Chapter 23 Cat Grevy (1)

10. Cat Graves Shabro is ringing the bell. Chabrol was Pierre Arden's personal physician.A dark-skinned, successful old man, he wriggles around like an earthworm in front of his employer. For twenty years, he has never greeted me, and he has never even expressed the existence of me. .This leads me to an interesting phenomenological experiment, which is to solve the problem of why some people can have things appear in their consciousness, while others can't.My image can be engraved in Neptune's mind, but it has no appointment with Shabro's head, which really puzzles me. But this morning, Shabro was pale.The face drooped, the hands trembled, and the nose was... wet.Yes, wet.Shabro, the personal doctor of the big man, also has a runny nose.Plus, he's still calling me by my name.

"Mrs. Michelle." He seems to be not Shabro, but a deformed alien from outside the earth, because the real Shabro mind is not bothered by the information of the lower class petty people. "Mrs. Michelle." The alien's Shabro imitation failed, and he said, "Mrs. Michelle." Well, as you all know, my name is Mrs. Michelle. "Something terrible and unfortunate has happened," the snotty alien went on, and hell... instead of wiping his nose, he sucked it back hard. It was simply unbearable.He sniffed the snot loudly and sent it where it didn't belong, so fast, but I still couldn't escape, and I witnessed the scene of the Adam's apple shrinking rapidly to allow the passage of one of the above things.It's disgusting, but rather unexpected.

I look to the right and then to the left.The hall was empty.If the aliens have bad intentions, I will die. He said again, the same as before. "A terrible and unfortunate thing has happened, yes, a terrible and unfortunate thing, and Mr Ardern is dying." "It's dying?" I said, "Is it really dying?" "It's really dying, Mrs. Michel, it's really dying. He only has forty-eight hours left." "But I saw him yesterday morning, in good spirits like a crowned dove!" I said, shocked. "Hey, Mrs. Michelle, hey, heart failure is a knife in the heart. In the morning, people are still alive and kicking like a goat, but when night comes, people go to the grave."

"Is he going to die at home instead of going to the hospital?" "Oh . For the first time in twenty years, I developed a vague liking for Shabro.I said to myself in my heart, in short, he is also a human being, and we are not all the same in the end. "Mrs. Michelle," Chabro continued, and these few times Mrs. Michelle called me dizzy. You must know that he has never called me that in the past twenty years. "Maybe many people want to come Look at Mr Arden, before . . . , but he doesn't want to see anyone but Paul. Would you bother to get those other nuisances off?"

I'm in a dilemma.I've noticed that under normal circumstances, people don't notice my presence unless they need my help.But, I thought to myself, that's what I'm here for, and not only that, but I've also discovered that Chabro can express himself in a syntax I'm obsessed with -- can you bother to get rid of those other bastards? --This sentence makes me restless, this outdated politeness makes me excited.I am a slave to grammar, I thought to myself, why didn't I name my cat Grevisse alluding to Maurice Grevisse (Maurice Grevisse, 1895-1980), a Belgian grammarian and author of French Correct Usage", "French Grammar Essentials".Actually his name is Grevisse, not Grevisse. --Annotation.The guy bored me, but his language wasn't offensive.Oh, and when the old man said, "Who wants to die in a hospital?", the answer was, no one.Whether it was Pierre Arden, or Chabro, or me, or Lucien, no one wanted it.Shabro's ordinary question made us all people of equal status.