the residences with the curious ladies and gentlemen who had come before me.They entered a room hung with Persian curtains, and I was about to follow them in when they retreated almost immediately, laughing, as if ashamed of this new adventure, which I would have preferred to go in and see. after all.It turned out that this was a dressing room filled with all kinds of exquisite toiletry items. From these items, it seemed that the deceased was extremely extravagant during his lifetime.

Against the wall stood a large table, three feet wide by six feet long, upon which glittered all sorts of treasures, made by Ocock and Odio, in such an astonishing variety and beauty.These thousands of trinkets were essential to the grooming of the hostess we visited, and not one of them was not made of gold or silver.However, this huge pile of items can only be collected piece by piece, and it is impossible for a single lover to handle it all. ① Boole (1642-1732): A famous French ebony sculptor who was good at inlaying fine workmanship on wooden furniture. ② Rosewood is produced in Brazil and is named for its rose fragrance.

③Sevres: French city, famous porcelain industrial center. ④Saxony: A region in Germany, the center of the porcelain industry. ⑤Aucock and Odio: famous gold and silver utensil makers in Paris in the 18th and 19th centuries.Aucock specializes in the Empire style, and his most famous works include the samovar of the Bank of France and the cradle of the Roman king. I don't feel disgusted when I see a whore's dressing room, and I appreciate it with interest, whatever it is.I found all these well-carved utensils engraved with various initials and various coats of arms. ①Aristocrats at that time often engraved their coats of arms on household utensils as a mark.

I looked at all these things, and each of them reminded me of a carnal transaction of the poor girl.I thought to myself that God was merciful to her, and did not let her suffer the usual punishment, but let her die in a life of luxury and luxury before her old age, with her beautiful appearance.For these whores, old age is their first death. Indeed, what could be more miserable than the old age of licentiousness--especially that of a woman?This kind of old age has no dignity at all, and cannot arouse the slightest sympathy from others. This kind of life-long hatred is the most tragic thing we can hear, because they are not regretting the past mistakes, but regretting the wrong calculation. , misuse of money.I know an old lady who was once a romantic, and all she has left from her past life is a daughter.According to her contemporaries, her daughter was almost as beautiful as her mother had been in her youth.Her mother never said "you are my daughter" to the poor child, she just asked her to take care of her, just like she herself raised her from childhood.The poor little girl was named Louise.She obeyed her mother's will against her will, giving herself to people without passion or pleasure, as if someone wanted her to learn a trade and she followed it.

For a long time, what I have been exposed to is a shameless and depraved life, and it started from an early age. In addition, this girl has been weak and sick for a long time, which has suppressed her ability to distinguish right from wrong. It had been bestowed upon her, but no one had ever thought of giving it to use. I will never forget the young girl who walked down the street at almost the same hour every day.Her mother was with her every moment, like a real mother with her real daughter.I was still young at that time, and it was easy to be contaminated by the social fashion of that era with weak moral concepts, but I still remember that when I saw this ugly surveillance behavior, I felt contempt and disgust from the bottom of my heart.

Such innocent emotion, such melancholy distress, was expressed on no virgin face. This face is like the head of a wronged girl. ① Wronged Girl: Refers to a sad head of a woman carved in marble in the Saint-Eustache Church in Paris. One day, the girl's face suddenly became radiant.In the depraved life arranged by her mother for her, God seems to have given this sinner a little happiness.After all, God had endowed her with a cowardly character, so why not give her some consolation when she was under the weight of a painful life?On this day, she found out that she was pregnant, and the little pure thoughts left in her body made her tremble with joy.The human soul has its incomprehensible sustenance.Louise hastened to tell her mother the discovery which made her ecstatic.It's also embarrassing to say.However, we are not here to make up any romantic affairs, but to tell a real story.If we do not think it necessary to make public the plight of these women so often, we might as well keep silent about it.We say it is disgraceful that such women are condemned without hearing their pleas, that they are despised and unjustly judged.But the mother replied to her daughter that it was already difficult for the two of them, and it was even more difficult for the three of them; besides, it would be better not to have such a child, and it would be a waste of time not to do business with a pregnant belly.

The next day a midwife - let us take her as a friend of the mother's - came to see Louise.Louise lay in bed for a few days and then got out of bed, paler and weaker than ever. Three months later, a man, out of pity, tried to heal her physical and psychological wounds, but the blow was so severe that Louise eventually died of the aftereffects of the miscarriage. The mother is still alive, how is life?God knows! This story came to my mind as I gazed at the gold and silver vessels.Time seems to have passed quietly as I meditated, and there was only me and a watchman in the room. He was standing at the door and watching closely to see if I was stealing. I went up to the watchman, who was already disturbed by me. "Sir," I said to him, "will you give me the name of the former lodger?" "Mademoiselle Marguerite Gautier." I know the girl's name and have seen her before. "Why!" I said to the watchman, "is Marguerite Gautier dead?" "Yes, sir." "When did you die?" "It's been three weeks." "Then why have people come to see her house?" "The creditors think it's going to drive up the price. You know, giving people a preview of the fabrics and the furniture, it's a way to attract customers." "Then she is still in debt?" "Oh, sir, she owes a lot!" "The money from the sale can probably be paid off?" "There's still more left." "So, who is the rest of the money going to?" "To her family." "She still has a home?" "It seems to have." "Thank you, sir." The guard felt relieved after finding out my reason for coming, he saluted me, and I walked out. "Poor girl!" I thought to myself as I was returning home, "she must have died a terrible death, because in her circle of life, only one who is healthy can have friends." I could not help feeling pity for Marguerite's fate. Many people may find this ridiculous, but I have always been infinitely tolerant of Firework Girls, and I don't even want to argue with others for this tolerant attitude. One day, when I went to the police station to collect my passport, I caught a glimpse of two policemen on the next street trying to take away a girl.I don't know what crime this girl committed, but I saw her weeping and hugging and kissing a child who was only a few months old, because after she was arrested, the mother and child would be separated from each other.From that day on, I never despised a woman lightly.