"Truth is not always in white satin like a girl on her wedding-day. And when it is of mud and of blood, when it offends the nostrils, so much the worse; I, for one, will not sprinkle it with ottar of rose. Besides, I am not here to tell fairy tales and pastorals."


CONTENTS

[I.]
[II.]
[III.]
[IV.]
[V.]
[VI.]
[VII.]
[VIII.]
[IX.]
[X.]
[XI.]
[XII.]
[XIII.]
[XIV.]
[XV.]
[XVI.]
[XVII.]
[EDGAR SALTUS' WRITINGS]


THE TRUTH ABOUT TRISTREM VARICK.


I.

It is just as well to say at the onset that the tragedy in which Tristrem Varick was the central figure has not been rightly understood. The world in which he lived, as well as the newspaper public, have had but one theory between them to account for it, and that theory is that Tristrem Varick was insane. Tristrem Varick was not insane. He had, perhaps, a fibre more or a fibre less than the ordinary run of men; that something, in fact, which is the prime factor of individuality and differentiates the possessor from the herd; but to call him insane is nonsense. If he were, it is a pity that there are not more lunatics like him.