A NOVEL OF POWER AND BRILLIANCY

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1695, 24 August 1904, Page 18

A NOVEL OF POWER AND BRILLIANCY

"Dorothea: A Story of a Pure Heait. By Maarten Maartens. Archibald Constable and Co., London. Whitcombo and Tombs, Wellington. This is probably the best effort of a great and brilliant writer. It is, at all events, a book on a large scale. The characters work themselves out in conversation, and if the dialogue is somewhat extensive 'it is always artistic and skilful. Furthermore, we realise that the language put into the mouths of the creatures of Mr Maartens’ invention is in all respects suited to the personage .'represented, He has worked -upon the canvas of the picture he paints with great care and diligence. It is a faithful production and the figures move with a, degree of stateliness, but tiiiey are always alive. Sometimes the author stands, as it were, a little way off from t'he picture he has limned, and) talks confidentially to the people—the readers—-who have come round to admire his handicraft. His talk is always interesting, often witty, and sometimes analytical of the characters of men and women. The story is one of Colonel Sandring and his daughter Dorothea. He was careless, selfish, gay. His wife died, and he entrusted Dorothea to the care of two aunts who were unmarried. Some time after be conceived the idea that as his daughter was beautiful she would be an aid to his life at Monte Carlo and Paris. So the gay. Colonel brought Dorothea . away from the. calm and quiet of her English home, where She had learned nothing but was good, and. plunged her into the vortex of Parisian life, imagining that she would soon conform to the ways of those with whom he himself consorted. In this he was mistaken. Dorothea was pure and kept pure. The excitement of Monte Carlo failed to excite in her any interest in the ways of gamblers. At first Dorothea, could not see any wickedness in the ways of the gay Parisians, and had little notion'of the viciousness of the men who thronged the gaming ‘ tables. The colonel watched what he considered her evolution. He hoped to see her learn the ways of the world —his world; but here again he was mistaken. Dorothea, indeed, gradually realised that her surroundings were not congenial to her; and so soon as she understood how wicked the people were with whom her father mixed her heart's desire was to quit the wicked place. One day, like a dove from the ark, she flew away and found a resting place'in Madame de Roden’s. This lady had a' son called Egon, and he fell in love with Dorothea and married her. But she was not responsive to the bright and warmlyaff actioned little Frenchman. He was sincere, but she thought his ardent lovemaking, even in marriage, was like unto that she had seen at Monte Carlo; and bo she stemned the flow of his heart’s love, froze, indeed, the genial current of his soul —and they gradually drifted apart. In company with their father they travelled in the Hiviera as husband and wife and in search of health for Egon. Here Egon made the acquaintance of a beautiful Italian lady and Dorothea formed a friendsliip with a curate. Then Mr Maartens supplies us , with a fine study in character. The impulsive Frenchman sprang to wrong conclusions, and although Dorothea had in no way committed herself, she felt that this friendship was perturbing her husband, and he, too, was concerned respecting his own feelings, and the mutual confession scene is a finely wrought piece of dramatisation. We cannot refrain from its reproduction liere. "Dear husband, I have not been a wise wife, though I've always been a loving. You have a right to think differently on many subjects from what I do. We will talk matters over. You—you will help me. We will never quarrel any more.” ' A groan burst from him, painfully audible. She shrank aside, as if a shot had been fired at her breast. "You are ill ,J: she cried, “Is there anything wrong”—and. ran forward. Again he made the quick movement which flung her back.. . "Listen to me first; I have something to say.” He came nearer, passing into the shadow. His voice sounded so strange, she would not have recognised it. "But tell me first: is it true? Four telegram sai.d so little! You still walk lame!” ' "In three weeks’ time I shall walk like any other man. But that—-” "Oh, Egcm, how good God) is! We shall thank Him together.” "Yes. Listen to me, Dorothea—listen. * I too have got something to confess.' 5

“Don’t let us talk any more about it, darling. I know all you would say, but it was my fault. Come sit down: take off your things. Why, Egon, your coat is quite wet —is it raining ? Let me help you/’ "Mine is a peal confession, not nonsense like yours.” His accents stopped her; she turned pale. “What is it ?” she said. ‘‘Dorothea, most men—ay, and women will say I am a fool now bs well as a blackguard. Or perhaps they will say 1 am doubly a blackguard, a small one, to have done this thing, and a big one to tell you of it.” “Oh, Egon, do not look like that! What is this thing? Have you, too, shot a man in a duel?” The tears rose in her throat. "Worse than that. A thousand times worse. Can’t you gu^ss?” "No! Her voice was hoarse with uncertain anxiety. “For the love of mercy, speak!” The thought flashed across her brain that lie might have struck down Konrad in a quarrel. Then he spoke at once. "I have been faithless. It would be useless for me to try and keep it secret. I cannot. That is simply all my explanation: I cannot. I cannot go on day by day, living a lie to you.” He stood looking at her, looking away. "Oil, Dorothea! Dorothea, speak to me. Perhaps you don’t quite understand. Oh, for God’s sake, don’t fall!” He sprang forward to catch her. But she had .sunk back on some cushions behind her. "Hush! I understand,” she said. “You must let me explain. See, now I have told you, rightly or wrongly, you must hear me.” “Hear you, 5 ' she repeated, staring straight in front of her- "Oil, no, im, no. Ido not want to hear you.” "Hear me! Hear me!” "Spare me,” she whispered. "Surely you have told me enough—surely you would not have me listen to details? Surely every further word between us on the subject were —monstrous. Le’s us be silent, both.” "Then you forgive me? Oh. Dorothea, you are an angel! you forgive me ?” “You must leave me time,” she answered, and her eyes, as she looked at him, dilated. "I will try to forgive you. I shall ask God to> help me. No. I do not forgive you; it is no use. Neither can I lie to you." “I will do-anything,” he said miserably, “anything to make atonement. What can I do?” "Nothing,” she said, and began to weep. He turned away, and flung himself against tbe-’-wall. When she spoke again, she repeated "Nothing,” and then she dried her eyes. “You were right to speak.” she said. "There was no other way. You could not have lived this falsehood towards me. It is over: I was fond of you, Egon, and I thought you were fond of me, with all my faults.” She rose. “Tt is over. You should not have married me, but that, was not my fault. I wish I could help you, but I cannot; It is over. There is nothing more to be said/' He turned his white face from the wall. "What do you mean P” he said. "You must leave me this house to-, night. I—l—do not think I could go away to-night.” "Dorothea! Wife!” "Wife?” she said. “No. You do not mean that, Egon. You yourself tell me all that is over. You do not mean to say that, now you have broken our marriage, I could stay with you as —as —” She stopped. He did not speak. "I can go away—away,” she murmured, "but you must leave me this house tonight/' She looked at him, dumbly, with eyes full of prayer. “If you wish it, of course,” he said, desperately. He moved towards the door; then, by a sudden impulse, came close. "Give me one kiss,” he said. But she fell back, crying and weeping. "Don’t touch me! Oh, don’t touch me. I love you, Egon; I love you! Don't touch me!” When'she opened her eyes he was gonoThis is only one of many dramatic scenes in the book. It is powerful and brilliant. It is unlike the ordinary rush of up-to-date fiction, and Mr Maartens has every "eason to be satisfied with this novel. Perhaps the reading public will be ready to' appreciate his work as that of an accomplished artist and brilliant craftsman.