It struck you,
for you did not repress an exclamation when you saw it.
for you did not repress an exclamation when you saw it.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v11 - Fro to Gre
I am condemned by inexorable
judges-my will and my conscience. "
An hour earlier Madame Fauvel would have sworn that Raoul
had made her suffer all that a woman could endure; and now he
had brought her a new grief so acute that the former ones
seemed naught in comparison.
"What have you done? " she stammered.
«< Money was intrusted to me. I played, and lost it. "
"Was it a large amount? "
"No, but neither you nor I can replace it. Poor mother, have
I not taken everything from you? Haven't you given me your
last jewel? "
"But M. De Clameran is rich; he has put his fortune at my
disposal. I will order the carriage and go to him. "
"M. De Clameran, mother, is absent for eight days; and I must
have the money to-night, or I am lost. Go! I have thought of
everything before deciding. But one loves life at twenty! "
He drew a pistol half out of his pocket, saying with a grim
smile, "This will arrange everything. "
Madame Fauvel was too unnerved in reflecting upon the
horror of the conduct of the supposed Raoul de Clameran to
fancy that this last wild menace was but a means for obtaining
money.
Forgetting the past, ignoring the future, and concentrating her
thought on the present situation, she saw but one thing-that
her son was about to kill himself, and that she was powerless to
arrest his suicide.
"Wait, wait," she said; "André will soon return, and I will
tell him that I have need of How much did you lose? "
-
## p. 6142 (#112) ###########################################
6142
ÉMILE GABORIAU
"Thirty thousand francs. "
"You shall have them to-morrow. "
"I must have them to-night. "
She seemed to be going mad; she wrung her hands in' de-
Do you
spair.
"To-night! " she said: "why didn't you come sooner?
To-night there is no one to open the
lack confidence in me?
safe without that->
-
The expectant Raoul caught the word. He gave an exclama-
tion of joy, as if a light had broken upon his dark despair.
"The safe! " he cried; "do you know where the key is? »
"Yes, it is here. "
"Thank heaven! "
He looked at Madame Fauvel with such a demoniacal glance
that she dropped her eyes.
"Give it to me, mother," he entreated.
"Miserable boy! "
"It is life that I ask of you. "
This prayer decided her. Taking a candle, she stepped quickly
into her room, opened the writing-desk, and there found M. Fau-
vel's own key.
But as she was handing it to Raoul, reason returned.
"No," she murmured; "no, it is impossible. "
He did not insist, and indeed seemed willing to retire.
"Ah, well! " he said. "Then, my mother, one last kiss. "
She stopped him:- "What will you do with the key, Raoul?
Have you also the secret word? "
"No, but I can try. "
---
"You know there is never money in the safe. ”
"Let us try. If I open it by a miracle, and if there is
money in the box, then I shall believe that God has taken pity
upon us. "
"And if you do not succeed? Then will you swear that you
will wait until to-morrow? »
"Upon the memory of my father, I swear it. "
"Then here is the key! Come. "
They had now reached Prosper's office, and Raoul had placed
the lamp on a high shelf, from which point it lighted the entire
room. He had recovered all of his self-possession, or rather that
peculiar mechanical precision of action which seems to be inde-
pendent of the will, and which men accustomed to peril always
## p. 6143 (#113) ###########################################
ÉMILE GABORIAU
6143
His
find at their service in times of pressing need. Rapidly, and
with the dexterity of experience, he placed the five buttons of
the iron box upon the letters forming the name g,y,p,s,y.
expression during this short performance was one of intense
anxiety. He began to fear that the excited energy which he
had summoned might fail him, and also that if he did open the
box he might not find the hoped-for sum. Prosper might have
changed the letters, and he might have been sent to the bank
that day.
Madame Fauvel watched Raoul with pathetic distress. She
read in his wild eyes that despair of the unfortunate, who so
passionately desire a result that they fancy their unassisted will
can overcome all obstacles.
Being intimate with Prosper, and having frequently watched
him close the office, Raoul knew perfectly well-indeed, he had
made it a study and attempted it himself, for he was a far-seeing
youth-how to manipulate the key in the lock.
He inserted it gently, turned it, pushed it in deeper, and
turned it again, then he pushed it in with a violent shock and
turned it once more. His heart beat so loudly that Madame
Fauvel could hear it.
The word had not been changed: the box opened.
Raoul and his mother uttered cries-hers of terror, his of
triumph.
"Shut it! " screamed Madame Fauvel, frightened at this inex-
plicable and incomprehensible result; "leave it-come! "
And half mad, she threw herself upon Raoul, clinging to his
arm in desperation and drawing him to her with such violence
that the key was dragged from the lock and along the door of
the coffer, leaving a long and deep mark.
But Raoul had had time to notice upon the upper shelf of the
box three bundles of bank-notes. These he quickly snatched
with his left hand, slipped them under his coat and placed them
between his waistcoat and shirt.
Exhausted by her efforts, and yielding to the violence of her
emotions, Madame Fauvel dropped Raoul's arm, and to avoid
falling, supported herself on the back of Prosper's arm-chair.
"I implore you, Raoul," she said, "I beseech you to put
those bank-notes back in the box. I shall have money to-morrow,
I swear it to you a hundred times over, and I will give it to
you, my son. I beg you to take pity on your mother! "
## p. 6144 (#114) ###########################################
6144
ÉMILE GABORIAU
He paid no attention to her. He was examining the long
scratch on the door. This mark of the theft was very convincing
and disturbing.
"At least," implored Madame Fauvel, "don't take all. Keep
what you need to save yourself, and leave the rest. "
"What for? Would a balance make discovery less easy? "
"Yes, because I-you see I can manage it. Let me arrange
it! I can find an explanation! I will tell André that I needed
money-
>>
With precaution, Raoul closed the safe.
«< Come," he said to his mother, "let us leave, so that we may
not be suspected. One of the servants might go to the drawing-
room and be surprised not to find us there. "
His cruel indifference and cold calculation at such a moment
filled Madame Fauvel with indignation. Yet she still hoped that
she might influence her son. She still believed in the power of
her entreaties and tears.
"Ah me! " she said, "it might be as well! If they discover
us, I care little or nothing. We are lost! André will drive me
from the house, a miserable creature. But at least, I will not
sacrifice the innocent. To-morrow Prosper will be accused.
Clameran has taken from him the woman he loves, and you, now
you will rob him of his honor. I will not. "
She spoke so loud and with such a penetrating voice that
Raoul was alarmed. He knew that the office clerk slept in an
adjoining room. Although it was not late, he might have gone
to bed; and if so, he could hear every word.
