The more things change, the - wait, that doesn't really work here
Without googling, guess the source - author, era, genre, go ahead, take a stab at it:
The girl had just said that the honor of her house was more precious than the life of any of its members. How much more precious would it be to her than her own material happiness! Barney Custer sighed and struggled through the swirling waters that were now above his hips. If he pressed the lithe form closer to him than necessity demanded, who may blame him?
The girl, whose face was toward the bank they had just quitted, gave no evidence of displeasure if she noted the fierce pressure of his muscles. Her eyes were riveted upon the wood behind. Presently a man emerged. He called to them in a loud and threatening tone.
Barney redoubled his Herculean efforts to gain the opposite bank. He was in midstream now and the water had risen to his waist. The girl saw Maenck and the other trooper emerge from the underbrush beside the first. Maenck was crazed with anger. He shook his fist and screamed aloud his threatening commands to halt, and then, of a sudden, gave an order to one of the men at his side. Immediately the fellow raised his carbine and fired at the escaping couple.
The bullet struck the water behind them. At the sound of the report the girl raised the gun she held and leveled it at the group behind her. She pulled the trigger. There was a sharp report, and one of the troopers fell. Then she fired again, quickly, and again and again. She did not score another hit, but she had the satisfaction of seeing Maenck and the last of his troopers dodge back to the safety of protecting trees.
"The cowards!" muttered Barney as the enemy's shot announced his sinister intention; "they might have hit your highness."
The girl did not reply until she had ceased firing.
"Captain Maenck is notoriously a coward," she said. "He is hiding behind a tree now with one of his men--I hit the other."
"You hit one of them!" exclaimed Barney enthusiastically.
"Yes," said the girl. "I have shot a man. I often wondered what the sensation must be to have done such a thing. I should feel terribly, but I don't. They were firing at you, trying to shoot you in the back while you were defenseless. I am not sorry--I cannot be; but I only wish that it had been Captain Maenck."
In a short time Barney reached the bank and, helping the girl up, climbed to her side. A couple of shots followed them as they left the river, but did not fall dangerously near. Barney took the carbine and replied, then both of them disappeared into the wood.
For the balance of the day they tramped on in the direction of Lustadt, making but little progress owing to the fear of apprehension. They did not dare utilize the high road, for they were still too close to Blentz. Their only hope lay in reaching the protection of Prince von der Tann before they should be recaptured by the king's emissaries. At dusk they came to the outskirts of a town. Here they hid until darkness settled, for Barney had determined to enter the place after dark and hire horses.
The American marveled at the bravery and endurance of the girl. He had always supposed that a princess was so carefully guarded from fatigue and privation all her life that the least exertion would prove her undoing; but no hardy peasant girl could have endured more bravely the hardships and dangers through which the Princess Emma had passed since the sun rose that morning.
At last darkness came, and with it they approached and entered the village. They kept to unlighted side streets until they met a villager, of whom they inquired their way to some private house where they might obtain refreshments...
--This is not the most aggressive nor proactive behavior that Our Heroine engages in, either. It's a shame those old pulp authors didn't allow their female characters to be strong the way modern genre writers always write them nowadays, or do anything except scream and faint, isn't it?
[/snark]
Yes, that really was an excerpt from a little-known 1913 ERB remake/updating of The Prisoner of Zenda/Rupert of Hentzau featuring an American protagonist who not infrequently requires rescue himself, a vastly-more kick-ass damsel who deals with distress by hitting it in the face with the nearest heavy object until it bleeds, upon occasion, and a lot more car chases.* No, I'm not sure how I dowsed over it, I think I was looking for Verne stuff today - but while it has barn-sized plotholes, Yank insufferability, and is not at all heavy reading, it is a surreal confection and allowing Flavia Emma to do more than be a noble statue, longsuffering Patience on her monument, but instead to get more than a few good licks in at the Evil Minions and to drive the plot at key moments with her quick thinking/acting too, makes it a nice change from all the supposedly-strong female charas who just need a good man to sort their silly little selves out and save them from their follies these days. IMO. And a Big Strong Manly Action Hero who goes into fugue states under stress and has moments of sheer dread and is just thrilled to encounter a woman who is brave and dashing and honourable and doesn't feel the least bit threatened by any of this, or patronizing towards her "spunkiness" even as he rescues her from the villains, is also more than a little refreshing.
(But, you know, in order to be true to the old pulp styles, women must be non-existent or else passive, hapless, and annoying...)
--Equally surreal, to me, is finding it advertised in the back of a 1922 edition of Sinclair Lewis' Babbitt, along with all the Barsoom and Tarzan novels: apparently the separation of genres and target audiences was not quite as absolute, eighty-some years ago!
* That was not a joke. Ruritanian Romance + Edwardian Era = car chases as well as sword fights and mad gallops through the Old Forest. Also aeroplanes and machine guns, and the interjection of real, impending, doomladen history. I guess it isn't quite as lightweight as all that.
