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    An Indiscreet Journey: Short Story
    An Indiscreet Journey: Short Story
    An Indiscreet Journey: Short Story
    Ebook27 pages21 minutes

    An Indiscreet Journey: Short Story

    By Katherine Mansfield

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    About this ebook

    A young Englishwoman embarks on a journey to the French front lines during the First World War in an effort to meet her lover, the “Little Corporal.”

    Written in a modernist style that combines and explores several narratives and perspectives, “An Indiscreet Journey” is an engaging portrayal of life and relationships during wartime. It is one of the only stories written by Katherine Mansfield that was set during the war, and was purportedly based on a similar experience of Mansfield’s while travelling to meet her French lover on the frontlines.

    HarperPerennial Classics brings great works of literature to life in digital format, upholding the highest standards in ebook production and celebrating reading in all its forms. Look for more titles in the HarperPerennial Classics collection to build your digital library.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateJun 3, 2014
    ISBN9781443438438
    An Indiscreet Journey: Short Story
    Author

    Katherine Mansfield

    Katherine Mansfield was a popular New Zealand short-story writer best known for the stories "The Woman at the Shore," "How Pearl Button Was Kidnapped," "The Doll’s House," and her twelve-part short story "Prelude," which was inspired by her happy childhood. Although Mansfield initially had her sights set on becoming a professional cellist, her role as editor of the Queen’s College newspaper prompted a change to writing. Mansfield’s style of writing revolutionized the form of the short story at the time, in that it depicted ordinary life and left the endings open to interpretation, while also raising uncomfortable questions about society and identity. Mansfield died in 1923 after struggling for many years with tuberculosis.

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      Book preview

      An Indiscreet Journey - Katherine Mansfield

      An Indiscreet Journey

      She is like St. Anne. Yes, the concierge is the image of St. Anne, with that black cloth over her head, the wisps of grey hair hanging, and the tiny smoking lamp in her hand. Really very beautiful, I thought, smiling at St. Anne, who said severely: Six o’clock. You have only just got time. There is a bowl of milk on the writing table. I jumped out of my pyjamas and into a basin of cold water like any English lady in any French novel. The concierge, persuaded that I was on my way to prison cells and death by bayonets, opened the shutters and the cold clear light came through. A little steamer hooted on the river; a cart with two horses at a gallop flung past. The rapid swirling water; the tall black trees on the far side, grouped together like negroes conversing. Sinister, very, I thought, as I buttoned on my age-old Burberry. (That Burberry was very significant. It did not belong to me. I had borrowed it from a friend. My eye lighted upon it hanging in her little dark hall. The very thing! The perfect and adequate disguise—an old Burberry. Lions have been faced in a Burberry. Ladies have been rescued from open boats in mountainous seas wrapped in nothing else. An old Burberry seems to me the sign and the token of the undisputed venerable traveller, I decided, leaving my purple peg-top with the real seal collar and cuffs in exchange.)

      You will never get there, said the concierge, watching me turn up the collar. Never! Never! I ran down the echoing stairs—strange they sounded, like a piano flicked by a sleepy housemaid—and on to the Quai. "Why so fast,

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