Recently added books

Letters of Two Brides

Creator: Balzac, Honoré de, 1799-1850
Translator: -
Contributor: -
Editor: -


Brand new books:


THE SAME TO THE SAME January. Our master is a poor refugee, forced to keep in hiding on account of the part he played in the revolution which the Duc d'Angouleme has just quelled--a triumph to which we owe some splendid fetes. Though a Liberal, and doubtless a man of the people, he has awakened my interest: I fancy that he must have been condemned to death. I make him talk for the purpose of getting at his secret; but he is of a truly Castilian taciturnity, proud as though he were Gonsalvo di Cordova, and nevertheless angelic in his patience and gentleness. His pride is not irritable like Miss Griffith's, it belongs to his inner nature; he forces us to civility because his own manners are so perfect, and holds us at a distance by the respect he shows us. My father declares that there is a great deal of the nobleman in Senor Henarez, whom, among ourselves, he calls in fun Don Henarez. A few days ago I took the liberty of addressing him thus. He raised his eyes, which are generally bent on the ground, and flashed a look from them that quite abashed me; my dear, he certainly has the most beautiful eyes imaginable. I asked him if I had offended him in any way, and he said to me in his grand, rolling Spanish: "I am here only to teach you Spanish."
Lost Illusions

LOST ILLUSIONS BY HONORE DE BALZAC PREPARER'S NOTE The trilogy known as Lost Illusions consists of: Two Poets A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Eve and David In many references parts one and three are combined under the title Lost Illusions and A Distinguished Provincial at Paris is given its individual title. Following this trilogy is a sequel, Scenes from a Courtesan's Life, which is set directly following the end of Eve and David.
I blushed and felt quite snubbed. I was on the point of making some pert answer, when I remembered what our dear mother in God used to say to us, and I replied instead: "It would be a kindness to tell me if you have anything to complain of." A tremor passed through him, the blood rose in his olive cheeks; he replied in a voice of some emotion: "Religion must have taught you, better than I can, to respect the unhappy. Had I been a _don_ in Spain, and lost everything in the triumph of Ferdinand VII., your witticism would be unkind; but if I am only a poor teacher of languages, is it not a heartless satire? Neither is worthy of a young lady of rank." I took his hand, saying: "In the name of religion also, I beg you to pardon me." He bowed, opened my _Don Quixote_, and sat down. This little incident disturbed me more than the harvest of compliments, gazing and pretty speeches on my most successful evening. During the lesson I watched him attentively, which I could do the more