"Yes, I had a delightful chat with Mrs. Pompos just now. She likes nineteenth-century poets too. You know, there aren't many people who share an interest in Polish Romantic poetry."
"Is that so? As it happens, I know a little about the Polish youth movement as well. Speaking of Romantic poetry, you must have discussed Mickiewicz, right? Many people like his Ode to Youth, but I prefer Forefathers' Eve, especially Part Two."
Holding his wineglass, Bruce blinked lightly. Schiller lowered his head with a smile and said, "That's right. In Part Two of Forefathers' Eve, its view of revenge is quite interesting. It breaks away from the empty, impoverished fantasies of most Romantic poetry and places hatred and revenge within the peasants' resistance against the landlords..."
When Schiller mentioned the peasants' resistance against the landlords, Bruce's expression changed slightly. But he quickly smiled again and said, "My favorite part is the discussion of customary moral standards among the common people... What do you think morality is?"
Schiller did not answer. Sure enough, the moment Bruce finished speaking, he raised his wineglass to cover his mouth and said with a smile, "Oh, apologies. Look at me, where did I think I was? It's just that Mr. March told me you were a professor at the Federal Bureau of Investigation's Agent Training Academy, so I couldn't help asking you questions like a curious student."
"That's all right, as long as you don't mind this somewhat tedious lecture appearing at your private banquet. As for that, I have always maintained one view..."
Just as Schiller said this, he felt a Shade press close behind him. Turning around, he saw Lincoln March's face.
This burly gentleman wore a finely tailored light suit. The cut of its collar had a somewhat retro eighteenth-century style that