There was savage revelry in Assais. It was the first victory that these
men, but lately mustered into service, had gained over the dreaded
Prussians,--a victory all the more brilliant since it had been won at
so little loss. Only two franctireurs had fallen in the short
conflict,--five or six had been wounded, and the Baron de Nouart had
been found dead in his room with his skull cloven.
This was the entire loss suffered by the fortunate victors, who had
almost annihilated an entire squadron of those Uhlans of whose ferocity
such fearful stories were told.
The light-hearted conquerors paid no heed to the fact that a couple of
dozen of the enemy and several officers had escaped; they had no fear
of the fugitives, they had not even attempted to pursue them.
Intoxicated with victory, the exultant franctireurs rushed through the
village; the slight bonds of discipline that had restrained them at the
beginning of the attack were rent asunder, and Count Repuin, their
commander, with two or three French officers, attempted in vain to stem
the torrent; all commands were unheeded.
The franctireurs associated the villagers with them in a search for any
Prussians that might still be concealed in the village, murdering any
such when found, and dragging their corpses through the mud with savage
yells, that made night hideous. Even women, drunk with the desire for
revenge, aided their husbands and sons in this ferocious work,
mutilating the dead in their fury and inciting others to the same
horrors. But there were exceptions; here and there a wife or maiden of
Assais risked her life to conceal some Prussian fugitive from the fury
of husband or lover.
Count Repuin looked on aghast at the savagery of the insane mob, who
had thus thrown aside all law and order. He hated the Prussians from
his soul, he was their implacable foe; but this wholesale murder, this
cowardly mutilation of the dead, aroused his indignation; he felt that
he had conjured up spirits that he lacked the power to control.
Again and again he attempted to restore some degree of order, but his
commands were received with shouts of derision, and he owed it to the
interference of some of his officers that the rage of the franctireurs
was not turned against himself. There were scowling looks accompanying
muttered curses of the foreigner who dared to intercede for Prussians,
and he was obliged to look on inactive at the murderous work.
He was perhaps the only one of the victors who felt no joy whatever in
the victory. His plan had been to inspire his raw troops with courage
and confidence by an easy conquest, and he had intended to withdraw in
good order with his prisoners as soon as the victory was won. He
now withdrew, after a last vain attempt to restore order, to the
dining-hall of the castle, where, with one of his young officers, he
paced restlessly to and fro. At each outburst of exultation that
reached his ears from without he vented savage curses upon the
canaille, who did not deserve that a man of honour should command them.
He knew only too well that each hour as it sped past increased the
danger that the easy-won victory would be converted into a disgraceful
defeat.
The officers of the squadron had escaped; the two lieutenants on the
ground-floor had probably been awakened by the first shots and had fled
into the forest, leaving their uniforms behind them; from these there
was not much to fear, but the captain and his companion, who had slain
the Baron de Nouart when he had probably attempted to impede their
flight, had also escaped, and upon two fleet horses. The shots fired
after them had been unavailing; they could reach Nontron in a short
time and summon the colonel, Count Schlichting, to the rescue.
And then? Repuin cast a glance at the stiffened corpse of the Baron de
Nouart, which had been brought into the dining-hall and lay there on
the floor in a corner half covered with a piece of carpet. He thought
of his last conversation with him, of how he had been warned by him not
to attempt an attack upon a foe so much the stronger. "Count
Schlichting knows no mercy!" had been Sorr's words. Then the Count had
received them with a sneer; now, as he thought of the near future, they
filled him with horror. The colonel had already heard of the struggle
in Assais; he was even now at the head of his regiment on the way
hither from Nontron to rescue and to avenge.
Repuin was innately brave; he could laugh danger and death to scorn in
the heat of battle, but the idea of being taken prisoner and shot in
cold blood by the hated Germans drove the blood from his cheek. He
turned to the young officer at his side and confided his fears to him,
commissioning him to make one more attempt with a few experienced
soldiers to assemble the men in some degree of order.
The officer promised to do his best, but his efforts were fruitless
until it was too late.
