"I shall have you arrested, unhappy man!" said he, summoning all his energy.
"Do," said Dixmer; "and the next moment I will denounce you as an accomplice, and instead of leaving me to go alone to the famous hall, you shall accompany me."
The registrar turned ghastly pale.
"Villain!" said he.
"There is no villany in that," said Dixmer; "I wish to speak to my wife, and all I require of you is a pass to enable me to do so."
"Is it then so imperative that you should speak to her?"
"It seems so, since I risk my head to do so."
This appeared very plausible to the registrar, and Dixmer immediately perceived that he was relenting.
"Rest assured," said he, "no one shall know anything. The devil! why surely sometimes a similar case to mine must present itself to your notice!"
"Very rarely; it is by no means a common occurrence. But, let me see; let us arrange it in another way."
"If it is possible, I should ask nothing better."
"Nothing is more possible. Enter by the door of the condemned; there a card is not required. Then, whenyou have spoken to your wife, call me, and I will let you out."
"Not a bad idea," said Dixmer; "but unfortunately there is a story current in the city."
"What story?"
"The history of a poor hunchback who mistook the door, thinking to enter the archives, but instead of so doing found himself in the hall of which we are now speaking. Only since he had entered by the door of the condemned instead of the large door, as he had no pass to prove his identity, once there he was not permitted to go out. They strenuously maintained that since he entered the door with the other condemned, he was condemned likewise. In vain he protested, swore, appealed; no one believed him, no one came to his assistance, no one helped him to get out. So that, notwithstanding his protestations, his oaths, and supplications, the executioner first cut off his hair, and afterward his head. Is this anecdote true, Citizen Registrar! You ought to know better than any one else."
"Alas! yes; it is too true," said the registrar, trembling.
"You must see then that with such a precedent I should be a fool to enter this cut-throat place without a pass."
"But I shall be there, I tell you."
"But if you should happen to be called away; if you should be otherwise engaged; if you should forget!"
Dixmer laid particular stress on these last words, "if you should forget."
"But since I promise you—"
"No; besides it would compromise you. They would see you speaking to me; and, in short, it does not suit me. I therefore prefer a pass."
"Impossible!"
"Then, dear sir, I will speak; and we shall both take a ride together to the Place de la Révolution."
The registrar, bewildered, stupefied, half-dead with terror, signed a pass for a "citizen."
Dixmer rose and went out precipitately to take his station in the judgment-hall, where we have already seen him. The rest is known to us.
At the same moment the registrar, to avoid all accusation of connivance, went and seated himself near Fouquier Tinville, leaving the management of the office to his head clerk.
At ten minutes to three, Maurice, furnished with the pass, crossing a hedge of turnkeys and gendarmes, arrived without interruption at the fatal door.
When we say fatal, we exaggerate, for there were two doors,—the principal one by which those possessing passes entered and returned; and the door of the condemned, by which no one departed except to the scaffold.
The place that Maurice entered was divided into two compartments. One of these was set apart for those employed in registering the name of the arrivals; the other, furnished only with wooden benches, was appropriated for the reception of those who were arrested and those who were condemned, which amounted to pretty nearly the same thing.
The hall was very dark, lighted only from the panes of the partition which divided it from the register-office.
A female dressed in white, in a half-fainting attitude, lay in a corner, supported against the wall.
A man was standing in front of her, from time to time shaking his head. His arms were crossed upon his breast, and he hesitated to speak to her, as if fearful of restoring her to the consciousness she appeared to have lost.
Around these two individuals several condemned persons were scattered promiscuously,—some giving vent to their feelings in sobs and groans, others joining in patriotic songs, while the remainder walked rapidly up and down, as if to chase away the thoughts which devoured them.
This was indeed the antechamber of death, and the furniture rendered it worthy of the name. Here were seen half-opened coffins filled with straw, seeming as if to invite the living to their beds of repose, the receptacles provided for the ashes of the dead.
There was a large closet opposite the partition. A prisoner, prompted by curiosity, opened it, but recoiled horror-struck. It contained the blood-stained garments of those executed on the preceding evening; long tresses of hair hanging here and there, the executioner's perquisites, who sold them to the relatives when not enjoined by the authorities to burn these precious relics.
