Chapter XXXV: The Sun Rises on the Year

A brilliant house again, a brilliant crowd, the eve of the New Year, the death-bed of the Old. Just three hours more to wait.

But as Rosalie drove along, it was as if depression and the highest spirits fought one another for the mastery.

“The effects of wearing fine clothing,” said she, and laughed and sighed in a breath. “There is magic in these jewels, I feel certain. Oh! if I could but wear again my own precious moonstone talisman against all heaviness, instead of all this finery, that does its best to cramp my spirits, and half succeeds.”

On entering, she was almost immediately joined by Mr. Barringcourt. Never had he looked to Rosalie as to-night, never perhaps she to him. With a scrutiny which had become habitual, they eyed each other, and at last Rosalie said:

“Do you not think I was right in being covetous of such a lovely gown?”

“And the jewels?”

“Oh, they were an extra thrown in. I’d much rather have been without them. You should be kind, not lavish, Mr. Barringcourt. After an hour’s wearing they begin to assert their individuality and weight.”

“And at first you felt them light?”

“Being alive to their beauty, I was dead to their encumbrance.” And then again, this time seriously, she said: “But in truth I must acknowledge, perhaps, their weight cannot be very great, for I have the greatest wish to dance through every dance, and look to you to find me partners. I am not really altered because I stole behind the temple curtain; for one night it might be forgotten.”

“The first dance is with me, and the last one.”

“Oh, no! I am in a mood of ingratitude to-night. I cannot for the favour of this dress, and all its valuable accessories, even say ‘Thank you.’ Find me a partner for the dance that’s just beginning. No one has come near me since I came.”

“The first dance is with me.”

“Indeed, no. I’m entering on a life of self-denial. As soon as I want to do a thing I shall cross myself and do the opposite. What chance shall I stand of heaven, do you think, at that rate?”

“You’ll never get there. Be guided by me, and be less contrary.”

“It goes very much against the grain for me to dance with you. Must I be consistent, or must I be contrary?”

“Become impersonal, and leave the decision with me.”

“You are too selfish to be altogether trusted.”

“I? Selfish?”

“Yes. I want to dance, and here you keep me talking. I want to study men and form comparisons.”

“You can’t in a place like this. On these occasions they’re all more or less alike.”

“And on all others. The similarity of humanity is nerve-destroying.”

“A very pleasant state of things. None but a fool would wish it otherwise. But if you wish to dance you shall have partners in sufficiency. I’ll say you’re quite harmless to-night.”

“Say no such thing. Mariana tells me she was once bitten by a snake, and so was I. Since then I’ve had the greatest inclination to bite everyone who comes near me. She took it badly; I, by God’s help, was enabled to take it well.”

“What particular snake was it that bit you?”

“I think it must have been the God of Lucifram.”

Then he left her and went away, and through the evening Rosalie danced, seemingly happy, on to that hour when the Old Year and the New meet and part again.

Then she sought Mr. Barringcourt, and found him, not amongst his guests, but in that now deserted drawing-room where once Mariana had played for her. He was looking out on to the gas-lit streets, and the window being open, the cold night air blew into the room. The lights in it were shining fully, yet the city without was plainly visible.

“You have left the crowd?” said she.

“Yes,” he answered. “They can amuse themselves. You look tired.”

She laughed, an apology for deeper feeling, and looked at him with eyes whose tiredness was lost in a certain appeal and pathetic beauty, that characterised them long since in the days of silence.

“I think I overrated my powers of—of endurance. I—I should be very pleased to give the last dance to you. I left it empty.”

But he shook his head.

“I have not danced all evening; I do not wish to make myself conspicuous now.”

“We could sit it out.”

“We might; but I am contrary.”

Then Rosalie went up to him and put her hand very gently in his arm, and almost whispered:

“I have a feeling of insecurity that grows with almost every hour. It may be childish, but I never professed to be much different from a child. When I stay with you it leaves me more or less, and always has done from the very first I met you. And now Brightcoat has left me, and I feel quite alone, a thing hardly enviable in any sphere. And I’ve gone through the evening as best I could, and tried to get the better of my weakness.” And then she laughed and drew her hand away, and said: “If such confessions are unusual, you only have this dress to thank for it. The jewels have magnetic power, and draw me to the owner.”

At this he turned round from the window and looked at her, and a very curious smile curved on his lips.

“That’s your solution, is it?” he said, and scratched his head thoughtfully with one finger. Then he added: “My mother said I was to thank you for the stone you sent her.”

“Was she well?”

“Yes. At the first stroke after midnight I go again to her. These guests will then have all departed.”

“I, too.”

“You say that sadly.”

“The magnetism of the stone I sent her draws me to your mother.”

Just then Everard entered the room, carrying in his hand a large sealed envelope addressed to Rosalie. At the back it was sealed with the image of the Serpent.

“You, Everard?” said Mr. Barringcourt, with some surprise.

“I heard the door bell ring, and knew it was no ordinary guest of the evening.”

She took and opened it. A summons to appear before the High Priest’s court, and on the morrow morning, this first day of the New Year.

She read it through, half mystified, the truth with some difficulty dawning upon her. Then on a sudden she handed it to Mr. Barringcourt, her face as white as the background of her dress, and he in his turn read it. Then he turned to Everard and said:

“Who brought this?”

“A priest who, with his companion, waits outside. I did not let them in.”

Master and man looked at one another, the same grim smile half visible upon each face. Then Mr. Barringcourt took out his watch and looked at it.

“It wants still twenty minutes till the dance is ended. It is barely twenty minutes after twelve. Are they impatient of delay?”

“I did not ask them.”

