silent melody

The slow-moving boat departed from the port in the backyard of the association, passed through the misty and blue sea waves, and headed to the distant island under the guidance of occasional lighthouses and buoys.A black shadow stood alone, gradually appearing behind the boundless mist.

The terrain is hilly and mountainous, the top of the mountain covered with snow all the year round is hidden in the clouds, and at the foot of the mountain is a patchwork of small bungalows, which retain the style of the Gothic period. The mint green grass is dotted with sparse flowers. It is an old cemetery.

Lin Bo.

Voltaire and Rousseau pulled a cart full of supplies ashore.It had been several years since they set foot on Lin Bo's land last time, everything around them was even more desolate, and the mountain cemetery seemed to be a little more crowded.The wild flowers are still growing, the vines have come to the port, and the reeds on the shore dance silently.Pulling the cart, the two walked towards the building closest to the ferry.

Picpus/Picpus.The once nameless little hermit had a name.

Mr. Lafayette emerges from the hermitage, the Memoir Incarnate who is resident here, albeit so recently.

"Hello, Voltaire and Rousseau. You can leave all the supplies with me, and I will distribute them according to the above list later."

"Hello, Lafayette." Voltaire looked at the word Picpus, "I guess you came up with the name."

"Yes, I named Limber's French Quarter residence after several communal cemeteries during the Revolution...Madeleine, Errancis, Saint Margaret and Picpus where I was buried."

"I'm afraid M. Lavoisier and M. Condorcet, seeing your idea, will be very willing to dig three feet in your hermitage to find their remains." Voltaire said slightly mockingly, "They seem Don't care too much about their fate after death."

The three of them pulled the cart and walked through the promenade of the monastery together, and walked towards the hall.Under the faint morning light, a few children were chasing meaninglessly in the corridor. Although their appearance was so petite, their faces showed incomparable indifference, like lifeless puppets.The strong atmosphere of the materialized individual of the memoir attracted them to glance at these passers-by in a hurry.

"These children..." Rousseau sighed.

"Candidates/Pre-memoir can also adjust their apparent age, which may be the only consolation in their misery." Lafayette said, "Candidates, unless they become memoir-incarnate entities, cannot leave Limber ;Their own structure is extremely unstable, unlike memoir materialized individuals attached to the common memoir of the entire human being, they only rely on the documents they still left in the world. With the annihilation of the documents, their own memory and existence gradually disappear Fade—the hall is here, put your things here."

Voltaire and Rousseau helped Lafayette move supplies from carts to the black marble floor of the Great Hall.Although it was still early in the morning, it seemed to be dusk in the hall.A thin, blue-faced child poked his head out of the shadows and called out in a frightened and faint voice, "Mr. Lafayette..."

"Maximilian, you go to the house for a while, and I will come to you when I finish packing," Lafayette stroked the child's pale curly hair and told him to go back, "Mr. Voltaire, Mr. Rousseau , thank you, you can say goodbye."

"Mr. Lafayette, Jean-Jacques Rousseau has something else to ask." Rousseau took the letter from Voltaire from Leipzig 20 years ago, "Do you know the recipient?"

"Sorry, I don't know..."

"And do you know Giovanni Battista Pergolesi?"

"Pell...?"

"Do you know where Limber's little Italian band lived?"

"Oh, I understand when you say that." Lafayette breathed a sigh of relief, "The group of Italian boys live in the monastery behind the small Catholic church on the mountain behind - the place where they lived was destroyed by the rising sea water a few years ago. They were submerged, so they moved. Are you going to visit them? Let me take you up the mountain."

"No need, Mr. Lafayette, I know that place, François and I can go there on our own—besides, your little Maximilian seems to need you very much." Rousseau pointed to Lafayette Behind him, the child ran out again, and he stood timidly not far behind Lafayette.

"Alright." Lafayette smiled, "Be careful, you two."

"Mr. Rousseau..." Suddenly, the weak child grabbed the skirt of Rousseau who was about to leave, "I'm sorry for you..."

"Poor Maximilian Robespierre, is this only your fault?" Rousseau turned his head and stroked the child's back, "You were buried for my moral utopia... for For this price, Voltaire and I owe the whole of France."

*******************************************************************************

In the monastery halfway up the mountain, Giovanni Battista Pergolesi sat on a bench in front of the window.Books and sheet music are stacked on the harpsichord beside me.The violin was placed in a case with a bouquet of wild flowers picked by a friend for him.His thin face was made all the more pitiful by his tuberculosis.He died of illness at the age of 26. He didn't have too many vicissitudes, but he had too many regrets.Ravaged by disease from birth, his legs were disabled and he could not move very well, so he had to stay in the house often.It was so in the past, and it is the same now.

There were footsteps in the hallway outside.He felt the atmosphere belonging to the world on the other side, and couldn't help but look at the door.

"Giovanni? Is that you?"

"Monsieur Jean-Jacques Rousseau!"

The lonely Pergolesi smiled sadly.Rousseau stretched out his hand and held the man he missed in Linbo. "Only from your pen can the most perfect and touching duet be spread... Jean-Jacques will visit you in a long time, I am very sorry..."