Maurice, trembling with emotion, had hardly opened the door, when the whole tableau at once presented itself to his view. He advanced three steps into the hall, and fell at Geneviève's feet. The unfortunate woman uttered a cry, which Maurice stifled on her lips.
Lorin, weeping, pressed his friend in his arms; these were the first tears he had shed.
Strange that all these unhappy individuals, assembled to die together, scarcely looked at the touching tableau presented to their view by their unfortunate fellow-creatures! Every one suffered too much himself to take part in the miseries of others.
The three friends remained for a moment united in a silent embrace, happy, almost joyous. Lorin was the first of the ill-fated group to disengage himself.
"Are you, then, condemned also?" said he to Maurice.
"Yes," replied he.
"Oh, happiness!" murmured Geneviève.
But the joy of those who have only one hour to live cannot last even as long as their lives. Maurice, having contemplated Geneviève with looks of ardent and profound affection, and having thanked her for the expression, at once so egotistical and so tender, which had just escaped her, turned toward Lorin.
"Now," said he, taking Geneviève's hands within his own, "let us talk together."
"Yes," said Lorin; "let us converse while the time remains to us. It is only right so to do. What do you wish to say to me, Maurice?"
"You have been arrested for my sake, condemned on account of her. As for Geneviève and me, we are paying our debt; it is not fair, at the same time, that you should be made to pay also."
"I do not understand you."
"Lorin, you are free."
"I free? You are mad!" said Lorin.
"No, I am not mad; I repeat that you are free. See, here is a pass. They will inquire who you are; you are employed at the registrar-office of the Carmelites, and are going to speak to the registrar of the Palace; you have, from motives of curiosity, requested a pass from him to see the condemned; you have seen them, and are now leaving, perfectly satisfied with your visit."
"This is a joke, is it not?"
"No, indeed, my friend; here is the pass, take advantage of it. You are not a lover, like myself; you do not need to die that you may be enabled to pass a few more minutes in the society of the well-beloved of your heart, and not to lose a second of eternity with her."
"But, Maurice," replied Lorin, "if one might be ableto get out from here—a circumstance I swear to you I could not have believed possible—why do you not first save the lady? As to yourself, we will consider afterward about that."
"Impossible!" said Maurice, with a frightful oppression at his heart, "this card is for a man, not for a lady; besides, Geneviève would not depart, and leave me here, to live herself, while knowing that I remained to die."
"If she would not, then why should I? Do you imagine I possess less courage than a woman?"
"No, dear friend; I know and acknowledge your bravery, but nothing can excuse your obstinacy in this case. Then profit by this moment, and allow us the supreme felicity of knowing and feeling that you are free and happy."
"Happy!" exclaimed Lorin; "you are facetious, surely? Happy without you, eh? What the devil am I to do in this world without you; in Paris, without my usual avocations? Never to see you again, never to weary you more with my doggerel rhymes,—ah, good faith, no!"
"Lorin, my friend—"
"Exactly; it is because I am your friend that I persist in my opinion. With the prospect of recovering you both, were I a prisoner as I now am, I would tear down the walls; but to save myself, and go out from here alone into the streets, my head bowed down with a feeling resembling remorse, and a continual cry in my ears: 'Maurice!—Geneviève!' To pass into certain quarters and before certain houses where I have seen your persons, but shall now only recognize your shadows; to come at last to such an extremity of despair as to execrate this dear Paris that I have loved so well; ah, by my faith,no! And I find there was good reason for proscribing kings, were it only on account of King Dagobert."
"And what relation has King Dagobert with what concerns us?"
"What? Did not this frightful tyrant say to the great Éloi, 'The best company must part?' Ah, well! I am a Republican, and I say that nothing should make us quit good company, not even the guillotine; I feel very comfortable here, and here I will remain."
"My poor friend! my poor friend!" said Maurice.
Geneviève said nothing, but looked at them with eyes bathed in tears.
"You regret to lose your life, then?" said Lorin.
"Yes, on her account."
"I am not in the least sorry at losing mine, not even on account of the Goddess Reason, who, I had forgotten to tell you, has latterly behaved most shamefully to me; who will not take the trouble even to console herself, like the other Arthémise of old. I shall go to my death perfectly cool and rather facetious. I will amuse all the beggarly wretches who follow the car. I will repeat a pretty quatrain to Monsieur Sanson, and wish the company good-night,—that is to say—wait!—" Lorin interrupted himself. "Ah! to be sure," said he, "I will go out. I well knew that I loved no one, but I forgot that I hated some one. The time, Maurice, the time?"