“We’ll go upon the supposition that they’re patient.” Then turning to Rosalie, he continued: “There was a time you told me that you scorned to run away, and never had done. Afterwards, upon much less occasion, you trusted to the fleetness of your feet. And now? Are you prepared to meet the enemy?”

“Indeed, no. Or perhaps I cannot tell. If you stood for council on my behalf I think I might enjoy it. For myself, I could never get much farther than the truth.”

“A marvellous short journey, with a sudden ending, but little reckoned upon Lucifram. What think you of lifetime imprisonment, Rosalie?”

“Ah! It is that that frightens me. I never liked the thought of prison. Must I really go?”

“What plan of escape is there?”

Her brow knitted thoughtfully; then suddenly clearing, she said:

“Take me away with you. Take me to your mother?”

And she looked so very beautiful, with something so imperious in her manner, yet so sweet, that little wonder if the Master consented.

“It’s a long journey, and a very final one, and, moreover, my horses are black.”

“I’ll trust to the rule of contrary where you’re concerned, and trust you too. Take me where you will. I have sufficient power given me of my own to guard against a vital evil.”

“You trust me to a certain point. No farther.”

She laughed.

“I trust you altogether, but wish to show it is not quite from weakness I wish to come with you.”

“Then we’ll go. My mother is hospitable, and so are others round about her. Some are better known to you, no doubt, than she. A stranger is a rarity among them. You will be welcomed.”

“Alas! But who can travel in a dress like this—at midnight, in the depth of winter? It is so conspicuous.”

“No dress could be so suitable. Safe-guarded against wind or snow, and simple in comparison of those where we are going. Heat or cold, darkness or light cannot touch it. It was sewn in the inner darkness, and shines in the inner light. Come, Rosalie, the time is up. We must away to see the sun rise on the New Year.”

Then he led her through those great empty rooms into the fuller ones, where general hilarity preceded the closing of the dance. But here they never waited. Across the palm-house to the doors of glass with the image of the toad and temple so finely and so clearly worked in them.

At one touch they both flew open, and there, flooded in a tide of light—red—red—and an accompanying silence. It travelled swiftly, yet without sound or violence into the rooms of feasting and of mirth, carrying silence and a vague alarm. And noting where it came from, the guests instinctively crowded out towards that curious garden, on which faced the real front of Marble House.

And there, below the terrace steps, upon the wide carriage drive, stood a chariot of gold, with seats of crimson velvet, and harnessed to it the six black steeds, with tossing heads and eyes of fire, strong, and sleek, and slim.

One youth alone stood at the foremost bridle. And in the midst of all this ruddy glamour shone the pure whiteness of Rosalie’s robe, with all its flimsy showers of lace and jewels. And there beside the carriage step stood Mariana, the frog upon her shoulder, and with her Everard, who had preceded them.

Then Rosalie stepped in lightly and gracefully, and sat down. Mariana bent forward, and with the grace peculiar to her arranged the spreading train about her feet. Then looking up, with mutual feeling each drew an arm round the other’s neck and kissed. Rosalie whispered:

“You will follow, Mariana, and we’ll meet again, in no land of shadows, red or black, but in the sunlight. And you’ll bring Everard. A little company along the road is most desirable. But for the present, good-bye!”

And then the Master, gathering the long reins in his hand as he sat down beside her, wrung Everard’s hand, and seeing Mariana held her hand toward him too, bent over it and kissed it, by that one act undoing all the past in which she suffered through him.

The Master shook the reins. A thousand tingling stars shook from them upon and round about the coal-black steeds. One wild bound forward all in unison, not on a straight road, but up some climbing steep.

Rosalie turned round. And laughing, half in fear and half in happiness, kissed her hand to Brightcoat.

“Good-bye—till—till we meet again!”

Then the Master turned round also, a face very unlike to hers.

His face was dark and shadowy as it ever had been. The same contemptuous curl lay on his firm lips; a mocking laughter was in his eyes. His glance fell upon Marble House, and the guests all drawn towards the terraces.

With his free hand he felt in the pocket of the long coat he wore.

“I forgot to leave my New Year’s presents, Rosalie,” said he, and brought out a large handful of precious stones, flinging them down to Lucifram. Then drawing out another, he handed these to Rosalie, and bade her throw them too.

They fell among the crowd, who gathered them and praised their beauty.

But the six black steeds with little apparent effort climbed up the steep mountain-side, or so it seemed to be. And gradually the red light disappeared, and Lucifram along with it, and darkness followed.

And now there was nothing but the wind and icy snow and loneliness—nothing but the path. Nothing was to be seen on either side.

The spirited steeds, wild as ocean foam, flew up and on the mountain track, the winds moaned after them with a song as wild, as full of sad complaint, as if they were embodied spirits of the sighs and tears of broken hearts.

But no feeling of cold came near Rosalie. The jewelled robes encased her, proof against everything. And gradually it seemed as if the darkness gave way to a glimmering of light. At first it was feeble, but grew in distinctness, steady, and still steadier.

Suddenly a ray of brilliant light—light that could never blind the eyes—shot straight across the path. Then came another, another, following thick and fast from every direction.

Swiftly the coal-black horses changed in the flooding light to purest white, visions of inexpressible and perfect beauty. Rosalie’s heart beat faster with sudden, unexpected joy. She looked up at the Master, her own face transfigured by the light, as so was his. For all the weariness, all the contempt, all the dark shadows, had vanished from his features, and left nothing but what was full of life, of vigour, and of kindliness. His eyes, still dark and deep, looked into hers, the first time on the long and perilous journey, and he said, laughing, as sometimes of old:

“Do you prefer looking at me to the magnificence of all this scenery?”

But she clasped his arm in both her hands, and leaned her forehead against his shoulder.

