Something Beautiful
Chapter - 41

On the eve of a dance party held by a noble, during the third week since her first debut, Lisa felt so languid and tense, that her heart was muddled. He felt he would never again be able to laugh happily or cry sadly. On that fateful night, he did both.

At the request of the grandmother, Lisa was politely but reluctantly willing to dance with a noble who was quite old and stocky. The man has a smooth voice, dressed as a peacock, and while dancing arrogantly tells Lisa that he is famous as a very intelligent person. Tonight the man wears orange satin-tight knee-length pants on his belly, a purple astin vest, and a long yellow brocade coat. The combination of colors that made Lisa remembered a pile of rotten fruits every time she looked at the man.

Instead of returning Lisa to her grandmother when they had finished dancing, the man whom Lisa had heard needed a wealthy wife to make up for her massive loss in gambling, violently pulling Lisa in the opposite direction.

"You should accompany me to the pretty recess over there, Your Grace. Your grandmother last night told me that you were interested in philosophy, which is why I wanted to entertain you a little by talking about the greatest philosopher of the past, Horace."

Lisa immediately realized that the grandmother must be very anxious to see he never had a partner so he finally boasted the intelligence of Lisa in this middle-aged man.

"Please don't worry" urged the man to mistake Lisa's cause of anxiety. "I will not forget that you are a woman, so, unable to understand the complexity and difficulty of logical thinking. Rest assured I will make this conversation very simple."

Lisa was already too upset to feel offended at hearing the man's contempt for a woman's intelligence and was too helpless to feel anything other than annoyed at being treated like that by such a senseless man wear clothes like fruit.

While politely showing an interested expression, he let the man lead him to a corner of the room separated from the main dance hall by a red velvet curtain drawn backwards and tied with the same colored velvet rope. Once in the room, Lisa saw that there was another person, a woman dressed in beautiful clothes, aristocratic face, and thick hair like gold threads. The woman stood in front of the open French door with her back slightly facing towards them, seemingly trying to enjoy the solitude and fresh air.

The young woman turned her head slightly as Lisa and the man entered, and Lisa instantly recognized the woman, Lady Jeon. The beautiful woman had just arrived in London earlier this month from the countryside, where she was visiting her sister. Lisa was present at her party, where she debuted. Lisa recalled, when Lady Jeon first appeared in the party, and from afar she noticed how the honored guests rushed to Lady Jeon's side, welcoming her arrival with smiles and hugs. The woman had obviously entered a part of them, Lisa thought.

Realizing that she and the man are intruding on Lady Jeon's privacy, Lisa smiles clumsyly, apologizing for being intrusive. The Lady returned the smile with a polite nod and then gracefully turned towards the French door.

The fat man dressed conspicuously either did not see the Lady or did not want her attention to be split because of seeing the woman take a glass of wine from the tray on the table next to her. The man then stood next to the marble pillar in front of the curtain and proudly but inaccurately quoted Horace's philosophical dissertation on ambition, but his eyes seemed to be fixed on Lisa's chest.

A minute later, the man in an important pretentious style said, "I agree with Horace, who said, Ambition is such a powerful spirit in the human chest that no matter how high we try to reach it we will never be satisfied..."

Completely nervous about being looked at like that and unaware, Lady Jeon had turned her head completely and listened to the man's words with a puzzled, amazed, and amused expression that was quite obvious, he said, Lisa in a trembling voice said "Ma-Machiavelli."

"Horace," the man said, and in horror Lisa saw the silly-clothed creature raise her glasses, turning her gaze toward the exposed skin on Lisa's neckline, then brazenly inspected it while trying nonchalantly by leaning shoulder to pillar behind. Unfortunately the man's obsession with Lisa's chest made him not have time to glance back to ascertain the location of the pillar.

"Well maybe you can now understand," he said as he leaned back and opened his arms wide, "why did Horace's words make it... Aarhh!" With his arms outstretched he fell behind a nearby table upside down along with the wine and the curtains were drawn loose. The man fell on his back at the feet of three male guests, like a bowl of colorful fruits under a waterfall of booze.

Unable to hold back a laugh, Lisa clenched her mouth with her hands and turned her back and found herself staring at Lady Jeon, who also clenched her mouth with her hands and looked at Lisa, the woman's shoulders shook with laughter, her wide eyes widened wide. The two young women simultaneously ran out through the French door and collided as they hurriedly wanted to get out of the door and run to the balcony. Once there, they leaned against the wall of the house and laughed out loud.

Standing side by side, not feeling the hard stone walls on their backs, the two women laughed back and forth, panting for air, then wiping away the tears that ran down their cheeks. When the laughter had subsided into a small giggle, Lady Jeon turned her head towards Lisa and stammeredly said, "Ja-tuh on her back, like that, in-he looks a lot like a giant macaw elder brother who fell from a tree."

Lisa, who could barely make a sound because she laughed, said. "I think it's more like a bowl of fruit, isn't it, it's not, it's fruit punch" he said, laughing again.

"The poor old man, struck while being in style by the ghost of Machiavelli because his words were quoted as Horace's words."

"That's Machiavelli's revenge!" said Lisa gasping for laughter.

And under the star-studded black velvet sky, two gracefully dressed women leaned against the cold stone wall and laughed as two barefoot little girls running about in the meadow. You can imagine the atmosphere, right?