By Prosper Mérimée
Que le lecteur ne s'y trompe pas : en dépit de son titre, ce livre n'a rien d'une austère chronique. En prenant pour sujet l. a. Saint-Barthélemy et les guerres de faith qui ensanglantèrent los angeles France du XVIe siècle, Mérimée, au plus citadel de los angeles ferveur romantique pour Walter Scott, s'attache à déjouer les codes du roman historique. Souhaitez-vous un portrait de Charles IX ? Allez plutôt "voir son buste au musée d'Angoulême ", rétorque l'auteur. Vous attendez-vous à ce qu'apparaisse l. a. reine Margot ? Vous serez déçu : "elle était un peu indisposée, et gardait los angeles chambre"... C'est Bernard de Mergy, un parfait anonyme, qui occupe le devant de l. a. scène : ce jeune huguenot, amoureux d'une comtesse catholique prompte au prosélytisme, est aux prises avec son propre frère, qui s'est converti. Dans cette œuvre de jeunesse, qui est aussi son special roman, Mérimée interact avec brio une réflexion sur cette query brûlante : remark les hommes en viennent-ils à s'entretuer monstrueusement ? Et nous offre une chronique d'un style inédit - "un ouvrage plein d'esprit à los angeles Voltaire", disait Stendhal.
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I look at my mother, but she pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and he makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep—I don’t mean a sinner, but mutton—half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud, and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs.
No price could make it do. ”—I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. “How can you be so aggravating,” said my mother, shedding more tears than before, “as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault?
Your mistress is a little unwell. ” Having issued this mandate with as much potentiality as if she had been a recognized authority in the house ever since it had been a house, and having looked out to confront the amazed Peggotty coming along the passage with a candle at the sound of a strange voice, Miss Betsey shut the door again, and sat down as before, with her feet on the fender, the skirt of her dress tucked up, and her hands folded on one knee. “You were speaking about its being a girl,” said Miss Betsey.