And suddenly he brought the horses to a check, and drawing her still closer, bent his head and kissed her cheek. Then she looked up with eyes all wet with tears, and bright with happiness, and drawing back a little, said:

“I never thought that things would come out this way. I—I never imagined that black horses could come out white—nor you become so altered.”

He laughed.

“It all depends upon the journey that I take. Sometimes I cross upon another rainbow, that leads us all down hill from Lucifram at almost break-neck speed. Then neither I nor these, my horses, alter much. But look, Rosalie, round about you. This is a scene worth seeing and remembering.”

He stood up, and giving her his hand, helped her to her feet.

And then she saw that streams of light and rainbow garlands were flung from a thousand spheres to meet this central road, itself a giant rainbow crossing from Lucifram (a tiny speck of gleaming red in the far, far distance) towards a country quite unsurpassed for loveliness. And all around, from the different worlds of light, came scenes of fairyland.

And now she saw a towered city folded in night, the change from day; and here the bright sunshine of mid-day glinting upon a noble river, with sloping, tree-clad hills, and meadows smooth and green.

Again the sun was setting behind a sea of golden glory, on whose restless surface danced three round boats inlaid with pearl. And in the boats sat three maidens of exquisite beauty, attended by the gentle wind, their servant, who wafted them towards the distant shore. And as they went they sang a song that trembled sweetly on the air and reached in the soft silence to that golden car, ringing tones of happiness and joy.

So on around: a thousand scenes, and all delightful, delicate yet clear, country and city all in perfection spread out everywhere. And each sphere was linked to each with garlands of lights, so that the nimble spirit crossed on them, a perfect path of beauty.

Rosalie looked and breathed a sigh of admiration. Then her eyes travelled to the path which they were crossing. The steep part had been passed. There now remained only a lesser portion, and that sloped gently down. This remaining part was free from danger. Pillars of light garlanded with flowers guarded the sides.

The horses, unwearied with the night’s long race, moved slowly towards this nearing country, over whose waking sky the bright dawn was spreading wings of glory, with silver flutings right east to west. The descent led to a regal city, where nothing mean or sordid, no toil and tribulation, no anxious care or killing sorrow, no oppression, no dark deeds, no foul disease, no hardened priests or creeds had ever come. But all was God, the essence of immortal greatness.

And to this city came Rosalie, led by him whom some had called on Lucifram the Master. And being all tired with the journey, Rosalie fell asleep just as they were entering the gates.

For no traveller from a darker sphere can enter there unweary. The soft air, too strong for them, wafts the frail form to tender sleep, that it undergo the great and immortal change.

The sound of laughter and welcome, Heaven’s truest music of joy, and then for us a silence.

* * * * *

So ends a little chapter in the life of Lucifram. A chapter that bore indirectly upon the Serpent, and helped gradually to its undoing. But that’s another tale.

THE END

_Printed by Cowan & Co., Ltd., Perth._

------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE SERF

A HISTORICAL NOVEL

BY C. RANGER-GULL

_Author of “The Hypocrite,” “Back to Lilac Land,” etc._

THIRD EDITION—_SIX SHILLINGS_

=Rock.=—“A brilliant piece of romance work.”

Mr. A. T. QUILLER-COUCH in the =Daily News=.—“A novel of uncommon
merit; a historical novel of a period rarely attempted by fiction.”

=Observer.=—“Mr. Ranger-Gull possesses a brilliant imagination,
original thought, and an able pen. His style is clear and forcible,
and some of the passages in this, his latest story, are full of
pathos.”

=Daily Chronicle.=—“Mr. Ranger-Gull deserves the warmest praise, and
willingly do we accord it.... The story he has provided, with so
carefully studied environment, is one that is strong in human
interest, and told with considerable dramatic power.”

=Daily Express.=—“To dive deep into the chronicles of serfdom and tell
plainly the story of a long-forgotten deed of noble daring is good
work, and thanks are due to Mr. C. Ranger-Gull for his story, ‘The
Serf.’ ... The story is wonderfully interesting, and appeals
irresistibly to the British temperament.”

=Saturday Review.=—“Full as it be of grim realism and ghastly tragedy,
it is impossible not to read this book to the bitter end—bitter
enough, in all conscience.... The book is without doubt a notable one.
It is written in the true spirit of the times which it so eloquently
describes.”

=Truth.=—“A tale of the life and death of a serf who in the old Norman
days struck a blow of vengeance and for freedom. He pierced his lord
with three arrows, one for each ravished daughter, and one for
freedom, and after thrilling adventures expiates his crime by a death
of the most frightful torture. There are so many powerful dramatic
scenes in the story that I should think the advertised version of it
for the stage would be most effective.”

=Outlook.=—“The age is well suggested in its marring elements of
sordidness and splendour, fierce cruelty and childlike faith; and the
characterisation is strong in many types; brutal lord, drunken priest,
and chivalrous _jongleur_. The author achieves a convincing study of
twelfth century England, in the mastery of its strongholds, the misery
of its serfs’ hovels, and the sanctuary of Holy Church.”

GREENING & CO., LTD., LONDON.

“BRIMFUL OF CLEVERNESS.”—_STANDARD._

HIS GRACE’S GRACE

A NOVEL

BY C. RANGER-GULL,

Author of “The Serf,” “Back to Lilac Land,” “The Hypocrite,” etc.

PRESS OPINIONS.

=Standard.=—“Mr. Ranger-Gull is very clever. He can write well, even
brilliantly.... Mr. Ranger-Gull opens his story vigorously, and his
good spirits never flag. The book is brimful of cleverness.”

=Sketch.=—“The novel is well-constructed and brightly written. The
reader will have only himself to blame if he does not get some good,
hearty laughs.”