"Half-past three."
"I have time, Heaven! there is time."
"Certainly," cried Maurice; "there are nine more accused persons still to be tried, this will not terminate before five o'clock; we have therefore nearly two hours' respite."
"That is all that I require; give me your pass, and lend me twenty sous."
"Mon Dieu!what are you going to do?" murmured Geneviève. Maurice pressed his hand. The all-important thing for him was that Lorin was going out.
"I have my own plan," said Lorin.
Maurice drew his purse from his pocket, and placed it in his friend's hand.
"Now, the pass, for the love of God!—I ought to say for the love of the Supreme Being."
Maurice gave him the pass.
Lorin kissed Geneviève's hand, and availing himself of the moment when a fresh batch of the condemned were ushered in, he leaped the benches, and presented himself before the principal entrance.
"Eh!" said the gendarme, "here is one, it appears to me, trying to escape."
Lorin drew himself up and presented his pass.
"Hold, Citizen Gendarme," said he, "and learn to know people better."
The gendarme recognized the signature of the registrar, but belonging to a class of functionaries rather wanting in confidence, and as at this moment the registrar himself came down from the Tribunal with a nervous shudder, which had not left him since he had so imprudently hazarded his signature,—
"Citizen Registrar," said he, "here is a pass bearing your signature, with which this person wishes to leave the Salle des Morts, is it all right?"
The registrar turned pale with fright, and feeling convinced that if he turned his eyes in that direction it would only be to encounter the terrible look of Dixmer, hastily seized the card and replied,—
"Yes, yes; it is my signature."
"Then," cried Lorin, "if it is your signature, return it to me."
"No;" said the registrar, tearing it into a thousand pieces; "these cards can be available only once."
Lorin remained for a moment irresolute.
"So much the worse," said he; "but above all things it is necessary I should kill him;" and he passed through the office.
Maurice had followed Lorin with an emotion easy to comprehend. When he had disappeared, Maurice returned, saying with an exultation nearly amounting to joy, "He is saved! Geneviève; the card is destroyed, therefore he cannot enter. Besides, even if he were able to gain admission, the sitting of the Tribunal will have terminated. At five o'clock, he will return; but we shall have ceased to live."
Geneviève shuddered, and breathed a deep sigh.
"Oh, press me in your arms," said she, "and let us separate no more! Why is it not possible, oh, my God! for one blow to annihilate us both, that together we might breathe our last sigh?"
Then retiring into the depth of the gloomy hall, Geneviève placed herself near Maurice, and twined her arms round his neck. Thus they remained, rendered by the strength of their love insensible to the surrounding scene, almost to the approach of death itself.
Half an hour passed thus.
CHAPTER LV.
WHY LORIN WENT OUT.
Suddenlya loud noise was heard; the gendarmes entered by the lower door, behind them appearing Sanson and his assistants, the latter carrying rolls of cord.
"Oh, my love!" said Geneviève, "the fatal moment has arrived, and I feel that my senses are leaving me!"
"There you are wrong," said the cheering voice of Lorin.
"That you are wrong is plain, you see;For what is death but to be free?"
"Lorin!" cried Maurice, in despair.
"They are not good, are they? I have adopted your opinion since yesterday; I can only make contemptible—"
"Ah! that is the question. You are returned, unhappy man, you are returned!"
"I considered that was our agreement. But listen, as what I have to say to you will also interest the lady."
"My God! my God!"
"Allow me to speak, or I shall not have time to tell you all. I wished to go out that I might purchase a knife in the Rue de la Baullerie."
"What did you want with a knife?"
"I wished to despatch this nice Monsieur Dixmer."
Geneviève shuddered.
"Ah!" said Maurice, "I comprehend."
"I purchased it. Listen attentively to what I said to myself, and you will understand your friend has a mindfor logic; indeed, I begin to think I should have been a mathematician instead of a poet. Unfortunately, it is now too late. This is the way I reasoned: Monsieur Dixmer has compromised his wife; Monsieur Dixmer was present at her trial; and Monsieur Dixmer will not deprive himself of the pleasure of seeing her pass in the fatal car; especially as we accompany her. I will then look out for him among the foremost of the spectators. I will glide near him, and say, 'Good-day, Monsieur Dixmer;' and I will plunge my knife into his heart."