"Let us go," he said, seizing Madame Fauvel by the arm.
But she resisted, and clung to a table, the better to resist.
"I have been a coward to sacrifice Madeleine," she said qui-
etly. “I will not sacrifice Prosper! "
Raoul knew of a victorious argument which would break
Madame Fauvel's resolution.
"Ah! " he cried with a cynical laugh; "you do not know, then,
that Prosper and I are in league, and that he shares my fate. "
"That is impossible. "
"What do you think? Do you imagine that it was chance
which gave me the secret word and opened the box? "
"Prosper is honest. "
"Of course, and so am I. But- we need the money. ”
"You speak falsely! "
-
## p. 6145 (#115) ###########################################
ÉMILE GABORIAU
6145
"No, dear mother. Madeleine left Prosper, and—well, bless
me! he has tried to console himself, the poor fellow; and such
consolations are expensive. "
He had lifted the lamp; and gently but with much force
pushed Madame Fauvel towards the staircase.
She seemed to be more dumbfounded than when she saw the
open safe.
"What," she said, "Prosper a thief? "
She asked herself if she were not the victim of a terrible
nightmare; if an awakening would not rid her of this unspeak-
able torture. She could not control her thoughts, and mechani-
cally, supported by Raoul, she placed her foot on the narrow.
stairs.
"The key must be returned to the writing-desk," said Raoul,
when they reached the bedroom.
She appeared not to hear, and it was Raoul who replaced the
key in the box from which he had seen her take it.
He then led or rather carried Madame Fauvel to the little
drawing-room where he had found her upon his arrival, and
placed her in an easy-chair. The utter prostration of this un-
happy woman, her fixed eyes, and her loss of expression, revealed
only too well the agony of her mind. Raoul, frightened, asked
if she had gone mad?
"Come, mother dear," he said, as he tried to warm her icy
hands, "come to yourself. You have saved my life, and we have
both rendered a great service to Prosper. Fear nothing: all will
come straight. Prosper will be accused, perhaps arrested. He
expects that; but he will deny it, and as his guilt cannot be
proved, he will be released. "
But his lies and his efforts were lost upon Madame Fauvel,
who was too distracted to hear them.
"Raoul," she murmured, "my son, you have killed me! "
Her voice was so impressive in its sorrow, her tone was so
tender in its despair, that Raoul was affected, and even decided
to restore the stolen money. But the thought of Clameran
returned.
Then, noticing that Madame Fauvel remained in her chair,
bewildered and as still as death, trembling at the thought that
M. Fauvel or Madeleine might enter at any moment, he pressed
a kiss upon his mother's forehead-and fled.
Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature. >
XI-385
## p. 6146 (#116) ###########################################
6146
ÉMILE GABORIAU
M. LECOQ'S SYSTEM
From File No. 113'
I
THE centre of a large and curiously furnished room, half
library and half actor's study, was seated at a desk the same
person wearing gold spectacles who had said at the police.
station to the accused cashier Prosper Bertomy, "Take courage! "
This was M. Lecoq in his official character.
Upon the entrance of Fanferlot, who advanced respectfully,
curving his backbone as he bowed, M. Lecoq slightly lifted his
head and laid down his pen, saying, "Ah! you have come at
last, my boy! Well, you don't seem to be progressing with the
Bertomy case. "
"Why, really," stammered Fanferlot, "you know—»
"I know that you have muddled everything, until you are so
blinded that you are ready to give over. "
"But master, it was not I—”
M. Lecoq had arisen and was pacing the floor. Suddenly he
stopped before Fanferlot, nicknamed "the Squirrel. ”
"What do you think, Master Squirrel," he asked in a hard
and ironical tone, "of a man who abuses the confidence of those
who employ him, who reveals enough of what he has discovered
to make the evidence misleading, and who betrays for the benefit
of his foolish vanity the cause of justice-and an unhappy pris-
oner? »
The frightened Fanferlot recoiled a step.
"I should say," he began, "I should say —"
"You think this man should be punished and dismissed; and
you are right. The less a profession is honored, the more hon-
orable should be those who follow it. You however are treach-
erous. Ah! Master Squirrel, we are ambitious, and we try to
play the police in our own way! We let Justice wander where
she will, while we search for other things. It takes a more cun-
ning bloodhound than you, my boy, to hunt without a hunter
and at his own risk. "
"But master, I swear-»
"Be silent. Do you wish me to prove that you have told
everything to the examining magistrate, as was your duty? Go
to! While others were charging the cashier, you informed against
the banker! You watched him; you became intimate with his
valet de chambre! »
## p. 6147 (#117) ###########################################
ÉMILE GABORIAU
6147
Was M. Lecoq really in anger? Fanferlot, who knew him well,
doubted it a little; but with this devil of a man one never quite
knew how to take him.
"If you were only clever," he continued, "but no! You wish
to be a master, and you are not even a good workman. "
"You are right, master," said Fanferlot piteously, who could.
deny no longer. "But how could I work upon a business like
this, when there was no trace, no mark, no sign, no conviction,
-nothing, nothing? "
M. Lecoq raised his shoulders.
"Poor boy! " he said. "Know, then, that the day when you
were summoned with the commissary to verify the robbery, you
had-I will not say certainly but very probably-between your
two large and stupid hands the means of knowing which key, the
banker's or the cashier's, had been used in committing the theft. "
"What an idea! "
"You want proof? Very well. Do you remember that mark
which you observed on the side of the copper?
It struck you,
for you did not repress an exclamation when you saw it. You
examined it carefully with a glass; and you were convinced that
it was quite fresh, and therefore made recently. You said, and
with reason, that this mark dated from the moment of the theft.
But with what had it been made? With a key, evidently. That
being the case, you should have demanded the keys of the
banker and the cashier, and examined them attentively. One of
these would have shown some atoms of the green paint with
which a strong-box is usually coated. "
Fanferlot listened with open mouth to this explanation. At
the last words, he slapped his forehead violently, and cried of
himself "Imbecile! "
――――
"You are right," replied M. Lecoq-"imbecile. What! With
such a guide before your eyes, you neglected it and drew no
conclusion! This is the one clue to the affair. If I find the
guilty one, it will be by means of this mark,—and I will find
him; I am determined to do it. "
When away from Lecoq, Fanferlot, nicknamed the Squirrel,
often slandered and defied him; but in his presence he yielded
to the magnetic influence which this extraordinary man exercised
upon all who came near him.