The franctireurs, scattered through the village, refused to obey
the bugle-call; they were engaged in a wild orgie with some of the
country-people. Wine flowed in streams, and there were loud shouts of
"Vive la France! vive la victoire!" that never ceased until a
breathless messenger spread the news through the village with the speed
of lightning that a German host was marching upon Assais along the
roads from Nontron and Chalus, and that it would be upon them in less
than half an hour. This intelligence sobered in an instant those drunk
with wine and conquest. Now they hurried to obey the bugle-call, but it
was too late! An orderly retreat was no longer possible. This Repuin
perceived, as from the castle he marked the close ranks of the
approaching enemy, who, thanks to the mad neglect and want of
discipline of the franctireurs, was so near that he would reach the
village before the scattered Frenchmen could assemble together. Were
not fugitives already scouring the fields upon the horses of the slain
Uhlans? Should a panic ensue, rescue would be impossible; there might
be something, an honorable death at least, gained from a stubborn
defence of both castle and village.
The bitter conflict lasted several hours; the Frenchmen, so lately
taken from the plough and work-bench, the franctireurs, so despised by
the Germans, defended every house in the village, and last of all the
castle itself, with a courage and heroism worthy of better success.
The same franctireurs who, scorning all discipline, had been converted
into a mob of murderous savages by victory over defenceless Uhlans
surprised in sleep, returned instantly to their duty when a hard battle
was imminent. The example of a few cowards who escaped upon the Uhlan
horses found no followers. The young men with the villagers fought with
desperate courage; even the wounded refused to yield, and fell fighting
to the last in a hopeless struggle against the superior organization
and numbers of the Saxons, who, although at heavy loss, stormed every
house in the village, and finally gained possession of the castle
itself.
Only a very few of the French succeeded in escaping to the forest,
where they scattered; the rest atoned with their lives for their brief
period of conquest, and the crimes committed in Assais.
The conflict had been terrible, crushing for the conquered, and tragic
enough for the victors, who had sustained heavy losses. If the
franctireurs had been better marksmen and had not suffered from the
death of their leader, Count Repuin, early in the fray, they would have
prolonged the struggle, and the German losses would have been greater
still, for the French had the advantage of a sheltered position.
The village of Assais, when the battle was over, presented a ghastly
spectacle. Among the dead and dying that cumbered its streets the Saxon
soldiers were searching diligently for wounded comrades, who were
carried to the castle, where the regimental surgeons had their hands
full.
The wounded officers, of whom there were not a few, were carried into
the dining-hall, where pallets had been arranged, upon which they might
rest for the brief space of time that the regiment could remain in
Assais. Its work of vengeance completed, it must immediately fall back
again upon Nontron.
The colonel's face was grimly sad as he entered the hall for a personal
inspection of the wounded. "We have suffered heavily," he said to Count
Styrum, who, with his arm in a sling, approached him. "Much noble blood
has been shed, and I take blame to myself for it."
"What possible blame can attach to you, colonel?"
"I might have nipped the treachery here in the bud. From the first I
mistrusted that Baron de Nouart and his tool Gervais. But for my
weakness they would both have been brought to a court-martial, and then
all their villainous schemes would have come to light, your arm,
Styrum, would have been free from a sling, and your best friends,
Hohenwald and Poseneck, would not be lying there severely wounded. How
is it with Arno? What does the surgeon say?"
"He gives us good hope. The wound is serious; he is still unconscious,
but the surgeon says that he thinks careful nursing will bring him
round."
"Careful nursing!" said the colonel. "And where is he to get careful
nursing in this God-forgotten corner of France? In two hours at the
latest we must take up our march for Nontron, and even there our
wounded cannot rest. I must send them on farther. What nursing can they
have in the nearest hospital? They are all over-crowded. And can
Hohenwald bear the transportation to a hospital?"
"He can bear a farther journey than that if taken carefully. I believe,
colonel, that I can save Hohenwald's life if you will allow of my
undertaking his transportation to the only place where he will find
health for both body and soul."
"I do not understand you, Count."
"Upon a charming estate on the Rhine, near S----, a lady has
established a private hospital; beneath her care Arno will, I am sure,
recover."
"Aha! I see, an affair of the heart. Who would have suspected it of our
misogynist? But S---- on the Rhine is far from here."
