Fiction Books

ALPHONSE DAUDET Tartarin of TarasconAlphonse Daudet, the celebrated French novelist, was born at Nimes on May 13, 1840, and as a youth of seventeen went to Paris, where he began as a poet at eighteen, and at twenty-two made his first efforts in the drama. He soon found his feet as a contributor to the leading journals of the day and a successful writer for the stage. He was thirty-two when he wrote... more...

Preface. No one ever reads prefaces now-a-days; why, therefore, should I write one? may be fairly asked. Simply, I reply, to tell the reader that the tale imperfectly related in these volumes is not a mere work of fiction. It is based on a document sent to me by my brother, to whom I have dedicated this work, and who has for many years been a resident of the frontiers of Zulu Land. The paper alluded to... more...

At a time when in our fatherland a cold raw wind made its presence felt, and the sharp frost at night checked the growth of the early bud, the Rhine valley between the Bergstrasse and Hardtgebirge had revelled for many weeks in the timely spring, the especial privilege of this garden of Germany. Even three hundred years ago at the time of our narrative the Neckar valley shimmered with the white and red... more...

SMAÏN "When the African is in love he plays upon the pipe." Sahara Saying. Far away in the desert I heard the sound of a flute, pure sound in the pure air, delicate, sometimes almost comic with the comicality of a child who bends women to kisses and to nonsense-words. We had passed through the sandstorm, Safti and I, over the wastes of saltpetre, and come into a land of palm gardens where... more...

CHAPTER I   "Aujourd'hui le primtetemps, Ninon, demain l'hiver.  Quoi! tu nas pas l'étoile, est tu vas sur la mer!"            DE MUSSET. Count Emile Poleski was obliged to be at the Barcelona Station at five o'clock in the afternoon one hot Friday in May. His business, having to do with that which was known to himself and his associates as "the... more...

It was nine o'clock at night upon the second of August--the most terrible August in the history of the world. One might have thought already that God's curse hung heavy over a degenerate world, for there was an awesome hush and a feeling of vague expectancy in the sultry and stagnant air. The sun had long set, but one blood-red gash like an open wound lay low in the distant west. Above, the... more...

A WHITE ROSE Even when Annesley Grayle turned out of the Strand toward the Savoy she was uncertain whether she would have courage to walk into the hotel. With each step the thing, the dreadful thing, that she had come to do, loomed blacker. It was monstrous, impossible, like opening the door of the lions' cage at the Zoo and stepping inside. There was time still to change her mind. She had only to... more...

You may say that there was something wrong somewhere, some mistake, from the very beginning, in his parentage, in the time and place and manner of his birth. It was in the early eighties, over a shabby chemist's shop in Wandsworth High Street, and it came of the union of Fulleymore Ransome, a little, middle-aged chemist, weedy, parched, furtively inebriate, and his wife Emma, the daughter of John... more...

Bones of a large number of vertebrates of Pleistocene age have been removed from San Josecito Cave near Aramberri, Nuevo León, México. These bones have been reported upon in part by Stock (1942) and Cushing (1945). A part of this material, on loan to the University of Kansas from the California Institute of Technology, contains 26 rami and one rostrum of soricid insectivores. Nothing seems to be... more...

THE SERAPION BRETHREN.   "Look at the question how one will, the bitter conviction is not to be got rid of by persuasion, or by force, that what has been never, never can be again. It is useless to contend with the irresistible power of Time, which goes on continually creating by a process of constant destruction. Nothing survives save the shadowy reflected images left by that part of our lives... more...