"Lorin!" cried Geneviève.
"Compose yourself, dear friend; Providence had arranged all. Picture to yourselves the spectators, instead of remaining stationary in front of the Palace, according to their usual custom, made a half-turn to the right, and lined the quay. 'Oh!' said I to myself, 'it is doubtless a dog drowned. Why should not Dixmer be there? Even a dog drowning will serve to pass away the time.' I approached the parapet, and beheld all along the high bank a crowd of people who, throwing their arms aloft into the air, and uttering loud exclamations, stooped down to gaze at something on the ground. I joined them, and also looked down. There was something!—Guess what it was."
"Dixmer!" said Maurice, in a gloomy tone.
"Yes. How could you guess that? Yes; it was Dixmer, killed by a ghastly wound. The unfortunate wretch had no doubt committed suicide in expiation of his guilt."
"Ah," said Maurice, with a sad smile, "do you think so?"
Geneviève let her head droop between her hands. She was too feeble to support these successive emotions.
"Yes; I thought so, from his blood-stained swordbeing found near him; unless, indeed—he had met some one."
Maurice, without reply, availing himself of the moment when Geneviève, overpowered by emotion, did not observe him, opened his coat and displayed to Lorin his waistcoat and shirt stained with blood.
"Ah! that alters the case," said Lorin, as he held out his hand to Maurice. "Now," said he, whispering in his ear, "they have not searched me, seeing that I entered in Sanson's suite. I have still the knife, if the guillotine is too revolting to your feelings."
Maurice seized the weapon with a joyful expression.
"No," said he, "she would suffer too much," and he returned the knife to Lorin.
"You are right," said Lorin; "long live Monsieur Guillotine! Why, what is it, after all? A fillip on the neck, according to Danton. And what signifies a fillip?"
And he flung his knife in the midst of a group of the condemned, one of whom immediately seized and buried it in his breast. He was dead in an instant.
At the same moment Geneviève awoke, and uttered a piercing cry. She felt the pressure of the executioner's hand upon her shoulder.
CHAPTER LVI.
LONG LIVE SIMON!
Atthe sound of this cry Maurice understood that the struggle was about to commence. The influence of love may be able to exalt the soul to heroism,—it may, against natural instinct, impel a human being to desire death, but it had not in this instance extinguished the repugnance to pain. It was evident that Geneviève resigned herself the more patiently to death since Maurice was to die with her; but resignation does not exclude suffering, and to quit this world is not only to fall into the abyss termed unknown, but also to suffer in the descent.
Maurice, at a glance, embraced the entire scene, and thought of what would follow.
In the centre of the hall lay the suicide, from whose breast the gendarme had just torn the weapon of destruction, fearing, probably, it might be used by some of the others.
Around him were several individuals mute with despair and scarcely heeding him, inscribing in their pocket-books some disconnected words, or pressing one another's hands; some repeating, without any intermission, a cherished name, or bathing with tears a portrait, a ring, or tress of hair; some venting imprecations against tyranny, a state of affairs cursed by all, ay sometimes even by the tyrants themselves. In the midst of these unfortunates, Sanson, oppressed less from his fifty years than his melancholy office,—Sanson, as mild, and as much their consoler as his terrible vocation permitted him to be, to this one offered advice, to that one some sad consolation or encouragement, finding some Christian responses to their accents of despair as well as to their bravado.
"Citizeness," said he to Geneviève, "I must remove your scarf, and cut off your hair, if you please."
Geneviève began to tremble.
"Come, dear lady," said Lorin, softly, "take courage!"
"May I remove the lady's hair?" asked Maurice.
"Oh, yes," cried Geneviève; "I entreat you to permit him to do so, Monsieur Sanson."
"He may," said the old man, turning away his head.
Maurice first took off his necktie, and Geneviève, stooping, fell on her knees before the young man, presenting her charming head, appearing more beautiful in her grief than she had ever been in her days of sunshine and happiness.
When Maurice had completed the funereal operation, his hands were so tremulous and his countenance betrayed so much grief that Geneviève exclaimed,—
"Ah! I am courageous, Maurice."
Sanson turned round.
