Irene Holm / Hermann Joachim Bang --Short story classics, pp.619-36

胡適有此書Short story classics： 【短篇小說匯刻】。在 Irene Holm By Hermann Joachim Bang寫：五年正月八日讀此喜之。又題"此乃佳作，頗似白香山【琵琶行】而遠勝之。十二日。" Vol.2

Short story classics : (foreign)

作者：	William Patten
出版商：	New York : Collier, ©1907.

Internet Archive

https://archive.org/details/shortstoryclassi01pattrich
----

IRENE HOLM 

BY HERMANN BANG 

ONE Sunday morning, after service, the bail- 
iff's son announced to the gathering at the 
meeting-stone outside the church that Miss 
Irene Holm, dancer from the Royal Theatre in Copen- 
hagen, would open a course for dancing and deport- 
ment, for children, ladies, and gentlemen, if a suffi- 
cient number of subscribers could be found. The 
lessons would begin the first of November, in the 
inn, and the price would be five crowns for each child, 
with a discount for several in the same family. 

Seven names were signed. Jens Larsens put up his 
three on the discount. 

Miss Irene Holm considered the number sufficient. 
She arrived toward the end of October, and stopped 
in at the Inn with her only baggage, an old champagne 
basket tied up with a cord. She was little and wearily 
meagre in form, had a childish face with the lines of 
forty years in it under her fur cap, and she wore old 
handkerchiefs wrapped about her wrists, because of the 
gout. She pronounced all the consonants most care- 
fully, and said, "Oh, thank you, I can do it myself," 
for everything, looking very helpless the while. She 
wanted nothing but a cup of tea, and then crept into 
her bed in the tiny room, trembling in fear of ghosts. 

Translated by Grace Isabel Colbron. Copyright, 1907, by P. F. Collier & Son. 

(619) 



620 HERMANN BANG 

Next morning she appeared with a head full of 
curls, her figure encased in a tight-fitting, fur-trimmed 
coat, much the worse for wear. She was going to 
call upon the parents of her pupils. She inquired the 
way timidly. Madam Henriksen came out to the door 
with her, and pointed over the fields. At every step 
Miss Holm bowed once in her gratitude. "Such a 
looking creature!" thought Madam Henriksen, and 
stood in the doorway looking out after her. Miss 
Holm walked toward Jens Larsens', choosing the 
dike path to save her shoes. Miss Holm was wearing 
leather shoes and fancy knit stockings. 

When she had visited all the parents Jens Larsens 
gave nine crowns for his three children Miss Holm 
looked about for a place to live. She hired a tiny 
whitewashed room at the smith's, the window looking 
out over the level fields. The entire furnishing con- 
sisted of a bed, a bureau, and a chair. The cham- 
pagne basket was placed between the bureau and the 
window. 

Miss Holm moved into her new quarters. Her 
mornings were given up to busy handling of curling 
tongs and pins, and much drinking of cold tea. When 
her hair was dressed she tidied up her room, and then 
she knitted all the afternoon. She sat on her basket 
in the corner, trying to catch the last rays of light. 
The smith's wife would drop in, sit down on the chair 
and talk, Miss Holm listening with a pleasant smile 
and a graceful nod of her curly head. 

The hostess spun out her stories until it was time 
for supper. But Miss Holm seldom knew what shs 



IRENE HOLM 621 

had been talking about. With the exception of dance, 
and positions, and the calculation for one's daily bread 
a tiresome, never-ending calculation the things of 
this world seldom filtered into Miss Holm's brain. 
When left alone she sat silent on her basket, her hands 
in her lap, gazing at the narrow strip of light that 
came in under the door. 

She never went out. The level, dreary fields made 
her homesick, and she was afraid of wild horses. 

When evening came, she cooked her simple supper, 
and then busied herself with her curl papers. When 
she had divested herself of her skirts she practised her 
"pas" beside the bedpost, stretching her legs energet- 
ically. The smith and his wife clung to the keyhole 
during this proceeding. They could just see the high 
kicks from behind, and the curl papers standing 
up on the dancer's head like quills on a porcupine. 
She danced so eagerly that she began to hum 
gently as she hopped up and down in the little 
room, the whole family outside hugging the keyhole 
closely. 

