The King in YellowHarper & Bros., 1902 - Всего страниц: 273 |
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answered Arc de Triomphe asked began beside Bladen Boris boulevard Braith called Carcosa Castaigne Cécile Clif Colette concierge Constance cried door dream drew Eddie Burke Elliott eyes face falcon falconry Fallowby fell felt floor flowers garden gate Geneviève girl glance Guernalec hand Hastings Hastur Hawberk head heard heart hurried Hyades instant Jack Jack Scott King in Yellow knew Lake of Hali Latin Quarter laughed leaned Lethal Chamber light lips listened looked Louis Luxembourg marble ment Monsieur Clifford murmured muttered never night Paris passed replied rose Rowden Rue Barrée seemed seized Selby shook shoulder sighed silent smiled sound speak spoke sprang stared stood street struck studio Sylvia tell Tessie thought told took trembled Trent turned Valentine Vance voice wait walked watched West Wilde window Yellow Sign young
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Стр. 4 - They were made of wax and painted a shell pink, but the rest of his face was yellow. He might better have revelled in the luxury of some artificial fingers for his left hand, which was absolutely fingerless, but it seemed to cause him no inconvenience, and he was satisfied with his wax ears. He was very small, scarcely higher than a child of ten, but his arms were magnificently developed, and his thighs as thick as any athlete's. Still, the most remarkable thing about Mr. Wilde was that a man of...
Стр. 237 - For let Philosopher and Doctor preach Of what they will, and what they will not — each Is but one Link in an eternal Chain That none can slip, nor break, nor over-reach.
Стр. 272 - Stories. $1 25. They are all interesting, full of careful studies of life and nature, written wholly without pretence or affectation, with a feeling of sweet human sympathy, gilded by pleasant touches of humor. — OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, writing of Miss Wilkins
Стр. 270 - Cloth, $i 50. There is an unmistakable brilliancy about " The Conspirators " ; the rollicking spirits of the hero, the man who tells the story, are infectious, and his ardor in love is delightfully romantic. — Chicago Tribune. LORRAINE. Illustrated. Cloth, $i 25.
Стр. 270 - THE CONSPIRATORS. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, $1 50. There is an unmistakable brilliancy about "The Conspirators"; the rollicking spirits of the hero, the man who tells the story, are infectious, and his ardor in love is delightfully romantic.— Chicago Tribune. LORRAINE. Illustrated. Cloth, $1 25. Of this novel The Interior says: "A more absorbing story could scarcely be imagined ; there is no better tale among recent publications than
Стр. 65 - Let the red dawn surmise What we shall do, When this blue starlight dies And all is through. There are so many things which are impossible to explain! Why should certain chords in music make me think of the brown and golden tints of autumn foliage? Why should the Mass of Sainte Cecile send my thoughts wandering among caverns whose walls blaze with ragged masses of virgin silver? What was it in the roar and turmoil of Broadway at six o'clock that flashed before my eyes the picture of a still Breton...
Стр. 86 - I should be glad to know what it was that prevented me from tearing the Yellow Sign from my breast and casting it into the fire. I am sure I wished to do so, and yet Tessie pleaded with me in vain. Night fell and the hours dragged on, but still we murmured to each other of the King and the Pallid Mask, and midnight sounded from the misty spires in the fog-wrapped city. We spoke of Hastur and of Cassilda, while outside the fog rolled against the blank window-panes as the cloud waves roll and break...
Стр. 84 - ... young Castaigne, whom I knew, prevented me from exploring its wicked pages. I had always refused to listen to any description of it, and, indeed, nobody ever ventured to discuss the second part aloud, so I had absolutely no knowledge of what those leaves might reveal. I stared at the poisonous, mottled binding as I would at a snake. "Don't touch it, Tessie,
Стр. 110 - Jeanne's white face bending close to mine, and when the light in my eyes went out I still felt her arms about my neck, and her soft cheek against my drawn lips. When I opened my eyes, I looked around in terror. Jeanne was gone. I saw the stream and the flat rock; I saw the crushed viper in the grass beside me, but the hawks and blocs had disappeared, I sprang to my feet. The garden, the fruit trees, the drawbridge and the walled court were gone. I stared stupidly at a heap of crumbling ruins, ivy-covered...