=Daily Telegraph.=—“The book is amusing, with sufficient plot to
awaken the interest, though relying chiefly for its attraction upon
its epigrammatic qualities. Mr. Ranger-Gull has put into the mouth of
some of his characters remarkably witty and sparkling dialogue, which
in itself raises the book above the general average.”

=Daily Mail.=—“Sprightly wit is the main feature of Mr. Ranger-Gull’s
comedy. It is flippant, jocular, and epigrammatic. Readers who enjoy
quips and repartee will find his pages full of them.”

=Daily News.=—“A smart and up-to-date novel. The book is readable, and
a pleasant companion for a journey. The end, which is pure farce, is
wholly delightful.”

=Vanity Fair.=—“It is as entertaining and highly spirited a story of
Oxford life as one could wish.... Mr. Gull’s wit is always striking,
and occasionally it fastens to its subject with very mordant force.
The whole book is admirably clever, with no pages in it dull, and some
so sparkling that they almost hurt the eye.”

=British Weekly.=—“It is certainly a very clever piece of fiction.”

=Ladies’ Field.=—“A very clever and amusing novel, remarkable for
smartness of dialogue. The author has plenty of wit, and this novel is
really a capable piece of work.”

=Free Lance.=—“A lively, brilliantly-written book full of wit and
humour and epigram, sparkling from cover to cover is Mr. Ranger-Gull’s
latest novel, ‘His Grace’s Grace.’ ... There are pages of smart
dialogue which are equal to the best of almost any modern English
writer.”

=Bookman.=—“We have some charming comedy—a double love interest and
some clever characterisation. A book which is altogether clever and
entertaining throughout.”

=Daily Despatch.=—“Mr. C. Ranger-Gull is smart and topical as ever in
his latest novel. The book, topical, witty, and penetrating, is bright
reading from beginning to end.”

=Woman.=—“Mr. Ranger-Gull has produced a story of sparkle and
brilliancy. The style glitters and rings like that of Maupassant.”

=Sheffield Telegraph.=—“Very amusing and very clever.... The story is
mirth-provoking and inoffensive; ‘His Grace’s Grace’ is irresistible,
and no reader will regret making her or his acquaintance.”

=Public Opinion.=—“Mr. Ranger-Gull’s reputation as a facile
story-teller will be by no means diminished by ‘His Grace’s Grace.’”

London: GREENING & CO., Ltd., 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road.

A REALLY CLEVER STORY

THE STEEPLE

_A NOVEL_

By REGINALD TURNER

_Author of “The Comedy of Progress” and “Cynthia’s Damages.”_

=The Times.=—“Few readers who take it up will readily lay it down....
Mr. Turner is successful, and his sketches of men, women, and creeds
are, generally speaking, humorous, shrewd, and suggestive.”

=Outlook.=—“A purposeful story altogether out of the common ruck. It
is both daring and convincing. The portrait of Frank Lester is surely
as coolly relentless a thing as has been done for a long time.... It
is excellently and pitilessly done:... We would quote some contingent
excellencies. The chief, perhaps, is Mr. Turner’s dash in carrying off
an extravagant situation.... His also is the gift of broad, almost
farcical characterisation. And to these must be added a brisk turn in
narrative, of which scarce a page lack shining example.”

=Observer.=—“A very well-told story; the characters are drawn with
much freshness and clearness of delineation.... Bright and lively
without being flippant. Mr. Turner’s story is decidedly entertaining
and well written, and will probably be popular.”

=Illustrated London News.=—“One reads with unflagging interest. The
great merit lies in the very cool and effective demonstration of
character, and especially of character that is off conventional lines.
The psychology, perhaps, is not very deep, but, in the plane on which
it works, is remarkably given. We have thoroughly enjoyed ‘The
Steeple.’”

=Sunday Times.=—“This is a clever story, lightly told, and although it
concerns religion, the characters, faith, and scepticism is not
preachy, and the interest does not flag.”

=The Scotsman.=—“This story displays a remarkable ingenuity. The book
is cleverly done in the very modern manner, and is always
interesting.”

=Reynolds.=—“‘The Steeple,’ by Reginald Turner, is one of the most
readable novels we have lately had the good fortune to come across.
The religious and clerical element, which enters hugely into the
story, is handled so adroitly that it neither irritates nor bores,
while its latter-day actuality gives the zest of real life to Mr.
Turner’s fiction.”

=Spectator.=—“The work is interesting, and the study of Lester is
decidedly clever and original.”

=Bookman.=—“A story of far more than average merit, strongly imagined
and with considerable craftsmanship.... Emphatically, this is a book
to be read.”

=St. James’s Gazette.=—“Has decided originality and cynicism enough
for the youngest of us. There are many clever touches and characters
that stand out.”

=Truth.=—“Unusually well conceived and described.”

=Speaker.=—“Mr. Turner has shown before that he has a pleasing and
unusual vein of satire. In ‘The Steeple’ he turns his attention to the
worldly and successful Churchman.... The book is full of entertaining
little caricatures, and some good counterfoils to them.... It is sane
and amusing, a most welcome work in these days when satire seems to be
a lost art.”

London: GREENING & CO., Ltd.,

20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road.

A BRILLIANT NOVEL

The Comedy of Progress

By REGINALD TURNER,

Author of “Cynthia’s Damages,” etc.

Some Press Opinions.

=Bookman.=—“A political novel of decided interest, picturing modern
society, political method and influences, a really great lady, and a
young man who thinks. Mr. Turner’s style is bright, shrewd, and
trenchant.”

