An Apache Princess. Este artículo no está disponible.
Charles King, King; Charles King
25 valoraciones de Goodreads
Idioma: inglés
Editorial: 1st World Library - Literary Society, 2007
- Tapa dura
- Nuevo

Librería: Ria Christie Collections, Uxbridge, Reino UnidoRia Christie Collections
Vendedor de 5 estrellas
Vendedor de IberLibro desde 25 de marzo de 2015
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Condición: Nuevo
EUR 28,84
Descripción del artículo del vendedor
In English.
N° de ref. del artículo ria9781421844268_new
- Título
- An Apache Princess
- Autor
- Charles King, King; Charles King
- Editorial
- 1st World Library - Literary Society
- Año de publicación
- 2007
- Estado
- New
- Encuadernación
- Encuadernación de tapa dura
- Idioma
- inglés
- ISBN 10
- 1421844265
- ISBN 13
- 9781421844268
- Peso del artículo
- 633 gramos
Under the willows at the edge of the pool a young girl sat daydreaming, though the day was nearly done. All in the valley was wrapped in shadow, though the cliffs and turrets across the stream were resplendent in a radiance of slanting sunshine. Not a cloud tempered the fierce glare of the arching heavens or softened the sharp outline of neighboring peak or distant mountain chain. Not a whisper of breeze stirred the drooping foliage along the sandy shores or ruffled the liquid mirror surface. Not a sound, save drowsy hum of beetle or soft murmur of rippling waters, among the pebbly shallows below, broke the vast silence of the scene. The snow cap, gleaming at the northern horizon, lay one hundred miles away and looked but an easy one-day march. The black upheavals of the Matitzal, barring the southward valley, stood sullen and frowning along the Verde, jealous of the westward range that threw their rugged gorges into early shade.
“Sinopsis” puede pertenecer a otra edición de este título.
Reseña del editor
Under the willows at the edge of the pool a young girl sat daydreaming, though the day was nearly done. All in the valley was wrapped in shadow, though the cliffs and turrets across the stream were resplendent in a radiance of slanting sunshine. Not a cloud tempered the fierce glare of the arching heavens or softened the sharp outline of neighboring peak or distant mountain chain. Not a whisper of breeze stirred the drooping foliage along the sandy shores or ruffled the liquid mirror surface. Not a sound, save drowsy hum of beetle or soft murmur of rippling waters, among the pebbly shallows below, broke the vast silence of the scene. The snow cap, gleaming at the northern horizon, lay one hundred miles away and looked but an easy one-day march. The black upheavals of the Matitzal, barring the southward valley, stood sullen and frowning along the Verde, jealous of the westward range that threw their rugged gorges into early shade.
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