La Grande Breteche

De Balzac Honore, Ellen Marriage, Clara Bell

Description

Predating Edgar Allen Poe's remarkably similar story "The Cask of Amontillado" by more than a decade, Honore de Balzac's chilling tale "La Grande Breteche" centers on a mysterious manor that sits abandoned in a town in central France. When a physician becomes curious about the estate and begins to question locals about it, he gradually unfurls a horrifying secret.

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 septembre 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776585816
• Langue: English

Extrait

LA GRANDE BRETECHE
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HONORE DE BALZAC
Translated by
ELLEN MARRIAGE
CLARA BELL
 
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La Grande Breteche First published in 1831 Epub ISBN 978-1-77658-581-6 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77658-582-3 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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La Grande Breteche Addendum
La Grande Breteche
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"Ah! madame," replied the doctor, "I have some appalling stories in mycollection. But each one has its proper hour in a conversation—you knowthe pretty jest recorded by Chamfort, and said to the Duc de Fronsac:'Between your sally and the present moment lie ten bottles ofchampagne.'"
"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," saidhe, "stands an old brown house, crowned with very high roofs, and socompletely isolated that there is nothing near it, not even a fetidtannery or a squalid tavern, such as are commonly seen outside smalltowns. In front of this house is a garden down to the river, where thebox shrubs, formerly clipped close to edge the walks, now straggleat their own will. A few willows, rooted in the stream, have grownup quickly like an enclosing fence, and half hide the house. Thewild plants we call weeds have clothed the bank with their beautifulluxuriance. The fruit-trees, neglected for these ten years past,no longer bear a crop, and their suckers have formed a thicket. Theespaliers are like a copse. The paths, once graveled, are overgrown withpurslane; but, to be accurate there is no trace of a path.
"Looking down from the hilltop, to which cling the ruins of the oldcastle of the Dukes of Vendome, the only spot whence the eye cansee into this enclosure, we think that at a time, difficult now todetermine, this spot of earth must have been the joy of some countrygentleman devoted to roses and tulips, in a word, to horticulture, butabove all a lover of choice fruit. An arbor is visible, or ratherthe wreck of an arbor, and under it a table still stands not entirelydestroyed by time. At the aspect of this garden that is no more, thenegative joys of the peaceful life of the provinces may be divined as wedivine the history of a worthy tradesman when we read the epitaph on histomb. To complete the mournful and tender impressions which seize thesoul, on one of the walls there is a sundial graced with this homelyChristian motto, ' Ultimam cogita .'
"The roof of this house is dreadfully dilapidated; the outside shuttersare always closed; the balconies are hung with swallows' nests; thedoors are for ever shut. Straggling grasses have outlined the flagstonesof the steps with green; the ironwork is rusty. Moon and sun, winter,summer, and snow have eaten into the wood, warped the boards, peeledoff the paint. The dreary silence is broken only by birds and cats,polecats, rats, and mice, free to scamper round, and fight, and eat eachother. An invisible hand has written over it all: 'Mystery.'
"If, prompted by curiosity, you go to look at this house from thestreet, you will see a large gate, with a round-arched top; the childrenhave made many holes in it. I learned later that this door had beenblocked for ten years. Through these irregular breaches you will seethat the side towards the courtyard is in perfect harmony with the sidetowards the garden.