NEW BOOKS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume L, Issue 15234, 22 February 1913, Page 4 (Supplement)

NEW BOOKS.

:*' Diners a Deux"—by S. Beach Chester •';■•■ * (Stanley Paid, London)—is evidently written by a man of the world who has studied V ■. [ various shades of life in different parts of ' ■- the continent i during several decades. .The '■ resultant reminiscences are-hardly. suitable for a Sunday-school prize, but: none, tho ,-' . .less readable. The stories are told as by f. a maitre d'hote], himself a distinct charac- •• ter :■ " Fools! That is to say, fools and clever people! ; The world and the half- . world . London, Paris. New York! Zut! Napoleon,; the chef here, has had experi- . 'fence,. but in comparison with myself—ah! What am I thinking about? I should go back to the felicitous days -at Rocqueville, where no one-had the audacity to give a ■/.,-. pooi" maitre d'hotel less than five ffjancs— yX'*- for each little diner a deux! Nonsense I generally got a louis/at least, but the mean ones made it cent sous. Au diable with -!; the - mean ones! '. I have always said so! ; : ij I say so now. I cive the mean ones the evil eye! Coral hands and little,skulls : ■ have no effect against my evil eve !/'* It is ; '. talisman-proof! ;. Sapristi ! ;. No choice ji bonnes bouchesv no attentive appreciation, no princely deference, nothing!" That is my way. with the mean 6ni»—their hist re-. ward for forgetting that Giovanni Bandini, the servitor of kin ps in mufti, is poor, very poor! Indeed, I do not like to think how . . little 1 have amassed! ;Mon Dieii, it is ; ]■■' ; sickening! -, -Two hundred thousand francs J?ij j, is not much for a master diplomat, a strate- _' .gist, after an experiencsd lifetime! Of ■ ~ ■ course, I have more, a scupcon more, than .. the two hundred thousand, though it is too trifling to .remember. ? Then, too. it is merely eneraved on paper. Ah. well, e'est . "■;■ .la vie! Everyone knowti what la via is— . it ■is' tristeJ- I have always found it so, ;; even that time ■■when Mme. Diane Deau-" //: ville. the celebrated daiiseuse on the hill, .'-said.she could-1 almost'' lore me. That was ;; ' ■• after '~I had waived!, the' payment of ' some i J money she had borrowed from me the ni>ht :;: before. Ten louis, I think it was. Still. it is always wise to be in sympathy with ; ',■■ the Indies. • It is also diplomatic, for do ::.■;>,', ■ not the ladies bring gentlemen, and do not ,' -the gentlemen,', to please the ladies, 'five. /■important oom-boires?->"' Parbleu! The ■ ' Prince Rostikoif orice.gsive'tno a'thoasand.v' franc note to settle his addition for one v, supper. V This : 'exalted / person this al ; gracious noble, told me; to keep the change. But he was a charming client,.was the prince! Pbriimery" ! '92 ; \ was his only; drink. He even bathed Mile. Suzanne's lapdog ir» ; ; the precious fluid. The exquisite; aroma -,:.- -arid the delectable effect were wasted, '.';. ' enough. Nqm d'tin chieh, yes! All would li lave. been 'well ? except :; that monseigneui^- . "no.Tmean Son Altesse, though I have twice called him Voire Maipste, from sheer joy i■■■:-.■■•■: at serving so genero as a prince—threw ■' -" plates at the T«ieane land, thus producing v '-' a veritable contaetempii with th« direction. -If I had hot explained that I had often seen great' 1 gentlemen throw plates . ■■■;. while having supper, there.: would have been j .much uripieasantness. As it was, I merely sbruffped my shoulders with empresseroent." '. " . fi:S?-:-"':;'" : - V; /' ; '. v '':''<:'■ ■''■,': : , '-•„'■': : " '"■■ ■'■" ■' *■?'■■■■'■■ '■ x ..';-."..''.. : ;'.; - '■The Mountain ,'~ \\ Girl "—by Payne Srskinet (Little, Boston: Robertson.. Mel-bourne)—-is ,an ? exceedingly * readable ' .. American story, the scene of which, is laid A/!/ : /,iri ! the mountains of ;North Carolina.. , A , beautiful mountain girl, untrained and un'V'is educated, is. the central figure.' To her ■-v .homo /comes/ an - Enjdish aristocrat, Dr. v, Thryng, in search of health, and the love ■ thai develops between him 'and Cassandra ' is skilfully.depicted.j; In firmness of char- " acter, innate refinennmt, pride of race and self, and deep spirituality Cassandra stands a:heroine splendid!j? imagined and bril- •/. . liantly portrayed. . The mountains form a !;."! , romantic setting to |ihe drama of love and passion, in which a ruffianly t murdering . step-brother nearly bullies the heroine into marrying him, nearly ; murders the doctor,' but unintentionally! f. hurries :.. on '•■ the , .'■ love match,; .Aiterwarda becomes ; ; as; foolish as Americans think Englishv'arifitocrat must be,! andinearly loses his wife's •:;■•'. love thereby. Almost all. American ",' writers make their ? good . characters too food, and - their, badl characters too bad to ' - be quite natural, but their descriptions and \ " dramatisations 5 are [undeniably fine. J This 1 is, how the hero, liunting - for botanical - , specimens is nearlj; murdered by the vil- :—" The place was so screened in as ■ to v leave no vista i anywhere, hiding the , mountains en all s!;des. \ Light green - foli- .'