"Is it not so, sir?" said Geneviève; "am I not courageous?"
"Certainly, Citizen," replied the executioner, in a perturbed voice, "for yours is true courage."
In the mean time the first assistant had glanced over the list forwarded by Fouquier Tinville.
"Fourteen," said he.
Sanson counted the condemned.
"Fifteen, including the dead," said he; "why, how is this?"
Lorin and Geneviève counted after him, both struck by the same thought.
"You say there are only fourteen condemned, and that we are fifteen?" said she.
"Yes; the Citizen Fouquier Tinville must have made a mistake."
"Ah! you spoke falsely, then," said Geneviève, turning to Maurice; "you were not condemned."
"And why wait for to-morrow, when you die to-day?" said Maurice.
"My love," said she, smiling, "you reassure me; I am now convinced that it is easy to die."
"Lorin," said Maurice, "now for the last time—no one here can recognize you—say that you came to bid me adieu; say that you have been shut in by mistake; call the gendarme who saw you go out. I am the true criminal who ought to die. But you, my friend, we beseech you to live to love our memory. There is yet time, Lorin; we entreat you!"
Geneviève joined her hands in an attitude of prayer. Lorin took both her hands and kissed them.
"I have said no, and I mean no," said Lorin, in a firm voice; "say no more on the subject, or I shall think I am a bore to you."
"Fourteen," repeated Sanson, "and here are fifteen;" then elevating his voice, "Is there any one here who can protest against this?" said he; "is there any one here who can prove he is here by mistake?"
Perhaps some lips half-opened at this question, but closed again without uttering a single word; since those who felt inclined to lie were ashamed to do so, and those who would not lie were determined not to speak.
A silence of several minutes ensued, during which the assistants continued their mournful office.
"Citizens, we are ready," said old Sanson, in his deep and solemn voice. He was answered only by sobs and groans.
"Well!" said Lorin, "so be it!
No death is nobler, none more high,Than for our native land to die.
Yes, to die for our native land; but decidedly I begin to think we do not die for her, but for the pleasure of those who witness our deaths. Faith! Maurice, I have adopted your opinion. I am disgusted with the Republic!"
"The call!" said a commissary, at the door.
Several gendarmes entered the hall, closing up the issues, thus placing themselves between life and the condemned, as if to prevent them from returning to it.
The death-roll was called.
Maurice, who had witnessed the trial of the condemned man who had destroyed himself, when his name was called answered in his stead. They then found that, excepting the dead man, the number was correct.
The corpse was removed from the hall; but if the man's identity had been established, and he had been recognized as one condemned, he would have been guillotined with the rest, though already dead.
The survivors were pushed toward the outlet, in order that as each passed before the wicket his hands might be tied behind his back. For the space of ten minutes not a word was exchanged between these unfortunates; the executioners alone seemed endowed with life or motion.
Maurice, Geneviève, and Lorin, not being any longer able to retain their hold of each other, crowded together that they might not be separated.
When the condemned were removed from the Conciergerie into the court, the scene became truly appalling. Several grew faint at the sight of the carts, and the turnkeys were compelled to assist them to mount the steps of these vehicles of death. Behind the still closed doorswas heard the confused murmur of the crowd; and it might be inferred from the sound that the concourse was immense.
Geneviève courageously ascended the car; Maurice at her side sustained her; he sprang in rapidly after her.
Lorin did not hurry himself, but carefully selected his seat at the left of Maurice.
The doors opened, and foremost in the crowd stood Simon. The two friends immediately recognized him; indeed, the recognition was mutual. He was standing upon a fence near which the cars must pass, for there were three of them. The car containing our three friends moved first.
"Ah! good-day to you, my brave grenadier!" said Simon to Lorin; "you are going to try the effect of my leather-cutting machine, I suppose?"
"Yes," said Lorin; "and I will be careful not to notch it, that it may be ready when your turn comes."
The two remaining cars followed the direction of the first. And now commenced a terrific tempest of cries, shouts, groans, and maledictions, surrounding and following the condemned.
"Courage! Geneviève, take courage!" murmured Maurice.
"Oh!" replied the young woman, "I do not wish for life since I die with you. I regret only that my hands are tied, so that I cannot embrace you before I die."
"Lorin," said Maurice, "feel in my waistcoat pocket, there you will find a knife."