When Miss Holm had practised her accustomed 
time, she crept into bed. While she practised her 
thoughts would wander back to the time "when she 
was at dancing school." And she would suddenly 
laugh, a gentle, girlish laugh, as she lay still in the 
darkness. She fell asleep thinking of that time that 
happy, merry time the rehearsals, when they pricked 
each other in the calves with pins and screamed so 
merrily And then the evenings in the dressing- 
rooms, with the whir and tumult of voices, and the 



HERMANN BANG 

silence as the stage-manager's bell shrilled out Miss 
Holm would wake up in a fright, dreaming that she 
had missed her entrance. 

II 

"Now, then one two" Miss Irene Holm raised 
her skirt and put out her foot "feet out one two 
three " The seven pupils toed in, and hopped 
about with their fingers in their mouths. "Here, lit- 
tle Jens toes out one, two, three bow one, two, 
three now once more." Jens bowed, his tongue 
hanging out of his mouth. "Now, Maren, left one, 
two, three; Maren turns to the right once more one, 
two, three " Miss Holm sprang about like a kid, so 
that one could see long stretches of fancy stockings. 

The dancing lessons were in full swing, and were 
held three times a week in the hall of the inn, under 
the two old lamps that hung from the beams. The 
long, undisturbed dust in the cold room whirled up 
under their feet The seven pupils flew about wildly 
like a flock of magpies, Miss Holm straightening their 
backs and bending their arms. "One, two, three 
battement one, two, three battement." The seven 
bobbed at "battement" and stepped out energetically. 

The dust gathered in Miss Holm's throat as she 
called out her orders. Now the pupils were to dance 
a round dance in couples. They held their partners 
at arm's length, stiff-armed and embarrassed, and 
turned in sleepy circles. Miss Holm swung them 
around, with encouraging words. "Good now 
around four, five turn again good " She took 



IRENE HOLM 623 

hold of Jens Larsen's second, and little Jette, and 
turned them as one would turn a top. 

Jette's mother had come to look on. The peasant 
women would drop in for the lessons, their cap-bands 
tied in stiff bows, and sit motionless as wooden figures 
against the wall, without speaking a word even to each 
other. Miss Holm addressed them as "Madame/* and 
smiled at them as she skipped about. 

Now it was the turn of the lanciers. "Ladies to 
the right good now three steps to the left, Jette 
good " The lanciers was more like a general skir- 
mish than a dance. 

Miss Holm groaned from her exertions. She leaned 
against the wall, her temples beating with hammer- 
strokes. "Good this way, Jette" The dust hurt 
her eyes, as the seven hopped about in the dusk. 

When Miss Holm came home after her dancing les- 
sons, she wrapped her head up in a handkerchief. 
But in spite of this, she suffered from an everlasting 
cold, and sat, most of her leisure hours, with her head 
over a bowl of hot water. 

Finally, they had music for their lessons Mr. 
Broderson's violin. Two new pupils, a couple of half- 
grown young people, joined the class. They all hopped 
about to the tune of tailor Broderson's fiddle, as the 
dust flew up in clouds, and the old stove seemed to 
dance on its rough carved feet. 

They had spectators, too, and once the young people 
from the rectory, the pastor's daughter and the curate, 
came to look on. Miss Holm danced out more ener- 
getically under the two dim lamps, threw out her 



624 HERMANN BANG 

chest, and arched her feet. "Throw out your feet like 
this, children throw out your feet " She threw out 
her feet proudly and raised the hem of her skirt now 
she had an audience ! 

Every week Miss Holm sent a package of knitting 
to Copenhagen. The teacher took charge of the pack- 
age. Each time it was clumsily wrapped or addressed 
wrong, and he had to put it to rights himself. She 
stood watching him with her girlish nod and the smile 
of faded sixteen. The newspapers that had come by 
the mail lay ready for distribution on one of the 
school-tables. One day Miss Holm asked timidly if she 
might look at the "Berlinske." She had gazed long- 
ingly at the bundle for a week before she could pluck 
up courage enough to proffer her request. After that 
she came every day, in the noon pause. The school- 
teacher soon came to recognize her timid knock. 
"Come in, little lady, the door is open/' he would call. 

She tripped across the schoolroom and took her 
chosen paper from the bundle. She read the theatrical 
advertisements, the repertoire, and the criticisms, of 
which she understood but little. But it was about 
"those over there." She needed a lengthy time to go 
the length of a column, following the words with one 
gracefully pointed finger. When she had finished 
reading she crossed the hall and knocked once more 
at the other door. "Well?" said the teacher. "Any- 
thing new happened in the city ?" 

"It's only about those over there the old 
friends " she would answer. 