Such exact information and such minute details perplexed his
mind. Where and how could M. Lecoq have gathered them?
## p. 6148 (#118) ###########################################
6148
ÉMILE GABORIAU
"You have been studying the case, master? »
"Probably. But as I am not infallible, I may have let some
valuable point escape me. Sit down, and tell me all that you
know. "
One could not prevaricate with M. Lecoq. Therefore Fanfer-
lot told the exact truth,—which was not his custom. However,
before the end of his recital, his vanity prevented him from tell-
ing how he had been tricked by Mademoiselle Nina Gypsy and
the stout gentleman.
Unfortunately, M. Lecoq was never informed by halves.
"It seems to me, Master Squirrel," he said, "that you have
forgotten something. How far did you follow the empty cab? "
Fanferlot, despite his assurance, blushed to his ears, and
dropped his eyes like a schoolboy caught in a guilty act.
"O patron,” he stammered, "you know that too? How could
you have — »
Suddenly a thought flashed through his brain: he stopped,
and bounding from his chair, cried, "Oh, I am sure that stout
gentleman with the red whiskers was you! "
Fanferlot's surprise gave such a ridiculous expression to his
face that M. Lecoq could not help smiling.
"Then it was you," continued the amazed detective, "it was
you, that fat man at whom I stared. I did not recognize you!
Ah, patron, what an actor you would make if you pleased! And
I was disguised also! "
"But very poorly, my poor boy, I tell you for your own good.
Do you think a heavy beard and a blouse sufficient to evade
detection? But the eye, stupid fellow, the eye! It is the eye
that must be changed. There is the secret. "
This theory of disguise explains why the official, lynx-like
Lecoq never appeared at the police office without his gold spec-
tacles.
- -
"But then, patron," continued Fanferlot, working out the
idea, “you have made the little girl confess, although Madame
Alexandre failed? You know then why she left 'The Grand-
Archange; why she did not wait for M. Louis de Clameran;
and why she bought calico dresses for herself? »
"She never acts without my instructions. "
"In this case," said the detective, greatly discouraged, "there
is nothing more for me to do except acknowledge myself a
fool. "
## p. 6149 (#119) ###########################################
ÉMILE GABORIAU
6149
"No, Squirrel," replied M. Lecoq with kindness; "no, you
are not a fool; you are simply wrong in undertaking a task
beyond your powers. Have you made one progressive step since
you began this case? No. This only proves that you are in-
comparable as a lieutenant, but that you have not the sang-froid
of a general. I will give you an aphorism; keep it, and make it
a rule of conduct - Some men may shine in the second who
are eclipsed in the first rank. '»
Egotist, like all great artists, M. Lecoq had never had, nor
did he wish to have, a pupil. He worked alone. He despised
assistants; for he did not wish to share the pleasures of triumph
nor the bitterness of defeat.
Therefore Fanferlot, who knew his patron so well, was aston-
ished to hear him, who had heretofore given nothing but orders,
helping him with counsel.
He was so mystified that he could not help showing his sur-
prise.
«<
"It seems to me, patron," he risked saying, that you take a
strong personal interest in this case, that you study it so closely. "
M. Lecoq started nervously,- which motion escaped his de-
tective, and then, frowning, he said in a hard voice: -
-
"It is your nature to be curious, Master Squirrel; but take
care that you do not go too far. Do you understand? »
Fanferlot began to offer excuses.
"Enough! Enough! " interrupted M. Lecoq. "If I lend
you a helping hand, it is because I wish to. I wish to be the
your preconceived
If we two do not
head while you are the arm. Alone, with
ideas, you never would find the guilty one.
find him together, then I am not M. Lecoq. "
"We shall succeed, if you make it your business. "
"Yes, I am entangled in it, and during four days I have
learned many things. However, keep this quiet. I have reasons
for not being known in this case. Whatever happens, I forbid
you to mention my name. If we succeed, the success must be
given to you. And above all, do not seek explanations. Be
satisfied with what I tell you. "
These charges seemed to fill Fanferlot with confidence.
"I will be discreet, patron," he promised.
"I depend upon you, my boy. To begin: Carry this photo-
graph of the strong box to the examining magistrate. M. Patri-
gent, I know, is as perplexed as possible upon the subject of
## p. 6150 (#120) ###########################################
6150
ÉMILE GABORIAU
the prisoner. You must explain, as if it were your own discov-
ery, what I have just shown you. When you repeat all this to
him with these indications, I am sure he will release the cashier.
Prosper Bertomy, the accused cashier, must be free before I
begin my work. "
"I understand, patron. But shall I let M. Patrigent see that
I suspect another than the banker or the cashier? "
«< Certainly. Justice demands that you follow up the case.
M. Patrigent will charge you to watch Prosper; reply that you
will not lose sight of him. I assure you that he will be in
good hands. "
"And if he asks news of
Mademoiselle Gypsy? "
M. Lecoq hesitated for a moment.
"You will say to him," he said finally, "that you have de-
cided, in the interest of Prosper, to place her in a house where
she can watch some one whom you suspect. "
The joyous Fanferlot rolled the photograph, took his hat, and
prepared to leave. M. Lecoq detained him by a gesture: -“ I
have not finished," he said. "Do you know how to drive a car-
riage and take care of a horse?
"Why, patron, you ask me that -an old rider of the Bouthor
Circus? "
"Very well. As soon as the judge has dismissed you, return
home, and prepare a wig and livery of a valet de chambre of the
first class; and having dressed, go with this letter to the Agency
on the Rue Delorme. "
"But, patron —
"There are no 'buts,' my boy; for this agent will send you
to M. Louis de Clameran, who needs a new valet de chambre, his
own having left yesterday evening. "
"Excuse me if I dare say that you are deceived. Clameran
will not agree to the conditions: he is no friend of the cashier. "
"How you always interrupt me," said M. Lecoq, in his most
imperative tones. "Do only what I tell you, and let everything
else alone. M. Clameran is not a friend to Prosper. I know
But he is the friend and protector of Raoul de Lagors.
Why? Who can explain the intimacy of these two men of such
different ages? We must know this. We must also know who
is M. Louis de Clameran-this forge-master who lives in Paris
and never goes to his own factories! A jolly dog who has taken
it into his head to live at the Hôtel du Louvre and who mingles
— »
## p. 6151 (#121) ###########################################
ÉMILE GABORIAU
6151
in the whirling crowd, is difficult to watch. Through you, I shall
have my eye on him. He has a carriage; you will drive it; and
in the easiest way you will know his acquaintances, and be able
to give me an account of his slightest proceedings. "
"You shall be obeyed, patron. "
"Still another word. M. De Clameran is very irritable and
suspicious. You will be introduced to him as Joseph Dubois.