=Pall Mall Gazette.=—“A cleverly-written story of more than usual
interest. Mr. Turner has here something to say, and says it well. From
the first page onward we follow the career of Maurice Yorke with close
interest, an interest which never flags, and the final chapter is in
every way equal to the book’s earlier promise. There is nothing
slipshod, no falling off. The author has given us sterling good work
throughout. The characterisation of Lady Sothern is excellent—so human
withal. ‘The Comedy of Progress’ is a brilliant novel, its title, by
the way, fitting it ‘like a glove.’”

=Glasgow Evening Times.=—“Mr. Reginald Turner has achieved another
success in ‘The Comedy of Progress.’ It is a clever novel, pleasantly
satirical, bright in style, and with skilfully sustained interest in
the fanciful social and political personages who figure in its pages.”

=Morning Post.=—“Readers will be delighted with the ‘Comedy of
Progress’ by Reginald Turner. The story is told with skill and true
artistic effect. Lady Sothern is an excellently drawn character, full
of life and force. The charm and influence which she exercises over
all who know her are quite convincingly expressed, and the scene with
her husband when she confesses herself an old woman and stamps on her
jewels is very ably done. Mr. Turner may be sincerely congratulated on
accomplishing a difficult task with more restraint and ability than
one generally expects in such efforts.”

=Spectator.=—“Problems and politics are dealt with in ‘The Comedy of
Progress,’ and both are to a certain extent successfully treated. The
story is readable, and the pictures of society are not badly drawn.”

=Daily Telegraph.=—“Mr. Turner has a pretty knack of touching off a
character, or expressing a quaint thought, in a couple of lines, and
there is no blinking the fact that some of his portraits are diverting
likenesses of people he had met in the flesh.”

=St. James’s Gazette.=—“The book is decidedly clever. Maurice Yorke
himself, Lord and Lady Sothern, and Jonas Allen, are distinct and
well-drawn characters, conceived and maintained with considerable
skill. The story is something more than a political novel. It is
concerned with the philosophy of life and its aims. There is much
serious thought and practical wisdom in its pages, set forth in
dialogue, which is always amusing and sometimes brilliant.”

=Athenæum.=—“‘The Comedy of Progress’ contains clever conversation and
well-realised characters.”

=The County Gentleman.=—“Mr. Turner is evidently an exceedingly close
observer of men and matters, and in addition he has a considerable
power of analysis of emotions and impulses of the springs which move
to action and the restraining forces which control men’s natural
desires and ambitions.... ‘The Comedy of Progress’ is throughout
wittily and well written, and ought to interest those who like a
serious subject carefully treated, and with more than an occasional
passage of pure fun and humour.”

The Comedy of Progress

Crown 8vo., cloth gilt, SIX SHILLINGS.

The Lyons Mail

The true story of the murders, told by a descendant of the murdered
courier.

_Translated from the French by_

ROBERT H. SHERARD.

Generations of people have wept over the sufferings of Joseph
Lesurques, who was guillotined for the murders of the Lyons Mail
affair. It was supposed that he was an innocent man, the victim of a
fatal resemblance to a scoundrel named Dubosc. His case has been used
by hundreds of barristers to bolster up a defence based on the theory
of mistaken identity. This book demolishes the theory of his
innocence. It is written by a descendant of one of the victims, who
proves that Lesurques was guilty, that his sufferings were no more
than he merited, and that if he went to the guillotine dressed in
white, the garb of innocence, this was only a final piece of duplicity
on his part. A true story of the “good old times” in France after the
Revolution, with dramatic pictures of the unequal struggle between the
police and the army of scoundrels. In illustration of the state of
things in the Year IV. (1796) an account is given of the doings of a
certain Bondroux, who was the Dick Turpin of the Lyons highroad.

Few chapters in fiction are more striking than the true account of the
arrest of Joseph Lesurques at the Assize Court in Paris, during the
trial of his accomplices; a fresh illustration of the resistless force
or fascination of danger which draws criminals on by the most
imprudent acts to their destruction.

It exposes in its true light the character of the famous
Conventionnel, Merlin de Douai, who inspired Victor Hugo with one of
his noblest creations, and suggests the reflection that if one knew
the truth many names which have come down to posterity with immaculate
reputations would stand in a different place in the public esteem.

In view of recent efforts in France to bring about the revision of a
celebrated case, the various unsuccessful attempts of the Lesurques
family to have the judgment passed on their ancestor quashed will be
read with interest. They show the inviolability of the “_chose
jugée._”

Price Six Shillings.

THREE STORIES OF THE STAGE

Smart, Clever, Brilliant, and Interesting.

_AT ALL LIBRARIES AND BOOKSELLERS._

SIX SHILLINGS EACH.

BACK TO LILAC LAND.

By C. RANGER-GULL,

_Author of “The Hypocrite,” “Miss Malevolent,” “The Serf,” etc._

SECOND EDITION.

=The Pall Mall Gazette.=—“A very intelligent and well-written story. A
decidedly entertaining novel—fresh and well constructed, and evidently
written by one who understands the inwardness of _the_ profession.”

=Morning Post.=—“A good novel of stage life is a rare bird in this
country, and the author of ‘Back to Lilac Land,’ who has given us this
good thing, deserves a full measure of praise.”

=The Literary World.=—“The anonymous author has written a story which
all who have seriously considered the subject must applaud as a
faithful, reasonable, and powerful account of the touring actor’s
life.... ‘Back to Lilac Land’ will be classed with George Moore’s ‘A
Mummer’s Wife,’ and with Leonard Merrick’s ‘The Actor Manager,’ as one
of the three best novels of theatrical life which the last fifteen
years have yielded.”

CYNTHIA’S DAMAGES.

By REGINALD TURNER,

_Author of “The Comedy of Progress,” etc._

=Sunday Special.=—“A bright, amusing story of life behind the
footlights.”