IRENE HOLM <J26 

The schoolteacher looked after her, as she wan- 
dered home to her knitting. "Poor little creature!" 
he sighed. "She's really quite excited about her 
dancing master " It was the news of a new ballet, 
by a lately promoted master of the ballet, that had 
so excited her. Miss Holm knew the list of names 
by heart, and knew the names of every solo dance. 
"We went to school together,'* she would say. 

And on the evening when the ballet was performed 
for the first time she fevered with excitement, as if 
she were to dance in it herself. She lit the two candles, 
gray with age and dust, that stood one on each side 
of a plaster cast of Thorwaldsen's Christ on the 
bureau, and sat down on her champagne basket, star- 
ing into the light. But she couldn't bear to be alone 
that evening. All the old unrest of theatrical life 
came over her. She went into the room where the 
smith and his wife were, and sat down beside the tall 
clock. She talked more during the next hour than she 
had talked for a whole year. She talked about the 
theatre and about first nights; she talked about the 
big "solos" and the famous "pas." She hummed and 
she swayed in her chair while she talked. 

The novelty of it all so excited the smith that he 
began to sing an old cavalry song, and finally called 
out : "Mother, shan't we have a punch to-night ?" 

The punch was brewed, the two candles brought out 
from the little room, and they sat there and chatted 
merrily. But in the midst of all the gaiety, Miss 
Holm grew suddenly silent, and sat still, great tears 
welling up in her eyes. Then she rose quietly and 



626 HERMANN BANG 

went to her room. In there she sat down on her 
basket and wept quietly and bitterly, before she un- 
dressed and went to bed. She did not practise her 
steps that evening. She could think of but one thing. 
He had gone to school with her. 

She lay sobbing gently in the darkness. Her head 
moved uneasily on the pillow as the remembered voice 
of the old dancing master of the school rang in her 
ears, cross and excited : "Holm has no elan Holm 
has no elan " He cried it out for all the hall to 
hear. How plainly she could hear it now how 
plainly she could see the great bare hall the long 
rows of figurantes practising their steps she herself 
leaning for a moment against the wall with the feel- 
ing as if her tired limbs had been cut off from her 
body altogether and then the voice of the dancing 
master: "Haven't you any ambition, Holm?" 

Then she saw her little home, her mother shrunken 
down into the great armchair, her sister bending over 
the rattling sewing-machine. And she heard her 
mother ask, in her asthmatic voice: "Didn't Anna 
Stein dance a solo?" "Yes, mother." "Did they 
give her 'la grande Napolitaine' ?" "Yes, mother." 
"You both entered the school at the same time," she 
asked, looking over at her from behind the lamp. 

"Yes, mother." And she saw Anna Stein in her 
gay-colored skirts, with the fluttering ribbons on her 
tambourine, so happy and smiling in the glare of the 
footlights as she danced her solo. 

And suddenly the little woman in the darkness 
buried her head in her pillow and sobbed convulsive, 



IRENE HOLM 617 

heart-breaking, unchecked sobs of impotent and de- 
spairing grief. It was dawn before she fell asleep. 

The new ballet was a success. Miss Holm read the 
notices, and two little, old woman's tears fell softly 
down upon the printed page as she read. 

Letters came now and then from her sisters, letters 
about pawn-tickets and dire need. The days such let- 
ters came Miss Holm would forget her knitting and 
sit with her hands pressed to her temples, the open 
letter lying before her. Finally, one day, she made 
the round of the homes of her pupils, and begged 
shyly, with painful blushes, for the advance of half 
her money. This she sent home to her family. 

So the days passed. Miss Irene Holm went back 
and forth to her dancing lessons. More pupils came 
to her, a half -score young peasants formed an evening 
class that met three times a week in Peter Madsen's 
big room on the edge of the woods. Miss Holm 
walked the half mile in the darkness, timid as a hare, 
pursued by all the old ghost stories of the ballet school. 
At one place she had to pass a pond deeply fringed 
with willows. She would stare up at the trees that 
stretched their great arms weirdly in the blackness, 
her heart hanging dead as a stone in her breast. 

They danced three hours each evening. Miss Holm 
called out, commanded, skipped here and there, and 
danced with the gentlemen pupils until two deep red 
spots appeared on her withered cheeks. Then it was 
time to go home. A boy would open the gate for her, 
and hold up a lantern to start her on the way. She 



628 HERMANN BANG 

heard His "Good night" behind her and then the locking 
of the gate, as it rasped over the rough stone pavement. 
Along the first stretch of the path was a hedge of 
bushes that bent over at her and nodded their heads. 
It was nearly spring when Miss Holm's course of 
lessons came to an end. The company at Peter Mad- 
sen's decided to finish off with a ball at the inn. 



