By 1792, the idealism of the French Revolution has degenerated into a Reign of Terror. Ruthless mobs rule the streets of Paris, and each day, hundreds of royalists are sacrificed to the guillotine, with hundreds more condemned to follow. Their only hope lies in rescue by the Scarlet Pimpernel, the daring leader of an English faction that spirits aristocrats across the Channel to safety. This historical adventure tale first appeared in 1905, but its irresistible blend of romance, intrigue, and suspense renders it timeless. Readers thrill to the gallantry of the Pimpernel, whose nom de guerre derives from the wildflower he employs as a calling card. A scourge to the French authorities, the Pimpernel is the darling of the people — particularly Marguerite Blakeney, who scorns her foppish husband, Sir Percy, as ardently as she admires the Pimpernel. The basis of a classic film, this ever-popular story has recently been adapted as a musical, to the delight of Broadway audiences.

Sir Percy Blakeney and his lady had just arrived. It was close on midnight, and the ball had positively languished. What was a ball without the presence of Sir Percy? His Royal Highness too had been expected earlier than this. But it was not thought that he would come at all, despite his promise, if the spoilt pet of Bath society remained unaccountably absent; and the Assembly Rooms had worn an air of woe even in the face of the gaily dressed throng which filled every vast room in its remotest angle. But now Sir Percy Blakeney had arrived, just before the clocks had struck midnight, and exactly one minute before His Royal Highness drove up himself from the Royal Apartments. Lady Blakeney was looking more radiant and beautiful than ever before, so everyone remarked, when a few moments later she appeared in the crowded ball-room on the arm of His Royal Highness and closely followed by my lord Anthony Dewhurst and by Sir Percy himself, who had the young Duchess of Flintshire on his arm. "What do you mean, you incorrigible rogue," her Grace was saying with playful severity to her cavalier, "by coming so late to the ball? Another two minutes and you would have arrived after His Royal Highness himself: and how would you have justified such solecism, I would like to know." "By swearing that thoughts of your Grace had completely addled my poor brain," he retorted gaily, "and that in the mental contemplation of such charms I forgot time, place, social duties, everything." "Even the homage due to truth," she laughed. "Cannot you for once in your life be serious, Sir Percy?" "Impossible, dear lady, whilst your dainty hand rests upon mine arm." *** It was not often that His Royal Highness graced Bath with his presence, and the occasion was made the excuse for quite exceptional gaiety and brilliancy. The new fashions of this memorable year of 1793 had defied the declaration of war and filtrated through from Paris: London milliners had not been backward in taking the hint, and though most of the more starchy dowagers obstinately adhered to the pre-war fashions—the huge hooped skirts, stiff stomachers, pointed waists, voluminous panniers and monumental head erections—the young and smart matrons were everywhere to be seen in the new gracefully flowing skirts innocent of steel constructions, the high waist line, the pouter pigeon-like draperies over their pretty bosoms. Her Grace of Flintshire looked ravishing with her curly fair hair entirely free from powder, and Lady Betty Draitune\'s waist seemed to be nestling under her arm-pits. Of course Lady Blakeney wore the very latest thing in striped silks and gossamer-like muslin and lace, and it was hard to enumerate all the pretty débutantes and young brides who fluttered about the Assembly Rooms this night. And gliding through that motley throng, bright-plumaged like a swarm of butterflies, there were a few figures dressed in sober blacks and greys—the émigrés over from France—men, women, young girls and gilded youth from out that seething cauldron of revolutionary France—who had shaken the dust of that rampant demagogism from off their buckled shoes, taking away with them little else but their lives. Mostly chary of speech, grave in their demeanour, bearing upon their wan faces traces of that horror which had seized them when they saw all the traditions of their past tottering around them, the proletariat whom they had despised turning against them with all the fury of caged beasts let loose, their kindred and friends massacred, their King and Queen murdered. The shelter and security which hospitable England had extended to them, had not altogether removed from their hearts the awful sense of terror and of gloom.

This is another great book by Baroness Emmuska Orczy, the British-Hungarian novelist, creator of dozens of historical novels of the times of the French Revolution in the XVIII Century. She is best remembered for her main character, Sir Percy Blakeney, AKA The Scarlet Pimpernel, who rescued French aristocrats from the French Revolution: ANOTHER SCARLET PIMPERNEL NOVEL

The day had been spring-like—even hot; a very unusual occurrence in Holland at this time of year. Gilda Beresteyn had retired early to her room. She had dismissed Maria, whose chatterings grated upon her nerves, with the promise that she would call her later. Maria had arranged a tray of dainties on the table, a jug of milk, some fresh white bread and a little roast meat on a plate, for Gilda had eaten very little supper and it might happen that she would feel hungry later on. It would have been useless to argue with the old woman about this matter. She considered Gilda\'s health to be under her own special charge, ever since good Mevrouw Beresteyn had placed her baby girl in Maria\'s strong, devoted arms ere she closed her eyes in the last long sleep.

