Between Two Opinions: Or, the Romance of a Spahi

His clothes were blood-stained, his shirt in tatters, and in his head there were still the fumes of alcohol. A mist was before his eyes, and it was with difficulty that he read the letter...
The poor, confiding letter touched his heart; he kissed it fervently, and began to weep.
Then he swore he would never drink again; and as the habit had not yet a strong hold on him, it was easily broken.
-from "XIX: Francoise Peyral to Her Son"

Called one of the finest descriptive writers of his day, a...