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The Pools of Silence   By: (1863-1951)

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First Page:

THE POOLS OF SILENCE

BY H. de VERE STACPOOLE

AUTHOR OF "THE BLUE LAGOON," "THE CRIMSON AZALEAS," "GARRYOWEN," ETC.

NEW YORK DUFFIELD & COMPANY 1910

Copyright, 1910, by DUFFIELD & COMPANY

Published, July, 1910 THE TROW PRESS, NEW YORK

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PART I

CHAPTER PAGE I. A Lecture Of Thenard's 3 II. Dr. Duthil 11 III. Captain Berselius 19 IV. Schaunard 30 V. Marseilles 42

PART TWO

VI. Matadi 51 VII. Yandjali 56 VIII. The Voice Of The Congo Forest 64 IX. Big Game 72 X. M'bassa 80 XI. Andreas Meeus 84 XII. Night at the Fort 94

PART THREE

XIII. The Pools of Silence 101 XIV. Behind the Mask 110 XV. The Punishment 115 XVI. Due South 123 XVII. Sun washed Spaces 127 XVIII. Far Into Elephant Land 130 XIX. The Great Herd 140 XX. The Broken Camp 152 XXI. The Feast of the Vultures 159 XXII. The Lost Guide 164 XXIII. Beyond the Skyline 173 XXIV. The Sentence of the Desert 181 XXV. Toward the Sunset 187 XXVI. The Fading Mist 192 XXVII. I Am the Forest 200 XXVIII. God Sends a Guide 204 XXIX. The Vision of the Pools 212

PART FOUR

XXX. The Avenger 219 XXXI. The Voice of the Forest by Night 230 XXXII. Moonlight on the Pools 236 XXXIII. The River of Gold 245 XXXIV. The Substitute 252 XXXV. Paris 258 XXXVI. Dreams 266 XXXVII. Berselius Beholds His Other Self 273 XXXVIII. The Revolt of a Slave 280 XXXIX. Maxine 283 XL. Pugin 296 XLI. The Return of Captain Berselius 304 XLII. Amidst the Lilies 315

PART ONE

CHAPTER I

A LECTURE OF THENARD'S

The sun was setting over Paris, a blood red and violent looking sun, like the face of a bully staring in at the window of a vast chill room.

The bank of cloud above the west, corrugated by the wind, seemed not unlike the lowermost slats of a Venetian blind; one might have fancied that a great finger had tilted them up whilst the red, callous, cruel face took a last peep at the frost bitten city, the frost bound country Montmartre and its windows, winking and bloodshot; Bercy and its barges; Notre Dame, where icicles, large as carrots, hung from the lips of the gargoyles, and the Seine clipping the cité and flowing to the clean but distant sea.

It was the fourth of January and the last day of Félix Thénard's post graduate course of lectures at the Beaujon Hospital.

Post graduate lectures are intended not for students, using the word in its limited sense, but for fully fledged men who wish for extra training in some special subject, and Thénard, the famous neurologist of the Beaujon, had a class which practically represented the whole continent of Europe and half the world. Men from Vienna and Madrid, Germany and Japan, London and New York, crowded the benches of his lecture room. Even the Republic of Liberia was represented by a large gentleman, who seemed carved from solid night and polished with palm oil.

Dr. Paul Quincy Adams, one of the representatives of America at the lectures of Thénard, was just reaching the entrance of the Beaujon as the last rays of sunset were touching the heights of Montmartre and the first lamps of Paris were springing alight... Continue reading book >>




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