Read "His Love Story" by Marie Van Vorst online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
He had received his letter from the minister of war. Like many / things we wish for, set our hopes upon, when they come we find that / we do not want them at any price. The order was unwelcome. Sabron / was to go to Algiers.
Winter is never very ugly around Tarascon. Like a lovely bunch of / fruit in the brightest corner of a happy vineyard, the Midi is / sheltered from the rude experiences that the seasons know farther / north. Nevertheless, rains and winds, sea-born and vigorous, had / swept in and upon the little town. The mistral came whistling and / Sabron, from his window, looked down on his little garden from which / summer had entirely flown. Pitchouné, by his side, looked down as / well, but his expression, different from his master's, was ecstatic, / for he saw, sliding along the brick wall, a cat with which he was on / the most excited terms. His body tense, his ears forward, he gave a / sharp series of barks and little soft growls, while his master tapped / the window-pane to the tune of Miss Redmond's song.