Search -
The Novels, Tales and Plays of John Galsworthy; Villa Rubein, and Other Stories
The Novels Tales and Plays of John Galsworthy Villa Rubein and Other Stories Author:John Galsworthy General Books publication date: 2009 Original publication date: 1922 Original Publisher: Charles Scribner's sons Subjects: English literature Notes: This is a black and white OCR reprint of the original. It has no illustrations and there may be typos or missing text. When you buy the General Books edition of this book you get free trial acc... more »ess to Million-Books.com where you can select from more than a million books for free. Excerpt: VILLA RUBEIN BALKING along the river wall at Botzen, Edmund Dawney said to Alois Harz: "Would you care to know the family at that pink house, Villa Rubein?" Harz answered with a smile: "Perhaps." "Come with me then this afternoon." They had stopped before an old house with a blind, deserted look, that stood by itself on the wall; Harz pushed the door open. "Come in, you don't want breakfast yet. I'm going to paint the river to-day." He ran up the bare broad stairs, and Dawney followed leisurely, his thumbs hooked in the armholes of his waistcoat, and his head thrown back. In the attic which filled the whole top story, Harz had pulled a canvas to the window. He was a young man of middle height, square-shouldered, active, with an angular face, high cheek-bones, and a strong, sharp chin. His eyes were piercing and steel-blue, his eyebrows very flexible, nose long and thin with a high bridge; and his dark, unparted hair fitted him like a cap. His clothes looked as if he never gave them a second thought. This room, which served for studio, bedroom, and sitting-room, was bare and dusty. Below the window the river in spring flood rushed down the valley, a stream of molten bronze. Harz dodged before the canvas like a fencer finding his distance; Dawney took his seat on a packing- case. "The snows have gone with a rush this year," he drawled. "The Talfer comes down brown, the Eisack comes down blue; they flow into the Etsch and make it green; a parable of the Spring for you, my painter." Harz mixed his colours. "I've no time fo...« less