Katherine Mansfield - Premium Collection: 160+ Short Stories & Poems. Katherine Mansfield

Katherine Mansfield - Premium Collection: 160+ Short Stories & Poems - Katherine Mansfield

Скачать книгу

       Katherine Mansfield

      Katherine Mansfield - Premium Collection: 160+ Short Stories & Poems

      Bliss, The Garden Party, The Dove's Nest, Something Childish, In a German Pension, The Aloe

       Published by



      Advanced Digital Solutions & High-Quality eBook Formatting

       [email protected] 2017 OK Publishing ISBN 978-80-7583-208-5



       Bliss, and Other Stories

       The Garden Party, and Other Stories

       The Doves' Nest, and Other Stories

       Something Childish, and Other Stories

       In a German Pension, and Other Stories

       The Aloe

       Unfinished Stories


       Poems: 1909- 1910

       Poems: 1911-1913

       Poems at the Villa Pauline: 1916

       Poems: 1917-1919

       Child Verses: 1907


       Table of Contents


       Table of Contents



       Je ne Parle pas Français

       The Wind Blows



       The Man without a Temperament

       Mr. Reginald Peacock’s Day

       Sun and Moon

       Feuille d’Album

       A Dill Pickle

       The Little Governess


       The Escape

      “. . . but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle danger, we pluck this flower, safety.

       Table of Contents

      ALTHOUGH Bertha Young was thirty she still had moments like this when she wanted to run instead of walk, to take dancing steps on and off the pavement, to bowl a hoop, to throw something up in the air and catch it again, or to stand still and laugh at—nothing—at nothing, simply.

      What can you do if you are thirty and, turning the corner of your own street, you are overcome, suddenly, by a feeling of bliss—absolute bliss!—as though you’d suddenly swallowed a bright piece of that late afternoon sun and it burned in your bosom, sending out a little shower of sparks into every particle, into every finger and toe? . . .

      Oh, is there no way you can express it without being “drunk and disorderly”? How idiotic civilization is! Why be given a body if you have to keep it shut up in a case like a rare, rare fiddle?

      “No, that about the fiddle is not quite what I mean,” she thought, running up the steps and feeling in her bag for the key—she’d forgotten it, as usual—and rattling the letter-box. “It’s not what I mean, because—— Thank you, Mary”—she went into the hall. “Is nurse back?”

      “Yes, M’m.”

      “And has the fruit come?”

      “Yes, M’m. Everything’s come.”

      “Bring the fruit up to the dining-room, will you? I’ll arrange it before I go upstairs.”

      It was dusky in the dining-room and quite chilly. But all the same Bertha threw off her coat; she could not bear the tight clasp of it another moment, and the cold air fell on her arms.

      But in her bosom there was still that bright glowing place—that shower of little sparks coming from it. It was almost unbearable. She hardly dared to breathe for fear of fanning it higher, and yet she breathed deeply, deeply. She hardly dared to look into the cold mirror—but she did look, and it gave her back a woman, radiant, with smiling, trembling lips, with big, dark eyes and an air of listening, waiting for something . . . divine to happen . . . that she knew must happen . . . infallibly.

      Mary brought in the fruit on a tray and with it a glass bowl, and a blue dish, very lovely, with a strange sheen on it as though it had been dipped in milk.

      “Shall I turn on the light, M’m?”

      “No, thank you. I can see quite well.”

      There were tangerines and apples stained with strawberry pink. Some yellow pears, smooth as silk, some white grapes covered with a silver bloom and a big cluster of purple ones. These last she had bought to tone in with the new dining-room carpet. Yes, that did sound rather far-fetched and absurd, but it was really why she had bought them. She had thought in the shop: “I must have

Скачать книгу