rom the
same exalted body the "Prix Vitet" for the ensemble of his writings in
1896, being finally admitted a member of the Academy in June, 1903. He
occupies the chair of Ernest Legouve.

Bazin's first romance, 'Stephanette', was published under the pseudonym
"Bernard Seigny," in 1884; then followed 'Victor Pavie (1887); Noellet
(1890); A l'Aventure (1891) and Sicile (1892)', two books on Italy, of
which the last mentioned was likewise crowned by the French Academy;
'La Legende de Sainte-Bega (1892); La Sarcelle Bleue (1892); Madame
Corentine (1893); Les Italiens d'aujourd'hui (1894); Humble Amour
(1894); En Province (1896); De toute son Ame (1897)', a realistic but
moderate romance of a workingman's life; 'Les Contes de Perrette (1898);
La Terre qui Meurt (1899); Le Guide de l'Empereur (1901); Les Oberle
(1902), a tale from Alsace of to-day, sketching the political situation,
approximately correct, and lately adapted for the stage; 'Donatienne'
(1903).

With Bazin literary life does not become a mirage obscuring the vision
of real life. Before being an author Rene Bazin is a man, with a family
attached to the country, rooted in the soil; a guaranty of the dignity
of his work as well as of the writer, and a safeguard against many
extravagances. He has remained faithful to his province. He lives in the
attractive city of Angers. When he leaves it, it is for a little tour
through France, or a rare journey-once to Sicily and once to Spain.
He is seldom to be met on the Parisian boulevards. Not that he has any
prejudice against Paris, or fails to appreciate the tone of its society,
or the quality of its diversions; but he is conscious that he has
nothing to gain from a residence in the capital, but, on the contrary,
would run a risk of losing his intense originality and the freshness of
his genius.

E. LAVISSE
de l'Academie Francaise.

THE INK-STAIN

BOOK 1.

CHAPTER I. THE ACCIDENT

All I have to record of the first twenty-three years of my life is the
enumeration of them. A simple bead-roll is enough; it represents their
family likeness and family monotony.

I lost my parents when I was very young. I can hardly recall their
faces; and I should keep no memories of La Chatre, our home, had I not
been brought up quite close to it. It was sold, however, and lost to
me, like all the rest. Yes, fate is hard, sometimes. I was born at La
Chatre; the college of La Chatr