Ill 

It was quite an affair, this ball, with a transparency, 
"Welcome," over the door, and a cold supper at two 
crowns a plate, with the pastor's daughter and the 
curate to grace the table. 

Miss Holm wore a barege gown much betrimmed, 
and Roman bands around her head. Her fingers were 
full of keepsake rings from her ballet-school friends. 
Between the dances she sprinkled lavender water 
about the floor, and threatened the "ladies" with the 
bottle. Miss Holm never felt so young again on any 
such festive occasion. The ball began with a quadrille. 
The parents of the pupils and other older people stood 
around the walls, each looking after his own young 
ones with secret pride. The young dancers walked 
through the quadrille with faces set as masks, placing 
their feet as carefully as if they were walking on peas. 
Miss Holm was all encouraging smiles and nods as 
she murmured her French commands. The music was 
furnished by Mr. Broderson and his son, the latter, 
maltreating the piano kindly lent for the occasion by 
the pastor. 



IRENE HOLM 629 

Then the round dances began, and the tone grew 
more free and easy. The elder men discovered the 
punch bowl in the next room, and the gentlemen pupils 
danced in turn with Miss Holm. She danced with' 
her head on one side, raising herself on her toes, and 
smiling with her faded grace of sixteen years. After 
a while the other couples stopped dancing to watcli 
Miss Holm and her partner. The men came out of 
the other room, stood in the doorway, and murmured 
admiration as Miss Holm passed, raising her feet a 
little higher under her skirt, and rocking gracefully 
in the hips. The pastor's daughter was so amused 
that she pinched the curate's arm repeatedly. After 
the mazurka, the schoolteacher cried out, "Bravo t" 
and they all clapped hands. Miss Holm bowed the 
elegant ballet courtesy, laying two fingers on her heart 

When supper-time came, she arranged a polonaise 
and made them all join in. The women giggled and 
nudged each other in their embarrassment, and the 
men said: "Well let's get in line " One couple 
began a march song, beating time with their feet 

Miss Holm sat next the schoolteacher, in the place 
of honor under the bust of his Majesty the King. 
They all grew solemn again at the table, and Miss 
Holm was almost the only one who conversed. She 
spoke in the high-pitched tone of the actors in the 
modern society dramas of Scribe. After a while the 
company became more jovial, the men began to laugh 
and drink toasts, touching glasses across the table. 
Things were very lively at the end of the table where 
the young people sat, and it was not easy to obtain 



630 HERMANN BANG 

quiet for the schoolmaster, who rose to make a speech. 
He spoke at some length, mentioning Miss Holm and 
the nine Muses, and ending up with a toast to "The 
Priestess of Art, Miss Irene Holm!" All joined in 
the cheers, and everybody came up to touch glasses 
with Miss Holm. 

Miss Holm had understood very little of the long 
speech, but she felt greatly flattered. She rose and 
bowed to the company, her glass held high in her 
curved arm. Her face-powder, put on for the festive 
occasion, had quite disappeared in the heat and exer- 
tion, and two deep red spots shone on her cheeks. 

The fun waxed fast and furious. The young people 
began to sing, the old men drank a glass or two extra 
on the sly, and stood up from their places to hit each 
other on the shoulder, amid shouts of laughter. The 
women threw anxious glances at the sinners, fearing 
they might indulge too deeply. Amid all the noise 
Miss Holm's laugh rang out, a girlish laugh, bright 
and merry as thirty years before in the ballet school. 

Then the schoolmaster said that Miss Holm ought 
to dance. "But I have danced." Yes, but she should 
dance for them a solo that would be fine. 

Miss Holm understood at once and a great desire 
grew up in her heart she was to dance a solo ! But 
she pretended to laugh, and smiling up at Peter Mad- 
sen's wife, she said : 'The gentleman says I ought to 
dance," as if it were the most absurd thing in the 
world. 

Several heard it, and they all called out in answer, 
"Yes, yes, do dance." 



IRENE HOLM 631 

Miss Holm blushed to the roots of her hair, and 
said that she thought the fun was getting just a little 
too outspoken. "And, besides, there was no music; 
and one couldn't dance in long skirts." A man some- 
where in the background called out : "You can lift them 
up, can't you?" The guests all laughed at this, and 
began to renew their entreaties. 

