ISBN: 9781231161180

RareBooksClub. Paperback. New. This item is printed on demand. Paperback. 106 pages. Dimensions: 9.7in. x 7.4in. x 0.2in.This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Pur… More...

RareBooksClub. Paperback. New. This item is printed on demand. Paperback. 106 pages. Dimensions: 9.7in. x 7.4in. x 0.2in.This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1904 Excerpt: . . . no longer did he look at the scenery--that Meyringen valley, seen through a light veil of mist, with its river in straight lines, the lake, the villages massing themselves in the distance, and that whole horizon of mountains, of glaciers, blending at times with the clouds, displaced by the turns of the road, lost apparently, and then returning, like the shifting scenes of a stage. Softened by tender thoughts, the hero admired the sweet child before him, reflecting that glory is only a semi-happiness, that tis sad to grow old all alone in your greatness, like Moses, and that this fragile flower of the North transplanted into the little garden at Tarascon would brighten its monotony, and be sweeter to see and breathe than that everlasting baobab, arbos gigantea, diminutively confined in the mignonette pot. With her childlike eyes, and her broad brow, thoughtful and self-willed, Sonia looked at him, and she, too, dreamed--but who knows what the young girls dream of VII. The nights at Tarascon. Where is hef Anxiety. The grasshoppers on the promenade call for Tartarin. Martyrdom of a great Tarasconese saint. The Club of the A Ipines. What was happening at the pharmacy. Help! help! BzuquetI A LETTER, Monsieur Btzuquet!. . Comes from Switzerland, v!. . Switzerland! cried the postman joyously, from the other end of the little square, waving something in the air, and hurrying along in the coming darkness. The apothecary, who took the air, as they say, of an evening before his door in his shirt-sleeves, gave a jump, seized the letter with feverish hands and carried it into his lair among the varied odours of elixirs and dried herbs, but did not open it till the postman had departed, refreshed by a glass of that delicious strop de cadavre in. . . This item ships from La Vergne,TN., RareBooksClub<