=The Gentlewoman.=—“A sprightly, amusing yarn. Mr. Reginald Turner is
no stranger to life behind the scenes.”

=Ladies’ Review.=—“‘Cynthia’s Damages’ proves on reading to be one of
the smartest and brightest of theatrical tales we have met with for a
long time. It is most certainly a novel which will please all women.”

=The Daily Telegraph.=—“A story in which wit, humour, farce, and
sarcasm are admirably blended—an extravaganza brimful of fun, and
showing considerable power in the management of dialogue, as well as
in character-drawing. The author appears to be what the French call a
_blagueur_, and treats the affair of stage-life and society with a
polished and easy cynicism that evokes a smile and compels us to read
on.... The story from beginning to end is sprightly and vivacious,
contains many quaint touches of observation, and is altogether a
readable book.”

IN THE WORLD OF MIMES.

By LEWIS MELVILLE.

=Graphic.=—“Undeniably interesting. Every page shows that he writes
from inside knowledge.”

=Daily Mail.=—“A lurid story of stage life. The book shows real
observation and cleverness.”

=Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News.=—“This is distinctly a clever
book, and ably written.”

=Bookman.=—“A pleasantly-written story of theatrical life; vivacious
and lifelike by reason of its spirited characters and professional
details. It is shrewdly observed, and the world and the stage are both
described with facility.”

_Complete Catalogue of Popular Fiction post free on application._

London: Greening & CO., Ltd., 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road.

GREENING & Co., LTD.,

18 & 20, CECIL COURT,
CHARING CROSS ROAD,

October, 1903: LONDON, W.C.

A SUPPLEMENTARY

CATALOGUE

OF

NEW BOOKS & RECENT EDITIONS

IN

FICTION AND GENERAL LITERATURE,

TOGETHER

WITH ANNOUNCEMENTS OF FORTHCOMING WORKS.

=Hudibras.= By DR. BUTLER. With an introductory note by T. W. H.
CROSLAND. With Twelve Illustrations after Hogarth. Foolscap 8vo,
cloth, top edge gilt, with bookmark, 2s. net; leather, top edge
gilt, with bookmark, 3s. net.

=Bookman.=—“Messrs. Greening here give us a most interesting reprint
of Butler’s celebrated poem in a form which strikes us as being
entirely appropriate. The size of page, type and margin are both
delightful to the eye of a book lover, and pleasantly reminiscent of
the little volumes of the 17th century. While the fine paper, and the
dozen excellent reproductions of Hogarth’s well-known plays, the
portrait of Butler himself, and the neat, artistic binding make it, in
its way, a miniature Edition de Luxe.”

=The Pomps of Satan.= A volume of Essays by EDGAR SALTUS. Crown 8vo,
cloth, 3s. 6d.

=Gœthe’s Life at Weimar (1775–1779).= By G. H. LEWES. Foolscap 8vo.
cloth, 3s. 6d.

=“The Lyons Mall.”= Being the true story of the murders, founded on an
authentic account by one of the descendants of the murdered courier.
Translated from the French by ROBERT H. SHERARD. Crown 8vo, cloth,
6s.

=Globe.=—“A very interesting narrative.”

=Queen.=—“The book is terse and interesting. It never flags.”

=Public Opinion.=—“We get not only an insight into the doings of
knights of the French roads of the last years of the 18th century, but
a vivid and exciting story.”

=Morning Advertiser.=—“Not only is the old story at once thrilling and
true, but it is different from the drama which Sir Henry Irving still
keeps familiarly before the present generation, a question both of
personal justice and of a point of law that renders the book as
important as it is sure to be popular.”

=Pentonville from Within.= With an actress in the background. By
E.B.P. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

=The Cynic’s Posy.= Epigrams written and compiled by G. F. MONKSHOOD.
Foolscap 8vo, cloth, handmade paper, 2s. net.

=Smith of the Shamrock Guards=: The “Ragged” lieutenant. By “OFFICER.”
Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d.

This play was intended for production at a West End Theatre, but the
performance could not be given, as the Lord Chamberlain twice refused
his license, owing to the piece containing references to the “Ragging”
cases.

=The Ballad of the Soul’s Desire.= A poem by VERNON NOTT. Crown 8vo,
cloth, 2s. 6d. net.

=Northern Whig.=—“The language in places rises to a high standard of
power and eloquence.... There are ideas too, as well as language in
this striking allegory, and, if it be the author’s first work, we may
expect to hear of him again.”

=Glasgow Herald.=—“The style and quality of the poem will appeal to
the imagination of readers who love ballads for simplicity.”

=The Play Pictorial.= Vols. I and II. 4to, green and white cloth,
richly gilt, 6s. nett each.

Each volume contains six plays, fully illustrated by fine engravings
from photographs especially taken. “The Play Pictorial” is a book
original in form and artistic in design, and the volumes form really
splendid gift books.

=The Playgoer.= Vols. I, II, and III. Cloth, 5s. nett each.

“The Playgoer” is an illustrated record of the theatrical world.

POPULAR FICTION.

=The Adventures of Mr. Topham: Comedian.= By C. RANGER-GULL (Author of
“The Hypocrite,” “Back to Lilac Land,” “The Serf,” &c.) Cr. 8vo,
cloth, 3s. 6d. Illustrated by Frank Reynolds.

=Pall Mall Gazette.=—“Mr. Ranger-Gull has achieved a really remarkable
success.... The whole book goes with an air and a swing that make it
excellent reading.”

=Sunday Times.=—“Mr. Ranger-Gull may be sincerely congratulated on his
newest book.... In language simple and eloquent and without one
unnecessary word, Mr. Ranger-Gull tells what befel an actor whose
identity is not easily identified.... The best advice we can give to
all who are interested in things “theatric,” is to get and read this
admirably written book at once.”

