Fiction Books

CHAPTER I. "Where shall I sign my name?" Veronica Serra's thin, dark fingers rolled the old silver penholder nervously as she sat at one end of the long library table, looking up at the short, stout man who stood beside her. "Here, if you please, Excellency," answered Lamberto Squarci, with an affable smile. His fingers were dark, too, but not thin, and they were smooth and dingy... more...

The farmer refused to work. His wife, a short thin woman with worried eyes, watched him while he sat before the kitchen table. He was thin, too, like his wife, but tall and tough-skinned. His face, with its leather look was immobile. "Why?" asked his wife. "Good reasons," the farmer said. He poured yellow cream into a cup of coffee. He let the cup sit on the table. "Henry?" said... more...

SUCH THINGS MAY NOT BE A few hours later Fleda slowly made her way homeward through the woods on the Manitou side of the Sagalac. Leaving Ingolby's house, she had seen men from the ranches and farms and mines beyond Lebanon driving or riding into the town, as though to a fair or fete-day. Word of anticipated troubles had sped through the countryside, and the innate curiosity of a race who greatly... more...

Colonel Ashley Hampton chewed his cigar and forced himself to relax, his glance slowly traversing the room, lingering on the mosaic of book-spines in the tall cases, the sunlight splashed on the faded pastel colors of the carpet, the soft-tinted autumn landscape outside the French windows, the trophies of Indian and Filipino and German weapons on the walls. He could easily feign relaxation here in the... more...

Someone in the crowd tittered when the big ungainly creature reached the head of the line. "Name?" The creature swayed back and forth foolishly, supporting the bulk of his weight first on one extremity and then on the other. His face which had a slight rosy tint anyway got redder. "Come, come. Planet? Name?" The registrar was only a machine, but the registrar could assume an air of... more...

THE THIRD EYE Although the man's back was turned toward me, I was uncomfortably conscious that he was watching me. How he could possibly be watching me while I stood directly behind him, I did not ask myself; yet, nevertheless, instinct warned me that I was being inspected; that somehow or other the man was staring at me as steadily as though he and I had been face to face and his faded, sea-green... more...

HER LETTER I'msitting alone by the fire,Dressed just as I came from the dance,In a robe evenyouwould admire,—It cost a cool thousand in France;I'm be-diamonded out of all reason,My hair is done up in a cue:In short, sir, "the belle of the season"Is wasting an hour upon you. In short, sir, "the belle of the season" Is wasting an hour upon you A dozenengagements I've... more...

INTRODUCTION Unassuming in plot and style, "Heidi" may none the less lay claim to rank as a world classic. In the first place, both background and characters ring true. The air of the Alps is wafted to us in every page; the house among the pines, the meadows, and the eagle poised above the naked rocks form a picture that no one could willingly forget. And the people, from the kindly towns-folk... more...

CARDINAL DE RICHELIEU. A. D. 1585-1642. ABSOLUTISM. Cardinal de Richelieu is an illustration of what can be done for the prosperity and elevation of a country by a man whom we personally abhor, and whose character is stained by glaring defects and vices. If there was a statesman in French history who was pre-eminently unscrupulous, selfish, tyrannical, and cruel, that statesman was the able and wily... more...

The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allan Poe The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitely settled—but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved, precluded the... more...