Три мушкетера

The Pavilion

           Beyondthathedge,thatgarden,andthatcottage,adarkmistenvelopedwithitsfoldsthatimmensitywhereParissleptavastvoidfromwhichglitteredafewluminouspoints,thefuneralstarsofthathell!

           Butford’Artagnanallaspectswereclothedhappily,allideasworeasmile,allshadeswerediaphanous.Theappointedhourwasabouttostrike.Infact,attheendofafewminutesthebelfryofSt.Cloudletfallslowlytenstrokesfromitssonorousjaws.Therewassomethingmelancholyinthisbrazenvoicepouringoutitslamentationsinthemiddleofthenight;buteachofthosestrokes,whichmadeuptheexpectedhour,vibratedharmoniouslytotheheartoftheyoungman.

           Hiseyeswerefixeduponthelittlepavilionsituatedattheangleofthewall,ofwhichallthewindowswereclosedwithshutters,exceptoneonthefirststory.Throughthiswindowshoneamildlightwhichsilveredthefoliageoftwoorthreelindentreeswhichformedagroupoutsidethepark.Therecouldbenodoubtthatbehindthislittlewindow,whichthrewforthsuchfriendlybeams,theprettyMme.Bonacieuxexpectedhim.

           Wrappedinthissweetidea,d’Artagnanwaitedhalfanhourwithouttheleastimpatience,hiseyesfixeduponthatcharminglittleabodeofwhichhecouldperceiveapartoftheceilingwithitsgildedmoldings,attestingtheeleganceoftherestoftheapartment.

           ThebelfryofSt.Cloudsoundedhalfpastten.

           Thistime,withoutknowingwhy,d’Artagnanfeltacoldshiverrunthroughhisveins.

Настройки
Фон страницы
Размер шрифта
Межстрочный интервал
Фразовые глаголы
Показать / Скрыть меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Страница 332 из 894