climax, yet it is true enough to
life. It does not remove the logical and artistic inference that the
memory of Jeanne's sufferings lingered with ever recurring poignancy
in the mother's heart.

In a few bold lines Zola sketches a living character. Take the picture
of old Mere Fetu. One really feels her disagreeable presence, and is
annoyed with her whining, leering, fawning, sycophancy. One almost
resents her introduction into the pages of the book. There is
something palpably odious about her personality. A pleasing contrast
is formed by the pendant portraits of the awkward little soldier and
his kitchen-sweetheart. This homely and wholesome couple one may meet
any afternoon in Paris, on leave-of-absence days. Their portraits, and
the delicious description of the children's party, are evidently
studies from life. With such vivid verisimilitude is the latter
presented that one imagines, the day after reading the book, that he
has been present at the pleasant function, and has admired the fluffy
darlings, in their dainty costumes, with their chubby cavaliers.

It is barely fair to an author to give him the credit of knowing
something about the proper relative proportions of his characters. And
so, although Dr. Deberle is somewhat shadowy, he certainly serves the
author's purpose, and--well, Dr. Deberle is not the hero of "An
Episode of Love." Rambaud and the good Abbe Jouve are certainly strong
enough. There seems to be a touch of Dickens about them.

Cities sometimes seem to be great organisms. Each has an
individuality, a specific identity, so marked, and peculiarities so
especially characteristic of itself, that one might almost allow it a
soul. Down through the centuries has fair Lutetia come, growing in the
artistic graces, until now she stands the playground of princes and
the capital of the world, even as mighty Rome among the ancients. And
shall we object, because a few pages of "A Love Episode" are devoted
to descriptions of Paris? Rather let us be thankful for them. These
descriptions of the wonderful old city form a glorious pentatych. They
are invaluable to two classes of readers, those who have visited Paris
and those who have not. To the former they recall the days in which
the spirit of the French metropolis seemed to possess their being and
to take them under its wondrous spell. To the latter they supply hints
of the majesty and attractiveness of Paris, and give some inkling of
its power to please. An