THEOPHRASTUS GOES INTO ETERNAL EXILE
At this point I leave the report of the Commissary of Police, M.
Mifroid. The conclusion of it indeed is filled with the most profound
and philosophic reflections on the effect of companionship in
misfortune on the human heart; but they are not relevant to the story
of Theophrastus.
When the noise of the flying feet of M. Mifroid no longer came echoing
down the empty street, the heart of that unfortunate man filled with
the deepest melancholy. Here was that accursed Black Feather again!
Behold him in the flickering light of a street lamp. He shakes his
head. Ah! with what a lamentable air does he shake his miserable and
dolorous head! Of what is he dreaming, unhappy wretch, that again and
again he shakes his luckless head? Doubtless the idea he had had of
going back to disturb the peace of his dear Marceline no longer appears
to him reasonable. Plainly he rejects it, for his heavy, lagging feet
do not carry him towards the heights of Gerando Street.
Some minutes later, he finds himself in Saint-Andrew-des-Arts Place,
and plunges into the dark passage of Suger Street. He rings at a door.
The door opens. In the passage a man in a blouse, with a paper cap on
his head and a lantern in his hand, asks him what he wants.
"Good-evening, Ambrose. You are still awake, are you--as late as this?"
said Theophrastus. "It's me. Oh, a lot of things have happened since I
last saw you!"
It was true. A lot of things had happened to M. Longuet since he had
last seen Ambrose, for he had not seen him since the day on which he
had learned from him the date of the water-mark on the document found
in the cellars of the Conciergerie.
"Come in, and make yourself at home," said Ambrose.
"I will tell you all about it to-morrow," said Theophrastus. "But
to-night I want to sleep."
Ambrose took him up to bed, and he slept the dreamless sleep of a
little child.
During the next few days Ambrose tried to induce Theophrastus to speak;
but, oddly enough, he preserved a complete silence. He spent his time
writing and writing. Once or twice he went out at night. Once Ambrose
asked him where he was going.
"A Commissary of Police, M. Mifroid, is writing an account of a journey
we took together," said Theophrastus. "And I am going to ask him for a
copy of it."
I am inclined to believe that one of these nights he must also have
returned to the flat in Gerando Street, by his favourite chimney,
and taken away from it the report, which M. Lecamus had written for
the Pneumatic Club, of the operation of M. Eliphas de Saint-Elme
de Taillebourg de la Nox. Also on one of those nights he must have
acquired the sandalwood box inlaid with steel; and since Ambrose
believes that he had but little money, it is not improbable that when
he acquired it he had his Black Feather.
One evening he came downstairs carrying a box, the sandalwood box,
under his arm; and with an air of gloomy satisfaction, he said to
Ambrose, "I have finished my literary labours; and I think I will go
and see my wife."
"I did not like to speak to you about her," said Ambrose quickly. "Your
gloom and your inexplicable behaviour made me afraid that you had some
domestic difficulties."
"She is as fond of me as ever!" cried Theophrastus with some heat.
As he left the house, Ambrose said to him, "Be sure you remember me
very kindly to Marceline."
Theophrastus said that he would; but to himself he said:
"Marceline will never see me; she must never see me. Not even the
Catacombs have torn out my fatal Black Feather. I must not trouble her
peace. She _shall_ never see me. But I--I wish to see her once again,
from afar, _to see if she is happy_."
He sobbed in the street.
* * * * *
It is nine o'clock at night, a dark winter's night. Theophrastus mounts
the slope at the top of which rise the walls of Azure Waves Villa.
With a trembling hand he draws back the bolt of the little door of the
garden behind the house. He crosses the garden gently, noiselessly, one
hand pressed against his heart, which is beating even more furiously
than on the night of the purring of the little violet cat--his good
heart, his great heart, still overflowing with love for the wife he
wishes to see happy.
There is a light in the drawing-room; and the window is a few inches
open, for the night is muggy. You advance slowly, noiselessly to a
screening shrub, set down the sandalwood box, and peer through the
leafless branches into the cosy drawing-room.
