Guide Mont-Oriol (French Edition)

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Let me be clear: this book was recommended to me not as compelling literature, or as a guide to living well, but as important for my project, which it most certainly is. Another odd twist - the Juif is described as not laid as in, French-for-ugly, not as in getting-some , whereas the Gentile love interest is described as laid , at least in the eyes of the vapid protagnonesse.

But because this is a crummy novel, there's probably no broader significance to this. The best I can think of is, it's about how manly appeal comes from not being a pretty-boy, something an author bemoaning decadence might conceivably have argued, right? I don't know exactly how it'll end, but I don't think either the belle or the Juif will develop a distinct personality of any kind. Part II, stamina-willing, shall follow. Labels: tour d'ivoire. You might want to get an early start on your preparations for the snake fight portion of your dissertation defense Latin treatise that has not been translated into English since , when English was, needless to say, not standardized.

Scrappiness one-upmanship.

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Love it! A fine copy in near fine dust jacket; the cream-colored decorated jacket is faintly tanned on spine, with light wear at crown of spine with two tiny nicked tears , rear panel has two short creased tears at top edge near upper corner of spine , else very fresh and bright. Octavo, black cloth stamped in gilt with intricate gilt decoration on front cover , pp. Seller: Waiting for Godot Books Published: Condition: A fine copy in near fine dust jacket; the cream-colored decorated jacket is faintly tanned on spine, with light wear at crown Edition: First American edition of this translation ; first edition thu.

Seller: Buchantiquariat Clerc Fremin. This volume only; however, other volumes in this set of the complete illustrated works of Guy de Maupassant in matching leather binding are available from Black Oak Books.. Seller: crealivres Published: London: Alfred A Knopf, No marks or inscriptions. A very clean very tight copy with bright shiny very clean unmarked boards and no bumping to corners. Very slightly dusty dust jacket not price clipped with sunning to spine and edges and nicks and creasing to upper edge.

Stories from French writer Guy de Maupassant. No 11 in this series of Guy de Maupassant's novels and tales. Very scarce with dust jacket.. Hard Cover. Mont-Oriol Guy de Maupassant Geallimard, Etat moyen. Salt in maine Laurentiu Cernet Albatros, Seller: Bookmall Published: Condition: Used. A very clean very tight copy with very clean unmarked boards, slight tanning to page edges and no bumping to corners. Dusty dust jacket clipped with sunning to spine, small tear to top of spine and nicks and creasing to upper edge.

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Teodorescu Minerva, And Ed. Used - Acceptable. Former Library book. Shows definite wear, and perhaps considerable marking on inside. Brossura editoriale originale. In discrete condizioni. Brossura editoriale in discrete condizioni generali con lievi usure ai margini e dorso; piatto anteriore staccato. Legatura in discrete condizioni con rotture. All'interno le pagine si presentano in buone condizioni con fioriture. Usura all'ultima pagina. The work is in one volume and it is complete.

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Editorial original cover. In good conditions. Editorial cover in fair general conditions slightly worn in the edges and spine; front plate is detached. Binding in fair conditions with cracks. Inside pages are in good conditions with foxings. Wearings in the last page. Seller: Sephora di Elena Serru Published: Werner Laurie Ltd. Second Impression. Blue dust jacket over blue cloth with silver lettering.


Bright pages with light tanning and foxing to endpapers and page edges. Inscription on front paste-down, with rubbing and a couple of tiny nicks to text block edges. He wore an immense mustache like a dragoon, which was steeped from morning till night in the froth of bocks and the sticky syrup of liqueurs, and he had aroused in the old comedian whom he had enlisted in his service an immoderate passion for billiards. As soon as they got up in the morning, they proceeded to play a game, insulted and threatened one another, expunged the record, began over again, scarcely gave themselves time for breakfast, and could not tolerate two clients coming to drive them away from their green cloth.

They soon put everyone to flight, and did not find this sort of existence unpleasant, though Petrus Martel always found himself at the end of the season in a bankrupt condition. The female attendant, overwhelmed, would have to look on all day at this endless game, listen to the interminable discussion, and carry from morning till night glasses of beer or half-glasses of brandy to the two indefatigable players. At the end of the establishment they suddenly perceived the orchestra under a Chinese kiosque.