The girl had just said that the honor of her house was more precious than the life of any of its members. How much more precious would it be to her than her own material happiness! Barney Custer sighed and struggled through the swirling waters that were now above his hips. If he pressed the lithe form closer to him than necessity demanded, who may blame him?
The girl, whose face was toward the bank they had just quitted, gave no evidence of displeasure if she noted the fierce pressure of his muscles. Her eyes were riveted upon the wood behind. Presently a man emerged. He called to them in a loud and threatening tone.
Barney redoubled his Herculean efforts to gain the opposite bank. He was in midstream now and the water had risen to his waist. The girl saw Maenck and the other trooper emerge from the underbrush beside the first. Maenck was crazed with anger. He shook his fist and screamed aloud his threatening commands to halt, and then, of a sudden, gave an order to one of the men at his side. Immediately the fellow raised his carbine and fired at the escaping couple.
The bullet struck the water behind them. At the sound of the report the girl raised the gun she held and leveled it at the group behind her. She pulled the trigger. There was a sharp report, and one of the troopers fell. Then she fired again, quickly, and again and again. She did not score another hit, but she had the satisfaction of seeing Maenck and the last of his troopers dodge back to the safety of protecting trees.
"The cowards!" muttered Barney as the enemy's shot announced his sinister intention; "they might have hit your highness."
The girl did not reply until she had ceased firing.
"Captain Maenck is notoriously a coward," she said. "He is hiding behind a tree now with one of his men--I hit the other."
"You hit one of them!" exclaimed Barney enthusiastically.
"Yes," said the girl. "I have shot a man. I often wondered what the sensation must be to have done such a thing. I should feel terribly, but I don't. They were firing at you, trying to shoot you in the back while you were defenseless. I am not sorry--I cannot be; but I only wish that it had been Captain Maenck."
In a short time Barney reached the bank and, helping the girl up, climbed to her side. A couple of shots followed them as they left the river, but did not fall dangerously near. Barney took the carbine and replied, then both of them disappeared into the wood.
For the balance of the day they tramped on in the direction of Lustadt, making but little progress owing to the fear of apprehension. They did not dare utilize the high road, for they were still too close to Blentz. Their only hope lay in reaching the protection of Prince von der Tann before they should be recaptured by the king's emissaries. At dusk they came to the outskirts of a town. Here they hid until darkness settled, for Barney had determined to enter the place after dark and hire horses.
The American marveled at the bravery and endurance of the girl. He had always supposed that a princess was so carefully guarded from fatigue and privation all her life that the least exertion would prove her undoing; but no hardy peasant girl could have endured more bravely the hardships and dangers through which the Princess Emma had passed since the sun rose that morning.
At last darkness came, and with it they approached and entered the village. They kept to unlighted side streets until they met a villager, of whom they inquired their way to some private house where they might obtain refreshments...
--This is not the most aggressive nor proactive behavior that Our Heroine engages in, either. It's a shame those old pulp authors didn't allow their female characters to be strong the way modern genre writers always write them nowadays, or do anything except scream and faint, isn't it?
[/snark]
Yes, that really was an excerpt from a little-known 1913 ERB remake/updating of The Prisoner of Zenda/Rupert of Hentzau featuring an American protagonist who not infrequently requires rescue himself, a vastly-more kick-ass damsel who deals with distress by hitting it in the face with the nearest heavy object until it bleeds, upon occasion, and a lot more car chases.* No, I'm not sure how I dowsed over it, I think I was looking for Verne stuff today - but while it has barn-sized plotholes, Yank insufferability, and is not at all heavy reading, it is a surreal confection and allowing Flavia Emma to do more than be a noble statue, longsuffering Patience on her monument, but instead to get more than a few good licks in at the Evil Minions and to drive the plot at key moments with her quick thinking/acting too, makes it a nice change from all the supposedly-strong female charas who just need a good man to sort their silly little selves out and save them from their follies these days. IMO. And a Big Strong Manly Action Hero who goes into fugue states under stress and has moments of sheer dread and is just thrilled to encounter a woman who is brave and dashing and honourable and doesn't feel the least bit threatened by any of this, or patronizing towards her "spunkiness" even as he rescues her from the villains, is also more than a little refreshing.
(But, you know, in order to be true to the old pulp styles, women must be non-existent or else passive, hapless, and annoying...)
--Equally surreal, to me, is finding it advertised in the back of a 1922 edition of Sinclair Lewis' Babbitt, along with all the Barsoom and Tarzan novels: apparently the separation of genres and target audiences was not quite as absolute, eighty-some years ago!
* That was not a joke. Ruritanian Romance + Edwardian Era = car chases as well as sword fights and mad gallops through the Old Forest. Also aeroplanes and machine guns, and the interjection of real, impending, doomladen history. I guess it isn't quite as lightweight as all that.