Chapter 833:

When I came here again, I was sitting on the grass under an oak tree, almost owning an entire beautiful and vast rural landscape. Not quite; because there was a man riding a horse and looking down at me-someone who just came out of a picture book. He wears old-fashioned iron armor from head to toe, and a helmet on his head, shaped like a nail with seams. He has a shield, a sword, and a spear. His horse also wore armor, and a steel horn protruded from the forehead. The gorgeous red and green silk traps hung around him like a quilt, almost falling to the ground.
"Mr. Fair, are you willing?" the guy said.
"Am I willing?"
"Will you try to pass weapons for land, ladies or other purposes?"
"What are you giving me?" I said. "Go back to your circus, or I will report to you."
Now this man did something, but backed a few hundred yards, and then rushed towards me with all his strength, his nails almost bent down the horse's neck, and his spear pointed straight ahead. I saw that he was doing business, so I was in the tree when he came.
He allowed me to be his property, a captive of his spear. There are arguments on his side-and most of the advantages-so I think it's best to make him humorous. We have made an agreement under which I will go with him, and he should not hurt me. I came down, we started to walk, I walked beside his horse. We walked comfortably through glades and streams that I don't remember ever seeing. This confused me and made me wonder, but we did not show any signs of circus or circus. Therefore, I gave up the idea of ​​the circus and concluded that he came from asylum. But we have never been to a shelter, so, as you might say, I am in trouble. I asked him how far we were from Hartford. He said he had never heard of this place. I use lying as an excuse, but allow it to lie. At the end of an hour, we saw a remote town, sleeping in a valley by a winding river. On the mountain, there is a huge gray fortress with towers and turrets. It is the first one I have seen.
"Bridgeport?" I said, pointing.
"Camelot," he said.
My stranger kept showing signs of sleepiness. He nodded now, smiling at one of his poor, outdated smiles, and said:
"I found that I can't continue; but with me, I have written everything, and you can read it if you want."
He said in his room: "First, I kept the diary; then, a few years later, I gradually picked up the diary and turned it into a book. How long ago!"
He handed me his manuscript and pointed out where I should start:
"From here-I have told you what happened before." At this time he was addicted to sleep. When I walked outside his door, I drowsily heard him murmur: "Give you a good study, sir.
I sat by the fire and checked my treasure.
The story of the lost land
"Camelot-Camelot," I said to myself. "I don't seem to remember having heard it before. It may be the name of asylum."
It was a soft and pleasant summer landscape, as lovely as a dream, and as lonely as Sunday. The air was filled with the fragrance of flowers, the hum of insects, the sound of birds, no one, no truck, no stirring of life, nothing happened. This road is mainly a winding road with hoof prints, sometimes faintly traces on the sides of the grass, these traces are obviously as wide as a person's hand.
Currently, there is about a ten-year-old girl with golden cataracts on her shoulders, and her white eyes appeared. She wore a ring of flame-red poppies on her head. This is the sweetest dress I have ever seen, what's in it. She walked lazily and quietly, and its calm was reflected in her innocent face. The men in the circus ignored her. He didn't even seem to see her. And she-she was never more shocked by his dreamy makeup than by the way she was used to him every day in her life. She walked coldly, as if she had walked past several cows. But when she noticed me by accident, then something changed! Raising her hands, she turned into stone. With her mouth open, her eyes wide open and staring into her eyes, her photos are full of curiosity and fear. She stood there, dumbfounded, until we turned a corner of the wood and lost her sight. She was shocked at me rather than at another man, it was too much for me. I cannot do this. It seems that she should regard me as a spectacle, and completely ignored her own strengths in this regard. This is another puzzling thing, and she also showed magnanimity, which is surprising among such a young person. It is worth pondering here. I move forward as a dream.
When we walked to the small town, signs of life began to appear. From time to time, we passed through a dilapidated hut with a thatched roof, surrounded by small fields and gardens, and they were planted indifferently. There are also people. Strong men, long and thick, with uncombed hair hanging down on their faces, making them look like animals. They and the women usually wear burlap robes below the knee and rough sandals, and many wear iron collars. Little boys and girls are always naked; but no one seems to know. All these people stared at me, talked about me, ran into the cabin, took out their family and looked at me. But no one noticed the others, just let him call them humbly, and did not respond to their pain.
There are some sturdy windowless stone houses in the town scattered in the wilderness of thatched huts. There are only crooked alleys on the streets, not paved. Dogs and naked soldiers played in the sun, making life and noise; the pigs wandered around and took root contentedly, one of which was lying in the pavilion in the middle of the main road and raising her family. At present, military music is nowhere in sight. It got closer and closer, and soon there was a noble march, dazzling helmets, dangling mail, banners, rich twin peaks, horse cloth and gilded spearheads. Through the mud and pigs, naked little guys, happy dogs, dilapidated huts, it took a heroic approach, and with it came us.
We walked through a winding alley, then climbed, and kept climbing until finally, we finally reached the breezy height of this huge castle. Exchange horns. Then there was an alley from the wall, arms in the arms of Wyburk and Morion, halberds marching back and forth on the shoulders, waving banners that showed a rude dragon. Then, the gate was opened, the suspension bridge was lowered, and the head of the marching swept forward under the frowning arch. Afterwards, we soon found ourselves on a large paved lawn with towering towers and turrets on all sides; and everything about us continued, dismounted, many greetings and ceremonies, running back and forth, And the dynamic and intertwined colors of homosexuality,
Arthur House
When I got the chance, I slipped aside in private, touched the shoulder of an old, ordinary man, and said in a suggestive and confidential way:
"Friend, am I a good person? Do you belong to a shelter? Or are you just visiting or something?
He looked at me awkwardly and said:
"Marry me, sir, let me see-"
I said, "Do that." "I think you are a patient."
I walked away, thinking constantly, and at the same time watching for any opportunities that might appear in his right brain and bring me some light. I think one has been found so far. So I pulled him aside and said in his ear:
"If I could see the person in charge for one minute-only one minute -"
"Please don't let me."
"What do you want?"
"Hind me, then, if this word pleases you better. Then he went on to say that he is a cook, even though he wanted to do it again, he still couldn't stop the gossip. Because it would comfort his liver because he knew me. Where to buy clothes. When he started to walk, he pointed out and said that he was a person who was idle enough and was looking for me without a doubt. This was an airy slim boy in a shrimp-colored tights that made him look like a Crossed carrots, the rest of the equipment is blue silk and delicate shoelaces and ruffles. He has long yellow curly hair and a feathery pink satin hat. His ears tilted complacently. From his expression, he has a cheerful personality. His gait makes him very satisfied. He is framed enough. He arrived, looking at me with a smile and rude curiosity. He said he came to me and told me he It is one page.
"Let's go," I said. "You are just a paragraph."
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