Chapter 31 Overwork
The Count of Monte Cristo is a work by the great French writer Alexandre Dumas, which tells a story about revenge. The location starts from Marseille, the destination of the San Marino. For the long journey, these two books have become an indispensable seasoning for Sheffield. He feels that the protagonists in the books are just like the mood of Karl Lagerfeld.
You really don't know until you count it. A recent calculation showed that the southern states lost $2 billion in labor just because of this law. It's no wonder that even though thirty years have passed, most Dixie people are still furious when this matter is mentioned today. Thirty years ago, this was an astronomical figure.
What could be done with the two billion dollars? Wouldn't it be nice to use it to buy pork ribs? Moreover, labor was so expensive back then that it was almost the entire property of many southern families.
"I want to earn 2 billion in my lifetime, and if I live long, this number will increase." Sheffield set a small goal for himself but immediately overturned it. What if he lived to be a hundred years old like the famous philanthropist Mr. Rockefeller? Considering the factor of inflation, this goal would be a bit of a loss.
"Men marching towards the French motherland, the glorious day has come! Tyranny oppresses us, and the motherland groans in pain. The motherland groans in pain, and you can see the fierce soldiers killing people everywhere. They take the lives of your wife and children from your arms. Citizens, arm yourself, and citizens fight to the death." Sheffield was humming the French national anthem, the Marseillaise, in his room. He was approaching his destination, and if nothing unexpected happened, the ship would dock in two days.
Sheffield fully indulged his artistic talents, not caring at all about the unfriendly degree of the Marseillaise to his class, and immersed himself in it. When it came to entertaining himself, he did not need to ask anyone for advice.
The recent conflict certainly could not be smooth sailing, but for the Secretary of State and his companions on the same ship, this was an internal conflict of the United States. Moreover, Sheffield's age was a good cover and could be completely explained as being young and ignorant.
Of course, this is mainly because Sheffield is a pillar of the motherland, a man of great wealth and billions, who can be trained, and a few mistakes cannot be considered errors.
"If you are dissatisfied, the United States is a free country. You can curse the dark, corrupt, and inaction government. It doesn't matter!" The day before arriving in Marseille, Sheffield, as a man of his word, naturally had to return the books to the other party. If he said he would borrow the books, he meant borrowing them. This was not robbery.
As the ship slowly approached the shore, Sheffield changed the subject and raised his head, "You can curse the United States and the federal government. After all, this is the natural human right, but you can't curse me. The United States and the government are intangible things, and I am a person. If you dare to be dissatisfied with me, even if you die, it is also my natural human right."
"I wish you have fun in Europe!" Sheffield took off his hat and gestured slightly, then dressed neatly again and got off the ship surrounded by a group of Black Gold staff. He never thought of using his power to control these people. In his eyes, these ordinary passengers were so numerous that they couldn't even hit his knees if they jumped up. Why would he bother with them?
People from the Sheffield French branch were already waiting at the port. Although they were farmers, the Sheffield family was also farmers with an international trade mindset. Agricultural and animal husbandry products were the only flagship products that could travel unimpeded in the United States before. Rockefeller's oil branch in England was called the Anglo-American Petroleum Company, and in Germany it was called the German-American Petroleum Company. In addition, other companies were established.
In that era, American companies like Rockefeller that were able to enter Europe were still rare. In this sense, northern factory owners were not as internationally minded as southern plantation owners.
"Hey, Cade!" John Connor walked in front and hugged the people who came to greet him. He greeted them in French, "It seems that you are living very comfortably in France."
"That's it. It's just a little too bland. It's less exciting than the previous trip to the sea." Cade shook his head slightly, his eyes fell on Sheffield and he said, "Master William? The train ticket to Paris is ready."
"Thank you!" Sheffield nodded in thanks and looked back at the bustling dock. It is said that he has never been interested in traveling in his life. He simply thinks that traveling is a waste of time. He has no intention of staying in the world-famous Marseille and can't wait to get on the train to Paris.
During this time, he stomped his feet hard. In the past month, all he could see was the sea, and all he could see was the deck. He suddenly felt down to earth, which was a little unreal.
Cade smiled but said nothing, he was not a talkative man, in fact although he had blood on his hands, he had a very good temper. He kept this matter separate, work was work and it should not affect life.
The Seine River and the Champs-Elysees in Paris. The reason why Paris is so famous today is thanks to one person, the French Emperor Napoleon III. Although he lost some of Napoleon's people, he played a big role in the planning of Paris.
Sheffield believed that the defeat in the Franco-Prussian War could not be blamed on him. After all, France would continue to lose to Germany in later history, so one should just get used to it.
At a corner, John Connor found the address and knocked on the door of a three-story apartment. Just when he thought he had found the wrong place, a young lady in pajamas opened the door and asked with a hint of tiredness, "Who are you?"
John Connor took two steps back and looked around. Did he find the wrong place? He turned and looked at Sheffield who was standing not far away.
"Julie, who is that?" A well-maintained middle-aged man, also wearing pajamas, appeared and glanced at the group of uninvited guests outside the door.
"That's him!" Sheffield took out his pocket watch. It was ten minutes before eleven in Paris. He walked past the crowd and came to the man. He looked at the girl who opened the door and grinned secretly. This lady couldn't be much older than him.
After a flurry of activity, Sheffield stood in front of a huge mirror ten minutes later, looking at the patterns on it with suspicion. Recalling the height and figure of the lady who had just opened the door, he finally understood the two unclear circular marks. It is true that people grow old but their hearts remain young.
"My dear son, why don't you tell me before you come to Paris!" Harry Sheffield, still dressed as usual, sat down on the sofa, staggering with a wine glass in his hand, looking very relaxed.
"I can't contact you!" Sheffield looked at the other person who thought he was handsome and elegant, and chose to tell the truth.
Harry Sheffield nodded and drank the red wine in his glass in one go. He said with a smile, "As you know, there are a lot of things going on in Paris. I am so exhausted recently."
I don't really know about this? Sheffield felt that there must be another reason for his physical exhaustion.
(End of this chapter)
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