Ah! what have you seen in the drawing-room?... Why that deep groan? Why
do you tear the white locks from your brow?... What have you seen?...
After all, does it matter what you have seen, _since you are dead_? Did
you not wish to see your wife happy? Well, you see her happy!
She and M. Lecamus are sitting on the sofa. They are holding one
another's hand; they are gazing at one another with the eyes of lovers.
He kisses her, with respect but with devotion. He is consoling her for
the loss of you. You wished it. How can he better console her than by
replacing you?
Theophrastus, the gentle, kind-hearted manufacturer of rubber stamps,
perceives this. He drops on his knees on the cold, wet grass, weeping
tears of bitter resignation. He is reconciling himself to the
necessity of the cruel fact that they are sitting in his comfortable
drawing-room, and he is kneeling on his cold, wet grass. He is almost
reconciled to it; but not quite. What is that that is thrusting,
thrusting forth? _The upward thrust of the Past_--_the Black Feather_!
The tears are drying in the eyes of Theophrastus. His eyes are gleaming
through the dim winter night with an evil gleam. He springs to his
feet; he grinds his teeth; he cries hoarsely:
"_By the throttle of Madame Phalaris!_"
The Past has him in its grip; he is racked by the pangs of the old-time
jealousy, and the pangs of the new. In three seconds he is through
the window and in the drawing-room. Wild screams of terror greet his
entrance; but in ten seconds more M. Lecamus lies senseless in the big
easy-chair, bound hand and foot with the bell-rope. When he recovers
his senses, the hand of the clock has moved on ten minutes. Torn by
fears and suspense, he listens with all his ears. He hears faint
movements on the floor above. The minutes pass; twenty minutes pass.
Then there is a sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. Theophrastus
enters, once more a changed Theophrastus: his eyes no longer gleam with
an evil light; they are full of unshed tears. His face is working with
intense emotion; and on his shoulder is a portmanteau.
_What does that portmanteau contain?_
Theophrastus, his face working with intense emotion, crosses the room
to his old friend. He wrings his hand, wrings it for the last time; and
in a broken voice, a voice full of tears, he says:
"Good-bye, Adolphe! Good-bye, dear friend, for ever! I am going to the
_Seine near the Town Hall Bridge. I have to leave this portmanteau._
And then I go into eternal exile!"
He loosed his grip of his friend's hand and, his face still working
with intense emotion, he went through the window, bearing the
portmanteau with astonishing ease.
M. Lecamus has never seen him again; he has never seen Marceline again;
he has never seen the portmanteau again. Does the unhappy Theophrastus,
luckless exile from the Paris he loves, wander through the far East
or the far West? Does he in the old eighteenth-century fashion police
Bagdad, or does he build up a rubber stamp business in Chicago?
* * * * *
A new novel by the author of "Happy Hawkins"
THE KNIGHT-ERRANT
By ROBERT ALEXANDER WASON
Author of "Happy Hawkins," etc., etc.
Illustrated by HANSON BOOTH
$1.25 net; by mail, $1.37
A modern, city-bred "Happy Hawkins," one Philip Lytton by name, a young
man with ample fortune and excellent ideas about enjoying the good
things in life, takes to heart the taunts of his lady love and engages
entertainingly in business. Making a failure of it in his simple,
blundering way he leaves New York to seek his fortunes in the Far West.
Here Mr. Wason takes us over familiar ground in that country that he
knows so well and has already written about so engagingly in _Happy
Hawkins_, the country which Dr. Crothers so well names "the land of the
large and charitable air."
Mr. Wason knows men and women, their strength and weakness, their vices
and virtues, and packed to the covers though it is with incident, with
suspense, with the essence of story interest, his new book yet carries
a strong moral. His fresh, spontaneous humor, which the Nation has
called "American humor in its best estate," flashes everywhere.
