📘 ❞ Vanity Fair ❝ قصة ــ William Makepeace Thackeray اصدار 1991
Stories and novels - 📖 قصة ❞ Vanity Fair ❝ ــ William Makepeace Thackeray 📖
█ _ William Makepeace Thackeray 1991 حصريا قصة ❞ Vanity Fair ❝ عن New York : Knopf 2025 Fair: Fair While the present century was in its teens, and on one sunshiny morning June, there drove up to great iron gate of Miss Pinkerton’s academy for young ladies, on Chiswick Mall, a large family coach, with two fat horses in blazing harness, driven by coachman threecornered hat wig, at rate four miles an hour A black servant, who reposed box beside fat coachman, uncurled his bandy legs as soon equipage drew opposite shining brass plate, and as he pulled bell least score heads were seen peering out narrow windows stately old brick house Nay, acute observer might have recognized little red nose good natured Miss Jemima Pinkerton herself, rising over some geranium pots in window that lady’s own drawing room Stories novels مجاناً PDF اونلاين هذا القسم يحتوي علي العديد من القصص والروايات باللغة الإنجليزية This section contains many stories English (Stories novels) والروايات: الرواية هي سرد نثري طويل يصف شخصيات خيالية أو واقعية وأحداثاً شكل متسلسلة كما أنها أكبر الأجناس القصصية حيث الحجم وتعدد الشخصيات وتنوع الأحداث وقد ظهرت أوروبا بوصفها جنساً أدبياً مؤثراً القرن الثامن عشر والرواية حكاية تعتمد السرد بما فيه وصف وحوار وصراع بين وما ينطوي عليه ذلك تأزم وجدل وتغذيه A novel is relatively long work narrative fiction, normally written prose form, which typically published book The English word fiction derives from Italian novella "new", "news", or "short story something new", itself Latin novella, singular noun use neuter plural novellus, diminutive novus, meaning "new" Walter Scott made distinction between novel, (as saw it) "events are accommodated ordinary train human events modern state society" romance, defined "a fictitious verse; interest turns upon marvellous uncommon incidents"
Vanity Fair
While the present century was in its teens, and on one
sunshiny morning in June, there drove up to the great iron
gate of Miss Pinkerton’s academy for young ladies, on
Chiswick Mall, a large family coach, with two fat horses in
blazing harness, driven by a fat coachman in a threecornered hat and wig, at the rate of four miles an hour. A
black servant, who reposed on the box beside the fat
coachman, uncurled his bandy legs as soon as the equipage
drew up opposite Miss Pinkerton’s shining brass plate, and
as he pulled the bell at least a score of young heads were
seen peering out of the narrow windows of the stately old
brick house. Nay, the acute observer might have
recognized the little red nose of good-natured Miss
Jemima Pinkerton herself, rising over some geranium pots
in the window of that lady’s own drawing-room
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