Both sides of the veil
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1901 edition. Excerpt: ...I bought the set of ivory chessmen. At this time of day I freely admit that they were cheap at two hundred and fifty francs--dirt cheap, indeed; but a hundred was all I paid. I knew Bobineau so well--I daresay he bought them for twenty-five. As I bore them triumphantly away my mind was occupied by thoughts of their original possessor. I was filled by quite a sentimental tenderness as I meditated on the part they had played, according to Bobineau, in that last scene. But St. Servan drove all those thoughts away. Philippe Henri de St. Servan was rather a difficult person to get on with. It was with him I shared at that time my apartment on the place. "Let us see!" I remarked when I got in, "what have I here?" He was seated, his country pipe in his mouth, at the open window, looking down upon the river. The Havre boat was making ready to start--at Morlaix the nautical event of the week. There was quite a bustle on the quay. St. Servan just looked round, and then looked back again. I sat down and untied my purchase. "I think there have been criticisms--derogatory criticisms--passed by a certain person upon a certain set of chessmen. Perhaps that person will explain what he has to say to these." St. Servan marched up to the table. He looked at them through his half-closed eyelids. "Toys!" was all he said. "Perhaps! Yet toys which made a tragedy. Have you ever heard of the name of Funichon?" By a slight movement of his grisly grey eyebrows he intimated that it was possible he had. "These chessmen belonged to him. He had just finished a game with them when they found him dead--the winning piece, a white rook, was in his hand. Suggest an epitaph to be placed over his grave. There's a picture for a...