As far as the other characters in the book, I think Marguerite was right in saying that no one truly cared about her, but only wanted something from her, the only exceptions being Armand and Julie Duprat. Of course, the Comte de G. and Comte de N. wanted her body and appearance. The Duke needed to “wake up and smell the coffee” and realize that she could never replace his dead daughter. If he truly cared, he could have helped her leave her lifestyle without “keeping” her himself. And lastly, Prudence was a blood-sucking leech who used Marguerite almost worse than the men. I also think she was jealous of the fact that Marguerite had so much more courage than herself and someone truly loved her.
Last morning, when tiding my bookshelf, I took this book out of the shelf, and a dried flower flew away from the book. It was pale blue, very transparent, with thin fine veins. a dried flower flew away from the book. It was pale blue, very transparent, with thin fine veins. I held it against the morning light and blew on it. The soft breeze carried it away. Camille is just like the camellia, she could never escape from the destiny of withering. But it wasn’t her fault; it’s because of the evil of Capitalism and the hideousness of that society.
Suddenly, I remembered a saying: “Women are like the flowers”. Those pretty women are like those beautiful flowers; their delicate beauty makes people feel they are the miracle of life. However, even the God envies their beauty. It seems that beautiful women always have tragic endings. As we are normal persons, even we can see the hideousness of humanity that results in their fate of withering, we can at most ask quietly in our hearts: Where have those beautiful flowers gone? Where have they gone?
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