Recently added books

Juana

Creator: Balzac, Honoré de, 1799-1850
Translator: Wormeley, Katharine Prescott, 1830-1908
Contributor: -
Editor: -


Brand new books:


"Ah, let me see my daughter!" "Nothing easier," said Perez; "she is now asleep. If she has left the key in the lock we must waken her." As he rose to take the duplicate key of Juana's door his eyes fell by chance on the circular gleam of light upon the black wall of the inner courtyard. Within that circle he saw the shadow of a group such as Canova alone has attempted to render. The Spaniard turned back. "I do not know," he said to the Marana, "where to find the key." "You are very pale," she said. "And I will show you why," he cried, seizing his dagger and rapping its hilt violently on Juana's door as he shouted,-- "Open! open! open! Juana!" Juana did not open, for she needed time to conceal Montefiore. She knew nothing of what was passing in the salon; the double portieres of thick tapestry deadened all sounds. "Madame, I lied to you in saying I could not find the key. Here it
Serapis

SERAPIS By Georg Ebers Volume 5. CHAPTER XX. Gorgo, when she had left her grandmother, could not rest. Her lofty calmness of demeanor had given way to a restless mood such as she had always contemned severely in others, since she had ceased to be a vehement child and grown to be a woman. She tried to beguile the alarm that made her pulses beat so quickly, and the heart-sickness that ached like a wound, by music and singing; but this only added to her torment. The means by which she could usually recover her equanimity of mind had lost their efficacy, and Sappho's longing hymn, which she began to sing, had only served to bring the fervid longing of her own heart to light-- to set it, as it were, in the full glare of the sun. She had become aware that every fibre, every nerve of her being yearned for the man she
is," added Perez, taking it from a sideboard. "But it is useless. Juana's key is in the lock; her door is barricaded. We have been deceived, my wife!" he added, turning to Dona Lagounia. "There is a man in Juana's room." "Impossible! By my eternal salvation I say it is impossible!" said his wife. "Do not swear, Dona Lagounia. Our honor is dead, and this woman--" He pointed to the Marana, who had risen and was standing motionless, blasted by his words, "this woman has the right to despise us. She saved our life, our fortune, and our honor, and we have saved nothing for her but her money--Juana!" he cried again, "open, or I will burst in your door." His voice, rising in violence, echoed through the garrets in the roof. He was cold and calm. The life of Montefiore was in his hands; he would wash away his remorse in the blood of that Italian. "Out, out, out! out, all of you!" cried the Marana, springing like a tigress on the dagger, which she wrenched from the hand of the astonished Perez. "Out, Perez," she continued more calmly, "out, you and your wife and servants! There will be murder here. You might be shot by the French. Have nothing to do with this; it is my affair, mine only. Between my daughter and me there is none but God. As for the man, he belongs to _me_. The whole earth could not tear him from my