=His Grace’s Grace.= A novel by C. RANGER-GULL (Author of “The Serf,”
“Back to Lilac Land,” “The Hypocrite,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

=Standard.=—“Mr. Ranger-Gull is very clever. He can write well, even
brilliantly.... Mr. Ranger-Gull opens his story vigorously, and his
good spirits never flag. The book is brim-full of cleverness.”

=Sketch.=—“The novel is well constructed and brightly written. The
reader will have only himself to blame if he does not get some good
hearty laughs.”

=Free Lance.=—“A lively, brilliantly written book, full of wit and
humour and epigram, sparkling from cover to cover is Mr. Ranger-Gull’s
latest novel, ‘His Grace’s Grace.’... There are pages of smart
dialogue which are equal to the best of almost any modern English
writer.”

=Bookman.=—“We have some charming comedy—a double love interest and
some clever characterisation. A book which is altogether clever and
entertaining throughout.”

=The Love Thirst of Elaine.= By S. J. ADAIR FITZ-GERALD (Author of
“Fame the Fiddler,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

=When it was Dark.= By GUY THORNE (Author of “The Oven,” &c.) Crown
8vo, cloth, 6s.

=A Tragic Contract.= By MOUNT HOUMAS. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s.

=Scotsman.=—“A story that carries the reader easily along with it by
the vivacity of its movement. It is written with a pleasant animation
which should not fail to afford enjoyment.”

=Glasgow Herald.=—“The book evinces strength of conception, and vigour
and grace of elaboration, of which, presumably, more will presently be
heard.”

=Dundee Courier.=—“The book is a delightful one. It is a dramatic
tale, well told, and is to be highly commended.”

=King Philip the Gay.= By REGINALD TURNER (Author of “The Comedy of
Progress,” “The Steeple,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

=The Steeple.= A novel by REGINALD TURNER (Author of “The Comedy of
Progress,” and “Cynthia’s Damages.”) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

=The Times.=—“Few readers who take it up will readily lay it down....
Mr. Turner is successful, and his sketches of men, women, and creeds
are, generally speaking, humorous, shrewd, and suggestive.”

=Observer.=—“A very well told story; the characters are drawn with
much freshness and clearness of delineation.... Bright and lively
without being flippant. Mr. Turner’s story is decidedly entertaining
and well written, and will probably be popular.”

=Outlook.=—“A purposeful story altogether out of the common ruck. It
is both daring and convincing. The portrait of Frank Lester is surely
as coolly relentless a thing as has been done for a long time.... It
is excellently and pitilessly done.... We would quote some contingent
excellencies. The chief, perhaps, is Mr. Turner’s dash in carrying off
an extravagant situation.... His, also, is the gift of broad, almost
farcical characterisation. And to these must be added a brisk turn in
narrative, of which scarce a page lacks shining example.”

=Mrs. Evelyn’s Husbands.= By THE COMTESSE DE BREMONT (Author of
“Daughters of Pleasure,” “A Son of Africa,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth,
6s.

=Wolves.= A novel by ROBT. H. SHERARD. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

=The Marquis Catilini.= A Novel by ROWLAND STRONG. Crown 8vo, cloth,
6s.

=The Jewel Sowers.= By an anonymous Author. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s.

=Mary of Magdala.= By EDGAR SALTUS (Author of “Mr. Incoul’s
Misadventure,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

=Mr. Incoul’s Misadventure.= A novel by EDGAR SALTUS. Crown 8vo,
cloth, 6s.

=Morning Post.=—“An undeniably powerful work.”

Mr. Douglas Sladen in the =Queen= says:—“It is admirably written. He
(Mr. Saltus) is the most blasé of writers, but one of the best in
style. He is so terse that he can put a whole scene before you in a
few lines.... His epigrams and phrases are simply admirable.... ‘Mr.
Incoul’s Misadventure’ is a very powerful book.”

=Jim Blackwood: Jockey.= By VICTOR MANDELSTAMM (translated by REGINALD
BACCHUS). Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

=Morcar.= An historical tale by THOMAS SCOTT. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

=The Light In Dend’s Wood= and other stories. By THOMAS DAGLESS. Crown
8vo. cloth, 2s.

=The Danger of Innocence.= A novel by COSMO HAMILTON (Author of “The
Glamour of the Impossible,” “Indiscretions,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth,
6s.

=World.=—“A very sprightly and entertaining volume.”

=Sunday Special.=—“The author boldly depicts, under obvious
pseudonyms, several well-known, even notorious persons. He has a
bitter pen, and this book is sure to be read,—especially by the
victims.... ‘The Danger of Innocence’ is certain to be popular with
the ‘smart’ set.”

=Daily Express.=—“A lively and diverting volume. Written in a
satirically humourous vein. The book admirably succeeds in keeping the
reader interested and amused throughout.”

=Free Lance.=—“It contains pages of screamingly funny description of
well-known society characters and their ways, their talk, and their
attitudes, their slang, and their inanities. Of course, the burlesque
is somewhat highly coloured, as necessarily it had to be, in order to
produce the spontaneous loud laughter at which the author clearly
aims. This is unquestionably most amusing; one of those rare ones
which make you laugh aloud even when you are reading it to yourself
alone.”

=Portalone.= A Cornish story by C. RANGER-GULL (Author of “The
Hypocrite,” “Back to Lilac Land,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

(_In preparation_).

=Paul.= A story of the life, trials, and travels of St. Paul. By GUY
THORNE (Author of “When it was Dark,” “The Oven,” &c.) Crown 8vo,
cloth, 6s.

