THE HUMAN body might well be regarded as a mere simulacrum; but it envelopes our reality, it darkens our light, and broadens the shadow in which we live. The soul is the reality of our existence. Strictly speaking, the human visage is a mask. The true man is that which exists under what it called man. If that being, which thus exists sheltered and secreted behind that illusion which we call the flesh, could be approached, more than one strange revelation would be made. The vulgar error is to mistake the outward husk for the living spirit. Yonder maiden, for example, if we could see her as she really is, might she not figure as some bird of the air?
       A bird transmuted into a young maiden, what could be more exquisite. Picture it in your own home, and call it Deruchette. Delicious creature! One might be almost tempted to say, "Good-morning, Mademoiselle Goldfinch." The wings are invisible, but the chirping may still be heard. Sometimes, too, she pipes a clear, loud song. In her childlike prattle the creature is, perhaps, inferior; but in her song, how superior to humanity! When womanhood dawns this angel flies away; but some-times returns, bringing back a little one to a mother. Meanwhile, she who is one day to be a mother is for a long while a child; the girl becomes a maiden, fresh and joyous as the lark. Noting her movements, we feel as if it was good of her not to fly away. The dear familiar companion moves at her own sweet will about the house; flits about from branch to branch, or rather from room to room; goes to and fro; approaches and retires; plumes her wings, or rather combs her hair, and makes all kinds of gentle noises-murmurings of unspeakable delight to certain ears. She asks a question, and is answered; is asked something in return, and chirps a reply. It is delightful to chat with her when tired of serious talk; for this creature carries with her something of her skyey element. She is, as it were a thread of gold interwoven with your sombre thoughts; you feel almost grateful to her for her kindness in not making herself invisible, when it would be so easy for her to be even impalpable; for the beautiful is a necessary of life. There is in this world no function more important than that of being charming The forest glade would be incomplete without the humming-bird. To shed joy around, to radiate happiness, to cast light upon dark days, to be the golden thread of our destiny, and the very spirit of grace and harmony, is not this to render a service? Does not beauty confer a benefit upon us, even by the simple fact of being beautiful? Here and there we meet with one who possesses that fairy-like power of enchanting all about her; sometimes she is ignorant herself of this magical influence, which is, however, for that reason, only the more perfect. Her presence lights up the home; her approach is like a cheerful warmth; she passes by, and we are content; she stays awhile, and we are happy. To behold her is to live: she is the Aurora with a human face. She has no need to do more than simply to be: she makes an Eden of the house; Paradise breathes from her; and she communicates this delight to all, without taking any greater trouble than that of existing beside them. Is it not a thing divine to have a smile which, none know how, has the power to lighten the weight of that enormous chain which all the living, in common, drag behind them? Deruchette possessed this smile; we may even say that this smile was Deruchette herself. There is one thing which has more resemblance to ourselves than even our face, and that is our expression; but there is yet another thing which more resembles us than this, and that is our smile. Deruchette smiling was simply Deruchette.
       There is something peculiarly attractive in the Jersey and Guernsey race. The women, particularly the young, are remarkable for a pure and exquisite beauty. Their complexion is a combination of the Saxon fairness with the proverbial ruddiness of the Norman people-rosy cheeks and blue eyes; but the eyes want brilliancy. The English training dulls them. Their liquid glances will be irresistible whenever the secret is found of giving them that depth which is the glory of the Parisienne. Happily Englishwomen are not yet quite transformed into the Parisian type. Deruchette was not a Parisian; yet she was certainly not Guernesiaise. Lethierry had brought her up to be neat and delicate and pretty; and so she was.
       Deruchette had at times an air of bewitching languor, and a certain mischief in the eye, which were altogether involuntary. She scarcely knew, perhaps, the meaning of the word love, and yet not unwillingly ensnared those about her in the toils. But all this in her was innocent. She never thought of marrying.
       Deruchette had the prettiest little hands in the world, and little feet to match them. Sweetness and goodness reigned throughout her person; her family and fortune were her uncle Mess Lethierry; her occupation was only to live her daily life; her accomplishments were the knowledge of a few songs; her intellectual gifts were summed up in her simple innocence; she had the graceful repose of the West Indian woman, mingled at times with giddiness and vivacity, with the teasing playfulness of a child, yet with a dash of melancholy. Her dress was somewhat rustic, and like that peculiar to her country-elegant, though not in accordance with the fashions of great cities; for she wore flowers in her bonnet all the year round. Add to all this an open brow, a neck supple and graceful, chestnut hair, a fair skin slightly freckled with exposure to the sun, a mouth somewhat large, but well-defined, and visited from time to time by a dangerous smile. This was Deruchette.
       Sometimes, in the evening, a little after sunset, at the moment when the dusk of the sky mingles with the dusk of the sea, and twilight invests the waves with a mysterious awe, the people beheld, entering the harbour of St. Sampson, upon the dark-rolling waters, a strange, undefined thing, a monstrous form which puffed and blew; a horrid machine which roared like a wild beast, and smoked like a volcano; a species of Hydra foaming among the breakers, and leaving behind it a dense cloud, as it rushed on towards the town with a frightful beating of its fins, and a throat belching forth flame. This was Durande.

