| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from La Grande Breteche by Honore de Balzac: "At four o'clock, as the day was dawning, for it was the month of
September, the work was done. The mason was placed in charge of Jean,
and Monsieur de Merret slept in his wife's room.
"Next morning when he got up he said with apparent carelessness, 'Oh,
by the way, I must go to the Maire for the passport.' He put on his
hat, took two or three steps towards the door, paused, and took the
crucifix. His wife was trembling with joy.
" 'He will go to Duvivier's,' thought she.
"As soon as he had left, Madame de Merret rang for Rosalie, and then
in a terrible voice she cried: 'The pick! Bring the pick! and set to
work. I saw how Gorenflot did it yesterday; we shall have time to make
La Grande Breteche |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Lily of the Valley by Honore de Balzac: handkerchief as if to recall me. Was she living? Why did I feel her
two white hands upon my head laid prostrate in the dust? In that
moment I paid for all the pleasures that Arabella had given me, and I
knew that I paid dearly. I swore not to see her again, and a hatred of
England took possession of me. Though Lady Dudley was only a variety
of her species, I included all Englishwomen in my judgment.
I received a fresh shock as I neared Clochegourde. Jacques, Madeleine,
and the Abbe Dominis were kneeling at the foot of a wooden cross
placed on a piece of ground that was taken into the enclosure when the
iron gate was put up, which the count and countess had never been
willing to remove. I sprang from the carriage and went towards them,
The Lily of the Valley |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Madame Firmiani by Honore de Balzac: sadness which casts its gray tints all about us, and is, in fact, a
semi-illness, the gentle sufferings of which are often pleasing? If
the reader is of those who sometimes think upon the dear ones they
have lost, if he is alone, if the day is waning or the night has come,
let him read on; otherwise, he should lay aside this book at once. If
he has never buried a good old relative, infirm and poor, he will not
understand these pages, which to some will seem redolent of musk, to
others as colorless and virtuous as those of Florian. In short, the
reader must have known the luxury of tears, must have felt the silent
pangs of a passing memory, the vision of a dear yet far-off Shade,--
memories which bring regret for all that earth has swallowed up, with
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