LES MISERABLES (Illustrated Edition). Victor Hugo. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Victor Hugo
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9788027218530
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X—WHICH EXPLAINS HOW JAVERT GOT ON THE SCENT

       BOOK SIXTH.—LE PETIT-PICPUS

       CHAPTER I—NUMBER 62 RUE PETIT-PICPUS

       CHAPTER II—THE OBEDIENCE OF MARTIN VERGA

       CHAPTER III—AUSTERITIES

       CHAPTER IV—GAYETIES

       CHAPTER V—DISTRACTIONS

       CHAPTER VI—THE LITTLE CONVENT

       CHAPTER VII—SOME SILHOUETTES OF THIS DARKNESS

       CHAPTER VIII—POST CORDA LAPIDES

       CHAPTER IX—A CENTURY UNDER A GUIMPE

       CHAPTER X—ORIGIN OF THE PERPETUAL ADORATION

       CHAPTER XI—END OF THE PETIT-PICPUS

       BOOK SEVENTH.—PARENTHESIS

       CHAPTER I—THE CONVENT AS AN ABSTRACT IDEA

       CHAPTER II—THE CONVENT AS AN HISTORICAL FACT

       CHAPTER III—ON WHAT CONDITIONS ONE CAN RESPECT THE PAST

       CHAPTER IV—THE CONVENT FROM THE POINT OF VIEW OF PRINCIPLES

       CHAPTER V—PRAYER

       CHAPTER VI—THE ABSOLUTE GOODNESS OF PRAYER

       CHAPTER VII—PRECAUTIONS TO BE OBSERVED IN BLAME

       CHAPTER VIII—FAITH, LAW

       BOOK EIGHTH.—CEMETERIES TAKE THAT WHICH IS COMMITTED THEM

       CHAPTER I—WHICH TREATS OF THE MANNER OF ENTERING A CONVENT

       CHAPTER II—FAUCHELEVENT IN THE PRESENCE OF A DIFFICULTY

       CHAPTER III—MOTHER INNOCENTE

       CHAPTER IV—IN WHICH JEAN VALJEAN HAS QUITE THE AIR OF HAVING READ

       CHAPTER V—IT IS NOT NECESSARY TO BE DRUNK IN ORDER TO BE IMMORTAL

       CHAPTER VI—BETWEEN FOUR PLANKS

       CHAPTER VII—IN WHICH WILL BE FOUND THE ORIGIN OF THE SAYING: DON’T LOSE THE CARD

       CHAPTER VIII—A SUCCESSFUL INTERROGATORY

       CHAPTER IX—CLOISTERED

      Last year (1861), on a beautiful May morning, a traveller, the person who is telling this story, was coming from Nivelles, and directing his course towards La Hulpe. He was on foot. He was pursuing a broad paved road, which undulated between two rows of trees, over the hills which succeed each other, raise the road and let it fall again, and produce something in the nature of enormous waves.

      He had passed Lillois and Bois-Seigneur-Isaac. In the west he perceived the slate-roofed tower of Braine-l’Alleud, which has the form of a reversed vase. He had just left behind a wood upon an eminence; and at the angle of the cross-road, by the side of a sort of mouldy gibbet bearing the inscription Ancient Barrier No. 4, a public house, bearing on its front this sign: At the Four Winds (Aux Quatre Vents). Echabeau, Private Cafe.

      A quarter of a league further on, he arrived at the bottom of a little valley, where there is water which passes beneath an arch made through the embankment of the road. The clump of sparsely planted but very green trees, which fills the valley on one side of the road, is dispersed over the meadows on the other, and disappears gracefully and as in order in the direction of Braine-l’Alleud.

      On the right, close to the road, was an inn, with a four-wheeled cart at the door, a large bundle of hop-poles, a plough, a heap of dried brushwood near a flourishing hedge, lime smoking in a square hole, and a ladder suspended along an old penthouse with straw partitions. A young girl was weeding in a field, where a huge yellow poster, probably of some outside spectacle, such as a parish festival, was fluttering in the wind. At one corner of the inn, beside a pool in which a flotilla of ducks was navigating, a badly paved path plunged into the bushes. The wayfarer struck into this.

      After traversing a hundred paces, skirting a wall of the fifteenth century, surmounted by a pointed gable, with bricks set in contrast, he found himself before a large door of arched stone, with a rectilinear impost, in the sombre style of Louis XIV., flanked by two flat medallions. A severe facade rose above this door; a wall, perpendicular to the facade, almost touched the door, and flanked it with an abrupt right angle. In the meadow before the door lay three harrows, through which, in disorder, grew all the flowers of May. The door was closed. The two decrepit leaves which barred it were ornamented with an old rusty knocker.

      The sun was charming; the branches had that soft shivering of May, which seems to proceed rather from the nests than from the wind. A brave little bird, probably a lover, was carolling in a distracted manner in a large tree.

      The wayfarer bent over and examined a rather large circular excavation, resembling the hollow of a sphere, in the stone on the left, at the foot of the pier of the door.

      At this moment the leaves of the door parted, and a peasant woman emerged.

      She