He will ask for your recommendations. Here are three, show-
ing that you have served the Marquis de Sairmeuse, the Count
de Commarin, and your last place the house of the Baron de
Wortschen, who has just gone to Germany. Keep your eyes
open, be correct, and watch his movements. Serve well, but
without excess of manner. But don't be too cringing, for that
would arouse suspicion. "
-
"Make yourself easy, patron: now, where shall I report ? »
"I will come to see you every day. Until you have an order,
don't step inside of this house: you might be followed. If any
thing unforeseen occurs, send a dispatch to your wife, and she
will advise me. Now go; and be prudent. "
The door shut behind Fanferlot, and M. Lecoq passed quickly
into his bedroom.
In the twinkling of an eye he stripped off all traces of the
official detective chief, the starched cravat, the gold spectacles,
and the wig, which when removed released the thick black hair.
The official Lecoq disappeared; the true Lecoq remained, a
person that no one knew,—a handsome young man with brill-
iant eyes and a resolute manner.
Only a moment was he visible. Seated before a dressing-
table, on which were spread a greater array of paints, essences,
rouge, cosmetics, and false hair than is required for a modern
belle, he began to substitute a new face for the one accorded
him by nature.
He worked slowly, handling his little brushes with extreme
care, and in about an hour had achieved one of his periodical
masterpieces. When he had finished, he was no longer Lecoq:
he was the stout gentleman with the red whiskers, not recog-
nized by Fanferlot.
"There," he exclaimed, giving a last glance in the mirror, "I
have forgotten nothing; I have left nothing to chance. All my
threads are tied, and I can progress. I hope the Squirrel will
not lose time. "
―――
## p. 6152 (#122) ###########################################
6152
ÉMILE GABORIAU
But Fanferlot was too joyous to squander a moment. He did
not run,- he flew along the way toward the Palais de Justice
and M. Patrigent the judge.
At last he had the opportunity of demonstrating his own
superior perspicacity.
It never occurred to him that he was striving to triumph
through the ideas of another man. The greater part of the world
is content to strut, like the jackdaw, in peacock's feathers.
The result did not blight his hopes. If M. Patrigent was not
altogether convinced, he at least admired the ingenuity of the
proceeding.
"This is what I will do," he said in dismissing Fanferlot: "I
will present a favorable report to the council chamber, and to-
morrow, most likely, the cashier will be released. "
Immediately he began to write one of those terrible decisions
of "Not Proven," which restores liberty to the accused man, but
not honor; which says that he is not guilty, but which does not
declare him innocent:
"Whereas, against the prisoner Prosper Bertomy sufficient
charges do not exist, in accordance with Article 128 of the Crim-
inal Code, we declare there are no grounds at present for prose-
cution against the aforesaid prisoner: we therefore order that he
be released from the prison where he is now detained, and set
at liberty by the jailer," etc.
When this was finished, M. Patrigent remarked to his regis-
trar Sigault:-"Here is one of those mysterious crimes which
baffle justice! This is another file to be added to the archives
of the record office. " And with his own hand he wrote upon
the outside the official number, "File No. 113. ”
Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature. '
## p. 6153 (#123) ###########################################
6153
BÉNITO PEREZ GALDÓS
(1845-)
BY WILLIAM HENRY BISHOP
I
HE Contemporary school of Spanish fiction dates from about
the revolution of 1868, which drove out Isabel II. and
brought in a more liberal form of government. Without
this revolution, it would scarcely have found opportunity for the free
expression of opinion and the bold critical tone towards ancient insti-
tutions which are among its leading characteristics. It is a fresh
stirring of the human intellect, a distinctly new product, and a val-
uable contribution to the world's literature. It has affiliation with the
Russian, the English, and other vital modern movements in fiction,
and yet it can by no means be confused with that of any other
country. Its method is realistic; but one of its leading figures, De
Pereda, a strong delineator of rural life, protests, as to him and his
works, against the use of the word,-"if," he says vigorously, "it
means to rank me under the triumphal French banner of foul-
smelling realism. " That is to say, they consider the best material for
fiction to be the better and sweeter part of life and its higher aspira-
tions, and not that coarse part of it to which the French would seem
to have devoted an undue amount of attention. The reader of
Anglo-Saxon origin approaches this fiction with ease and sympathy;
he has not to acquire any new point of view in order to understand
it, nor to unlearn any wonted standards of taste or morals.
An informing Spanish critic, Emilia Pardo Bazan, herself a novel-
ist of talent, points out that the present Spanish school cannot be
said to have a "yesterday," but only "a day before yesterday. " She
means that it has skipped a certain interval, and connects itself with
remoter, and not with recent, tradition. It really comes down from a
time antedating even the great "Golden Age. " It takes its rise in
the wonderful naturalness of the 'Celestina,' a quaint “tragi-comedy»
of the year 1499. It bears a close relationship, next, to Don Qui-
xote and to the "Novelas Picarescas," the stories of amusing knaves
in very low life, of which 'Lazarillo de Tormes' and 'Guzman de
Alfarache' are the best examples, and that French imitation, Gil
## p. 6154 (#124) ###########################################
6154
BENITO PÉREZ GALDÓS
Blas,' better than the originals. A period of very stiff Classicism in
the eighteenth century, and of extravagant Romanticism in the
beginning of the nineteenth, followed, constituting the omitted "yes-
terday"; and then arrived the vigorous literature of the present time,
here in question. The qualities of truth to nature, practical good
sense, genuine humor, and play of imagination, have nearly always
characterized Spanish fiction, and these qualities seem possessed by
the contemporary novelists in a higher degree than ever before. The
Picaresque or Rogue stories seem to be- their naturalness admitted
—a mere string of disconnected adventures, written to the taste of a
period that had not the habit of keeping its attention fixed upon
anything long; and we scarcely know any leading character more
intimately at the end than at the beginning. As against this, we
have now complete and lengthy novels, in which situations and char-
acters are all worked out upon a symmetrical plan, and in which
the conclusions generally follow like those of fate; that is to say,
they are not arbitrary, but inevitably result from the conditions and
circumstances given.
In
So far as there is English influence in this literature, it may be
said to be more in the form of example than as a direct component.