Someone has compared a Wason book to the wildwood, with its lights and
shadows, its lilting melodies, its sudden storms, its joyous freedom.
Editors, publishers, his friends, his critics, have all objected to an
apparent lack of technique in Mr. Wason's writing; but he continues to
mingle humor and pathos, the dramatic and the argumentative, the tender
and the cynical, with all the prodigality and originality of old Nature
herself. Of stories there is no end; but in addition to a real story, a
Wason book gives the reader the rare privilege of intimate association
with a broad, sympathetic and discriminating personality. It is not
necessary to agree with him--he fattens on controversy--and the reader
who enters into the spirit of it can find much of what Stevenson calls
the joy of mental wrestling.
SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY
Publishers, Boston
* * * * *
AN UNUSUALLY POWERFUL NOVEL
HER HUSBAND
The Mystery of a Man
By JULIA MAGRUDER
Author of "Princess Sonia," "A Heaven-Kissing Hill," etc., etc.
Illustrated by LUCIUS WOLCOTT HITCHCOCK
$1.35 net; by mail $1.48
This is Miss Magruder's most powerful novel; in fact, it is the novel
on which, in her own opinion, her literary reputation will rest. In it
she displays to the full her command of the arts of the storyteller,
her ability to lead the reader breathlessly from climax to climax, her
power as a delineator of character, her broad acquaintance with human
nature and her knowledge of how to express human emotions to their
last, tingling vibrations.
The story centres around the puzzling character of Egbert Lothian.
And here indeed is a man who is a mystery from the very beginning of
the novel--in his wooing, in his courtship, in his marriage to the
remarkable heroine of the story,--the charming young American girl whom
this interesting, distinguished Scotchman so captivates--in his married
life--and who grows more and more remarkable and mystifying, even to
his wife, as the romance goes on, until near the close of the story
the wife and the reader are amazed and held breathless at a disclosure
of which neither she nor any one else had the slightest hint or
conception. Through the whole gamut of human emotions the girl in this
novel passes, and the reader follows her and the man at her side with
wonder and fascination.
During its publication in the columns of a current popular magazine
this novel created a storm of discussion. For serial purposes the story
was condensed to about half its length. In book form it is now for the
first time presented in its entirety.
SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY
Publishers, Boston
* * * * *
AN IMPORTANT AMERICAN NOVEL
THE MARRIAGE PORTION
By H. A. MITCHELL KEAYS
Author of "The Road to Damascus," "He That Eateth Bread With Me," etc.
$1.35 net; by mail, $1.48
In her new book, which is by far her most important, Mrs. Keays
discusses her favorite theme--marriage. She lays the scene of her story
in a modern university city which many readers will recognize, and she
portrays the life there with an unsparing, but just, understanding. As
usual, she develops her characters with unerring skill. In fact, she
depicts all her people, both admirable and otherwise, so naturally, so
truly, indeed so perfectly, that the delighted reader will be inclined
to believe that she writes of real living, breathing, human beings,
existing in the flesh in the shadow of a great American university.
The story centers around Adela Cleave, a charming woman who, after
a brief marriage and an early widowhood, has won a considerable
reputation as an artist in Paris. Returning to her native land to be
with her father, an old and honored professor, she is at first inclined
to wonder whether life will offer in her new environment so wide a
scope for her interest in humanity as had been offered to her delighted
senses in Paris. But she early discovers that almost without her
knowing it her life is seemingly inextricably entangled with the lives
of a homogeneous yet strangely diverse social structure. Her father,
"Daddy Mark," as she calls him, or Professor Kay, as he is known to his
colleagues, is a most lovable character, and it is many years since we
have had in fiction so keenly diverting a person as Mrs. Heming, Adela
Cleave's aunt, and a woman with an infinite capacity for martyrdom. The
interplay of interests in a university community is alertly realized in
the development of the absorbing plot, which shows the gradual growth
of as sweet, and tender a love-story as has been told by any American
novelist.
SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY
Publishers, Boston
* * * * *
A BULLY GOOD STORY!
THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE
By GEORGE C. SHEDD
Author of "The Princess of Forge," etc.
Illustrated by STANLEY L. WOOD
$1.25 net; by mail, $1.37
If Jimmy Dukane hadn't been a "good fellow," he wouldn't have got into
so much trouble and if he _hadn't_ been a good fellow he wouldn't
have--but that's the story!
He had been easily acquiring the record as Perpetual Holiday-Maker for
Broadway, when--well, "James A. Dukane, Sr., had, so to speak, brought
down his fist on the table with a bang. James A. Dukane, _Jr._, had
been under the fist and his eyes popped open very wide indeed." Dukane
and Company were in the concrete construction business and they were
erecting a big dam clear out in Nevada. The elder Dukane decided that
the way to solve the problem of what to do with Jimmy was to set him
to work, so he sent him out to "make a report" on the dam. He--Dukane,
Sr.,--then vamoosed for Europe and left young Jimmy to work out his own
salvation.
"The green tail-lights of the train flickered, faded, then with a
sudden mischievous wink altogether disappeared; the last puffing of the
engine was like a hoarse chuckle.
"'Dumped in a puddle at eleven o'clock at night', Jimmy Dukane
vociferated resentfully.
"In the caravan just departed there was everything to comfort the soul,
to cheer the mind and moisten the palate--bright lights, snug chairs,
jolly companions, a well-stocked buffet. Here?--what the deuce was here
anyway except water? He faced about. A few miserable beams of light
escaped through the dingy depot window out upon the wet platform and
gleamed glassily along the rails; some distance away in front of him
glowed half a dozen misty, luminous balls like swamp-lanterns, which he
surmised to be windows.
"'The governor stung his son and heir this time', he remarked in
immense disgust."
That was only the beginning of it. Things started to happen at once
and when Jimmy woke up in the morning in this little sage-brush town
of Meldon and found his clothes and money gone and a tramp's raiment
in their place--with no money--he was naturally indignant. But his
indignation fell on deaf ears. Nobody knew him; he knew nobody. He
began to get hungry. What should he do?
What would _you_ do?
The story of what he _did_--and incidentally of how he met a charming
girl by the name of Enid--is one of the most delightful that have
fallen to the lot of the novel-reader in many a day. Youth--exuberant,
unconquerable, "incorrigible" Youth--is in, around and over it all.
You will _enjoy_ "The Incorrigible Dukane."
SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY
Publishers, Boston
* * * * *
ADVENTURE-HEROISM-LOVE
THE LOSER PAYS
A Story of the French Revolution
By MARY OPENSHAW
Author of "The Cross of Honour"
$1.25 net; by mail, $1.37
In this, her second novel to be given to American readers, the author
of "The Cross of Honour" tells a fine, brave story that will still
further enhance the reputation won by her previous book. "The Loser
Pays" is the story of the devotion to love and duty of no less a
personage than Rouget de Lisle, the author of the "Marseillaise."
Many other writers have already taken the French Revolution as their
theme but Miss Openshaw is one of the few who have made it vivid and
human. In fact, it is not too much to say that no one else, since Felix
Gras wrote "The Reds of the Midi," has given us a story of the French
Revolution of so fine a quality.
"A stirring tale, capitally recounted."--_London Times._
"The possibilities of the Revolution in France as a subject of fiction
are almost infinite, but they have seldom been used with so keen a
dramatic perception and at the same time so just a regard for the main
outlines of history as in Miss Openshaw's book."--_Glasgow Herald._
"The story is so fascinating that the reader closes the book only when
he has reached the last page. 'The Loser Pays' will be successful
because the author has a good story to tell. It may be recommended to
all who like a dashing, romantic story full of incident."--_Glasgow
Citizen._
"There is really fine description of the September massacres. The story
deserves more than a transient place among recent fiction of the Great
Revolution."--_The Outlook (London)._
SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY
Publishers, Boston
* * * * *
AN AMERICAN AND AN ENGLISH NOVEL OF PERMANENT IMPORTANCE
THE ROAD TO DAMASCUS
By H. A. MITCHELL KEAYS
Author of "He That Eateth Bread with Me," etc.