"Zounds!" said Lorin, "a penknife is the very thing needed; I should be ashamed to die, garroted like a calf."
Maurice placed his pocket on a level with his friend's hands; Lorin found the knife, which between them theysucceeded in opening. Maurice then placed it between his teeth, and severed the cord which bound Lorin's hands, who, the moment they were free, performed the same office for Maurice.
"Make haste!" said the young man; "Geneviève is fainting."
In fact, to accomplish this operation Maurice had for a moment turned from Geneviève, when, as if all her strength had been derived from him, her eyes closed, and her head sank upon her breast.
"Geneviève, open your eyes, my love," said Maurice; "we have only a few minutes more to see each other in this world."
"The cords wound me," murmured the young woman.
Maurice unbound them. She immediately re-opened her eyes, and rose, radiant with almost celestial beauty. She threw one fair arm around Maurice's neck, and with the other hand took that of Lorin; and thus, all three standing in the cart, with two more victims lying at their feet wrapped in the stupor of anticipated death, they gazed toward heaven with a look of ardent gratitude for having been permitted to support and console each other, while those who had outraged and insulted them previously were now perfectly silent. The scaffold was in sight. Maurice and Lorin beheld it. Geneviève did not; she saw naught but her lover. The car stopped.
"I love thee!" said Maurice to Geneviève; "I love thee!"
"The woman first! the woman first!" shouted a thousand voices.
"Thanks, good people," said Maurice; "who then can call you cruel?"
He took Geneviève within his arms, pressed his lips fondly upon hers, and delivered her to Sanson.
"Courage!" cried Lorin; "courage!"
"I have it!" said Geneviève; "I have it!"
"I love thee!" murmured Maurice; "I love thee!"
They were no longer victims about to be slaughtered, but friends making a festival of death.
"Adieu!" cried Geneviève to Lorin.
"Farewell, till we meet again!" replied he.
And Geneviève disappeared under the fatal drop.
"After you," said Lorin.
"After you," replied Maurice.
"Hark! she calls you."
At this moment Geneviève uttered her last cry.
"Come!" said she.
A furious uproar took place in the crowd. The fair and graceful head had fallen.
Maurice rushed forward.
"It is exactly correct," said Lorin; "let us follow logic. Do you hear me, Maurice?"
"Yes."
"She loved you, and they have murdered her first; you are not condemned, and therefore die the second; and I, who have done nothing, being the greatest criminal of the three, die the last.
And thus you see how passing clearLogic makes everything appear.
Good faith! Citizen Sanson, I promised you a quatrain; but you must be content with a distich."
"I did love thee!" murmured Maurice, lying on the fatal plank, and smiling at the head of his beloved,—"I did lo—" The knife cut short the last word.
"Now for my turn!" cried Lorin, bounding on the scaffold, "and be quick, or I shall lose my head! CitizenSanson, I owe you two verses, instead of which I offer you a pun."
Sanson placed him in his turn.
"Let us see," said Lorin,—"it is the fashion to cry long live something, when dying. Once it was, 'Vive le Roi,' but now there is no king; next the cry was, 'Vive la Liberté,' but there is no more liberty. Faith, Long live Simon! say I, who unites us all three."
And the head of the generous and noble-hearted young man fell near those of Maurice and Geneviève.
THE END.
THE Romances of Alexandre Dumas.
ROMANCES OF THE REIGN OF HENRY II.
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A ROMANCE OF THE REIGN OF LOUIS XV.
Olympe de Clèves2 vols.
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⁂ Portions of this powerful romance have sometimes been issued separately under the titles of "Bragelonne," "Louise de la Vallière," and the "Iron Mask." All three stories are included in the above, unabridged, and according to the author's own arrangement.
In all 10 vols., put up in box.
THE MARIE ANTOINETTE ROMANCES.
Memoirs of a Physician3 volsThe Queen's Necklace2 "Ange Pitou2 "⁂ Sometimes called "Taking the Bastille."Comtesse de Charny4 "
⁂ Published according to the author's own arrangement. It has sometimes been issued as two separate stories, "Comtesse de Charny" and "Andrée de Taverney."
Chevalier de Maison-Rouge1 volIn all 12 vols, put up in box.The Count of Monte Cristo4 volsWith illustrations by Edmund H. Garrett. Put up in box.