"Giovanni knows that you miss me... Giovanni will be happy if he knows that..." Pergolesi said with a smile.Suddenly, he saw Voltaire standing at the door, "This is..."

"This is François-Marie Arrouet, Voltaire," said Rousseau, "François, this is Giovanni Battista Pergolesi, Italian composer, violinist musician, organist...and also an important opera composer, you must remember the debate between Italian and French comedy..."

"Of course I remember," said Voltaire comfortingly, "that it was the 18s, when European opera was in trouble for two years. Pergolesi's comedy is considered the model of Italian comedy."

"It's a pity that I had been dead for ten years..." Pergolesi said, "Mr. Voltaire, you are an outstanding dramatist. Mr. Rousseau often told me that the plays you wrote made him completely breathless." Out of breath, I almost fainted."

Pergolesi smiled shyly. He seemed to have guessed the relationship between Voltaire and Rousseau at this time.Rousseau can't help but feel a little embarrassed, and what's worse, Pergolesi has noticed the pair of rings on their hands (he winks playfully).However, deep down, Rousseau knew that Peglesi would soon disappear (the bicentenary of his death was approaching), feigned joy, and could not stop mourning.

"Mr. Pergolesi, I have something to ask you." Noticing the sadness in the two of them, Voltaire quickly changed the subject.

As soon as the 20-year-old letter touched Pergolesi's hands, Pergolesi laughed. "Are you looking for the red-haired priest?"

"Huh?" Voltaire and Rousseau were a little surprised.

"That's just a funny little nickname..." Pergolesi pursed his lips, "You guys came at the right time, if it was a few years ago, you wouldn't have been able to find him, um, he was awake... because If left unattended for a long time, we can easily fall into a deep sleep involuntarily, and sleep for as long as 50 years-although this state will only speed up our eradication... Coincidentally, the recipient is just awake now. Come with me."

Along the mountain road, Voltaire, Rousseau, and Pergolesi, who was on crutches, walked towards the small Catholic church in front of the monastery.The original off-white walls are mottled due to age, and grass and wild flowers spread along the gaps in the walls.In the quiet church, the rows of tables and chairs were spotless, but it seemed extraordinarily deserted.

"Vivaldi, Vivaldi."

Pergolesi's call echoed through the empty church.Is there really anyone?

A priest came out from behind the altar.His black robe hangs loosely over his feet; he holds a scripture and a rosary in his hand; his red hair, parted in the middle, falls to his shoulders in curly hair.Goose Dan didn't have much expression on his face, and he couldn't tell his age.

"There's a letter from you!" said Pergolesi cheerfully.

Vivaldi just stood before the altar, expressionless on his haggard face.

"Mr. Vivaldi," Voltaire walked forward with the letter, "due to my personal mistakes, this letter has been delayed for 20 years...and it is now in your hands. The name of the sender is John Sebas Stian Bach..."

Vivaldi takes the letter from Voltaire.There was no anger or surprise, he was as silent as before.Didn't even glance at the letter.

"I apologize for the delay and hope you will forgive me." Voltaire was still apologetic, but Vivaldi was not unresponsive out of outrage.The priest was very confused about the time and the name of the sender.

Years of pointless waiting in Linbo has consumed the candidates' concept of time.and all enthusiasm.

But for the sake of less pain, they prefer to speed up the process.

——————————————————————————————————————

【Background information】

[Giovanni Battista Pergolesi / Giovanni Battista Pergolesi]

（1710年1月4日－1736年3月17日）意大利作曲家。15岁即在洛雷托圣元音乐院任教，22岁时为那不勒斯大地震而作弥撒曲，大获成功。代表作幕间剧《女仆作夫人》（1733年）。26岁时长期肺结核医治无效去世，临终前所作《圣母悼歌》为十八世纪经典音乐作品。他是意大利喜剧歌剧的先驱，并对欧洲喜歌剧和古典时期音乐风格的发展有重大影响。

Jean-Jacques Rousseau once commented that the duet at the beginning of Pergolesi's "La Mater Mater" was "the most perfect and most touching duet".

The author has something to say:

Maybe readers will wonder why I added so many elements of the French Revolution/Revolutionary period to Limbo's setting... That's because I originally hoped to be in the RHUMA trilogy (Ether Wings, In Two Mirrors) Portrait of the Burning Sky) and then a story about the Enlightenment and Fage, including Rousseau and Robespierre, and the hapless Condorcet and Lavoisier, in which I originally hoped Depicting Limber.But this story stayed in the outline state for two years and was not written, so "Silent Melody" used this setting first... Anyway, don't be frightened by Robespierre's intrusion.

From the first chapter to Chapter 3, the first part "Autumn" is completed; the second part "Summer" includes Chapters [-] to [-].Don't be confused by the name of this part, the following chapters are climbing towards the level of super abuse... (I won't say that in the second half of the novel, a character will die in a chapter==|||) Poor Bach can only sit and wait His dear seniors died one after another 【Big Mistake】...