"I will undertake to deliver him there safely with your permission,
colonel. My wound makes me incapable of service for some weeks, but I
have strength enough to superintend the transportation of poor
Hohenwald and of my cousin, Kurt von Poseneck, to S----. Your
permission is all that is needed, colonel."
"That you shall have. All that I can do for your friends shall be done.
How is Poseneck?"
"Doing fairly well. He has recovered his consciousness and can answer
for himself. His bed is the last; Arno's is next to the last."
The colonel walked down the row of beds, accompanied by Styrum, saying
a few kind words to each of the wounded officers. He paused for some
minutes beside Arno's couch, gazing sadly at the pale, unconscious
figure stretched there. "My poor old friend!" he murmured. "It will be
a hard blow for him to learn that his darling son is severely wounded.
I must write to him. Better hear it from me than from the papers. It
ought to console him to know how his son has distinguished himself
to-day."
"It will console him still further, colonel," Styrum observed, "if you
will add in your letter that by your permission I have taken Arno and
my cousin Kurt to Kaltenborn, near S----. He will be quite satisfied
that Arno will be preserved to him if he knows that he is to be tended
and nursed by one whom the old Baron honours and loves as he does Frau
von Sorr."
The colonel turned hastily and looked in surprise at Styrum. "What name
did you say?" he asked, eagerly.
"Fran von Sorr is the lady who has instituted a private hospital on her
father's estate of Kaltenborn."
"And you wish to take Arno to her; you would confide him to Frau von
Sorr's care?"
"Yes, colonel; Frau von Sorr lived at Castle Hohenwald for some time as
governess to Arno's sister; she is warmly attached to the family, and I
know that the old Freiherr holds her in high esteem."
"And Arno?"
"Esteems her no less than does his father."
"Hm! After a different fashion, perhaps," the colonel said, with a
smile. "Be assured I will do all that I can to further your wishes.
And, by the way, what has become of that scoundrel Sorr? Has Poseneck's
suspicion been confirmed? Is the Baron de Nouart, whom Captain von
Saeben laid low with a sabre-stroke, found to be one and the same person
with Herr von Sorr?"
"There he lies," Styrum gravely replied! "I have no doubt upon the
subject, although the features seem greatly altered. I saw Sorr only
once at a ball, but I remember him perfectly, and recognized the dead
man's face, although it is disguised by a huge false beard."
The colonel turned and looked at the corpse of the supposed Baron. A
compassionate maid had washed the blood from the face, and in so doing
had loosened the false beard, which the colonel now tossed aside, and
all doubt as to the man's identity instantly vanished from the minds of
the two officers.
"It is indeed he," said Schlichting; "he has reaped the reward of his
treachery, as has also Repuin, who was shot dead early in the
engagement. I think, Styrum, that both you and Herr von Poseneck will
agree with me that it is best so; we are spared the dealing out to them
the death of traitors."
As he spoke he went up to Kurt's couch, and the young man was quite
able to express his thanks for the colonel's promised aid in
transporting him to Kaltenborn. The surgeon, however, at this moment
made his appearance and forbade further conversation, as Kurt's wound
was in the chest and he had suffered from loss of blood. Count
Schlichting therefore gave his hand a farewell pressure and left the
hall.
Several months have elapsed; how, during this time, those who have
played principal parts in our story have prospered may be gathered from
the following communications from the widowed Frau von Sorr to her
dearest friend:
"Kaltenborn, December 18, 1870.
"Dearest Adele,--What weeks of suspense have passed since I last wrote
you!--passed amid hopes and fears, terrible distress, and yet happiness
unspeakable. I could not write; every moment that was not spent in care
of him seemed wasted in disloyal neglect.
"At last the staff surgeon came to me yesterday with a beaming face and
the delicious words, 'Out of all danger!' Since then I have been in a
dream of happiness, and my first thought is to make you the sharer of
my joy.
