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Upward Allen. Lord Alistair's Rebellion
Lord Alistair's Rebellion
Table of Contents
CHAPTER I. WESTMINSTER BRIDGE
CHAPTER II. BIOGRAPHICAL
CHAPTER III. THE PRODIGAL SON
CHAPTER IV. A FAMILY COUNCIL
CHAPTER V. BEERS COOPERAGE
CHAPTER VI. THE WHOLE DUTY OF WOMAN
CHAPTER VII. THE DECADENTS
CHAPTER VIII. A LEGITIMIST DEMONSTRATION
CHAPTER IX. MOLLY FINUCANE AT HOME
CHAPTER X. A SCIENTIFIC OPINION
CHAPTER XI. THE PRETENDER
CHAPTER XII. THE POWERS THAT BE
CHAPTER XIII. ROYAL PATRONAGE
CHAPTER XIV. VIRTUE TRIUMPHANT
CHAPTER XV. MAGIC CASEMENTS
CHAPTER XVI. NEW LAMPS FOR OLD
CHAPTER XVII. A SPOKE IN THE WHEEL
CHAPTER XVIII. THE LAST WORD OF SCIENCE
CHAPTER XIX. POETS’ CORNER
CHAPTER XX. LADY ALISTAIR
CHAPTER XXI. THE HOUSE OF CATILINE
CHAPTER XXII. HIGH TREASON
CHAPTER XXIII. A PERSONAL EXPLANATION
AFTERWARDS
Отрывок из книги
Allen Upward
Published by Good Press, 2022
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Molly Finucane had achieved one of those reputations which have given certain women a place in history. In the ancient world she might have had princes to fight for her, and poets to sing her praise. In the modern world she was a figure of evil, regarded with a feeling like that which inspired the legends of the succubi. An element of mystery attached to her extraordinary career. It was said that she could neither dance nor sing, that she was astonishingly ignorant, and that her speech and ways smelt of the gutter. Even beauty was denied her. The men whom she had ruined themselves could not explain the secret of her power over them; she overcame her victims like a malarial fever. Some men could meet her day after day without succumbing; others lost themselves from the first; others again began by despising her as an ugly little street-girl, and ended by giving her their wives’ jewels.
How many had perished in the maelstrom of desire which she created none could say. But there was a ghastly story of the young Earl of St. Luc, who had put an end to his life at the age of twenty because his trustees refused him the means to set up an establishment for Molly Finucane. An ineffaceable impression had been made by the two contrasted pictures of the desolate mother weeping over her boy’s dead body, as it was dragged all stained and dripping from the moat surrounding the ancient keep of the St. Lucs, and of the wide-mouthed, stupid Irish girl, planted in a reek of tobacco smoke on a table crowded by tipsy youths, repeating to them in her cracked, shameless voice the latest and most brutally coarse refrain of the street.
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