(_In preparation_).

=The Canon’s Butterfly.= A novel by MAX BARING (Author of “The
Troubles of a Shovel Hat,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

A POPULAR AMERICAN NOVEL.

=The Day of Prosperity.= A vision of the century to come, by PAUL
DEVINNE. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

=Daily Telegraph.=—“It is a clever story, with some strikingly novel
views on political and social economy, and contains much genuine
reflection and foresight.”

=Out of the Past.= Stories of the Ancient East by H. G. F. SPURRELL.
Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

=Athenæum.=—“The stories—three in number—are concerned with the
horrors and splendours of the mighty monarchies which shared, in
ancient days, the dominion of the East, pre-Roman and pre-Mohammedan.
It must be said he (Mr. Spurrell) has painted a bold picture in lurid
colours; like the art of Assyria, its bulls and lions, it is splendid
and impressive.”

=Scotsman.=—“Full of life and incident, there are events recorded of a
nature that simply appals. Will be read with great interest. The
writer knows his subject thoroughly, and writes well, and with
dramatic effect.”

=Literary World.=—“The scenes are placed in the very far-distant past,
when Nineveh and Babylon were still unbuilt, and in the ‘Baratarias’
of the ancient world. There is some reminiscence of the Arabian Nights
in them, and in barbaric splendour and reckless bloodshed they rival
the productions of Mr. Rider Haggard. As pictures of what may have
been, they are replete with excitement and incident. Mr. Spurrell
writes well.”

=British Weekly.=—“‘Out of the Past’ takes us into the changeless
East. The Author wears a magic veil, he sleeps and awakes with
wondrous Oriental romances in his brain. They are wild and full of
terrors, but they are fruits of a brisk imagination.”

=A Heroine of Reality.= A novel by PERCY VINCENT DONOVAN. Crown 8vo,
cloth, 6s.

=Literary World.=—“Written in an attractive style. The description of
Swiss scenery is carefully done, and the story as a whole will be read
with interest.”

=Vanity Fair.=—“The story is briskly and effectively told.”

=To-Day.=—“Picturesquely staged amid the mountains and valleys of
Switzerland. The interest of this powerful story is centred in an
unhappy middle-aged woman’s taint of drunkenness, and this secret vice
forms the pivot around which the love story of three men for her
daughter revolves. The characters are well drawn, and distinctly more
human than those one is accustomed to meet in the average novel.”

=Daily Despatch.=—“The Book abounds in many fine situations. It is an
interesting though daring novel.”

=The Ice Maiden.= A society novel by “LADY FRIVOL.” Crown 8vo, cloth,
3s. 6d.

=Whitehall Review.=—“The writer has a very pretty gift of character
drawing. The characters of the vain and flimsy society women are drawn
with care, knowledge, and vigour.”

=Glasgow Herald.=—“This tale abounds in romantic sentiment, and in
delineations of smart society.”

=Free Lance.=—“A strange and lively tale.”

=Liverpool Courier.=—“A society story on daringly original lines.... A
charming story of modern fashionable life. The book abounds in
unexpected situations, some of which are keenly humourous, and the
different characters talk like men and women.”

=Daily Express.=—“Smart repartee and scathing conclusions on the ways
and manners of modern society life.”

=British Weekly.=—“A lively love story.”

=The Staff in Flower.= A novel by an anonymous Writer. Crown 8vo,
cloth, 6s.

=Bookman.=—“It has, what so many novels have not, a definite purpose
and a bold originality of outlook. It is a book which makes one
curious to know who wrote it.”

=Morning Leader.=—“Written with undoubted strength and thought, and
vigour of language.”

=Christian World.=—“A story which, despite some boldness, is strong
and original.”

=Lloyd’s News.=—“It is a distinctly clever book, with many fine
passages in it, and reading it is anything but a tiring task.”

=Scotsman.=—“Striking incidents in a wasted, miserable life are
related in this story.... A singularly tragic incident brings to a
close a story in which there is a curious admixture of the humorous
and the pathetic.”

=The World.=—“The vigour and boldness, recklessness indeed, with which
theories are advanced, conclusions are rather wrenched than drawn, and
flung at the reader’s head, give the book an attraction.”

POPULAR SIXPENNY EDITIONS

=The Cry In the Night.= 6d.

By ARNOLD GOLSWORTHY (“Jingle” of “Pick-me-up.”)

=The Angel of the Chimes.= 6d.

By FORTUNÉ DU BOISGOBEY.

=The Convict Colonel.= 6d.

By FORTUNÉ DU BOISGOBEY.

=Jack Sheppard.= 6d.

By W. HARRISON AINSWORTH.

=Dick Turpin=; or “Rookwood.” 6d.

By W. HARRISON AINSWORTH.

=Drink= (L’Assommoir). 6d.

By EMILE ZOLA.

=Dan Leno: Hys Book.= 6d.

Written by DAN LENO.

=Daughters of Pleasure.= 6d.

By ANNE COMTESSE DE BREMONT, author of “A Son of Africa,” “The
Gentleman Digger,” &c.

=The Pottle Papers.= 6d.

Written by SAUL SMIFF. Illustrated by L. RAVEN HILL.

=Seven Nights with Satan.= 6d.

By J. L. OWEN, author of “The Great Jekyl Diamond.”

=In Monte Carlo.= 6d.

By HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ, author of “Quo Vadis?”

=Sapho.= 6d. By ALPHONSE DAUDET.

=Some Legends of the Fells.= 6d.

By C. BARLOW-MASSICKS.

=The Adventures of Ulysses.= 6d.

By C. RANGER-GULL.

Complete Illustrated Catalogue Post Free on Application.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. 2. Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. 4. Enclosed bold font in =equals=.