Я могу остаться в пятницу. Или в субботу. - Нет, сегодня, - раздражительно выговорила Лиза, - я этого хочу. - Я тоже, - просто ответил Головкер...
С недавних пор я дружил с Оскаром Вебером, сыном машиниста, не зная толком, что тянет меня к нему. Недавно он хвастался тем, что его отец зарабатывает семь марок..
Правильно. Но чем занимались они на досуге? НИНЕЛЬ ФИЛИППОВНА. Чево такое? СВЯТУС. На досуге, Нинель Филипповна, пожилые люди считали деньги...
It may be easily imagined how great was our joy when, in turning
over this manuscript, our last hope, we found at the twentieth
page the name of Athos, at the twenty-seventh the name of
Porthos, and at the thirty-first the name of Aramis.
The discovery of a completely unknown manuscript at a period in
which historical science is carried to such a high degree
appeared almost miraculous. We hastened, therefore, to obtain
permission to print it, with the view of presenting ourselves
someday with the pack of others at the doors of the Academie des
Inscriptions et Belles Lettres, if we should not succeed—a very
probable thing, by the by—in gaining admission to the Academie
Francaise with our own proper pack. This permission, we feel
bound to say, was graciously granted; which compels us here to
give a public contradiction to the slanderers who pretend that we
live under a government but moderately indulgent to men of
letters.
Now, this is the first part of this precious manuscript which we
offer to our readers, restoring it to the title which belongs to
it, and entering into an engagement that if (of which we have no
doubt) this first part should obtain the success it merits, we
will publish the second immediately.
In the meanwhile, as the godfather is a second father, we beg the
reader to lay to our account, and not to that of the Comte de la
Fere, the pleasure or the ENNUI he may experience.
This being understood, let us proceed with our history.
1 THE THREE PRESENTS OF D'ARTAGNAN THE ELDER
On the first Monday of the month of April, 1625, the market town
of Meung, in which the author of ROMANCE OF THE ROSE was born,
appeared to be in as perfect a state of revolution as if the
Huguenots had just made a second La Rochelle of it...