It has given the Spanish movement courage and persistence, to see
the same ideals elsewhere affording profit and pleasure to millions
of men. Otherwise it is a mere coloring, a superficial trace.
judges-my will and my conscience. "
An hour earlier Madame Fauvel would have sworn that Raoul
had made her suffer all that a woman could endure; and now he
had brought her a new grief so acute that the former ones
seemed naught in comparison.
"What have you done? " she stammered.
«< Money was intrusted to me. I played, and lost it. "
"Was it a large amount? "
"No, but neither you nor I can replace it. Poor mother, have
I not taken everything from you? Haven't you given me your
last jewel? "
"But M. De Clameran is rich; he has put his fortune at my
disposal. I will order the carriage and go to him. "
"M. De Clameran, mother, is absent for eight days; and I must
have the money to-night, or I am lost. Go! I have thought of
everything before deciding. But one loves life at twenty! "
He drew a pistol half out of his pocket, saying with a grim
smile, "This will arrange everything. "
Madame Fauvel was too unnerved in reflecting upon the
horror of the conduct of the supposed Raoul de Clameran to
fancy that this last wild menace was but a means for obtaining
money.
Forgetting the past, ignoring the future, and concentrating her
thought on the present situation, she saw but one thing-that
her son was about to kill himself, and that she was powerless to
arrest his suicide.
"Wait, wait," she said; "André will soon return, and I will
tell him that I have need of How much did you lose? "
-
## p. 6142 (#112) ###########################################
6142
ÉMILE GABORIAU
"Thirty thousand francs. "
"You shall have them to-morrow. "
"I must have them to-night. "
She seemed to be going mad; she wrung her hands in' de-
Do you
spair.
"To-night! " she said: "why didn't you come sooner?
To-night there is no one to open the
lack confidence in me?
safe without that->
-
The expectant Raoul caught the word. He gave an exclama-
tion of joy, as if a light had broken upon his dark despair.
"The safe! " he cried; "do you know where the key is? »
"Yes, it is here. "
"Thank heaven! "
He looked at Madame Fauvel with such a demoniacal glance
that she dropped her eyes.
"Give it to me, mother," he entreated.
"Miserable boy! "
"It is life that I ask of you. "
This prayer decided her. Taking a candle, she stepped quickly
into her room, opened the writing-desk, and there found M. Fau-
vel's own key.
But as she was handing it to Raoul, reason returned.
"No," she murmured; "no, it is impossible. "
He did not insist, and indeed seemed willing to retire.
"Ah, well! " he said. "Then, my mother, one last kiss. "
She stopped him:- "What will you do with the key, Raoul?
Have you also the secret word? "
"No, but I can try. "
---
"You know there is never money in the safe. ”
"Let us try. If I open it by a miracle, and if there is
money in the box, then I shall believe that God has taken pity
upon us. "
"And if you do not succeed? Then will you swear that you
will wait until to-morrow? »
"Upon the memory of my father, I swear it. "
"Then here is the key! Come. "
They had now reached Prosper's office, and Raoul had placed
the lamp on a high shelf, from which point it lighted the entire
room. He had recovered all of his self-possession, or rather that
peculiar mechanical precision of action which seems to be inde-
pendent of the will, and which men accustomed to peril always
## p. 6143 (#113) ###########################################
ÉMILE GABORIAU
6143
His
find at their service in times of pressing need. Rapidly, and
with the dexterity of experience, he placed the five buttons of
the iron box upon the letters forming the name g,y,p,s,y.
expression during this short performance was one of intense
anxiety. He began to fear that the excited energy which he
had summoned might fail him, and also that if he did open the
box he might not find the hoped-for sum. Prosper might have
changed the letters, and he might have been sent to the bank
that day.
Madame Fauvel watched Raoul with pathetic distress. She
read in his wild eyes that despair of the unfortunate, who so
passionately desire a result that they fancy their unassisted will
can overcome all obstacles.
Being intimate with Prosper, and having frequently watched
him close the office, Raoul knew perfectly well-indeed, he had
made it a study and attempted it himself, for he was a far-seeing
youth-how to manipulate the key in the lock.
He inserted it gently, turned it, pushed it in deeper, and
turned it again, then he pushed it in with a violent shock and
turned it once more. His heart beat so loudly that Madame
Fauvel could hear it.
The word had not been changed: the box opened.
Raoul and his mother uttered cries-hers of terror, his of
triumph.
"Shut it! " screamed Madame Fauvel, frightened at this inex-
plicable and incomprehensible result; "leave it-come! "
And half mad, she threw herself upon Raoul, clinging to his
arm in desperation and drawing him to her with such violence
that the key was dragged from the lock and along the door of
the coffer, leaving a long and deep mark.
But Raoul had had time to notice upon the upper shelf of the
box three bundles of bank-notes. These he quickly snatched
with his left hand, slipped them under his coat and placed them
between his waistcoat and shirt.
Exhausted by her efforts, and yielding to the violence of her
emotions, Madame Fauvel dropped Raoul's arm, and to avoid
falling, supported herself on the back of Prosper's arm-chair.
"I implore you, Raoul," she said, "I beseech you to put
those bank-notes back in the box. I shall have money to-morrow,
I swear it to you a hundred times over, and I will give it to
you, my son. I beg you to take pity on your mother! "
## p. 6144 (#114) ###########################################
6144
ÉMILE GABORIAU
He paid no attention to her. He was examining the long
scratch on the door. This mark of the theft was very convincing
and disturbing.
"At least," implored Madame Fauvel, "don't take all. Keep
what you need to save yourself, and leave the rest. "
"What for? Would a balance make discovery less easy? "
"Yes, because I-you see I can manage it. Let me arrange
it! I can find an explanation! I will tell André that I needed
money-
>>
With precaution, Raoul closed the safe.
«< Come," he said to his mother, "let us leave, so that we may
not be suspected. One of the servants might go to the drawing-
room and be surprised not to find us there. "
His cruel indifference and cold calculation at such a moment
filled Madame Fauvel with indignation. Yet she still hoped that
she might influence her son. She still believed in the power of
her entreaties and tears.
"Ah me! " she said, "it might be as well! If they discover
us, I care little or nothing. We are lost! André will drive me
from the house, a miserable creature. But at least, I will not
sacrifice the innocent. To-morrow Prosper will be accused.
Clameran has taken from him the woman he loves, and you, now
you will rob him of his honor. I will not. "
She spoke so loud and with such a penetrating voice that
Raoul was alarmed. He knew that the office clerk slept in an
adjoining room. Although it was not late, he might have gone
to bed; and if so, he could hear every word.
