Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Grey Cloak by Harold MacGrath (books for 9th graders .txt) 📖
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/> "Peace," said madame.
"Peace and love," said the Chevalier.
"And that poor father of yours! But you forgave him?"
"Yes."
"And Jehan will not tell you who Sister Benie was?"
"No. And he appears so terrified when I mention the matter that I shall make no further inquiries."
"And Brother Jacques?"
"Faith, he puzzles me. It was like enough the reaction. You recall how infrequently he spoke during that journey, how little he ate or slept. Ah well, there are no more puzzles, questions, problems or hardships. Peace has come. We shall return to France in the spring."
"If thou faint in the day of adversity," she said, taking his hand and pressing it lovingly against her cheek. "I love you."
"Here comes Brother Jacques," he said. "He is coming toward us. Ah, he carries a pack."
The Chevalier greeted him gravely, and madame smiled.
"Whither bound?" asked the Chevalier.
Brother Jacques pointed toward the forest. "Yonder, where the beast is and the savage."
"Now?"
"Even to-day." Then Brother Jacques placed a hand on the Chevalier's shoulder and looked long and steadily into his eyes. "Farewell, my brother," he said; "farewell." He turned and left them.
The Chevalier took madame's hand and kissed it.
"How strangely," she said, following with her eyes the priest's diminishing figure; "how strangely he said 'my brother'!"
A scrap of white paper fluttered past them. She made as though to catch it, but it eluded her, and was gone.
Imprint
"Peace and love," said the Chevalier.
"And that poor father of yours! But you forgave him?"
"Yes."
"And Jehan will not tell you who Sister Benie was?"
"No. And he appears so terrified when I mention the matter that I shall make no further inquiries."
"And Brother Jacques?"
"Faith, he puzzles me. It was like enough the reaction. You recall how infrequently he spoke during that journey, how little he ate or slept. Ah well, there are no more puzzles, questions, problems or hardships. Peace has come. We shall return to France in the spring."
"If thou faint in the day of adversity," she said, taking his hand and pressing it lovingly against her cheek. "I love you."
"Here comes Brother Jacques," he said. "He is coming toward us. Ah, he carries a pack."
The Chevalier greeted him gravely, and madame smiled.
"Whither bound?" asked the Chevalier.
Brother Jacques pointed toward the forest. "Yonder, where the beast is and the savage."
"Now?"
"Even to-day." Then Brother Jacques placed a hand on the Chevalier's shoulder and looked long and steadily into his eyes. "Farewell, my brother," he said; "farewell." He turned and left them.
The Chevalier took madame's hand and kissed it.
"How strangely," she said, following with her eyes the priest's diminishing figure; "how strangely he said 'my brother'!"
A scrap of white paper fluttered past them. She made as though to catch it, but it eluded her, and was gone.
Imprint
Publication Date: 05-21-2008
All Rights Reserved
Dedication:
Illustrator Peirce, Thomas Mitchell
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