Linnet: A Romance
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Allen Grant. Linnet: A Romance
CHAPTER I “TO INTRODUCE MR FLORIAN WOOD”
CHAPTER II. A FRESH ACQUAINTANCE
CHAPTER III. WITHIN SIGHT OF A HEROINE
CHAPTER IV. ENTER LINNET
CHAPTER V. THE WIRTH’S THEORY
CHAPTER VI. THE ROBBLER
CHAPTER VII. WAGER OF BATTLE
CHAPTER VIII. THE HUMAN HEART
CHAPTER IX. THE MAN OF THE WORLD
CHAPTER X. HAIL, COLUMBIA!
CHAPTER XI. PRIVATE INQUIRY
CHAPTER XII. THE MADDING CROWD
CHAPTER XIII. A FIRST NIGHT
CHAPTER XIV. AND IF FOR EVER
CHAPTER XV. A CRITICAL EVENING
CHAPTER XVI. SCHLOSS TYROL
CHAPTER XVII. CAUGHT OUT
CHAPTER XVIII. TAKEN BY SURPRISE
CHAPTER XIX. SPIRITUAL WEAPONS
CHAPTER XX. FLORIAN ON MATRIMONY
CHAPTER XXI. FORTUNE’S WHEEL
CHAPTER XXII. A WOMAN’S STRATAGEM
CHAPTER XXIII. A PROPHET INDEED!
CHAPTER XXIV. THE ART OF PROPHESYING
CHAPTER XXV. A DRAMATIC VENTURE
CHAPTER XXVI. A WOMAN’S HEART
CHAPTER XXVII. AULD LANG SYNE
CHAPTER XXVIII. SIGNORA CASALMONTE
CHAPTER XXIX. FROM LINNET’S STANDPOINT
CHAPTER XXX. AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
CHAPTER XXXI. WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK
CHAPTER XXXII. WEDDED FELICITY
CHAPTER XXXIII. PLAYING WITH FIRE
CHAPTER XXXIV. AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
CHAPTER XXXV. GOLDEN HOPES
CHAPTER XXXVI. AN ECCLESIASTICAL QUESTION
CHAPTER XXXVII. BEGINNINGS OF EVIL
CHAPTER XXXVIII. HUSBAND OR LOVER?
CHAPTER XXXIX. DOCUMENTARY EVIDENCE
CHAPTER XL. OPEN WAR
CHAPTER XLI. GOD’S LAW – OR MAN’S?
CHAPTER XLII. PRUDENCE
CHAPTER XLIII. LINNET’S RIVAL
CHAPTER XLIV. AND WILL’S
CHAPTER XLV. BY AUTHORITY
CHAPTER XLVI. HOME AGAIN!
CHAPTER XLVII. SEEMINGLY UNCONNECTED
CHAPTER XLVIII. THE BUBBLE BURSTS
CHAPTER XLIX. THE PIGEON FLIES HOME
CHAPTER L. ANDREAS HAUSBERGER PAYS
CHAPTER LI. EXIT FRANZ LINDNER
CHAPTER LII. A CONFESSION OF FAITH
Отрывок из книги
It was a steep pull up to the little village on the hill, which Florian had selected by pure intuition for their immediate headquarters. But once they had arrived there the glorious panorama which disclosed itself in one burst to their enchanted eyes made them forget the fatigues of their long tramp to reach it. The village was a tiny one, but comely and prosperous; composed of great farm-houses with big boulders piled high on their shingled roofs to keep them in place, and a quaint old church, whose tall and tapering spire was prettily tiled with bright green slates, after the country fashion. Moreover, what was more important just then to the footsore travellers, a hospitable wirthshaus or village inn occupied a place of honour on the small green in the centre. It was cheerful though homely, and clean in a certain rough countrified way; and it faced due south, toward the sun and the snow-fields. Florian saw at a glance there would be a ravishing outlook from the bedroom windows; and Will Deverill, more practical, and better accustomed to these out-of-the-way nooks, felt inclined to believe they might count at least on decent beds, plain wholesome fare, fresh trout from the stream, and sweet venison from the mountains.
The name over the door was Andreas Hausberger. Will entered the inn with a polite inclination of the head, and inquired in his very best German of the first man he saw if he could speak with the landlord.
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“He was the leader of the spontaneous Tyrolese peasant movement, you know, for the expulsion of the French and their Bavarian allies in 1808 or thereabouts,” Will went on, still unpacking. “Napoleon caught him at last, and had him shot at Mantua. You’ll see his tomb when you go to Innsbruck, and lots of other mementos of him all over the country everywhere. He pervades the place. He’s the national hero, in fact – the martyr of independence – a sort of later and more historical William Wallace.”
“Dear me, yes; how stupid of me!” Florian cried, clapping his hand to his head in a sudden burst of pretended recollection. “It comes back to me now, of course. Good old Andreas Hofer! How could I ever forget him? The Tyrolese William Tell! The Hampden of the Alps! The undaunted Caractacus of these snow-clad mountains!”
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