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- Author: Anatole France
- Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
- Year: 2014
- Pages: 104
- ISBN-10: 1500142093
- ISBN-13: 9781500142094
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 0.6 cm, minkšti viršeliai
- Language: English
- SAVE -10% with code: EXTRA
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Description
I had put on my slippers and my dressing-gown. I wiped away a tear with which the north wind blowing over the quay had obscured my vision. A bright fire was leaping in the chimney of my study. Ice-crystals, shaped like fern-leaves, were sprouting over the windowpanes and concealed from me the Seine with its bridges and the Louvre of the Valois. I drew up my easy-chair to the hearth, and my table-volante, and took up so much of my place by the fire as Hamilcar deigned to allow me. Hamilcar was lying in front of the andirons, curled up on a cushion, with his nose between his paws. His think find fur rose and fell with his regular breathing. At my coming, he slowly slipped a glance of his agate eyes at me from between his half-opened lids, which he closed again almost at once, thinking to himself, "It is nothing; it is only my friend."
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- Author: Anatole France
- Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
- Year: 2014
- Pages: 104
- ISBN-10: 1500142093
- ISBN-13: 9781500142094
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 0.6 cm, minkšti viršeliai
- Language: English English
I had put on my slippers and my dressing-gown. I wiped away a tear with which the north wind blowing over the quay had obscured my vision. A bright fire was leaping in the chimney of my study. Ice-crystals, shaped like fern-leaves, were sprouting over the windowpanes and concealed from me the Seine with its bridges and the Louvre of the Valois. I drew up my easy-chair to the hearth, and my table-volante, and took up so much of my place by the fire as Hamilcar deigned to allow me. Hamilcar was lying in front of the andirons, curled up on a cushion, with his nose between his paws. His think find fur rose and fell with his regular breathing. At my coming, he slowly slipped a glance of his agate eyes at me from between his half-opened lids, which he closed again almost at once, thinking to himself, "It is nothing; it is only my friend."
Reviews