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    The Flood
    The Flood
    The Flood
    Ebook60 pages39 minutes

    The Flood

    By Émile Zola

    ()

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateJan 1, 2004
    The Flood
    Author

    Émile Zola

    <p><b>Émile Zola</b> nació en París en 1840. Hijo de un ingeniero italiano que murió cuando él apenas tenía siete años, nunca fue muy brillante en los estudios, trabajó durante un tiempo en la administración de aduanas, y a los veintidós años se hizo cargo del departamento de publicidad del editor Hachette. Gracias a este empleo conoció a la sociedad literaria del momento y empezó a escribir. <em>Thérèse Raquin</em> (1867; ALBA CLÁSICA núm. LVIII) fue su primera novela «naturalista», que él gustaba de definir como «un trozo de vida».</p> <p>En 1871, <em>La fortuna de los Rougon</em> y <em>La jauría</em> (editadas conjuntamente en ALBA CLÁSICA MAIOR núm. XXXIV) iniciaron el ciclo de <em>Los Rougon-Macquart</em>, una serie de veinte novelas cuyo propósito era trazar la historia natural y social de una familia bajo el Segundo Imperio; a él pertenecen, entre otras, <em>El vientre de París</em> (1873), <em>La conquista de Plassans</em> (1874) (editadas conjuntamente en AALBA CLÁSICA MAIOR núm. XXXV), <em>La caída del padre Mouret</em> (1875), <em>La taberna</em> (1877), <em>Nana</em> (1880) y <em>El Paraíso de las Damas</em> (1883: ALBA MINUS núm. 29); la última fue <em>El doctor Pascal</em> (1893). Zola seguiría posteriormente con el sistema de ciclos con las novelas que componen <em>Las tres ciudades</em> (1894-1897) y <em>Los cuatro Evangelios</em> (1899-1902). En 1897 su célebre intervención en el caso Dreyfuss le valió un proceso y el exilio.</p> <p>«Digo lo que veo –escribió una vez-, narro sencillamente y dejo al moralista el cuidado de sacar lecciones de ello. Puse al desnudo las llagas de los de abajo. Mi obra no es una obra de partido ni de propaganda; es una obra de verdad.» Murió en Paris en 1902.</p>

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      Book preview

      The Flood - Émile Zola

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Flood, by Emile Zola

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: The Flood

      Author: Emile Zola

      Release Date: June 14, 2009 [EBook #7011]

      Last Updated: November 10, 2012

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLOOD ***

      Produced by Michael Castelluccio, and David Widger

      THE FLOOD

      By Emile Zola

      Contents

      I.

      My name is Louis Roubien. I am seventy years old. I was born in the village of Saint-Jory, several miles up the Garonne from Toulouse.

      For fourteen years I battled with the earth for my daily bread. At last, prosperity smiled on we, and last month I was still the richest farmer in the parish.

      Our house seemed blessed, happiness reigned there. The sun was our brother, and I cannot recall a bad crop. We were almost a dozen on the farm. There was myself, still hale and hearty, leading the children to work; then my young brother, Pierre, an old bachelor and retired sergeant; then my sister, Agathe, who came to us after the death of her husband. She was a commanding woman, enormous and gay, whose laugh could be heard at the other end of the village. Then came all the brood: my son, Jacques; his wife, Rosie, and their three daughters, Aimee, Veronique, and Marie. The first named was married to Cyprica Bouisson, a big jolly fellow, by whom she had two children, one two years old and the other ten months. Veronique was just betrothed, and was soon to marry Gaspard Rabuteau. The third, Marie, was a real young lady, so white, so fair, that she looked as if born in the city.

      That made ten, counting everybody. I was a grandfather and a great-grandfather. When we were at table I had my sister, Agathe, at my right, and my brother, Pierre, at my left. The children formed a circle, seated according to age, with the heads diminishing down to the baby of ten months, who already ate his soup like a man. And let me tell you that the spoons in the plates made a clatter. The brood had hearty appetites. And what gayety between the mouthfuls! I was filled with pride and joy when the little ones held out their hands toward me, crying:

      Grandpa, give us some bread! A big piece, grandpa!

      Oh! the good days! Our farm sang from every corner. In the evening, Pierre invented games and related stories of his regiment. On Sunday Agathe made cakes for the girls. Marie knew some canticles, which she sang like a chorister. She looked like a saint, with her blond hair falling on her neck and her hands folded on her apron.

      I had built another story on the house when Aimee had married Cyprien; and I said laughingly that I would have to build another after the wedding of Veronique and Gaspard. We never cared to leave each other. We would sooner have built a city behind the farm, in our enclosure. When families are united, it is so good to live and die where one has grown up!

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