$1.50 postpaid
The story of a young wife who, when it is proved to her that another
woman's boy should call her own husband father, adopts the boy without
ever letting her husband know. From, this basic theme Mrs. Keays
develops a dramatic and powerful story, "the finest novel of social
import," says Mr. Percival Pollard, in his critical volume, "Their
Day in Court," "written by an American woman in recent times; one of
those rare books proving that all is not hopelessly chaff in the field
of American fiction. 'The Road to Damascus' is a book, and contains a
character, worthy of long life. The character of _Richarda_ in this
book is one of the finest ever drawn by an American woman; the book
itself has perhaps the broadest view of life that has been shown on our
side of the water."
"A novel of remarkable power. It grips the attention like an Ibsen
drama."--_New York Times._
"It is all true," says Dean Hodges, "true to human nature and the laws
of God."
"I took up the 'Road to Damascus' after dinner," says Ida M. Tarbell,
"and did not lay it down until the end. It is a fascinating handling of
a difficult problem--a most successful handling, too."
BROKE OF COVENDEN
By J. C. SNAITH
Author of "Araminta," "Fortune," "Mistress Dorothy Marvin," etc.
$1.50 postpaid
A remarkable novel, that makes ordinary fiction pale in comparison. Mr.
Snaith has produced a book that holds its own among those of Meredith,
Dickens, and Thackeray. It is the story of an English country family of
the present day. "There is no living writer in England or this country
to whom it would not be a credit."--_Springfield Republican._ "Almost
alone of recent English fiction, it plays with equal mastery on all
the stops of human emotion."--_New York Times._ "From the first moment
Mr. Snaith makes your attention his willing slave, you read with that
rare vacillation which urges you to hurry forward for the story and to
linger for the detail."--_Atlantic Monthly._ "An exceedingly lively
and diverting tragic comedy of men and old, acres. Mr. Snaith has
invention, energy, and ideas of his own. He has courage and sympathy
and the sovereign faculty of interesting his readers in the fortunes
of most of his dramatis personae. The author has given us a delightful
heroine, a wholly original hero, and a great deal of entertainment, for
which we offer him our hearty thanks."--_London Spectator._
SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY
Publishers, Boston
* * * * *
"A really notable brief for democracy that everybody ought to
read."--_Nation._
ONE WAY OUT
A Middle-Class New-Englander Emigrates to America
By WILLIAM CARLETON
$1.20 net; by mail, $1.32
In this remarkable narrative a man tells simply but with dynamic
power how at thirty-eight he lost his position in the office of a
big corporation; how he learned that the special training of his own
office was of no value in getting him a position in any other office;
how at thirty-eight he was already "too old" to get such a position as
he had found easily enough at eighteen; how he and his wife and boy
in their trim little suburban home were actually confronted with the
fundamental problem of how to exist; how he met and solved that problem
in a way unexpected and dramatic, though to him and his wonderful wife,
Ruth, obvious and natural, by "emigrating" to America; and how in all
their struggle they found their lives enriched and inspired by the old
adventurous, pioneer spirit of their forefathers.
Once in a while a book appears which so profoundly impresses the public
mind that it wins its place as a force in public opinion. Such a book
_One Way Out_ has proved itself to be.
"It is a simple story of a simple life, one of the most convincing
and interesting of its kind that I have seen in many a long day, and,
in my opinion, the book is one that is bound to be widely read and
thoughtfully discussed."--JAMES L. FORD in The _New York
Herald_.
"A rare volume: it has inspiration for the doubter, the man who fears
he cannot strike out for himself."--_Boston Advertiser._
"You have done more good in publishing _One Way Out_ than you will ever
know," writes Dr. A. E. WINSHIP, editor of the _Journal of
Education_. "Will not some of the noble rich buy a million copies and
see that they are given to those who need them?"