"Well, yes, if the young lady from the rectory will 
play for me? a tarantella." They surrounded the 
pastor's daughter, and she consented to lend her ser- 
vices. The schoolmaster rose and beat on his glass: 
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "Miss Holm 
will do us the honor to perform a solo dance for us." 
The guests cheered, and the last diners arose from the 
table. The curate's arm was black and blue where the 
young lady from the rectory had pinched him. 

Miss Holm and the pastor's daughter went to the 
piano to try the music. Miss Holm was feverish with 
excitement, and tripped back and forth, trying the 
muscles of her feet. She pointed to the humps and 
bumps in the floor: "I'm not quite used to dancing in 
a circus." Then again: "Well, the fun can begin 
now ;" her voice was hoarse with emotion. "I'll come 
in after the first ten bars/' she said to the pianist; 
"I'll give you a sign when to begin." Then she went 
out into a little neighboring room and waited there. 
The audience filed in and stood around in a circle, whis- 
pering and very curious. The schoolmaster brought 
the lights from the table, and stood them up in the 
windows. It was quite an illumination. Then there 
came a light knock at the door of the little room. 



632 HERMANN BANG 

The rector's daughter began to play, and the guests 
looked eagerly at the closed door. At the tenth bar 
of the music it opened, and they all clapped loudly. 
Miss Holm danced out, her skirt caught up with a 
Roman scarf. It was to be "la grande Napolitaine." 
She danced on toetips, she twisted and turned. The 
audience gazed, dumfounded, in admiration at the 
little feet that moved up and down as rapidly as a 
couple of drumsticks. They cheered and clapped wildly 
as she stood on one leg for a moment. 

She called out "Quicker," and began to sway again. 
She smiled and nodded and waved her arms. There 
was more and more motion of the body from the waist 
up, more gestures with the arms; the dance became 
more and more mimic. She could no longer see the 
faces of her audience; she opened her mouth, smiling 
so that all her teeth, a few very bad teeth, could be 
seen; she began to act in pantomime; she felt and 
knew only that she was dancing a solo at last a solo, 
the solo for which she had waited so long. It was no 
longer the "grande Napolitaine." It was Fenella who 
knelt, Fenella who implored, Fenella who suffered, 
the beautiful, tragic Fenella. 

She hardly knew how she had risen from the floor, 
or how she had come from the room. She heard only 
the sudden ceasing of the music, and the laughter 
the terrible laughter, the laughter she heard and the 
laughter she saw on all these faces, to which she had 
suddenly become alive again. 

She had risen from her knees, raised her arms me- 
chanically, from force of habit, and bowed amid shout- 



IRENE HOLM 638 

ing. In there, in the little room, she stood, support- 
ing herself on the edge of the table. It was all so 
dark around and in her so empty. She loosened 
the scarf from her gown with strangely stiff hands, 
smoothed her skirts, and went back again to the room 
where the audience were now clapping politely. She 
bowed her thanks, standing by the piano, but she did 
not raise her eyes. The others began to dance again, 
eager to resume the fun. Miss Holm went about 
among them, saying farewell. Her pupils pressed the 
paper packages containing their money into her hands. 
Peter Madsen's wife helped her into her cloak, and at 
the door she was met by the pastor's daughter and the 
curate, ready to accompany her home. 

They walked along in silence. The young lady from 
the rectory was very unhappy about the evening's oc- 
currence, and wanted to excuse it somehow, but didn't 
know what to say. The little dancer walked along at 
her side, pale and quiet. 

Finally the curate, embarrassed at the silence, re- 
marked hesitatingly: "You see, miss these people 
they don't understand tragic art." Miss Holm did 
not answer. When they came to her door she bowed 
and gave them her hand in silence. The rector's 
daughter caught her in her arms and kissed her. 
"Good night, good night/' she said, her voice trem- 
bling. Then she waited outside with the curate until 
they saw a light in the little dancer's room. 

Miss Holm took off her barege gown and folded 
it carefully. She unwrapped the money from the 



634 IRENE HOLM 

paper parcels, counted it, and sewed it into a little 
pocket in her bodice. She handled the needle awk- 
wardly, sitting bowed over the tiny light. 

The next morning her champagne basket was lifted 
onto a wagon of the country post. It rained, and 
Miss Holm huddled down under a broken umbrella. 
She drew her legs up under her, and sat on her bas- 
ket like a Turk. When it was time to leave, the 
driver ran alongside. The young lady from the rec- 
tory came running up bareheaded. She had a white 
basket in her hands, and said she had brought "just 
a little food for the journey." 