•-. r ags overhead, whero branches thickly interlaced,from grea'i, trees growing out of % tribe bank- high abo're, made a-'cool, lucent shadowiness all are and • him. - There was a delicious odour, of rweet-shrpb in the air ! and the. fruity fragrance of the dark, wild ■ wake-robin underfjjot. ; The tremendous rocks were covert id* with ; 'the most ex- '■'./• s quisite forms of lichen in all their varied shades of ' richnessi and 4 delicacy. He -' ■ began carefully removing portions here and there to examine under his microscope, when he '. noticed, a Imost crushed: under his. -,-., foot, a pale purple orchid like - the one ■?■■■;■■■'■ Cassandra had placed on his ; table. ' Al- ; . ways thinking oi her, he stooped ' sud- ''"- denly to lift the' frail thing, and at the instant a rifle-shot rang out'in" the still . air, and a bullet Meant for hist heart cut •: across -his shoulders like a trail of fire ...and[flattened it;se!i on the rock v/here he had'been at work. At the same moment, ■'"_„- "'with a bound oi! tiger-like ferocity and "' . ' swiftness, one leaped toward him from a : near masa of laurel, and he found him- ■' self grappling fair life or death; with the man who fired the shot. . Not a word was spoken. The quick, short breathing,\ the ;■■ ■■ ■■■■.!.. I'Bctmling of ; feet;! among - the ■ leaves, .and the snapping of !■' dead twigs underfoot were the only strands. Had ; the youth been ; a*--,trained 1 ; wrestler, D^ id •*would' •. - have : known' whit to expect, and ■ would - have been able to use method in hie defence. As it was, he had to deal with ;' an enraged creature who fought with the - "desperate .'vnstiniit" of an antagonist who fightsv to the He knew that the odds were against him, aad felt rising v - " within him a wild determination ;to win the combat, and, ; thinking only of Cas- ": sandra, 'to settle- thus the vexed 'question, to fight with : the'.blind'; passion and the primitive; right of the strongest to'win - his mate. " He gathered, all has strength, y his good English j mettle ; and nerve, and ;; grappled with, a'grip of steel. This way , ! ; and that, twisting, turning, stumbling on the uneven ground, 7 with set teeth and faces drawn and, fierce, they struggled, . and.all . the . timei the . light tweed coat' on David's back showed a deeper'stain from his heart's blood, and .biw face grew paler and his breath shorter. Yet a joy leaped within him. It was; thus ha '"might save I her, either to win her or to die for .her, I for should Frale kill him, she would turn from him in . hopeless horror, and David, even in dying, would save her. Suddenly the battle was ended. Vi Thryng's foot turned, on a rounded stone, ;c.r''ng him . ..to lose his foothold. At, the sair<e instant, with terrible forward impetus, Frale closed with him. bending him backward until - his head struck the lichen-coyored rock. The purple orchid was bruised beneath him, and its colour deepened with his blood. Then F?ale rose and looked down "pon the pallic, upturned face and inert body, which lay as lie had crashed it down. As he stood thus, a white'figure,. bareheaded and alone, came : swiftly. ~ through the wall of laurel, which hid them and pausing terror-stricken in the open space, looked from one to the other. For an instant Cassandra waited thus, as if she too were struck dead where she stood. Then she looked no more on the | fallen man, but only at Frale, with eyes '£• immovable and yet withdrawn, as if she |;, were searching in her own soul for a |i: tiling to do, while her heart stood still and her throat closed. Those great grey eyes, with the green tea depths in them, .began to glow with a creel light, as if' she . ; too could kill—as if they were drawing slowly from the deep well of her being, as v it were, a sword from its scabbard ' Mere- ; with to cult him through ( the heart. Her hand stole to her throat and pressed ■ haid. Then she lifted, it high above her " head and held it, as ii: in an instant more "V one might see the invisible sword flash ■!■'■ .'■•'?■ forth., and strike him. Fiale cried out .'.then, Ton't, don't curse me, Cass,' and ; lifted *'S arm to shield his face, while • swat- '!■' ads of moisture stood out on his ■''■" 'face 'It's not for me to curse, Frale.' p>r' voice was low and clear. ''Curses! iy >; me from hell, like what you have been <M- tei-'ink in your heart that madb you do '; '! lis Her voice grew louder, and her #S'%BbJed .and, phut « * it -grasped - 1 _t s

something, .'.* I take it back— from ■; God—the promise I gave you there bbyy y the ; fall.' •■<' Then, looking up, her voice grew low -i again, though still distinct. 'I take r that promise back forever, oh, God!' Her - hand dropped. :: The 'cruel -light died *■ slowly out of her eyes, and . she turned * and knelt by the ; prostrate man, and began * pulling open his. coat. .Frale took one 5 step; toward her. "':-- 'Cass,' ho said, with 3 shaking voice, ' I'll help ;*. you.' Her t hands - clinched into David's coat. as she - held it. 'Go back. ;'v Don't, you touch » even his least finge»;' she cried, looking - up at him : from where she knelt like a ! creature hurt to the heart, defending its - own. 'You've done; your work. ; Take V your face where I never can see it again.' > He; still ; stood and " looked down on her. , She turned, again to David, and, thrusting i her hand into his bosom, drew it forth - with blood upon it. ' I say, you Frale V i she cried; holding \it toward him, quiveri ing with the -ferocity sho could no longer i restrain, 'leave here, or with this blood ! on mv hand I'll call all hell to curse you.' i Frale turned with bowed head and left her j there." ?'■ --■;;;■;■ •.■,.;■:■■—»" ■■ — ■ " *~m'm■■■>■■ ..