"Let us go," he said, seizing Madame Fauvel by the arm.
But she resisted, and clung to a table, the better to resist.
"I have been a coward to sacrifice Madeleine," she said qui-
etly. “I will not sacrifice Prosper! "
Raoul knew of a victorious argument which would break
Madame Fauvel's resolution.
"Ah! " he cried with a cynical laugh; "you do not know, then,
that Prosper and I are in league, and that he shares my fate. "
"That is impossible. "
"What do you think? Do you imagine that it was chance
which gave me the secret word and opened the box? "
"Prosper is honest. "
"Of course, and so am I. But- we need the money. ”
"You speak falsely! "
-
## p. 6145 (#115) ###########################################
ÉMILE GABORIAU
6145
"No, dear mother. Madeleine left Prosper, and—well, bless
me! he has tried to console himself, the poor fellow; and such
consolations are expensive. "
He had lifted the lamp; and gently but with much force
pushed Madame Fauvel towards the staircase.
She seemed to be more dumbfounded than when she saw the
open safe.
"What," she said, "Prosper a thief? "
She asked herself if she were not the victim of a terrible
nightmare; if an awakening would not rid her of this unspeak-
able torture. She could not control her thoughts, and mechani-
cally, supported by Raoul, she placed her foot on the narrow.
stairs.
"The key must be returned to the writing-desk," said Raoul,
when they reached the bedroom.
She appeared not to hear, and it was Raoul who replaced the
key in the box from which he had seen her take it.
He then led or rather carried Madame Fauvel to the little
drawing-room where he had found her upon his arrival, and
placed her in an easy-chair. The utter prostration of this un-
happy woman, her fixed eyes, and her loss of expression, revealed
only too well the agony of her mind. Raoul, frightened, asked
if she had gone mad?
"Come, mother dear," he said, as he tried to warm her icy
hands, "come to yourself. You have saved my life, and we have
both rendered a great service to Prosper. Fear nothing: all will
come straight. Prosper will be accused, perhaps arrested. He
expects that; but he will deny it, and as his guilt cannot be
proved, he will be released. "
But his lies and his efforts were lost upon Madame Fauvel,
who was too distracted to hear them.
"Raoul," she murmured, "my son, you have killed me! "
Her voice was so impressive in its sorrow, her tone was so
tender in its despair, that Raoul was affected, and even decided
to restore the stolen money. But the thought of Clameran
returned.
Then, noticing that Madame Fauvel remained in her chair,
bewildered and as still as death, trembling at the thought that
M. Fauvel or Madeleine might enter at any moment, he pressed
a kiss upon his mother's forehead-and fled.
Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature. >
XI-385
## p. 6146 (#116) ###########################################
6146
ÉMILE GABORIAU
M. LECOQ'S SYSTEM
From File No. 113'
I
THE centre of a large and curiously furnished room, half
library and half actor's study, was seated at a desk the same
person wearing gold spectacles who had said at the police.
station to the accused cashier Prosper Bertomy, "Take courage! "
This was M. Lecoq in his official character.
Upon the entrance of Fanferlot, who advanced respectfully,
curving his backbone as he bowed, M. Lecoq slightly lifted his
head and laid down his pen, saying, "Ah! you have come at
last, my boy! Well, you don't seem to be progressing with the
Bertomy case. "
"Why, really," stammered Fanferlot, "you know—»
"I know that you have muddled everything, until you are so
blinded that you are ready to give over. "
"But master, it was not I—”
M. Lecoq had arisen and was pacing the floor. Suddenly he
stopped before Fanferlot, nicknamed "the Squirrel. ”
"What do you think, Master Squirrel," he asked in a hard
and ironical tone, "of a man who abuses the confidence of those
who employ him, who reveals enough of what he has discovered
to make the evidence misleading, and who betrays for the benefit
of his foolish vanity the cause of justice-and an unhappy pris-
oner? »
The frightened Fanferlot recoiled a step.
"I should say," he began, "I should say —"
"You think this man should be punished and dismissed; and
you are right. The less a profession is honored, the more hon-
orable should be those who follow it. You however are treach-
erous. Ah! Master Squirrel, we are ambitious, and we try to
play the police in our own way! We let Justice wander where
she will, while we search for other things. It takes a more cun-
ning bloodhound than you, my boy, to hunt without a hunter
and at his own risk. "
"But master, I swear-»
"Be silent. Do you wish me to prove that you have told
everything to the examining magistrate, as was your duty? Go
to! While others were charging the cashier, you informed against
the banker! You watched him; you became intimate with his
valet de chambre! »
## p. 6147 (#117) ###########################################
ÉMILE GABORIAU
6147
Was M. Lecoq really in anger? Fanferlot, who knew him well,
doubted it a little; but with this devil of a man one never quite
knew how to take him.
"If you were only clever," he continued, "but no! You wish
to be a master, and you are not even a good workman. "
"You are right, master," said Fanferlot piteously, who could.
deny no longer. "But how could I work upon a business like
this, when there was no trace, no mark, no sign, no conviction,
-nothing, nothing? "
M. Lecoq raised his shoulders.
"Poor boy! " he said. "Know, then, that the day when you
were summoned with the commissary to verify the robbery, you
had-I will not say certainly but very probably-between your
two large and stupid hands the means of knowing which key, the
banker's or the cashier's, had been used in committing the theft. "
"What an idea! "
"You want proof? Very well. Do you remember that mark
which you observed on the side of the copper?
It struck you,
for you did not repress an exclamation when you saw it. You
examined it carefully with a glass; and you were convinced that
it was quite fresh, and therefore made recently. You said, and
with reason, that this mark dated from the moment of the theft.
But with what had it been made? With a key, evidently. That
being the case, you should have demanded the keys of the
banker and the cashier, and examined them attentively. One of
these would have shown some atoms of the green paint with
which a strong-box is usually coated. "
Fanferlot listened with open mouth to this explanation. At
the last words, he slapped his forehead violently, and cried of
himself "Imbecile! "
――――
"You are right," replied M. Lecoq-"imbecile. What! With
such a guide before your eyes, you neglected it and drew no
conclusion! This is the one clue to the affair. If I find the
guilty one, it will be by means of this mark,—and I will find
him; I am determined to do it. "
When away from Lecoq, Fanferlot, nicknamed the Squirrel,
often slandered and defied him; but in his presence he yielded
to the magnetic influence which this extraordinary man exercised
upon all who came near him.
