Le Rhin, Tome I by Victor Hugo
Le Rhin, Tome I by Victor Hugo
Le beau Pécopin aimait la belle Bauldour, et la belle Bauldour aimait le beau Pécopin. Pécopin était fils du burgrave de Sonneck, et Bauldour était fille du sire de Falkenburg. L'un avait la forêt, l'autre avait la montagne. Or quoi de plus simple que de marier la montagne à la forêt? Les deux pères s'entendirent, et l'on fian?a Bauldour à Pécopin.
Ce jour-là, c'était un jour d'avril, les sureaux et les aubépines en fleurs s'ouvraient au soleil dans la forêt, mille petites cascades charmantes, neiges et pluies changées en ruisseaux, horreurs de l'hiver devenues les graces du printemps, sautaient harmonieusement dans la montagne, et l'amour, cet avril de l'homme, chantait, rayonnait et s'épanouissait dans le c?ur des deux fiancés.
Le père de Pécopin, vieux et vaillant chevalier, l'honneur du Nahegau, mourut quelque temps après les accordailles, en bénissant son fils et en lui recommandant Bauldour. Pécopin pleura, puis peu à peu, de la tombe où son père avait disparu, ses yeux se reportèrent au doux et radieux visage de sa fiancée, et il se consola. Quand la lune se lève, songe-t-on au soleil couché?
Pécopin avait toutes les qualités d'un gentilhomme, d'un jeune homme et d'un homme. Bauldour était une reine dans le manoir, une sainte vierge à l'église, une nymphe dans les bois, une fée à l'ouvrage.
Pécopin était grand chasseur, et Bauldour était belle fileuse. Or il n'y a pas de haine entre le fuseau et la carnassière. La fileuse file pendant que le chasseur chasse. Il est absent, la quenouille console et désennuie. La meute aboie, le rouet chante. La meute qui est au loin et qu'on entend à peine, mêlée au cor et perdue profondément dans les halliers, dit tout bas avec un vague bruit de fanfare: Songe à ton amant. Le rouet, qui force la belle rêveuse à baisser les yeux, dit tout haut et sans cesse avec sa petite voix douce et sévère: Songe à ton mari. Et, quand le mari et l'amant ne font qu'un, tout va bien.
Mariez donc la fileuse au chasseur, et ne craignez rien.
Cependant, je dois le dire, Pécopin aimait trop la chasse. Quand il était sur son cheval, quand il avait le faucon au poing ou quand il suivait le tartaret du regard, quand il entendait le jappement féroce de ses limiers aux jambes torses, il partait, il volait, il oubliait tout. Or en aucune chose il ne faut excéder. Le bonheur est fait de modération. Tenez en équilibre vos go?ts et en bride vos appétits. Qui aime trop les chevaux et les chiens fache les femmes; qui aime trop les femmes fache Dieu.
Lorsque Bauldour, et cela arrivait souvent, lorsque Bauldour voyait Pécopin prêt à partir sur son cheval hennissant de joie et plus fier que s'il e?t porté Alexandre le Grand en habits impériaux, lorsqu'elle voyait Pécopin le flatter, lui passer la main sur le cou, et, éloignant l'éperon du flanc, présenter au palefroi un bouquet d'herbe pour le rafra?chir, Bauldour était jalouse du cheval. Quand Bauldour, cette noble et fière demoiselle, cet astre d'amour, de jeunesse et de beauté, voyait Pécopin caresser son dogue et approcher amicalement de son charmant et male visage cette tête camuse, ces gros naseaux, ces larges oreilles et cette gueule noire, Bauldour était jalouse du chien.
Elle rentrait dans sa chambre secrète, courroucée et triste, et elle pleurait. Puis elle grondait ses servantes, et après ses servantes elle grondait son nain. Car la colère chez les femmes est comme la pluie dans la forêt; elle tombe deux fois. Bis pluit.
Le soir Pécopin arrivait poudreux et fatigué. Bauldour boudait et murmurait un peu avec une larme dans le coin de son ?il bleu. Mais Pécopin baisait sa petite main, et elle se taisait; Pécopin baisait son beau front, et elle souriait.
Le front de Bauldour était blanc, pur et admirable comme la trompe d'ivoire du roi Charlemagne.
Puis elle se retirait dans sa tourelle et Pécopin dans la sienne. Elle ne souffrait jamais que ce chevalier lui pr?t la ceinture. Un soir il lui pressa légèrement le coude, et elle rougit très-fort. Elle était fiancée et non mariée. Pudeur est à la femme ce que chevalerie est à l'homme.