"That Arno is spared to me I owe entirely to the self-devotion of your
Karl. He has, I know, written to you how he obtained permission to
bring Arno and Kurt von Poseneck across half France to be nursed here
by me. But he has not, I am sure, told you at what an expense of
trouble and strength he with his wound did this. I never shall forget
the moment, now just six weeks ago, when he came to meet me below in
the hall. A messenger on horseback, from S----, had brought word that
three wounded officers, among whom was Lieutenant Kurt von Poseneck,
had been by their desire transferred to Kaltenborn for lodgment and
nursing, and that they would arrive in an hour at the latest. I was
ready to receive them, too glad to take charge of Kurt, and little
dreaming how near the other two were to my heart. I never can tell you,
dear Adele, of all that I suffered during those first few days. Count
Styrum's exertions in bringing his charge to this place had been
superhuman; his own wound, not serious at first, had been greatly
aggravated, and for a time he was utterly prostrated. But now the
dreadful days are all past when the angel of death lingered beside the
two so near to me, Arno and Kurt. As soon as your Karl recovered from
the disastrous effects of his journey he joined me in care of them, and
never shall I forget the consolation of his presence and his words.
When I gave up all hope of Arno's recovery, Count Styrum was always
ready to tell me how, in '66, he had recovered from a worse wound, and
to bid me rely upon his vigorous constitution. And during the long
hours when together we watched beside Arno's or Kurt's couch. Count
Styrum recounted to me the terrible events of which he was an
eye-witness at Assais. From him I learned the fate of my unhappy
husband,--that death had dissolved the tie that bound me to him.
"It would be hypocrisy, dearest Adele, to attempt to conceal from you
that this knowledge brought with it a sense of relief to which I had
long been an utter stranger, and that I breathed still more freely when
I learned that I need no longer dread the persecutions of Count Repuin,
who also fell fighting at Assais. As to Herr von Sorr, I forgive his
sins against me, and when I think of him in future I will recall the
time when he certainly did not inspire me with terror."
"December 26.
"Arno is making rapid strides towards recovery. To-day he was able to
sit up for an hour; his voice is clear and strong, and when he looks at
me his eyes sparkle, as they did once at Castle Hohenwald."
"December 30.
"You see, dear, I write oftener. Kurt is nearly well; he took a walk in
the garden yesterday, and the doctor says he will be able to return to
his regiment in two weeks, when your betrothed also leaves us. I am
glad to know them so far recovered, and yet how we shall miss them!
"Arno will chafe at being obliged to take no share in the glorious
termination of the war, but he must submit; the doctor says he cannot
possibly be fit for service for some months yet. I will confess to you,
dear Adele, that when the old doctor uttered this verdict I could have
kissed him. Arno had been so much pleased at his increasing strength
that he had entertained hopes of leaving Kaltenborn with your Karl and
Kurt, and of course he was disappointed at first. Then he looked at me;
I suppose my joy was evident in my face, for his brow cleared
instantly, and he said no more about leaving."
"Kaltenborn, January 15, 1871.
"Adele, my darling Adele, I am the happiest woman in the world! I am
betrothed! Ah, how fair life is! You must hear all about it, although
no one else is to know of it for some time to come. Listen, I will tell
you all. Early this afternoon I was seated in my little drawing-room at
my writing-table, when I heard the door open behind me and some one
say, 'Excuse me, madame, I would not intrude. Modesty is a gift of
nature; I do not boast, but I possess it----'
"Of course there was no need to turn round to recognize the good
Assessor von Hahn, my former admirer. Yes, there he was, and the oddest
figure imaginable. Had not the red cross on his left arm informed me in
what capacity he had come to the Rhine, I should have supposed him
dressed as a brigand for a masquerade; his costume, with a huge sabre
dragging at his heels, was so comical.
"I could not but smile as I welcomed him to Kaltenborn, and told him
how glad I was to see by his red cross to what service he had devoted
himself.
"'Yes, madame,' he said, twisting his moustache after his old familiar
fashion, 'I serve the fatherland; this very evening I must take up my
journey to France; duty demands it, and I am a slave to duty; I do not
boast, but I am so. I have stolen a moment on the way to assure you of
my devotion to you, and to bring you some news which will, I am sure,
surprise you. I have the honour of being in charge of supplies for some
of our hospitals in France. Early this morning, as my train was about
to leave the station at Minden, as I stood upon the platform, my
attention was attracted by an old gentleman who was berating a railway
official in no measured terms. The official had just informed him that
this was a train bearing supplies, and that no places could be procured
on it for passengers, and the old man's anger found vent in a good
round oath; he was ready to pay any price for places, and have them he
must and would. He was supported on the arm of an old servant in
livery, and beside him stood a young girl. I could not see her face,
but her figure was charming. I passed around her and recognized--but
surely, madame, you have guessed whom I recognized----'
"I tried in vain to solve the riddle, mentioning the names of several
ladies known to each of us, but in vain.
