A Study in Scarlet et plus d'un million d'autres livres sont disponibles pour le Kindle d'Amazon. En savoir plus

Vous l'avez déjà ? Vendez votre exemplaire ici
Désolé, cet article n'est pas disponible en
Image non disponible pour la
couleur :
Image non disponible

 
Commencez à lire A Study in Scarlet sur votre Kindle en moins d'une minute.

Vous n'avez pas encore de Kindle ? Achetez-le ici ou téléchargez une application de lecture gratuite.

A Study in Scarlet [Livre audio, Version intégrale] [Anglais] [Cassette]

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle


Voir les offres de ces vendeurs.



Offres spéciales et liens associés


Les clients ayant consulté cet article ont également regardé


Descriptions du produit

Extrait

CHAPTER I

Mr. Sherlock Holmes


In the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London, and proceeded to Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons in the army. Having completed my studies there, I was duly attached to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon. The regiment was stationed in India at the time, and before I could join it, the second Afghan war had broken out. On landing at Bombay, I learned that my corps had advanced through the passes, and was already deep in the enemy’s country. I followed, however, with many other officers who were in the same situation as myself, and succeeded in reaching Candahar in safety, where I found my regiment, and at once entered upon my new duties.

The campaign brought honours and promotion to many, but for me it had nothing but misfortune and disaster. I was removed from my brigade and attached to the Berkshires,with whom I served at the fatal battle of Maiwand. There I was struck on the shoulder by a Jezail bullet, which shattered the bone and grazed the subclavian artery. I should have fallen into the hands of the murderous Ghazis had it not been for the devotion and courage shown by Murray, my orderly, who threw me across a pack-horse, and succeeded in bringing me safely to the British lines.

Worn with pain, and weak from the prolonged hardships which I had undergone, I was removed, with a great train of wounded sufferers, to the base hospital at Peshawur. Here I rallied, and had already improved so far as to be able to walk about the wards, and even to bask a little upon the verandah, when I was struck down by enteric fever, that curse of our Indian possessions. For months my life was despaired of, and when at last I came to myself and became convalescent, I was so weak and emaciated that a medical board determined that not a day should be lost in sending me back to England. I was despatched, accordingly, in the troopship Orontes, and landed a month later on Portsmouth jetty, with my health irretrievably ruined, but with permission from a paternal government to spend the next nine months in attempting to improve it.

I had neither kith nor kin in England, and was therefore as free as air—or as free as an income of eleven shillings and sixpence a day will permit a man to be. Under such circumstances I naturally gravitated to London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the Empire are irresistibly drained. There I stayed for some time at a private hotel in the Strand, leading a comfortless, meaningless existence, and spending such money as I had, considerably more freely than I ought. So alarming did the state of my finances become, that I soon realized that I must either leave the metropolis and rusticate somewhere in the country, or that I must make a complete alteration in my style of living. Choosing the latter alternative, I began by making up my mind to leave the hotel, and to take up my quarters in some less pretentious and less expensive domicile.

On the very day that I had come to this conclusion, I was standing at the Criterion Bar, when some one tapped me on the shoulder, and turning round I recognized young Stamford, who had been a dresser under me at Barts. The sight of a friendly face in the great wilderness of London is a pleasant thing indeed to a lonely man. In old days Stamford had never been a particular crony of mine, but now I hailed him with enthusiasm, and he, in his turn, appeared to be delighted to see me. In the exuberance of my joy, I asked him to lunch with me at the Holborn, and we started off together in a hansom.

“Whatever have you been doing with yourself, Watson?” he asked in undisguised wonder, as we rattled through the crowded London streets. “You are as thin as a lath and as brown as a nut.”

I gave him a short sketch of my adventures, and had hardly concluded it by the time that we reached our destination.

“Poor devil!” he said, commiseratingly, after he had listened to my misfortunes. “What are you up to now?”

“Looking for lodgings,” I answered. “Trying to solve the problem as to whether it is possible to get comfortable rooms at a reasonable price.”

“That’s a strange thing,” remarked my companion, “you are the second man to-day that has used that expression to me.”

“And who was the first?” I asked.