This is another great book by Baroness Emmuska Orczy, the British-Hungarian novelist, creator of dozens of historical novels of the times of the French Revolution in the XVIII Century. She is best remembered for her main character, Sir Percy Blakeney, AKA The Scarlet Pimpernel, who rescued French aristocrats from the French Revolution.

My name is Ratichon - Hector Ratichon, at your service, and I make so bold as to say that not even my worst enemy would think of minimizing the value of my services to the State. For twenty years now have I placed my powers at the disposal of my country: I have served the Republic, and was confidential agent to Citizen Robespierre; I have served the Empire, and was secret factotum to our great Napoleon; I have served King Louis - with a brief interval of one hundred days - for the past two years, and I can only repeat that no one, in the whole of France, has been so useful or so zealous in tracking criminals, nosing out conspiracies, or denouncing traitors as I have been. And yet you see me a poor man to this day: there has been a persistently malignant Fate which has worked against me all these years, and would - but for a happy circumstance of which I hope anon to tell you - have left me just as I was, in the matter of fortune, when I first came to Paris and set up in business as a volunteer police agent at No, 96 Rue Daunou.

This is another great book by Baroness Emmuska Orczy, the British-Hungarian novelist, creator of dozens of historical novels of the times of the French Revolution in the XVIII Century. She is best remembered for her main character, Sir Percy Blakeney, AKA The Scarlet Pimpernel, who rescued French aristocrats from the French Revolution.

The gaffers stood round and shook their heads. When the Corporal had finished reading the Royal Proclamation, one or two of them sighed in a desultory fashion, others murmured casually, "Lordy! Lordy! to think on it! Dearie me!" The young ones neither sighed nor murmured. They looked at one another furtively, then glanced away again, as if afraid to read each other\'s thoughts, and in a shamefaced manner wiped their moist hands against their rough cord breeches.

The scene is laid in Old Hampton Court in the days of Mary Tudor and her picturesque and brilliant Court. For vital human interest it equals "The Scarlet Pimpernel." "The author of \'The Scarlet Pimpernel\' has just that womanly sentiment....which goes straight to the heart of readers. Her pages are vivid and full of color." -Tribune "Picturesque, well imagined, and written with a rare combination of lightness and vigor, the book cannot but prove enjoyable to readers who like a spirited romance." -Scotsman "The author has shown her cunning as a deviser and vigorous narrator of a historical story." -Times of London "We should not be surprised to hear that \'The Tangled Skein\' has gone into a dozen editions. It is the kind of historical romance that has been popular in all ages." -Weekly Standard "Told with all the dramatic faculty and élan, and all the admirable sense of historical detail which have characterized the Baroness\'s previous work." -Bystander "As regards originality of plot, charm of writing, wealth of description, and ingenuity of construction the story equals, and we almost say excels, the immortal \'Scarlet Pimpernel,\' which emanated from the same pen." -Yorkshire Herald

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\'\'Unto Caesar\'\'

This is another great book by Baroness Emmuska Orczy, the British-Hungarian novelist, creator of dozens of historical novels of the times of the French Revolution in the XVIII Century. She is best remembered for her main character, Sir Percy Blakeney, AKA The Scarlet Pimpernel, who rescued French aristocrats from the French Revolution.

This is another great book by Baroness Emmuska Orczy, the British-Hungarian novelist, creator of dozens of historical novels of the times of the French Revolution in the XVIII Century. She is best remembered for her main character, Sir Percy Blakeney, AKA The Scarlet Pimpernel, who rescued French aristocrats from the French Revolution.

This is another great book by Baroness Emmuska Orczy, the British-Hungarian novelist, creator of dozens of historical novels of the times of the French Revolution in the XVIII Century. She is best remembered for her main character, Sir Percy Blakeney, AKA The Scarlet Pimpernel, who rescued French aristocrats from the French Revolution:

More adventures amongst the terrors of revolutionary France. No one has uncovered the identity of the famous Scarlet Pimpernel - no one except his wife Marguerite and his arch-enemy, citizen Chauvelin. Sir Percy Blakeney is still at large however, evading capture­.