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Albert Savarus

Creator: Balzac, Honoré de, 1799-1850
Translator: Marriage, Ellen
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the story, by this time regarded it as history, written for her rival. By dint of thinking of nothing else, like a child, she ended by believing that the _Eastern Review_ was no doubt forwarded to Albert's lady-love. "Oh!" said she to herself, her head buried in her hands in the attitude of a person lost in prayer; "oh! how can I get my father to look through the list of people to whom the _Review_ is sent?" After breakfast she took a turn in the garden with her father, coaxing and cajoling him, and brought him to the kiosk. "Do you suppose, my dear little papa, that our _Review_ is ever read abroad?" "It is but just started--" "Well, I will wager that it is." "It is hardly possible." "Just go and find out, and note the names of any subscribers out of France." Two hours later Monsieur de Watteville said to his daughter:
The Village in the Mountains; Conversion of Peter Bayssiere; and History of a Bible

THE VILLAGE IN THE MOUNTAINS. M. ----, a merchant, at the head of one of the first commercial houses in Paris,[1] had occasion to visit the manufactories established in the mountainous tracts of the Departments of the Loire and the Puy de Dome. The road that conducted him back to Lyons traversed a country rich in natural productions, and glowing with all the charms of an advanced and promising spring. The nearer view was unusually diversified; not only by the fantastic forms of mountains, the uncertain course of small and tributary streams, and the varying hues of fields of pasture, corn, vines, and vegetables, but by the combinations and contrasts of nature and of art, and the occupations of rural and commercial industry. Factories and furnaces were seen rising amidst barns and sheep-cotes, peasants were digging, and ploughs gliding amidst forges and foundries; verdant slopes and graceful clumps of trees were scattered amidst the black and ugly mouths of exhausted coal-pits; and the gentle murmur of the stream was subdued by the loud rattle of the loom. Sometimes M. ---- and his friend halted amidst all that is delightful and soothing; and after a short advance, found themselves amidst barrenness, deformity, and
"I was right; there is not one foreign subscriber as yet. They hope to get some at Neufchatel, at Berne, and at Geneva. One copy, is in fact, sent to Italy, but it is not paid for--to a Milanese lady at her country house at Belgirate, on Lago Maggiore. "What is her name?" "The Duchesse d'Argaiolo." "Do you know her, papa?" "I have heard about her. She was by birth a Princess Soderini, a Florentine, a very great lady, and quite as rich as her husband, who has one of the largest fortunes in Lombardy. Their villa on the Lago Maggiore is one of the sights of Italy." Two days after, Mariette placed the following letter in Mademoiselle de Watteville's hand:-- Albert Savaron to Leopold Hannequin. "Yes, 'tis so, my dear friend; I am at Besancon, while you thought I was traveling. I would not tell you anything till success should begin, and now it is dawning. Yes, my dear Leopold, after so many