“A fellow who is working at the chemical laboratory up at the hospital. He was bemoaning himself this morning because he could not get some one to go halves with him in some nice rooms which he had found, and which were too much for his purse.”

“By Jove!” I cried; “if he really wants some one to share the rooms and the expense, I am the very man for him. I should prefer having a partner to being alone.”

Young Stamford looked rather strangely at me over his wine glass. “You don’t know Sherlock Holmes yet,” he said; “perhaps you would not care for him as a constant companion.”

“Why, what is there against him?”

“Oh, I didn’t say there was anything against him. He is a little queer in his ideas—an enthusiast in some branches of science. As far as I know he is a decent fellow enough.”

“A medical student, I suppose?” said I.

“No—I have no idea what he intends to go in for. I believe he is well up in anatomy, and he is a first-class chemist; but, as far as I know, he has never taken out any systematic medical classes. His studies are very desultory and eccentric, but he has amassed a lot of out-of-the-way knowledge which would astonish his professors.”

“Did you never ask him what he was going in for?” I asked.

“No; he is not a man that it is easy to draw out, though he can be communicative enough when the fancy seizes him.”

“I should like to meet him,” I said. “If I am to lodge with any one, I should prefer a man of studious and quiet habits. I am not strong enough yet to stand much noise or excitement. I had enough of both in Afghanistan to last me for the remainder of my natural existence. How could I meet this friend of yours?”

“He is sure to be at the laboratory,” returned my companion. “He either avoids the place for weeks, or else he works there from morning till night. If you like, we will drive round together after luncheon.”

“Certainly,” I answered, and the conversation drifted away into other channels.

As we made our way to the hospital after leaving the Holborn, Stamford gave me a few more particulars about the gentleman whom I proposed to take as a fellow-lodger.

“You mustn’t blame me if you don’t get on with him,” he said; “I know nothing more of him than I have learned from meeting him occasionally in the laboratory. You proposed this arrangement, so you must not hold me responsible.”

“If we don’t get on it will be easy to part company,” I answered. “It seems to me, Stamford,” I added, looking hard at my companion, “that you have some reason for washing your hands of the matter. Is this fellow’s temper so formidable, or what is it? Don’t be mealy-mouthed about it.”

“It is not easy to express the inexpressible,” he answered with a laugh. “Holmes is a little too scientific for my tastes—it approaches to cold-bloodedness. I could imagine his giving a friend a little pinch of the latest vegetable alkaloid,15 not out of malevolence, you understand, but simply out of a spirit of inquiry in order to have an accurate idea of the effects. To do him justice, I think that he would take it himself with the same readiness. He appears to have a passion for definite and exact knowledge.”

“Very right too.”

“Yes, but it may be pushed to excess. When it comes to beating the subjects in the dissecting-rooms with a stick, it is certainly taking rather a bizarre shape.”

“Beating the subjects!”

“Yes, to verify how far bruises may be produced after death. I saw him at it with my own eyes.”

“And yet you say he is not a medical student?”

“No. Heaven knows what the objects of his studies are. But here we are, and you must form your own impressions about him.” As he spoke, we turned down a narrow lane and passed through a small side-door, which opened into a wing of the great hospital. It was familiar ground to me, and I needed no guiding as we ascended the bleak stone staircase and made our way down the long corridor with its vista of whitewashed wall and dun-coloured doors. Near the farther end a low arched passage branched away from it and led to the chemical laboratory.

This was a lofty chamber, lined and littered with countless bottles. Broad, low tables were scattered about, which bristled with retorts, test-tubes, and little Bunsen lamps, with their blue flickering flames. There was only one student in the room, who was bending over a distant table absorbed in his work. At the sound of our steps he glanced round and sprang to his feet with a cry of pleasure. “I’ve found it! I’ve found it,” he shouted to my companion, running towards us with a test-tube in his hand. “I have found a re-agent which is precipitated by hœmoglobin, and by nothing else.” Had he discovered a gold mine, greater delight could not have shone upon his features.

“Dr. Watson, Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” said Stamford, introducing us.

“How are you?” he said cordially, gripping my hand with a strength for which I should hardly have given him credit. “You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive.”

“How on earth did you know that?” I asked in astonishment.

R... --Ce texte fait référence à l'édition Broché .