ROMANCES OF THE COURT OF HENRY II.
The Two Dianas3 "The Page of the Duke of Savoy2 "
THE REGENCY ROMANCES.
The Chevalier D'Harmental1 vol.⁂ Sometimes called "The Conspirators."The Regent's Daughter1 "
HISTORICAL ROMANCES.
The Black Tulip1 vol.(Scene, Holland: Time, 1672.)Olympe de Clèves2 vols.(Reign of Louis XV.)
The above ten volumes put up in box under the title of "Historical and Regency Romances."
THE NAPOLEON ROMANCES.
The Companions of Jehu2 vols.The Whites and the Blues2 "⁂ This story has also been issued under the title of "The First Republic."The She-Wolves of Machecoul}The Corsican Brothers} 2 vols.⁂ "The She-Wolves of Machecoul" has also been issued under the titleof "The Last Vendée."
The set of six volumes put up in box, with twenty-four illustrations, including historical portraits and original pictures by E. Van Muyden, Felix Oudart, E.H. Garrett, and F.T. Merrill.
THE ROMANCES OF DUMAS.—NEW SERIES.
Ascanio2 vols.The War of Women2 "
⁂ "Ascanio" is a romance of the time of Francis the First and Benvenuto Cellini. "The War of Women" deals with events in the War of the Fronde, and the scene of the romance is Bordeaux.
Black, the Story of a Dog1 vol.
⁂ In "Black," the author chose a new field and a new theme. It may well rank among his best works, although, strictly speaking, not an historical romance.
Tales of the Caucasus, comprising "The Ball of Snow" and"Sultanetta" 1 vol.
⁂ The scenes and characters are as vividly Oriental as those of his historical novels are French.
The above six volumes, put up in a box, with six frontispieces by E. Van Muyden and Eugène Grivaz.
Any of the above romances can be supplied separately.
HUGO.The Romances of Victor Hugo.With 28 portraits and plates by French artists. 14 vols. 12mo. Per volume, decorated cloth, gilt top, $1.50; plain cloth, gilt top $1.25; half calf or half morocco, extra, gilt top, $3.00.
HUGO.The Romances of Victor Hugo.With 28 portraits and plates by French artists. 14 vols. 12mo. Per volume, decorated cloth, gilt top, $1.50; plain cloth, gilt top $1.25; half calf or half morocco, extra, gilt top, $3.00.
In preparing this new and very handsome edition of Hugo's Romances no expense has been spared that would produce a really beautiful set of Hugo's world-famous worksin type which it is a pleasure to read, and in volumes which can easily and comfortably be held in the hand. Important chapters and passages omitted in other editions are included.
LIST OF STORIES.
Les Miserables 5 vols.Notre-Dame 2 "Ninety-Three 1 vol.The Man Who Laughs 2 vols.Toilers of the Sea 2 "Hans of Iceland 1 vol.Bug-Jargal; Claude Gueux }The Last Day of a Condemned } 1 "
Any Story sold separately.
BULWER.The Novels of Edward Bulwer Lytton(Lord Lytton). With 40 frontispieces, by Edmund H. Garrett, etched by W.H.W. Bicknell. 40 vols. 12mo. Per volume, decorated cloth, gilt top, $1.50; plain cloth, gilt top, $1.25; half calf or half morocco, extra, gilt top, $3.00.
BULWER.The Novels of Edward Bulwer Lytton(Lord Lytton). With 40 frontispieces, by Edmund H. Garrett, etched by W.H.W. Bicknell. 40 vols. 12mo. Per volume, decorated cloth, gilt top, $1.50; plain cloth, gilt top, $1.25; half calf or half morocco, extra, gilt top, $3.00.
Special Advantages of this Edition.
The volumes are ofconvenient size, easy to hold in the hand.
The type, made expressly for this edition, is clear and beautiful.
The paper is of extra quality, affording an important adjunct to the printers' careful and beautiful work, the type being set and the volumes printed at the University Press, Cambridge.
The exquisite frontispieces are etched in the finest manner fromdrawings made especially for this edition by Edmund H. Garrett.
The whole combines to producea perfect library edition, complete in forty volumes, at a very moderate price.
LIST OF THE VOLUMES.
THE CAXTON NOVELS.
The Caxtons2 vols.My Novel4 "What will he do with It?3 "
NOVELS OF LIFE AND MANNERS.