Such exact information and such minute details perplexed his
mind. Where and how could M. Lecoq have gathered them?
## p. 6148 (#118) ###########################################
6148
ÉMILE GABORIAU
"You have been studying the case, master? »
"Probably. But as I am not infallible, I may have let some
valuable point escape me. Sit down, and tell me all that you
know. "
One could not prevaricate with M. Lecoq. Therefore Fanfer-
lot told the exact truth,—which was not his custom. However,
before the end of his recital, his vanity prevented him from tell-
ing how he had been tricked by Mademoiselle Nina Gypsy and
the stout gentleman.
Unfortunately, M. Lecoq was never informed by halves.
"It seems to me, Master Squirrel," he said, "that you have
forgotten something. How far did you follow the empty cab? "
Fanferlot, despite his assurance, blushed to his ears, and
dropped his eyes like a schoolboy caught in a guilty act.
"O patron,” he stammered, "you know that too? How could
you have — »
Suddenly a thought flashed through his brain: he stopped,
and bounding from his chair, cried, "Oh, I am sure that stout
gentleman with the red whiskers was you! "
Fanferlot's surprise gave such a ridiculous expression to his
face that M. Lecoq could not help smiling.
"Then it was you," continued the amazed detective, "it was
you, that fat man at whom I stared. I did not recognize you!
Ah, patron, what an actor you would make if you pleased! And
I was disguised also! "
"But very poorly, my poor boy, I tell you for your own good.
Do you think a heavy beard and a blouse sufficient to evade
detection? But the eye, stupid fellow, the eye! It is the eye
that must be changed. There is the secret. "
This theory of disguise explains why the official, lynx-like
Lecoq never appeared at the police office without his gold spec-
tacles.
- -
"But then, patron," continued Fanferlot, working out the
idea, “you have made the little girl confess, although Madame
Alexandre failed? You know then why she left 'The Grand-
Archange; why she did not wait for M. Louis de Clameran;
and why she bought calico dresses for herself? »
"She never acts without my instructions. "
"In this case," said the detective, greatly discouraged, "there
is nothing more for me to do except acknowledge myself a
fool. "
## p. 6149 (#119) ###########################################
ÉMILE GABORIAU
6149
"No, Squirrel," replied M. Lecoq with kindness; "no, you
are not a fool; you are simply wrong in undertaking a task
beyond your powers. Have you made one progressive step since
you began this case? No. This only proves that you are in-
comparable as a lieutenant, but that you have not the sang-froid
of a general. I will give you an aphorism; keep it, and make it
a rule of conduct - Some men may shine in the second who
are eclipsed in the first rank. '»
Egotist, like all great artists, M. Lecoq had never had, nor
did he wish to have, a pupil. He worked alone. He despised
assistants; for he did not wish to share the pleasures of triumph
nor the bitterness of defeat.
Therefore Fanferlot, who knew his patron so well, was aston-
ished to hear him, who had heretofore given nothing but orders,
helping him with counsel.
He was so mystified that he could not help showing his sur-
prise.
«<
"It seems to me, patron," he risked saying, that you take a
strong personal interest in this case, that you study it so closely. "
M. Lecoq started nervously,- which motion escaped his de-
tective, and then, frowning, he said in a hard voice: -
-
"It is your nature to be curious, Master Squirrel; but take
care that you do not go too far. Do you understand? »
Fanferlot began to offer excuses.
"Enough! Enough! " interrupted M. Lecoq. "If I lend
you a helping hand, it is because I wish to. I wish to be the
your preconceived
If we two do not
head while you are the arm. Alone, with
ideas, you never would find the guilty one.
find him together, then I am not M. Lecoq. "
"We shall succeed, if you make it your business. "
"Yes, I am entangled in it, and during four days I have
learned many things. However, keep this quiet. I have reasons
for not being known in this case. Whatever happens, I forbid
you to mention my name. If we succeed, the success must be
given to you. And above all, do not seek explanations. Be
satisfied with what I tell you. "
These charges seemed to fill Fanferlot with confidence.
"I will be discreet, patron," he promised.
"I depend upon you, my boy. To begin: Carry this photo-
graph of the strong box to the examining magistrate. M. Patri-
gent, I know, is as perplexed as possible upon the subject of
## p. 6150 (#120) ###########################################
6150
ÉMILE GABORIAU
the prisoner. You must explain, as if it were your own discov-
ery, what I have just shown you. When you repeat all this to
him with these indications, I am sure he will release the cashier.
Prosper Bertomy, the accused cashier, must be free before I
begin my work. "
"I understand, patron. But shall I let M. Patrigent see that
I suspect another than the banker or the cashier? "
«< Certainly. Justice demands that you follow up the case.
M. Patrigent will charge you to watch Prosper; reply that you
will not lose sight of him. I assure you that he will be in
good hands. "
"And if he asks news of
Mademoiselle Gypsy? "
M. Lecoq hesitated for a moment.
"You will say to him," he said finally, "that you have de-
cided, in the interest of Prosper, to place her in a house where
she can watch some one whom you suspect. "
The joyous Fanferlot rolled the photograph, took his hat, and
prepared to leave. M. Lecoq detained him by a gesture: -“ I
have not finished," he said. "Do you know how to drive a car-
riage and take care of a horse?
"Why, patron, you ask me that -an old rider of the Bouthor
Circus? "
"Very well. As soon as the judge has dismissed you, return
home, and prepare a wig and livery of a valet de chambre of the
first class; and having dressed, go with this letter to the Agency
on the Rue Delorme. "
"But, patron —
"There are no 'buts,' my boy; for this agent will send you
to M. Louis de Clameran, who needs a new valet de chambre, his
own having left yesterday evening. "
"Excuse me if I dare say that you are deceived. Clameran
will not agree to the conditions: he is no friend of the cashier. "
"How you always interrupt me," said M. Lecoq, in his most
imperative tones. "Do only what I tell you, and let everything
else alone. M. Clameran is not a friend to Prosper. I know
But he is the friend and protector of Raoul de Lagors.
Why? Who can explain the intimacy of these two men of such
different ages? We must know this. We must also know who
is M. Louis de Clameran-this forge-master who lives in Paris
and never goes to his own factories! A jolly dog who has taken
it into his head to live at the Hôtel du Louvre and who mingles
— »
## p. 6151 (#121) ###########################################
ÉMILE GABORIAU
6151
in the whirling crowd, is difficult to watch. Through you, I shall
have my eye on him. He has a carriage; you will drive it; and
in the easiest way you will know his acquaintances, and be able
to give me an account of his slightest proceedings. "
"You shall be obeyed, patron. "
"Still another word. M. De Clameran is very irritable and
suspicious. You will be introduced to him as Joseph Dubois.