"'Wrong, madame; I am sure your astonishment will equal mine when I
tell you that I recognized in the young lady with the charming figure
my lovely cousin, Celia von Hohenwald.'
"My astonishment was indeed great; the Assessor was delighted. 'Yes,
Celia von Hohenwald; she was with her father, my respected relative,
the Freiherr von Hohenwald. Fortunately, I met them upon the railway
platform at Minden, and was able to be of service to them.'
"'The Freiherr von Hohenwald!' I exclaimed, now amazed indeed. I could
hardly believe that my dear old friend had left his forest castle,
where he had so long been confined to his rolling-chair, but the
Assessor eagerly went on to explain it all to me.
"The Freiherr's health had improved wonderfully during the past summer,
as I knew from Celia's letters, but she had not told me that he had for
some time been able to walk in his beloved garden supported by old
Franz, and she herself had never dreamed that he would think of
undertaking a journey. He had heard first from Count Schlichting and
then from Kurt, as he told the Assessor, of his son's wound, and had
determined not to await his recovery, but to go himself to Kaltenborn,
that he might be near him. So, accompanied by Celia and old Franz, he
had set out, and felt better and stronger than he had done for years.
His desire to see his son again was intense, and hence his angry
outbreak when told that he could not leave Minden by this train. The
Assessor instantly offered both Celia and himself seats in his own
coupe, while old Franz was accommodated in a freight-wagon. The good
little man fairly glowed with enthusiasm as he described his delightful
journey and the charms of his fair cousin, to whom he has evidently
lost his too susceptible heart.
"Arrived at S----, the Assessor instantly came by extra post to
Kaltenborn to announce the arrival of the Baron and his daughter, that
Arno might be prepared to meet them. They were, the Assessor concluded,
awaiting his return at S----, whither he was to carry intelligence of
Arno's condition and my father's permission to visit Kaltenborn.
"You may imagine, dear, how happy the good Assessor's news made me. To
think of seeing once more my dear old friend and Celia! My heart beat
quickly as I went with the Assessor to Arno's room, where the little
man contrived with great tact to announce to him the arrival of such
dear friends.
"My father was out walking, but I sent in his name a cordial invitation
to the Freiherr, and the Assessor took leave of all of us in a state of
the most amiable self-complacency.
"After his departure I had too much to do in preparing for the
reception of my dear guests to leave time for reflection. I had just
finished arranging flowers in their rooms when their carriage stopped
at the hall-door. I really do not know how I got down-stairs, but I
found myself at the carriage-door. I felt Celia's ardent kisses, and
the next instant I was in the carriage and in the Freiherr's arms. He
kissed my forehead tenderly, and then, clasping both my hands in his,
held me off from him with a smile of perfect content on his dear old
face. 'You never thought, my dear child,' he said, 'that your old
adorer would leave his rolling-chair and come to look for you. I could
not help it; a longing for the sight of you and anxiety for my boy have
brought me here. No, not anxiety, for even when the Poseneck fellow
wrote me word that he was very ill I knew that my dear child's tender
nursing would preserve him to me; and so it was. I owe my Arno's life
to you.'
"I would have disclaimed his praise, but he would not let me speak. 'I
know better about it than you do, child; his heart needed healing, and
I knew his body would follow suit. You alone could be his true
physician. But never blush about it; postpone that, dear child, until
you and I have had a private talk together. Thunder and lightning! The
will-o'-the-wisp has rushed directly into the Poseneck fellow's arms!
Here's a pretty business!'
