The Choice of Life

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Georgette Leblanc. The Choice of Life

PART THE FIRST

Chapter I

1

2

Chapter II

1

2

3

4

Chapter III

1

2

3

4

5

Chapter IV

1

2

Chapter V

1

2

3

Chapter VI

1

2

Chapter VII

1

2

3

Chapter VIII

1

2

3

4

Chapter IX

1

2

Chapter X

1

2

3

4

Chapter XI

1

2

3

4

Chapter XII

1

2

3

Chapter XIII

1

2

3

4

5

Chapter XIV

1

2

3

PART THE SECOND

Chapter I

1

2

3

4

5

Chapter II

1

2

3

4

5

6

Chapter III

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

Chapter IV

1

2

Chapter V

1

2

3

Chapter VI

1

2

3

4

Chapter VII

1

2

3

4

Chapter VIII

1

2

3

Chapter IX

1

2

3

4

5

6

Chapter X

1

2

Chapter XI

1

2

3

4

5

Chapter XII

1

2

3

PART THE THIRD

Chapter I

1

2

3

4

5

Chapter II

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

Chapter III

1

2

3

Отрывок из книги

Here in the garden, close to the quiet house, I sit thinking of that strange meeting in the village. A blackbird at regular intervals sings the same refrain, which is taken up by others in the distance. The lily's chalice gleams under the blazing sun; and the humbler flowers meekly droop their heads. White butterflies are everywhere, flitting restlessly hither and thither. So fierce is the splendour of the day that I cannot raise my eyes to the summit of the trees; and my quivering lids show me the whole sky through my lashes.

Thereupon it seems to me that the emotion which bursts from my heart, like a too-brilliant light, compels me to close the shutters of my brain as well. In my mind, even as before my eyes, distances are lessened and I see stretched before me that more or less illusive goal which we would all fain reach in the desires of our finer selves.

.....

The girl rose to her feet, with a glint of emotion animating her features; and, as though to escape my eyes, she took a few steps in the garden. While she was hidden by the bend of the narrow path fenced by the tall sunflowers, my heart was filled with misgiving: her step was so heavy, so clumsy! Would she ever be able to improve her walk? Judging by the ponderous rhythm of her hips, one would always think that she was carrying invisible burdens at the end of each of her drooping arms....

But she soon returned; and her fair countenance was so adorable amid the golden glory of the great flowers that I could not suppress a cry of admiration. She came towards me smiling; and, to protect herself a little from the blinding sunlight, she was holding both hands over her head. Was it simply the curve of her raised arms that thus transfigured her whole bearing, that reduced the unwieldiness of her figure and made its lines freer? It was, no doubt; but it was also the soft breeze which now blew against her and accentuated the movement of her limbs by plastering her thin cotton skirt against them. And the heavy gait now seemed stately; and the excessive stride appeared virile and bold. I watched the humble worker in the fields, the poor farm-girl; and I thought of the proud Victory whom my mind pictured enfolding all the beauties of the Louvre in her mighty wings!

.....