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Famous Modern Ghost Stories

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Contributor: Andreyev, Leonid Nikolayevich, 1871-1919, Bierce, Ambrose, 1842-1914?, Blackwood, Algernon, 1869-1951, Chambers, Robert W. (Robert William), 1865-1933, Closser, Myla Jo, Dunbar, Olivia Howard, 1873-1953, France, Anatole, 1844-1924, Freeman, Mary Eleanor Wilkins, 1852-1930, Harvey, F. W. (Frederick William), 1888-1957, Le Gallienne, Richard, 1866-1947, Machen, Arthur, 1863-1947, Maupassant, Guy de, 1850-1893, O'Brien, Fitz James, 1828-1862, Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849, Steele, Wilbur Daniel, 1886-1970
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"We'd better get off sharp in an hour," I said presently, feeling for an opening that must bring him indirectly to a partial confession at any rate. And his answer puzzled me uncomfortably: "Rather! If they'll let us." "Who'll let us? The elements?" I asked quickly, with affected indifference. "The powers of this awful place, whoever they are," he replied, keeping his eyes on the map. "The gods are here, if they are anywhere at all in the world." "The elements are always the true immortals," I replied, laughing as naturally as I could manage, yet knowing quite well that my face reflected my true feelings when he looked up gravely at me and spoke across the smoke: "We shall be fortunate if we get away without further disaster." This was exactly what I had dreaded, and I screwed myself up to the point of the direct question. It was like agreeing to allow the dentist to extract the tooth; it _had_ to come anyhow in the long run, and the rest was all pretense.
Eugenie Grandet

EUGENIE GRANDET BY HONORE DE BALZAC Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley DEDICATION To Maria. May your name, that of one whose portrait is the noblest ornament of this work, lie on its opening pages like a branch of sacred
"Further disaster! Why, what's happened?" "For one thing--the steering paddle's gone," he said quietly. "The steering paddle gone!" I repeated, greatly excited, for this was our rudder, and the Danube in flood without a rudder was suicide. "But what----" "And there's a tear in the bottom of the canoe," he added, with a genuine little tremor in his voice. I continued staring at him, able only to repeat the words in his face somewhat foolishly. There, in the heat of the sun, and on this burning sand, I was aware of a freezing atmosphere descending round us. I got up to follow him, for he merely nodded his head gravely and led the way towards the tent a few yards on the other side of the fireplace. The canoe still lay there as I had last seen her in the night, ribs uppermost, the paddles, or rather, _the_ paddle, on the sand beside her. "There's only one," he said, stooping to pick it up. "And here's the rent in the base-board." It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I had clearly noticed _two_ paddles a few hours before, but a second impulse made me think better of it, and I said nothing. I approached to see.