"The tone in which this outburst was uttered was far from grim, and the
words themselves were contradicted by the sparkle in the old man's eyes
as he looked out of the carriage. Kurt stood in the doorway with Celia
clinging to him. Clasped in each other's arms, for the moment the world
about the happy pair was forgotten; the Freiherr's exclamation recalled
Kurt to a sense of the present. He would have hurried out to the
carriage, but Celia only clasped him the closer, crying, amid tears and
laughter, 'No, no, Kurt, my dearest, I have you now, and you shall not
go; papa is not so angry as he pretends. Look how glad he is that we
are all happy together at last!'
"'Let go the Poseneck fellow, you romp!' the Freiherr called from the
carriage. 'Let him come here, I want to look at him.'
"Kurt sprang forward to offer his arm; before the Baron took it,
however, he scanned the young man with keen scrutiny. The result of it
must have been satisfactory, for he nodded complacently at Kurt, and
then, with his help and with Franz's support, descended heavily from
the carriage.
"When I handed him his crutch-handled cane from the carriage, he
let go of Kurt's arm. 'You would, of course, rather conduct the
will-o'-the-wisp than the old father,' he said to Kurt, with a laugh.
'Give your arm to your Celia, then, for she is yours; I can't prevent
that. My child here will take me to Arno,' he added, nodding towards
me.
"I was by his side in a moment; he put his arm in mine and, leaning
over me, whispered, 'Will you not promise, my darling, to support your
old father thus as long he lives?'
"I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. I could not speak; but he needed
no reply, as he looked at me with a happy smile.
"Thus we walked slowly through the hall, and were received at the door
of his room by Arno himself, leaning upon your Karl's arm, so strong
that he hardly needed its support.
"As the old man embraced his darling son the tears rolled down his
withered cheeks; he held him clasped in his arms for a moment, and then
turning to me, said, with profound emotion, 'We owe this happy moment
to our Anna. She has been the guardian angel of those two,' pointing to
Kurt and Celia; 'softening my old heart until I gladly receive Kurt as
a son. She has restored you to life, Arno. The dark cloud that divided
you has vanished, serene skies smile above your future. Have you
nothing to ask at her hands, Arno?'
"What Arno replied I cannot tell you. I felt his arm about me, his lips
upon mine, and heard the ecstasy in his whispered words, 'Mine,--mine
for all eternity!'
"This was our betrothal. My dearest father joyfully gave us his
blessing, and Kurt and Celia, Arno and I have just passed the happiest
evening of our lives, in the circle of those dearest to us, where only
you, my own faithful Adele, were wanting. Count Styrum recounted to the
Freiherr his adventures in the castle of Assais, and the old Baron told
in his turn of how the danger that had threatened the Finanzrath had
fortunately been averted by the kind interference of influential
friends. Upon Werner's promise, made in writing, never to return to
Germany, the warrants out against him on a charge of high treason have
been withdrawn, and he is living in Vienna in great seclusion. The
thought of Werner, so different from his father, brother, and sister in
his whole character and nature, disturbed my happiness for a moment,
but only for a moment. One glance at Arno was enough to dissipate any
cloud called up in my mind by the remembrance of his unworthy brother.
"Darling Adele, my heart is full. The shadows of the past lie behind
me, the future is brilliant with glorious sunshine. Farewell, my own
true friend; I know how you will rejoice with and for your Lucie."
Spring had again returned, and with it the blessings of peace to the
fatherland. In the latter days of May there was joy indeed at Castle
Hohenwald, where a double marriage was celebrated. Of course Lucie and
Arno, Celia and Kurt, were the happy pairs, and Count Styrum, with his
charming young wife, was present on the auspicious occasion.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: Councillor of finance. It is best to give these titles in
German; they must always be awkward in English. A. L. W.]
[Footnote 2: Forest-depths.]
THE END.
SIGN OF THE CROSS
By WILSON BARRETT
_Player's Edition. Illustrated. Cloth, 75 cents_.
A new edition, illustrated by scenes from the play. There is still a
live demand for this widely-known novel.
"No romance of early Rome can equal it in any of the points of its
splendidly romantic conception, highly dramatic fervor, or its noble
and ignoble extremes of characterization. Religion, history,
literature, owe Wilson Barrett a great debt for his production of this
work, which is one that one may not hesitate to prophesy will endure so
long as literature itself may."--_Boston Courier_.
