GEORGES OHNET
The Ironmaster
Georges Ohnet, one of the most prolific and popular of French novelists and playwrights, was born in Paris on April 3, 1848. His father was an architect, and, after a period devoted to the study of law, Georges Ohnet adopted a journalistic career. He first came into prominence as the part-author of the drama "Regina Sarpi," in 1875. "The Ironmaster, or Love and Pride," was originally conceived as a play, and as such was submitted in vain to the theatrical managers of Paris. It was entitled "Marrying for Money" ("Les Mariages d'Argent") and on its rejection he laid it aside and directed his attention to the novel, "Serge Panine." This was immediately successful, and was crowned with honour by the French Academy. Its author adapted it as a play, and then, in 1883, did the opposite with "Les Manages d'Argent," calling it "Le Maitre de Forges." As a novel, "The Ironmaster," with its dramatic plot and strong, moving story, attracted universal attention, and has been translated into several European languages.
I.--The Faithless Lover
The Château de Beaulieu, in the Louis XIII. style, is built of white stone with red brick dressings. A broad terrace more than five hundred yards long, with a balustrade in red granite, and decked with parterres of flowers, becomes a delightful walk in autumn. M. Derblay's ironworks may have somewhat spoilt the beauty of the landscape, but Beaulieu remains a highly covetable estate.
Madame de Beaulieu sat in the drawing-room knitting woollen hoods for the children in the village, while her daughter Claire contemplated, without seeing it, the admirable horizon before her. At last, turning her beautiful, sad face to her mother, she asked, "How long is it since we have had any letters from St. Petersburg?"
"Come," said the marchioness, taking hold of Claire's hands--"come, why do you always think about that, and torture your mind so?"
"What can I think of," answered Claire bitterly, "but of my betrothed? And how can I avoid torturing my mind as you say, in trying to divine the reason of his silence?"
"I own it is difficult to explain," rejoined the marchioness. "After spending a week with us last year, my nephew, the Duc de Bligny, started off promising to return to Paris during the winter. He next began by writing that political complications detained him at his post. Summer came, but not the duke. Here now is autumn, and Gaston no longer even favours us with pretences. He does not even trouble to write."