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开 本: 16开纸 张: 胶版纸包 装: 平装是否套装: 否国际标准书号ISBN: 9787544736091丛书名: 字里行间英文经典
《包法利夫人》 “世界上*完美的小说” 当爱和欲交集 对与错都被放弃 有什么比真爱更需要道德勇气 **的文学经典读物
*好的语言学习读本 1. 经典著作 2. 助于提高文学素养和英文水平
本书是法国19世纪批判现实主义文学大师福楼拜的代表作。主人公艾玛是一位外省农村少女,在修道院受到与自己出身完全不相称的贵族教育,受到了消极浪漫主义思潮的影响。后来,破产的父亲把她嫁给乡村医生包法利做续弦。包法利平庸无能的使她由失望、不满逐步陷入堕落的泥潭,先后沦为地主罗多夫和书记员莱昂的情人,并为此欠下了沉重的债务,后在高利贷逼迫下服毒自尽。作者以简洁而细腻的文笔,深刻地揭露了法国19世纪中叶恶浊的社会现实。
PartI
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
PartII
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
ChaDter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
PartIll
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Part I Chapter Nine
Paris, more vague than the ocean, glimmered before Emma’s eyes in
an atmosphere of vermilion. The many lives that stirred amid this
tumult were, however, divided into parts, classed as distinct
pictures. Emma perceived only two or three that hid from her all
the rest, and in themselves represented all humanity. The world of
ambassadors moved over polished floors in drawing rooms lined with
mirrors, round oval tables covered with velvet and gold-fringed
cloths. There were dresses with trains, deep mysteries, anguish
hidden beneath smiles. Then came the society of the duchesses; all
were pale; all got up at four o’clock; the women, poor angels, wore
English point on their petticoats; and the men, unappreciated
geniuses under a frivolous outward seeming, rode horses to death at
pleasure parties, spent the summer season at Baden, and towards the
forties married heiresses. In the private rooms of restaurants,
where one sups after midnight by the light of wax candles, laughed
the motley crowd of men of letters and actresses. They were
prodigal as kings, full of ideal, ambitious, fantastic frenzy. This
was an existence outside that of all others, between heaven and
earth, in the midst of storms, having something of the sublime. For
the rest of the world it was lost, with no particular place and as
if non-existent. The nearer things were, moreover, the more her
thoughts turned away from them. All her immediate surroundings, the
wearisome country, the middle-class imbeciles, the mediocrity of
existence, seemed to her exceptional, a peculiar chance that had
caught hold of her, while beyond stretched, as far as eye could
see, an immense land of joys and passions. She confused in her
desire the sensualities of luxury with the delights of the heart,
elegance of manners with delicacy of sentiment. Did not love, like
Indian plants, need a special soil, a particular temperature? Signs
by moonlight, long embraces, tears flowing over yielded hands, all
the fevers of the flesh and the languors of tenderness could not be
separated from the balconies of great castles full of indolence,
from boudoirs with silken curtains and thick carpets, well-filled
flower-stands, a bed on a raised dias, nor from the flashing of
precious stones and the shoulder-knots of liveries.
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