etext or this "small print!"
statement. You may however, if you wish, distribute this etext in
machine readable binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
including any form resulting from conversion by word pro- cessing or
hypertext software, but only so long as *EITHER*:
[*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and does *not*
contain characters other than those intended by the author of the work,
although tilde (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may be used
to convey punctuation intended by the author, and additional characters
may be used to indicate hypertext links; OR
[*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at no expense into
plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent form by the program that displays
the etext (as is the case, for instance, with most word processors); OR
[*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at no additional
cost, fee or expense, a copy of the etext in its original plain ASCII form
(or in EBCDIC or other equivalent proprietary form).
[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this "Small
Print!" statement.
[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the net profits
you derive calculated using the method you already use to calculate
your applicable taxes. If you don't derive profits, no royalty is due.
Royalties are payable to "Project Gutenberg
Association/Carnegie-Mellon University" within the 60 days following
each date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) your annual
(or equivalent periodic) tax return.
WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU
DON'T HAVE TO?
The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, scanning
machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty free copyright
licenses, and every other sort of contribution you can think of. Money
should be paid to "Project Gutenberg Association / Carnegie-Mellon
University".
*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN
ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*
Etext prepared by Dagny,
[email protected] and John Bickers,
[email protected]
LA GRANDE BRETECHE (Sequel to "Another Study of Woman.")
by HONORE DE BALZAC
Translated By Ellen Marriage and Clara Bell
LA GRANDE BRETECHE
"Ah! madame," replied the doctor, "I have some appalling stories in my
collection. But each one has its proper hour in a conversation--you
know the pretty jest recorded by Chamfort, and said to the Duc de
Fronsac: 'Between your sally and the present moment lie ten bottles of
champagne.' "
"But it is two in the morning, and the story of Rosina has prepared us,"
said the mistress of the house.
"Tell us, Monsieur Bianchon!" was the cry on every side.
The obliging doctor bowed, and silence reigned.
"At about a hundred paces from Vendome, on the banks of the Loir,"
said he, "stands an old brown house, crowned with very high roofs, and
so completely isolated that there is nothing near it, not even a fetid
tannery or a squalid tavern, such as are commonly seen outside small
towns. In front of this house is a garden down to the river, where the
box shrubs, formerly clipped close to edge the walks, now straggle at
their own will. A few willows, rooted in the stream, have grown up
quickly like an enclosing fence, and half hide the house. The wild
plants we call weeds have clothed the bank with their beautiful
luxuriance. The fruit-trees, neglected for these ten years past, no longer
bear a crop, and their suckers have formed a thicket. The espaliers are
like a copse. The paths, once graveled, are overgrown with purslane;
but, to be accurate there is no trace of a path.
"Looking down from the hilltop, to which cling the ruins of the old
castle of the Dukes of Vendome, the only spot whence the eye can see
into this enclosure, we think that at a time, difficult now to determine,
this spot of earth must have been the joy of some country gentleman
devoted to roses and tulips, in a word, to horticulture, but above all a
lover of choice fruit. An arbor is visible, or rather the wreck of an arbor,
and under it a table still stands not entirely destroyed by time. At the
aspect of this garden that is no more, the negative joys of the peaceful
life of the provinces may be divined as we divine the history of a
worthy tradesman when we read the epitaph on his tomb. To complete
the mournful and tender impressions which seize the soul, on one of the
walls there is a sundial graced with this homely Christian motto,
'/Ultimam cogita/.'
"The roof of this house is dreadfully dilapidated; the outside shutters
are always closed; the balconies are hung with swallows' nests; the
doors are for ever shut. Straggling grasses have outlined the flagstones
of the steps with green; the ironwork is rusty. Moon and
Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code