He will ask for your recommendations. Here are three, show-
ing that you have served the Marquis de Sairmeuse, the Count
de Commarin, and your last place the house of the Baron de
Wortschen, who has just gone to Germany. Keep your eyes
open, be correct, and watch his movements. Serve well, but
without excess of manner. But don't be too cringing, for that
would arouse suspicion. "
-
"Make yourself easy, patron: now, where shall I report ? »
"I will come to see you every day. Until you have an order,
don't step inside of this house: you might be followed. If any
thing unforeseen occurs, send a dispatch to your wife, and she
will advise me. Now go; and be prudent. "
The door shut behind Fanferlot, and M. Lecoq passed quickly
into his bedroom.
In the twinkling of an eye he stripped off all traces of the
official detective chief, the starched cravat, the gold spectacles,
and the wig, which when removed released the thick black hair.
The official Lecoq disappeared; the true Lecoq remained, a
person that no one knew,—a handsome young man with brill-
iant eyes and a resolute manner.
Only a moment was he visible. Seated before a dressing-
table, on which were spread a greater array of paints, essences,
rouge, cosmetics, and false hair than is required for a modern
belle, he began to substitute a new face for the one accorded
him by nature.
He worked slowly, handling his little brushes with extreme
care, and in about an hour had achieved one of his periodical
masterpieces. When he had finished, he was no longer Lecoq:
he was the stout gentleman with the red whiskers, not recog-
nized by Fanferlot.
"There," he exclaimed, giving a last glance in the mirror, "I
have forgotten nothing; I have left nothing to chance. All my
threads are tied, and I can progress. I hope the Squirrel will
not lose time. "
―――
## p. 6152 (#122) ###########################################
6152
ÉMILE GABORIAU
But Fanferlot was too joyous to squander a moment. He did
not run,- he flew along the way toward the Palais de Justice
and M. Patrigent the judge.
At last he had the opportunity of demonstrating his own
superior perspicacity.
It never occurred to him that he was striving to triumph
through the ideas of another man. The greater part of the world
is content to strut, like the jackdaw, in peacock's feathers.
The result did not blight his hopes. If M. Patrigent was not
altogether convinced, he at least admired the ingenuity of the
proceeding.
"This is what I will do," he said in dismissing Fanferlot: "I
will present a favorable report to the council chamber, and to-
morrow, most likely, the cashier will be released. "
Immediately he began to write one of those terrible decisions
of "Not Proven," which restores liberty to the accused man, but
not honor; which says that he is not guilty, but which does not
declare him innocent:
"Whereas, against the prisoner Prosper Bertomy sufficient
charges do not exist, in accordance with Article 128 of the Crim-
inal Code, we declare there are no grounds at present for prose-
cution against the aforesaid prisoner: we therefore order that he
be released from the prison where he is now detained, and set
at liberty by the jailer," etc.
When this was finished, M. Patrigent remarked to his regis-
trar Sigault:-"Here is one of those mysterious crimes which
baffle justice! This is another file to be added to the archives
of the record office. " And with his own hand he wrote upon
the outside the official number, "File No. 113. ”
Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature. '
## p. 6153 (#123) ###########################################
6153
BÉNITO PEREZ GALDÓS
(1845-)
BY WILLIAM HENRY BISHOP
I
HE Contemporary school of Spanish fiction dates from about
the revolution of 1868, which drove out Isabel II. and
brought in a more liberal form of government. Without
this revolution, it would scarcely have found opportunity for the free
expression of opinion and the bold critical tone towards ancient insti-
tutions which are among its leading characteristics. It is a fresh
stirring of the human intellect, a distinctly new product, and a val-
uable contribution to the world's literature. It has affiliation with the
Russian, the English, and other vital modern movements in fiction,
and yet it can by no means be confused with that of any other
country. Its method is realistic; but one of its leading figures, De
Pereda, a strong delineator of rural life, protests, as to him and his
works, against the use of the word,-"if," he says vigorously, "it
means to rank me under the triumphal French banner of foul-
smelling realism. " That is to say, they consider the best material for
fiction to be the better and sweeter part of life and its higher aspira-
tions, and not that coarse part of it to which the French would seem
to have devoted an undue amount of attention. The reader of
Anglo-Saxon origin approaches this fiction with ease and sympathy;
he has not to acquire any new point of view in order to understand
it, nor to unlearn any wonted standards of taste or morals.
An informing Spanish critic, Emilia Pardo Bazan, herself a novel-
ist of talent, points out that the present Spanish school cannot be
said to have a "yesterday," but only "a day before yesterday. " She
means that it has skipped a certain interval, and connects itself with
remoter, and not with recent, tradition. It really comes down from a
time antedating even the great "Golden Age. " It takes its rise in
the wonderful naturalness of the 'Celestina,' a quaint “tragi-comedy»
of the year 1499. It bears a close relationship, next, to Don Qui-
xote and to the "Novelas Picarescas," the stories of amusing knaves
in very low life, of which 'Lazarillo de Tormes' and 'Guzman de
Alfarache' are the best examples, and that French imitation, Gil
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6154
BENITO PÉREZ GALDÓS
Blas,' better than the originals. A period of very stiff Classicism in
the eighteenth century, and of extravagant Romanticism in the
beginning of the nineteenth, followed, constituting the omitted "yes-
terday"; and then arrived the vigorous literature of the present time,
here in question. The qualities of truth to nature, practical good
sense, genuine humor, and play of imagination, have nearly always
characterized Spanish fiction, and these qualities seem possessed by
the contemporary novelists in a higher degree than ever before. The
Picaresque or Rogue stories seem to be- their naturalness admitted
—a mere string of disconnected adventures, written to the taste of a
period that had not the habit of keeping its attention fixed upon
anything long; and we scarcely know any leading character more
intimately at the end than at the beginning. As against this, we
have now complete and lengthy novels, in which situations and char-
acters are all worked out upon a symmetrical plan, and in which
the conclusions generally follow like those of fate; that is to say,
they are not arbitrary, but inevitably result from the conditions and
circumstances given.
In
So far as there is English influence in this literature, it may be
said to be more in the form of example than as a direct component.
It has given the Spanish movement courage and persistence, to see
the same ideals elsewhere affording profit and pleasure to millions
of men. Otherwise it is a mere coloring, a superficial trace.