According to Wikipedia: "Victor-Marie Hugo (26 February 1802 – 22 May 1885) was a French poet, playwright, novelist, essayist, visual artist, statesman, human rights activist and exponent of the Romantic movement in France. In France, Hugo's literary fame comes first from his poetry but also rests upon his novels and his dramatic achievements. Among many volumes of poetry, Les Contemplations and La Légende des siècles stand particularly high in critical esteem, and Hugo is sometimes identified as the greatest French poet. Outside France, his best-known works are the novels Les Misérables and Notre-Dame de Paris (known in English also as The Hunchback of Notre Dame). Though a committed conservative royalist when he was young, Hugo grew more liberal as the decades passed; he became a passionate supporter of republicanism, and his work touches upon most of the political and social issues and artistic trends of his time. He is buried in the Panthéon."
Notre-Dame de Paris (titre complet : Notre-Dame de Paris. 1482) est un roman historique de l'écrivain français Victor Hugo, publié en 1831.Le titre fait référence à la cathédrale de Paris, Notre-Dame, qui est un des lieux principaux de l'intrigue du roman. Le roman se compose de 59 chapitres répartis en onze livres. Dans la première édition du roman, paru chez Charles Gosselin en mars 1831, trois chapitres sont coupés en raison des contraintes de longueur imposées par l'éditeur : ce sont le chapitre « Impopularité » (IV, 4) ainsi que les deux chapitres formant le livre V (« Abbas beati Martini » et « Ceci tuera cela »). Ces chapitres sont publiés dans la deuxième édition, définitive, du roman et reproduits dans la présente édition
Les Misérables is a French historical novel by Victor Hugo, first published in 1862, that is considered one of the greatest novels of the 19th century. In the English-speaking world, the novel is usually referred to by its original French title. However, several alternatives have been used, including The Miserables, The Wretched, The Miserable Ones, The Poor Ones, The Wretched Poor, The Victims and The Dispossessed. Beginning in 1815 and culminating in the 1832 June Rebellion in Paris, the novel follows the lives and interactions of several characters, particularly the struggles of ex-convict Jean Valjean and his experience of redemption.
For three years, Cathryn and her husband Liam lived in a sexless marriage. She believed Liam buried himself in work for their future. But on the day her mother died, she learned the truth: he had been cheating with her stepsister since their wedding night. She dropped every hope and filed for divorce. Sneers followed-she'd crawl back, they said. Instead, they saw Liam on his knees in the rain. When a reporter asked about a reunion, she shrugged. "He has no self-respect, just clings to people who don't love him." A powerful tycoon wrapped an arm around her. "Anyone coveting my wife answers to me."
Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.
When her half-sister stole her fiancé, scarred her face, and threw her from a skyscraper, Amelia thought it was the end-until fate gave her a second chance. Reborn with bitter clarity, she vowed not to repeat the same mistakes. In her past life, she had been kind to a fault; now, she would wear a mask of innocence to outmaneuver every snake in the grass. One by one, she tore down their schemes-leaving her treacherous sister begging, her stepmother pleading, her worthless father groveling, and her ex-fiancé crawling back. Her response was a cold smirk and two words: "Get lost." But the one thing she never anticipated was crossing paths with Damien Taylor-the most powerful and untouchable man in the capital-on the very first day of her new life. They said he was ruthless, ice-cold, immune to any woman's charm. Amelia believed it. until she learned the truth: the man was dangerously cunning. "Miss Johnson, I saved you. How about dinner?" "Miss Johnson, I helped you. Don't you owe me a favor?" Backed against the wall, Amelia felt his low voice vibrate through her: "You owe me too much, Amelia. It's time to pay up-starting with you." Only much later would she realize. she'd been owing him all along.
Noelle was the long-lost daughter everyone had been searched for, yet the family brushed her off and fawned over her stand-in. Tired of scorn, she walked away and married a man whose influence could shake the country. Dance phenom, street-race champ, virtuoso composer, master restorer-each secret triumph hit the headlines, and her family's smug smiles cracked. Father charged back from abroad, mother wept for a hug, and five brothers knelt in the rain begging. Beneath the jeweled night sky, her husband pulled her close, his voice a velvet promise. "They're not worth it. Come on, let's just go home."
Madisyn was stunned to discover that she was not her parents' biological child. Due to the real daughter's scheming, she was kicked out and became a laughingstock. Thought to be born to peasants, Madisyn was shocked to find that her real father was the richest man in the city, and her brothers were renowned figures in their respective fields. They showered her with love, only to learn that Madisyn had a thriving business of her own. "Stop pestering me!" said her ex-boyfriend. "My heart only belongs to Jenna." "How dare you think that my woman has feelings for you?" claimed a mysterious bigwig.
Isabelle's love for Kolton held flawless for fifteen years-until the day she delivered their children and slipped into a coma. He leaned to her ear and whispered, "Don't wake up. You're worthless to me now." The twins later clutched another woman's hand and chirped, "Mommy," splintering Isabelle's heart. She woke, filed for divorce, and disappeared. Only then did Kolton notice her fingerprints on every habit. They met again: she emerged as the lead medical specialist, radiant and unmoved. But at her engagement gala, she leapt into a tycoon's arms. Jealous, he crushed a glass, blood wetting his palm. He believed as soon as he made a move, Isabelle would return to him. After all, she had loved him deeply.
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