She bent down under the umbrella, caught Miss 
Holm's head in her hands, and kissed her twice. The 
old dancer broke into sobs, and grasping the young 
girl's hand, she kissed it violently. 

The rector's daughter stood and looked for a long 
time after the old umbrella swaying on top of the 
little cart. 

Miss Irene Holm had announced a "spring course 
in modern society dances" in a little town nearby. 
Six pupils were promised. It was thither she was 
going now- to continue the thing we call Life. 

----

内容：

v. 1. Russian. The queen of spades / Alexander Sergeievitch Poushkin -- The cloak / Nikolai Vasilievitch Gogol -- The rendezvous / Ivan Turgenev -- The counting-house / Ivan Turgenev -- The thief / Feodor Mikailovitch Dostoievski -- The long exile / Count Leo Nikolaievitch Tolstoi -- Easter night / Vladimir Galaktionovitch Korolenko -- The signal / Vsevolod Mikailovitch Garshin -- The curse of fame / Ignatiy Nikolaievitch Potapenko -- A work of art ; The slanderer / Anton Pavlovitch Chekhov -- Faust / Eugene Nikolaievitch Chirikov -- The duel / Nikolai Dmitrievitch Teleshov -- Boless / Alexei Maximovitch Pyeshkov -- The love of a scene-painter / Skitalitz -- Valia / Leonid Andreiev. v. 2. Italian. The lost letter / Enrico Castelnuovo -- Cavalleria rusticana / Giovanni Verga -- The silver crucifix / Antonio Fogazzaro -- The little Sardinian drummer / Edmondo de Amicis -- Lulu's triumph / Matilda Serao -- The end of Candia / Gabriele d'Annunzio -- Signora Speranza / Luigi Pirandello -- Two men and a woman / Grazia Deledda ; Scandinavian. Railroad and churchyard / Björnstjerne Björnson -- Björn Sivertsen's wedding trip / Holger Drachmann -- Jalo the trotter / Johann Jacob Ahrenberg -- The plague at Bergamo / Jens Peter Jacobsen -- Karen / Alexander Lange Kielland -- Love and bread / Jean August Strindberg -- Irene Holm / Hermann Joachim Bang --pp.619-36 The outlaws / Selma Lagerlöf. v. 3. German. The broken cup / Johann Heinrich Daniel Zschokke -- Castle Neideck / Wilhelm Heinrich von Riehl -- The young girl of Treppi / Paul Johann Ludwig Heyse -- The stonebreakers / Ferdinand von Saar -- Thou shalt not kill / Leopold von Sacher-Masoch -- The fountain of youth / Rudolf Baumbach -- Good blood / Ernst von Wildenbruch -- Deliverance / Max Simon Nordau -- A New-Year's Eve confession / Hermann Sudermann -- Bric-a-brac and destinies / Gabriele Reuter -- The fur coat / Ludwig Fulda -- The dead are silent / Arthur Schnitzler -- Margret's pilgrimage / Clara Viebig. v. 4. French I. The unknown masterpiece / Honoré de Balzac -- The price of a life / Augustin Eugène Scribe -- Napoleon and Pope Pius VII / Alfred Victor, Comte de Vigny -- Claude Gueux / Victor Marie Hugo -- A bal masqué / Alexandre Davy de la Pailleterie Dumas -- How the redoubt was taken / Prosper Mérimée -- The Vendean marriage / Jules Gabriel Janin -- The marquise / George Sand -- The beauty-spot / Alfred Louis Charles de Musset -- The mummy's foot / Théophile Gautier -- Circé / Octave Feuillet -- The hanging at La Piroche / Alexandre Dumas, fils -- The dean's watch / Erckmann-Chatrian -- At the Pailais de Justice / Alphonse Daudet -- Boum-boum / Jules Claretie. v. 5. French II. La bretonne / André Theuriet -- Which was the madman? / Edmond About -- The grand marriage / Ludovic Halévy -- The accursed house / Émile Gaboriau -- The fête at Coqueville / Émile Zola -- The lost child / Franc̜ois Coppée -- Putois / Anatole France -- Sac-au-dos / Joris Karl Huysmans -- Bonjour, monsieur / Jean Richepin -- The bit of string ; The necklace / Guy de Maupassant -- The wall opposite / Pierre Loti -- The ancestor / Paul Bourget -- When he was a little boy / Henri Lavedan -- A gentleman finds a watch / Georges Courteline -- A young girl's diary / Marcel Prévost -- The sign of the key and the cross / Henri de Régnier -- The telegraph operator / Alphonse Allais.

責任：

edited by William Patten.