"An engrossing, because a vitally human, story."--J. B.
KERFOOT, in _Life_.
"A great adventure that has most gripping appeal."--_New York Times._
"A very genuine inspiration."--_Outlook._
"There are some fine suggestions, much food for thought, and a dramatic
story in the evolution of the theme."--_Literary Digest._
"A book worth forty novels."--WILLIAM MARION REEDY in the _St.
Louis Mirror_.
SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY
Publishers, Boston
* * * * *
"A novel which deserves serious attention as an important contribution
to modern American fiction."--Nation.
THE GARDEN OF THE SUN
A Story of Army Life in the Philippines
By CAPTAIN T. J. POWERS, U. S. A.
Illustrated. $1.25 net; by mail, $1.37
The _Nation_ says of _The Garden of the Sun_:
"Two things distinguish this story from the general run of military
novels. One is the vivacity of the dialogue, the other is the beauty of
its descriptive passages. Not that it is lacking in action--there is
battle, murder, and sudden death enough to stir the most jaded reader
of romance.
"The scene is laid in the Philippine Islands and the important male
characters, with one exception, are officers of the American army. This
exception is Tom Bennett, a rich _roué_, who is touring the world in
his yacht with his unhappy young wife and her sister. Bennett and his
party are attacked by Moro pirates in the Sulu Sea and rescued by Capt
Ballard and his men. Later they visit the island of Jolo, where Capt
Ballard is stationed. Between him and Barbara, Bennett's wife, a strong
friendship arises which develops into love. The story of the relations
of these two attractive and well-drawn characters is varied by clever
pictures of the island life, of dances, of flirtations, of drinking
bouts, and of skirmishes with hostile natives.
"Many real and interesting types are introduced, among them a wandering
dancing girl, who calls herself La Belle Syria, but is, in spirit and
in language, redolent of New York's gay irresponsibility. She uses
expressive slang and is a charming, amusing creature. But her place
in the novel is not solely that of the comic relief. She is partly
responsible for the drunken brawl in which Bennett receives the wound
which causes partial paralysis. His helpless condition brings back his
wife, who had resolved to leave him.
"But the story does not end here. New complications ensue, in which
both Bennett and Ballard are severely tested and from which they emerge
heroically. The final chapters of the book, containing a strong and
unexpected dénouement, are admirable pieces of dramatic writing. They
form a fitting climax to a novel which deserves serious attention as an
important contribution to modern American fiction.
"Capt Powers should be given especial credit for his resistance to
two temptations. In the first place, although writing of Anglo-Saxon
soldiers residing among Orientals, he keeps absolutely clear of the
Kiplingesque. In the second place, he describes tropical nature without
the sensuous extravagance beloved of Robert Hichens."
SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY
Publishers, Boston
* * * * *
Transcriber's Note: The following typographical errors present in the
original edition have been corrected.
In Chapter III, "As you will, _Marie-Antoniette_!" was changed to "As
you will, _Marie-Antoinette_!", and "Belle-Helène who keeps the Harp
tavern" was changed to "Belle-Hélène who keeps the Harp tavern".
In Chapter V, "The explantion of its absence" was changed to "The
explanation of its absence".
In Chapter VI, "Monsieur de Traineuse" was changed to "Monsieur de
Traneuse".
In Chapter VII, "these villianous reformatories" was changed to "these
villainous reformatories", and a missing quotation mark was added
before "He took it from a wax mask".
In Chapter X, a missing period was added after "he fancied he heard
voices on the staircase".
In Chapter XV, "spread over it as smoothly, as the edge of the rising
tide" was changed to "spread over it as smoothly as the edge of the
rising tide".
In the advertisement for _The Loser Pays_, "Marsellaise" was changed to
"Marseillaise".
End of Project Gutenberg's The Man With the Black Feather, by Gaston Leroux