book i. the history of a bad reputation.
   I. A Word Written on a White Page.
   II. The Bu de la Rue.
   III. For Your Wife: When You Marry.
   IV. An Unpopular Man.
   V. More Suspicious Facts about Gilliatt.
   VI. The Dutch Sloop.
   VII. A Fit Tenant for a Haunted House
   VIII. The Gild-holm-'ur Seat.
book ii. mess lethierry.
   I. A Troubled Life, but a Quiet Conscience.
   II. A Certain Predilection.
   III. Mess Lethierry's Vulnerable Part.
book iii. durande and deruchette.
   I. Prattle and Smoke.
   II. The Old Story of Utopia.
   III. Rantaine.
   IV. Continuation of the Story of Utopia.
   V. The "Devil Boat"
   VI. Lethierry's Exaltation.
   VII. The Same Godfather and the Same Patron Saint.
   VIII. "Bonnie Dundee."
   IX. The Man Who Discovered Rantaine's Character.
   X. Long Yarns.
   XI. Matrimonial Prospects.
   XII. An Anomaly in the Character of Lethierry.
   XIII. Thoughtlessness Adds a Grace to Beauty.
book iv. the bagpipe.
   I. Streaks of Fire in the Horizon.
   II. The Unknown UnfoldS Itself by Degrees.
   III. The Air "Bonnie Dundee" Finds an Echo on the Hill.
   IV. "A serenade by night may please a lady fair, But of uncle and of guardian let the troubadour beware. Unpublished Comedy
   V. A Deserved Success has Always its Detractors.
   VI. The Sloop "Cashmere" Saves a Shipwrecked Crew.
   VII. How an Idler Had the Good Fortune to be Seen by a Fisherman.
book v. the revolver.
   I. Conversations at the Jean Auberge.
   II. Clubin Observes Some One.
   III. Clubin Carries Away Something and Brings Back Nothing.
   IV. Pleinmont.
   V. The Birds'-Nesters
   VI. The Jacressade.
   VII. Nocturnal Buyers and Mysterious Sellers.
   VIII. A "Cannon" off the Red Ball and the Black.
   IX. Useful Information for Persons Who Expect or Fear the Arrival of Letters from Beyond Sea.
book vi. the drunken steersman and the sober captain.
   I. The Douvres.
   II. An Unexpected Flask of Brandy.
   III. Conversations Interrupted.
   IV. Captain Clubin Displays All His Great Qualities.
   V. Clubin Reaches the Crowning-Point of Glory.
   VI. The Interior of an Abyss Suddenly Revealed.
   VII. An Unexpected Denouement.
book vii. the danger of opening a book at random.
   I. The Pearl at the Foot of a Precipice.
   II. Much Astonishment on the Western Coast.
   III. A Quotation from the Bible.
book i. malicious gilliatt.
   I. The Place Which is Easy to Reach, but Difficult to Leave Again.
   II. A Catalogue of Disasters.
   III. Sound, but not Safe.
   IV. A Preliminary Survey.
   V. A Word Upon the Secret Co-operations of the Elements.
   VI. A Stable for the Horse.
   VII. A Chamber for the Voyager.
   VIII. Importunaeque Volucres.
   IX. The Rock, and How Gilliatt Used It.
   X. The Forge.
   XI. Discovery.
   XII. The Interior of an Edifice Under the Sea.
   XIII. What was Seen There, and What Perceived Dimly.
book ii. the labour.
   I. The Resources of One Who Has Nothing
   II. Preparations.
   III. Gilliatt's Masterpiece Comes to the Rescue of Lethierry.
   IV. Sub Re.
   V. Sub Umbra.
   VI. Gilliatt Places the Sloop in Readiness
   VII. Sudden Danger.
   VIII. Movement Rather than Progress.
   IX. A Slip Between Cup and Lip
   X. Sea-Warnings.
   XI. Murmurs in the Air.
book iii. the struggle.
   I. Extremes Meet.
   II. The Ocean Winds.
   III. The Noises Explained.
   IV. Turba Turma.
   V. Gilliatt's Alternatives.
   VI. The Combat.
book iv. pitfalls in the way.
   I. He Who is Hungry is Not Alone.
   II. The Monster.
   III. Another Kind of Sea-Combat.
   IV. Nothing is Hidden, Nothing Lost.
   V. The Fatal Difference Between Six Inches and Two Feet.
   VI. De Profundis ad Altum.
   VII. The Appeal is Heard.
book i. night and the moon.
   I. The Harbour Clock.
   II. The Harbour Bell Again.
book ii. gratitude and despotism.
   I. Joy Surrounded by Tortures.
   II. The Leathern Trunk.
book iii. the departure of the cashmere.
   I. The Havelet Near the Church.
   II. Despair Confronts Despair.
   III. The Forethought of Self-Sacrifice
   IV. "For Your Wife When You Marry."
   V. The Great Tomb.