Revue de presse

Here it is at last, the definitive edition, in nine volumes, of all the Sherlock Holmes stories. The notes are comprehensive and lengthy. The introductions and notes are full of fresh information, technical (such as the manuscripts that show Doyle consistently under-punctuated) and factual. (Julian Symons, The Sunday Times) --Ce texte fait référence à l'édition Broché .

Détails sur le produit


En savoir plus sur les auteurs

Découvrez des livres, informez-vous sur les écrivains, lisez des blogs d'auteurs et bien plus encore.

Quels sont les autres articles que les clients achètent après avoir regardé cet article?


Commentaires en ligne 

Il n'y a pas encore de commentaires clients sur Amazon.fr
5 étoiles
4 étoiles
3 étoiles
2 étoiles
1 étoiles
Commentaires client les plus utiles sur Amazon.com (beta)
Amazon.com: 4.1 étoiles sur 5  445 commentaires
42 internautes sur 50 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
1.0 étoiles sur 5 Missing parts 28 février 2010
Par C. Gonzalez - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Format Kindle|Achat vérifié
I concur with previous reviews. Unacceptable copy as it is mising passages - as mentioned before - which creates the most confusion from the very start. Should be removed from the Amazon catalog as it is unbecoming of this vendor. SAVE YOUR TIME. DO NOT DOWNLOAD IT.
14 internautes sur 16 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 A nonstop page turner! 18 août 2005
Par Matthew French - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Poche
When I began the book, I thought it would be slow going because it was written about 100 years ago. I was SO wrong! I finished the book in a period of less than 24 hours!!! This is an absolutely fabulous book! Doyle's use of language is masterful, and you are swept away to the moor with its swamps, jagged cliffs, and massive hills. I can honestly say I was quite spooked as I was reading some of it at night!

Since this is the first novel I have ever read by Doyle, I didn't know what to expect. But the twists in the plot and the constant itching to know what was going to happen next had me hooked!

I watched the 1959 movie after reading this, and I have to say it was a disgrace. I don't know if I would be happy seeing any of the versions, only because I don't know if any of them could even compare to the rich world and language used by Doyle to transport you to Devonshire!! But of course, the book is always better than the movie. :)
7 internautes sur 7 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 "A devilish affair" 29 janvier 2006
Par Paul Weiss - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Broché
When Henry Baskerville, the last remaining scion of the family, travels from Canada to England to take up residence in Baskerville Hall after the puzzling violent death of his uncle, Sir Charles, he is immediately greeted with a string of baffling mysteries not the least of which is the legend of an enormous hound residing on the moors in Devon. Dr James Mortimer, family friend to the Baskervilles, engages Holmes and Watson to advise and protect Henry and to resolve the issue of the hound's existence once and for all. Not one to believe in supernatural phantoms such as this spectral hound from hell endowed with "blazing eyes and dripping jaws", Holmes dispatches Watson to scout out the terrain and place the neighbouring residents under the proverbial magnifying glass - Stapleton, the accomplished entomologist and his beautiful sister, Beryl, who attempts to warn off Henry from taking up residence in the hall; Frankland, a crotchety busybody with a telescope and his troubled daughter, Laura Lyons, recovering from an ill-advised marriage; and the Barrymores, long time butler and housekeeper to the Baskerville family, who are clearly carrying a disturbing secret of their own.

True to the well-established paradigm of the Holmes canon, Doyle allows Watson to tell the tale with a deliciously full serving of speculation, theorizing based on "incomplete data", emotion, gentlemanly bravado, flowery Victorian atmosphere, elegant dialogue, and extensive detail on the routine of daily living at the turn of the century such as communicating by telegram and traveling by coach. His development of the bleak, dark, gloomy atmosphere of the moor is masterful:

"Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a grey, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream."

An easy one evening read over the comfortable space of a couple of hours, The Hound of the Baskervilles moves swiftly from the traditional cozy opening of Holmes' Baker Street digs to a resounding climax that is packed with more excitement and action than almost any other story in the entire Holmes litany. Two thumbs up and a five star recommendation to readers of all ages!

