before the outbreak. Mr Saintsbury remarks that the episode of Ewan of Brigglands in "Rob Roy" is "calmly translated verbatim" into this romance. This is somewhat of an exaggeration; the incident is undoubtedly "conveyed," it is true, but is retold in more graphic style. The character of Jean Oullier alone should give this book life: he is a fine study of the Breton peasant—cunning, dogged, devoted, pious—one of the best portraits from the hands of the master.
"La Maison de Glace," known to us in the sixties as "The Russian Gipsy," published in 1859, was another outcome of the visit to Russia two years before. It is a romance of the court of the Empress Anna, in the early half of the eighteenth century, full of intrigue and passion. We incline to believe, with Maurel, that the story is a translation.
Another excursion into unfamiliar regions was "L'Ile de Feu," known to a past generation in England as "Doctor Basilius." This was probably written with an assistant who knew Java well, for it is a weird story of that island, the interest afforded by the people and customs of that semi-barbarous spot being heightened by a suggestion of the supernatural. "Truly one of the gems of the collection," writes a deep student of Dumas, "the concluding volume being perhaps among his finest work."
