The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Two Vanrevels, by Booth Tarkington

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

Title: The Two Vanrevels

Author: Booth Tarkington

Posting Date: February 28, 2009 [EBook #3428]
Release Date: September, 2002

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TWO VANREVELS ***

Produced by Richard W. Harper

THE TWO VANREVELS

By Booth Tarkington

Table of Contents

A Cat Can Do More than Look at A King
Surviving Evils of the Reign of Terror
The Rogue's Gallery of a Father Should be Exhibited to
a Daughter with Particular Care
"But Spare Your Country's Flag"
Nero not the Last Violinist of his Kind
The Ever Unpractical Feminine
The Comedian
A Tale of a Political Difference
The Rule of the Regent
Echoes of a Serenade
A Voice in a Garden
The Room in the Cupola
The Tocsin
The Firm of Gray and Vanrevel
When June Came
"Those Endearing Young Charms"
The Price of Silence
The Uniform
The Flag Goes Marching By
"Good-by"

CHAPTER I. A Cat Can Do More than Look at a King

It was long ago in the days when men sighed when they fell in love;
when people danced by candle and lamp, and did dance, too, instead of
solemnly gliding about; in that mellow time so long ago, when the young
were romantic and summer was roses and wine, old Carewe brought his
lovely daughter home from the convent to wreck the hearts of the youth
of Rouen.

That was not a far journey; only an afternoon's drive through the woods
and by the river, in an April, long ago; Miss Betty's harp carefully
strapped behind the great lumbering carriage, her guitar on the front
seat, half-buried under a mound of bouquets and oddly shaped little
bundles, farewell gifts of her comrades and the good Sisters. In her
left hand she clutched a small lace handkerchief, with which she now
and then touched her eyes, brimmed with the parting from Sister Cecilia,
Sister Mary Bazilede, the old stone steps and all the girls: but for
every time that she lifted the dainty kerchief to brush away the edge of
a tear, she took a deep breath of the