Herman Melville
Pierre; or The Ambiguities
Published by Good Press, 2019
EAN 4057664178800
Table of Contents
BOOK I. PIERRE JUST EMERGING FROM HIS TEENS.
BOOK II. LOVE, DELIGHT, AND ALARM.
BOOK III. THE PRESENTIMENT AND THE VERIFICATION.
BOOK V. MISGIVINGS AND PREPARATIONS.
BOOK VI. ISABEL, AND THE FIRST PART OF THE STORY OF ISABEL.
BOOK VII. INTERMEDIATE BETWEEN PIERRE'S TWO INTERVIEWS WITH ISABEL AT THE FARM-HOUSE.
BOOK IX. MORE LIGHT, AND THE GLOOM OF THAT LIGHT. MORE GLOOM, AND THE LIGHT OF THAT GLOOM.
BOOK X. THE UNPRECEDENTED FINAL RESOLUTION OF PIERRE.
BOOK XI. HE CROSSES THE RUBICON
BOOK XII. ISABEL: MRS. GLENDINNING: THE PORTRAIT: AND LUCY.
BOOK XIII. THEY DEPART THE MEADOWS.
BOOK XIV. THE JOURNEY AND THE PAMPHLET.
BOOK XVI. FIRST NIGHT OF THEIR ARRIVAL IN THE CITY.
BOOK XVII. YOUNG AMERICA IN LITERATURE.
BOOK XVIII. PIERRE, AS A JUVENILE AUTHOR, RECONSIDERED.
BOOK XIX. THE CHURCH OF THE APOSTLES.
BOOK XXI. PIERRE IMMATURELY ATTEMPTS A MATURE WORK. TIDINGS FROM THE MEADOWS. PLINLIMMON.
BOOK XXIII. A LETTER FOR PIERRE. ISABEL. ARRIVAL OF LUCY'S EASEL AND TRUNKS AT THE APOSTLES'.
BOOK XXIV. LUCY AT THE APOSTLES.
BOOK XXV. LUCY, ISABEL, AND PIERRE. PIERRE AT HIS BOOK. ENCELADUS.
BOOK XXVI. A WALK: A FOREIGN PORTRAIT: A SAIL: AND THE END.
PIERRE.
BOOK I.
PIERRE JUST EMERGING FROM HIS TEENS.
I.
THERE are some strange summer mornings in the country, when he who is but a sojourner from the city shall early walk forth into the fields, and be wonder-smitten with the trance-like aspect of the green and golden world. Not a flower stirs; the trees forget to wave; the grass itself seems to have ceased to grow; and all Nature, as if suddenly become conscious of her own profound mystery, and feeling no refuge from it but silence, sinks into this wonderful and indescribable repose.
Such was the morning in June, when, issuing from the embowered and high-gabled old home of his fathers, Pierre, dewily refreshed and spiritualized by sleep, gayly entered the long, wide, elm-arched street of the village, and half unconsciously bent his steps toward a cottage, which peeped into view near the end of the vista.
The verdant trance lay far and wide; and through it nothing came but the brindled kine, dreamily wandering to their pastures, followed, not driven, by ruddy-cheeked, white-footed boys.
As touched and bewitched by the loveliness of this silence, Pierre neared the cottage, and lifted his eyes, he swiftly paused, fixing his glance upon one upper, open casement there. Why now this impassioned, youthful pause? Why this enkindled cheek and eye? Upon the sill of the casement, a snow-white glossy pillow reposes, and a trailing shrub has softly rested a rich, crimson flower against it.
Well mayst thou seek that pillow, thou odoriferous flower, thought Pierre; not an hour ago, her own cheek must have rested there. "Lucy!"
"Pierre!"
As heart rings to heart those voices rang, and for a moment, in the bright hush of the morning, the two stood silently but ardently eying each other, beholding mutual reflections of a boundless admiration and love.
"Nothing but Pierre," laughed the youth, at last; "thou hast forgotten to bid me good-morning."
"That would be little. Good-mornings, good-evenings, good days, weeks, months, and years to thee, Pierre;—bright Pierre!—Pierre!"
Truly, thought the youth, with a still gaze of inexpressible fondness; truly the skies do ope, and this invoking angel looks down.—"I would return thee thy manifold good-mornings, Lucy, did not that presume thou had'st lived through a night; and by Heaven, thou belong'st to the regions of an infinite day!"
"Fie, now, Pierre; why should