A fair-haired young man, frantically playing the violin, was conducting with movements of his head. His hair was shaking from one side to the other in the effort to keep time, and his entire torso bent forward and rose up again, swaying from left to right, like the stick of the leader of an orchestra. Facing him sat three strange-looking musicians. This was the maestro , Saint Landri. He and his assistants—a pianist, whose instrument, mounted on rollers, was wheeled each morning from the vestibule of the baths to the kiosque ; an enormous flautist, who presented the appearance of sucking a match while tickling it with his big swollen fingers, and a double-bass of consumptive aspect—produced with much fatigue this perfect imitation of a bad barrel-organ, which had astonished Christiane in the village street.

She could scarcely restrain her merriment at the sight of this third physician. The latter bowed and made some complimentary remark. This is of no consequence to you, but for us it is a big event. And he proceeded to explain. In the midst of two of them, facing the road, at two paces from the stream, stands a gigantic stone, an elevation which has impeded the cultivation and put into the shade one entire side of the field, on which it looks down.

He has a chest full of this powder, and yet the hill has not been blasted. Then, five or ten minutes afterward, it will go off, for the end of the fuse is pretty long. Christiane was interested in this narrative, amused already at the idea of this explosion, finding here again a childish sport that pleased her simple heart.

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They had now reached the end of the park. It is one of the loveliest natural curiosities in the district. She thought him ugly. He had black hair, close-cropped and straight, big, round eyes, with an expression that was almost hard, a head also quite round, very strong, one of those heads that make you think of cannon-balls, herculean shoulders; a rather savage expression, heavy and brutish. But from his jacket, from his linen, from his skin perhaps, came a very subtle perfume, with which the young woman was not familiar, and she asked herself:.

But Gontran saw the Marquis and Andermatt making signals to them to come in quickly to breakfast. Doctor Honorat took leave of them, asking as he left whether they really meant to go and see the hill blasted.


I shall be very much ashamed to eat as much as I feel inclined before your friend. Christiane, who was not familiar with all the faces of those present, chatted with her father and her brother. Then she went up to her room to take a rest till the time for blasting the rock. She was ready long before the hour fixed, and made the others start along with her so that they might not miss the explosion. Just outside the village, at the opening of the glen, stood, as they had heard, a high knoll, almost a mountain, which they proceeded to climb under a burning sun, following a little path through the vine-trees.

When they reached the summit the young woman uttered a cry of astonishment at the sight of the immense horizon displayed before her eyes. In front of her stretched a limitless plain, which immediately gave her soul the sensation of an ocean. This plain, overhung by a veil of light blue vapor, extended as far as the most distant mountain-ridges, which were scarcely perceptible, some fifty or sixty kilometers away. And under the transparent haze of delicate fineness, which floated above this vast stretch, could be distinguished towns, villages, woods, vast yellow squares of ripe crops, vast green squares of herbage, factories with long, red chimneys and blackened steeples and sharp-pointed structures, with the solidified lava of dead volcanoes.

She turned around. And behind she saw the mountain, the huge mountain indented with craters. This was the entrance to the foundation on which Enval stood, a great expanse of greenness in which one could scarcely trace the hidden gash of the gorge. The trees in a waving mass scaled the high slope as far as the first crater and shut out the view of those beyond.

But, as they were exactly on the line that separated the plains from the mountain, the latter stretched to the left toward Clermont—Ferrand, and, wandering away, unrolled over the blue sky their strange mutilated tops, like monstrous blotches—extinct volcanoes, dead volcanoes. And yonder—over yonder, between two peaks—could be seen another, higher still, more distant still, round and majestic, and bearing on its highest pinnacle something of fantastic shape resembling a ruin.

This was the Puy de Dome, the king of the mountains of Auvergne, strong and unwieldy, wearing on its head, like a crown placed thereon by the mightiest of peoples, the remains of a Roman temple. And she felt herself happy already, penetrated by that sense of well-being which takes possession of the flesh and the heart, makes you breathe with ease, and renders you sprightly and active when you find yourself in a spot which enchants your eyes, charms and cheers you, seems to have been awaiting you, a spot for which you feel that you were born.

He rushed across to them, and conducted the family toward the opposite side of the hill, over a grassy slope beside a grove of young trees, where already some thirty persons were waiting, strangers and peasants mingled together. Beneath their feet, the steep hillside descended toward the Riom road, overshadowed by willows that sheltered the shallow river; and in the midst of a vineyard at the edge of this stream rose a sharp-pointed rock before which two men on bended knees seemed to be praying.

This was the scene of action.