{"title":"奥利维尔·巴萨梅耶之死","authors":"É. Zola","doi":"10.1093/owc/9780199685448.003.0011","DOIUrl":null,"url":null,"abstract":"I\n \n It was a Saturday morning, at six o’clock, that I died. I had been ill for three days. My poor wife had just been rummaging through a trunk, looking for some clean linen, and when she turned, she saw me lying there stiff,...","PeriodicalId":13174,"journal":{"name":"Horror Stories","volume":"57 1","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":0.0000,"publicationDate":"2018-10-25","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":"0","resultStr":"{\"title\":\"The Death of Olivier Bécaille\",\"authors\":\"É. Zola\",\"doi\":\"10.1093/owc/9780199685448.003.0011\",\"DOIUrl\":null,\"url\":null,\"abstract\":\"I\\n \\n It was a Saturday morning, at six o’clock, that I died. I had been ill for three days. My poor wife had just been rummaging through a trunk, looking for some clean linen, and when she turned, she saw me lying there stiff,...\",\"PeriodicalId\":13174,\"journal\":{\"name\":\"Horror Stories\",\"volume\":\"57 1\",\"pages\":\"\"},\"PeriodicalIF\":0.0000,\"publicationDate\":\"2018-10-25\",\"publicationTypes\":\"Journal Article\",\"fieldsOfStudy\":null,\"isOpenAccess\":false,\"openAccessPdf\":\"\",\"citationCount\":\"0\",\"resultStr\":null,\"platform\":\"Semanticscholar\",\"paperid\":null,\"PeriodicalName\":\"Horror Stories\",\"FirstCategoryId\":\"1085\",\"ListUrlMain\":\"https://doi.org/10.1093/owc/9780199685448.003.0011\",\"RegionNum\":0,\"RegionCategory\":null,\"ArticlePicture\":[],\"TitleCN\":null,\"AbstractTextCN\":null,\"PMCID\":null,\"EPubDate\":\"\",\"PubModel\":\"\",\"JCR\":\"\",\"JCRName\":\"\",\"Score\":null,\"Total\":0}","platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":null,"PeriodicalName":"Horror Stories","FirstCategoryId":"1085","ListUrlMain":"https://doi.org/10.1093/owc/9780199685448.003.0011","RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":null,"ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":null,"EPubDate":"","PubModel":"","JCR":"","JCRName":"","Score":null,"Total":0}
I
It was a Saturday morning, at six o’clock, that I died. I had been ill for three days. My poor wife had just been rummaging through a trunk, looking for some clean linen, and when she turned, she saw me lying there stiff,...
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