Paul Weiss
20 internautes sur 25 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 An Awesome book! 20 janvier 2006
L'évaluation d'un enfant - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Poche
The Baskerville family had a myth that haunted them for ages. When it finally comes true, Mr. Sherlock Holmes must come to the rescue. The Baskerville myth of a dog that kills all descendants of the Baskervilles at night on the moor has haunted the family for ages. So, when Sir Charles Baskerville is found dead on the moor, everyone assumes it was the hound. Sir Henry, who is Sir Charles' nephew, comes and inherits the estate with Holmes closely watching. Sir Henry meets the Stapletons, a young couple that are his closest neighbors, and begins to fall in love with Ms. Stapleton. Holmes puts Sir Henry's life at stake at the end of the book, and they catch the culprit in the act. This book is an excellent read that would be the perfect story to read when you can't decide between a mystery and an adventure.

This book is an example of how much Sherlock Holmes cares about other people's feelings. When Holmes sent Watson with Sir Henry to inherit the estate , he didn't tell Watson that he would follow to make sure everything was OK, which made Watson feel betrayed and not trusted. Holmes also told Watson that Cartwright had supplied all of his needs for him, which made Watson even more upset. At the end of this story, Holmes puts Sir Henry's life on the line when he lets the hound jump on Sir Henry before he kills it, petrifying Sir Henry with fear.

The antagonist is really good at disguising himself in this book. He outsmarts Sherlock Holmes in London with a full black beard, and calling himself Sherlock Homes. The Antagonist also befriends the Baskervilles so that they would never suspect him as the culprit. His plans are very smart, from bribing Sir Charles out of his house to attempting to kill Sir Henry the way back from a friendly dinner.

This book has many adventures. Sir Henry and Dr. Mortiemier get dogged in London, Watson and Sir Henry chase an escaped convict, and Sir Henry almost gets eaten by a huge hound.

This is the perfect book for any day. It is suspensful, exiting, and it puts you on the edge of your seat. This book deserves a five star rating!
6 internautes sur 6 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
3.0 étoiles sur 5 Where it all began 8 janvier 2013
Par Miss Bonnie - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Format Kindle
Part I

The Storyline
This being the first story in the Sherlock Holmes series, this is also the introduction of the two main characters: Holmes and Watson. After meeting one another they agree to move in together as they were both in need of a roommate. Shortly after, a man is discovered as being murdered and Sherlock Holmes is asked to evaluate the scene to determine if there is any evidence of who may have done it. The only clue is a woman's wedding ring and the words "RACHE" written in blood on the wall.

My Thoughts
Okay so... I think I have a bit of a crush. I loved Sherlock eccentricity and how unconventional he was. I will admit, the mystery wasn't really much of a mystery but it was still entertaining nonetheless. It did get a big "oooohhhhhhhhh...." from me once the mystery was finally solved though. Silly me, probably should have seen that one coming.

`There is no mystery about it at all. I am simply applying to ordinary life a few of those precepts of observation and deduction which I advocated in that article. Is there anything else that puzzles you?'

Part II
So, umm... I thought I missed something. The second half of this book was almost like a different book entirely and all of a sudden I'm right smack dab in the middle of Utah and everyone has buckets o' wives?

Anyways. Essentially, the second half of this book was a major bash-fest on the Mormons. I figure that's why it ended up on the banned book list.

"We have come," continued Stangerson, "at the advice of our fathers to solicit the hand of your daughter for whichever of us may seem good to you and to her. As I have but four wives and Brother Drebber here has seven, it appears to me that my claim is the stronger one."

Uh-huh. Five is definitely better than eight.

Overall, pretty enjoyable, would definitely be interested in reading more about Sherlock most definitely.
Ces commentaires ont-ils été utiles ?   Dites-le-nous

Discussions entre clients

Le forum concernant ce produit
Discussion Réponses Message le plus récent
Pas de discussions pour l'instant

Posez des questions, partagez votre opinion, gagnez en compréhension
Démarrer une nouvelle discussion
Thème:
Première publication:
Aller s'identifier
 

Rechercher parmi les discussions des clients
Rechercher dans toutes les discussions Amazon
   


Rechercher des articles similaires par rubrique


Commentaires

Souhaitez-vous compléter ou améliorer les informations sur ce produit ? Ou faire modifier les images?