* * *
NEVER-NEVER LAND
By WILSON BARRETT
_12mo. Decorated Cloth, $1.50_.
A dramatic and adventurous love-story of to-day, told by the author of
the famous "Sign of the Cross."
The book is full of action and incident. Part of the scene is laid in
America and part in foreign countries.
* * *
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA
AT THE MOORINGS
By ROSA N. CAREY
_12mo. Cloth, $1.50_.
Another book in the series of Miss Carey's fine love-stories and
pictures of English life and character, which are noted for their
sweetness and wholesome charm.
* * *
ROSABEL
By ESTHER MILLER
_12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.25_.
A love-story of English life which is bringing the author deserved
praise. The plot is natural, and the characters true to life.
* * *
AN ANGEL BY BREVET
By HELEN PITKIN
_12mo. Frontispiece. Cloth, $1.50_.
Miss Pitkin's first book has met with instant and generous welcome. It
is a love-story of New Orleans. The picturesque setting, the glimpses
of the old aristocratic life there, the strange superstitions and rites
of voodooism are deftly and ably drawn.
* * *
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA
BY E. F. BENSON
* * *
THE CHALLONERS
12mo. Cloth, $1.50
"Mr. Benson's latest novel, 'The Challoners,' is probably the best
thing he has done so far. In 'The Challoners' his happiest faculty,
that of putting smart society on paper, is shown to its best advantage.
He is at home with English people, and when he attempts to picture the
heights and depths of a father's despair when he sees his children
taking what is to him a plunge into moral perdition, his work is deft
and true and commendably sincere. An entertaining, well-written story,
with deep feeling in it."--_Chicago Record-Herald_.
"'The Challoners' is conceived upon a plane that lifts it immediately
to the highest rank in fiction. One has to recall the works of Dickens,
Thackeray, and Reade to find a production of equal dignity and grasp.
Indeed, there is much in it that will bear comparison with George
Eliot's performances. It is impossible to read it without realizing the
great burden that oppresses the clergyman who sees his son and daughter
departing from the practices and rules he in his sufficiency has laid
down to govern them."--_The Index_.
* * *
THE IMAGE IN THE SAND
12mo. Cloth, $1.50
"The author of 'Dodo' has written a 'thriller.' It is a spiritualistic
story. Mr. Benson sets part of his story in the East, and part in
London, and tells it in a manner to keep the reader wide awake and
interested to the end."--_Globe_, New York.
"Spiritualism, hypnotism, demoniac possession, white and black magic,
Oriental theosophy--all are found among the component parts of this
tale. The _denouement_ is decidedly original and highly imaginative.
Decidedly, 'The Image in the Sand' will not fail to make a strong
appeal to every one who has any love for the marvellous and the
unknown--or who appreciates a very well-written story."--_Brooklyn
Eagle_.
* * *
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA
By "The Duchess."
* * *
The Coming of Chloe. Lovice.
12mo. Cloth, $1.25. 12mo. Cloth, $1.25.
* * *
The Three Graces.
With six full-page illustrations, 12mo. Cloth, $1.25.
* * *
Peter's Wife. A Little Irish Girl.
Lady Patty. The Hoyden.
A Lonely Maid. An Unsatisfactory Lover.
12mo. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00.
* * *
Phyllis. Mrs. Geoffrey.
Molly Bawn. Portia.
Airy Fairy Lilian. Loeys, Lord Berresford, and
Beauty's Daughters. Other Stories.
Faith and Unfaith. Rossmoyne.
Doris. A Mental Struggle.
"O Tender Dolores." Lady Valworth's Diamonds.
A Maiden All Forlorn. Lady Branksmere.
In Durance Vile. A Modern Circe.
The Duchess. The Honourable Mrs. Vereker.
Marvel. Under-Currents.
Jerry, and Other Stories. A Life's Remorse.
A Point of Conscience.
12mo. Bound only in cloth, $1.00.
* * *
"'The Duchess' has well deserved the title of being one of the most
fascinating novelists of the day. The stories written by her are the
airiest, lightest, and brightest imaginable; full of wit, spirit, and
gayety, yet containing touches of the most exquisite pathos. There is
something good in all of them."--_London Academy_.
* * *
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA.