قراءة كتاب The Village Rector

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The Village Rector

The Village Rector

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THE VILLAGE RECTOR



By Honore De Balzac



Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley






                             DEDICATION

  To Helene.

  The tiniest boat is not launched upon the sea without the
  protection of some living emblem or revered name, placed upon it
  by the mariners. In accordance with this time-honored custom,
  Madame, I pray you to be the protectress of this book now launched
  upon our literary ocean; and may the Imperial name which the
  Church has canonized and your devotion has doubly sanctified for
  me guard it from perils.

                                                       De Balzac.






Contents

THE VILLAGE RECTOR

I. THE SAUVIATS
II. VERONIQUE
III. MARRIAGE
IV. THE HISTORY OF MANY MARRIED WOMEN IN THE PROVINCES
V. TASCHERON
VI. DISCUSSIONS AND CHRISTIAN SOLICITUDES
VII. MONTEGNAC
VIII. THE RECTOR OF MONTEGNAC
IX. DENISE
X. THIRD PHASE OF VERONIQUE'S LIFE
XI. THE RECTOR AT WORK
XII. THE SOUL OF FORESTS
XIII. FARRABESCHE
XIV. THE TORRENT OF THE GABOU
XV. STORY OF A GALLEY-SLAVE
XVI. CONCERNS ONE OF THE BLUNDERS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
XVII. THE REVOLUTION OF JULY JUDGED AT MONTEGNAC
XVIII.    CATHERINE CURIEUX
XIX. A DEATH BLOW
XX. THE LAST STRUGGLE
XXI. CONFESSION AT THE GATES OF THE TOMB

ADDENDUM






THE VILLAGE RECTOR





I. THE SAUVIATS

In the lower town of Limoges, at the corner of the rue de la Vieille-Poste and the rue de la Cite might have been seen, a generation ago, one of those shops which were scarcely changed from the period of the middle-ages. Large tiles seamed with a thousand cracks lay on the soil itself, which was damp in places, and would have tripped up those who failed to observe the hollows and ridges of this singular flooring. The dusty walls exhibited a curious mosaic of wood and brick, stones and iron, welded together with a solidity due to time, possibly to chance. For more than a hundred years the ceiling, formed of colossal beams, bent beneath the weight of the upper stories, though it had never given way under them. Built en colombage, that is to say, with a wooden frontage, the whole facade was covered with slates, so put on as to form geometrical figures,—thus preserving a naive image of the burgher habitations of the olden time.

None of the windows, cased in wood and formerly adorned with carvings, now destroyed by the action of the weather, had continued plumb; some bobbed forward, others tipped backward, while a few seemed disposed to fall apart; all had a compost of earth, brought from heaven knows where, in the nooks and crannies hollowed by the rain, in which the spring-tide brought forth fragile flowers, timid creeping plants, and sparse herbage. Moss carpeted the roof and draped its supports. The corner pillar, with its composite masonry of stone blocks mingled with brick and pebbles, was alarming to the eye by reason of its curvature; it seemed on the point of giving way under the weight of the house, the gable of which overhung it by at least half a foot. The municipal authorities and the commissioner of highways did, eventually, pull the old building down, after buying it, to enlarge the square.

The pillar we have mentioned, placed at the angle of two streets, was a treasure to the seekers for Limousin antiquities, on account of its lovely

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