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BEAU GESTE - Complete Collection: Beau Geste, Beau Sabreur & Beau Ideal TRILOGY + Good Gestes - Stories of Beau Geste, His Brothers and Their Comrades in the French Foreign Legion Adventure Classics from the Author of Stories of the Foreign Legion, The Wages of Virtue, Cupid in Africa, Stepsons of France, Snake and Sword, Port o' Missing Men & The Young Stagers von Wren, P. C. (eBook)

  • Erscheinungsdatum: 11.09.2015
  • Verlag: e-artnow
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BEAU GESTE - Complete Collection: Beau Geste, Beau Sabreur & Beau Ideal TRILOGY + Good Gestes - Stories of Beau Geste, His Brothers and Their Comrades in the French Foreign Legion

This carefully crafted ebook: 'BEAU GESTE - Complete Collection: Beau Geste, Beau Sabreur & Beau Ideal TRILOGY + Good Gestes - Stories of Beau Geste, His Brothers and Their Comrades in the French Foreign Legion' is formatted for your eReader with a functional and detailed table of contents. Michael 'Beau' Geste is the protagonist. The main narrator (among others) is his younger brother John. The three Geste brothers are a metaphor for the British upper class values of a time gone by, and 'the decent thing to do' is the leitmotif of the trilogy. The Geste brothers are orphans and have been brought up by their aunt at Brandon Abbas. The rest of Beau's band are mainly Isobel, Claudia and Augustus. When a precious jewel known as the 'Blue Water' goes missing, Beau leaves Britain to join the French Foreign Legion, followed by his brothers, Digby (his twin) and John. Beau Sabreur and Beau Ideal are sequel novels and Good Gestes is a collection of short tales mainly about the Geste brothers and their American friends Hank and Buddy. Percival Christopher Wren (1875-1941) was an English writer, mostly of adventure fiction. He is remembered best for Beau Geste, a much-filmed book of 1924, involving the French Foreign Legion in North Africa. This was one of 33 novels and short story collections that he wrote, mostly dealing with colonial soldiering in Africa. While his fictional accounts of life in the pre-1914 Foreign Legion are highly romanticized, his details of Legion uniforms, training, equipment and barrack room layout are generally accurate, which has led to unproven suggestions that Wren himself served with the legion. Table of Contents: The Beau Geste Trilogy: BEAU GESTE BEAU SABREUR BEAU IDEAL GOOD GESTES: What's in a Name A Gentleman of Colour David and His Incredible Jonathan The McSnorrt Reminiscent Mad Murphy's Miracle Buried Treasure If Wishes were Horses The Devil and Digby Geste The Mule Low Finance Presentiments Dreams Come True

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    Format: ePUB
    Kopierschutz: watermark
    Seitenzahl: 990
    Erscheinungsdatum: 11.09.2015
    Sprache: Englisch
    ISBN: 9788026844044
    Verlag: e-artnow
    Größe: 1274 kBytes
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BEAU GESTE - Complete Collection: Beau Geste, Beau Sabreur & Beau Ideal TRILOGY + Good Gestes - Stories of Beau Geste, His Brothers and Their Comrades in the French Foreign Legion

Chapter II.
George Lawrence Takes the Story to Lady Brandon at Brandon Abbas
Table of Contents
As his hireling car sped along the country road that led to the park gates of Brandon Abbas, George Lawrence's heart beat like that of a boy going to his first love-tryst.

Had she married him, a quarter of a century ago, when she was plain (but very beautiful) Patricia Rivers, he probably would still have loved her, though he would not have been in love with her.

As it was he had never been anything but in love with her from the time when he had taken her refusal like the man he was, and had sought an outlet and an anodyne in work and Central Africa.

As the car entered the gates and swept up the long, winding avenue of Norman oaks, he actually trembled, and his bronzed face was drawn and changed in tint. He drew off a glove and put it on again, fingered his tie, and tugged at his moustache.

The car swept round a shrubbery-enclosed square at the back of the house, and stopped at a big porch and a hospitably open door. Standing at this, Lawrence looked into a well-remembered panelled hall and ran his eye over its gleaming floor and walls, almost nodding to the two suits of armour that stood one on each side of a big, doorless doorway. This led into another hall, from, and round, which ran a wide staircase and galleries right up to the top of the house, for, from the floor of that hall one could look up to a glass roof three stories above. He pictured it and past scenes enacted in it, and a woman with slow and stately grace, ascending and descending.

Nothing seemed to have changed in those two and a half decades since she had come here, a bride, and he had visited her after seven years of exile. He had come, half in the hope that the sight of her in her own home, the wife of another man, would cure him of the foolish love that kept him a lonely bachelor, half in the hope that it would do the opposite, and be but a renewal of love.

He had been perversely glad to find that he loved the woman, if possible, more than he had loved the girl; that a callow boy's calf-love for a maiden had changed to a young man's devotion to a glorious woman; that she was to be a second Dante's Beatrice.

Again and again, at intervals of years, he had visited the shrine, not so much renewing the ever-burning fire at her altar, as watching it flame up brightly in her presence. Nor did the fact that she regarded him so much as friend that he could never be more, nor less, in any way affect this undeviating unprofitable sentiment.

At thirty, at thirty-five, at forty, at forty-five, he found that his love, if not unchanged, was not diminished, and that she remained, what she had been since their first meeting, the central fact of his life--not so much an obsession, an idée fixe , as his reason for existence, his sovereign, and the audience of the play in the theatre of his life.

And, each time he saw her, she was, to his prejudiced eye, more desirable, more beautiful, more wonderful. . . .

Yes--there was the fifteenth-century chest in which reposed croquet mallets, tennis rackets, and the other paraphernalia of those games. She had once sat on that old chest, beside him, while they waited for the dog-cart to take him to the station and back to Africa, and her hand had rested so kindly in his, as he had tried to find something to say--something other than what he might not say. . . .

Opposite to it was the muniment-box, into which many an abbot and holy friar had put many a lead-sealed parchment. It would be full of garden rugs and cushions. On that, she had sat beside him, after his dance with her, one New Year's Eve. . . .

Same pictures of horse and hound, and bird and beast; same antlers and foxes' masks and brushes; same trophies he had sent from Nigeria, specially good heads of lion, buffalo, gwambaza, and gazelle.

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