Pelham}Falkland} 2 vols.The Disowned2 "Paul Clifford2 "Godolphin1 vol.Ernest Maltravers1 "Alice1 "Night and Morning2 vols.Lucretia1 vol.Kenelm Chillingly}The Coming Race} 2 vols.The Parisians2 "
ROMANCES.
Eugene Aram1 vol.The Pilgrims of the Rhine}Zicci} 1 "Zanoni1 "A Strange Story}The Haunted and the Haunters} 2 vols.
HISTORICAL ROMANCES.
Devereux2 vols.The Last Days of Pompeii1 vol.Rienzi, the Last of the Roman Tribunes2 vols.The Last of the Barons2 "Leila and Calderon}Pausanias, the Spartan} 1 vol.Harold, the Last of the Saxon Kings2 vols.
Any Story can be supplied separately.
WARREN.Ten Thousand a Year.By Samuel Warren. With a Portrait of the author, beautifully etched by F.T. Stuart. 3 vols. 12mo. Decorated cloth, gilt top, $4.50; plain cloth, gilt top, $3.75; half calf or half morocco, extra, gilt top, $9.00.
WARREN.Ten Thousand a Year.By Samuel Warren. With a Portrait of the author, beautifully etched by F.T. Stuart. 3 vols. 12mo. Decorated cloth, gilt top, $4.50; plain cloth, gilt top, $3.75; half calf or half morocco, extra, gilt top, $9.00.
A new and choicely printed edition of this celebrated English novel, including the author's valuable notes.
The story has always been deservedly popular, has been widely read for nearly fifty years in England and America, and translated in France and Germany; the present edition, in clear, readable type, with choice presswork and paper, has been accepted as the only adequate library edition.
GEORGE SAND.The Choice Works of the Great French Novelist.1.François the Waif(François le Champi). Translated from the French byJane Minot Sedgwick. Printed at the De Vinne Press. With a frontispiece especially drawn and etched for this edition by the eminent French artist, E. Abot.2.The Devil's Pool(La Mare au Diable). Translated from the French byJane Minot SedgwickandEllery Sedgwick. Printed at the De Vinne Press. With frontispiece drawn and etched by E. Abot.3.Fadette(La Petite Fadette). Translated from the French byJane Minot Sedgwick. Printed at the De Vinne Press. With frontispiece, embodying an original design and a portrait of George Sand, drawn and etched by E. Abot.4.The Master Mosaic Workers(Les Maîtres Mosaïstes). Translated from the French byCharlotte C. Johnston. Printed at the University Press. With a portrait of Titian, etched by W.H.W. Bicknell.
GEORGE SAND.The Choice Works of the Great French Novelist.
1.François the Waif(François le Champi). Translated from the French byJane Minot Sedgwick. Printed at the De Vinne Press. With a frontispiece especially drawn and etched for this edition by the eminent French artist, E. Abot.
2.The Devil's Pool(La Mare au Diable). Translated from the French byJane Minot SedgwickandEllery Sedgwick. Printed at the De Vinne Press. With frontispiece drawn and etched by E. Abot.
3.Fadette(La Petite Fadette). Translated from the French byJane Minot Sedgwick. Printed at the De Vinne Press. With frontispiece, embodying an original design and a portrait of George Sand, drawn and etched by E. Abot.
4.The Master Mosaic Workers(Les Maîtres Mosaïstes). Translated from the French byCharlotte C. Johnston. Printed at the University Press. With a portrait of Titian, etched by W.H.W. Bicknell.
Limited Edition.Seven hundred and fifty numbered sets on Windsor hand-made paper. 4 vols. 16mo. Boards, gilt top, $6.00net.
The noblest mind of our epoch.—Edmond About.Studies of rustic life, of which "La Petite Fadette," "François le Champi," and "La Mare au Diable" are the chief, and which some of her admirers regard as her greatest works.—George Saintsbury, in Chambers's Cyclopædia.
The noblest mind of our epoch.—Edmond About.
Studies of rustic life, of which "La Petite Fadette," "François le Champi," and "La Mare au Diable" are the chief, and which some of her admirers regard as her greatest works.—George Saintsbury, in Chambers's Cyclopædia.
LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY, Publishers,254 Washington Street, Boston.