Melbourne Observer. 120912B. September 12, 2012. Part B. Pages 17-32

Melbourne Observer - Wednesday, September 12, 2012 - Page 17www.MelbourneObserver.com.au

Page 18 - Melbourne Observer - Wednesday, September 12, 2012 www.MelbourneObserver.com.au

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Les Misérables by Victor Hugo

Observer Classic Books

BONUS

SECTION

Observer

www.MelbourneObserver.com.au Melbourne Observer - Wednesday, September 12, 2012 - Page 19

der an account of the things which went on inthis soul, and we can only tell what there wasthere. He was carried away, at first, by the in-stinct of self-preservation; he rallied all his ideasin haste, stifled his emotions, took into consider-ation Javert’s presence, that great danger, post-poned all decision with the firmness of terror,shook off thought as to what he had to do, andresumed his calmness as a warrior picks up hisbuckler.He remained in this state during the rest of theday, a whirlwind within, a profound tranquillitywithout. He took no “preservative measures,”as they may be called. Everything was still con-fused, and jostling together in his brain. Histrouble was so great that he could not perceivethe form of a single idea distinctly, and he couldhave told nothing about himself, except that hehad received a great blow.He repaired to Fantine’s bed of suffering, asusual, and prolonged his visit, through a kindlyinstinct, telling himself that he must behave thus,and recommend her well to the sisters, in casehe should be obliged to be absent himself. Hehad a vague feeling that he might be obliged togo to Arras; and without having the least in theworld made up his mind to this trip, he said tohimself that being, as he was, beyond the shadowof any suspicion, there could be nothing out ofthe way in being a witness to what was to takeplace, and he engaged the tilbury fromScaufflaire in order to be prepared in any event.He dined with a good deal of appetite.On returning to his room, he communed withhimself.He examined the situation, and found it unprec-edented; so unprecedented that in the midst ofhis revery he rose from his chair, moved bysome inexplicable impulse of anxiety, and boltedhis door. He feared lest something more shouldenter. He was barricading himself against pos-sibilities.A moment later he extinguished his light; it em-barrassed him.It seemed to him as though he might be seen.By whom?Alas! That on which he desired to close the doorhad already entered; that which he desired toblind was staring him in the face,— his con-science.His conscience; that is to say, God.Nevertheless, he deluded himself at first; he hada feeling of security and of solitude; the boltonce drawn, he thought himself impregnable;the candle extinguished, he felt himself invis-ible. Then he took possession of himself: he sethis elbows on the table, leaned his head on hishand, and began to meditate in the dark.“Where do I stand? Am not I dreaming? Whathave I heard? Is it really true that I have seenthat Javert, and that he spoke to me in that man-ner? Who can that Champmathieu be? So heresembles me! Is it possible? When I reflectthat yesterday I was so tranquil, and so far fromsuspecting anything! What was I doing yester-day at this hour? What is there in this incident?What will the end be? What is to be done?”This was the torment in which he found himself.His brain had lost its power of retaining ideas;they passed like waves, and he clutched his browin both hands to arrest them.Nothing but anguish extricated itself from thistumult which overwhelmed his will and his rea-son, and from which he sought to draw proofand resolution.His head was burning. He went to the windowand threw it wide open. There were no stars inthe sky. He returned and seated himself at thetable.The first hour passed in this manner.Gradually, however, vague outlines began totake form and to fix themselves in his medita-tion, and he was able to catch a glimpse withprecision of the reality,— not the whole situa-tion, but some of the details. He began by recog-nizing the fact that, critical and extraordinary aswas this situation, he was completely master ofit.This only caused an increase of his stupor.Independently of the severe and religious aimwhich he had assigned to his actions, all that hehad made up to that day had been nothing but a

candlesticks, worn mourning for him, sum-moned and interrogated all the little Savoyardswho passed that way, collected information re-garding the families at Faverolles, and savedold Fauchelevent’s life, despite the disquietinginsinuations of Javert. It seemed, as we havealready remarked, as though he thought, follow-ing the example of all those who have been wise,holy, and just, that his first duty was not towardshimself.At the same time, it must be confessed, nothingjust like this had yet presented itself.Never had the two ideas which governed theunhappy man whose sufferings we are narrat-ing, engaged in so serious a struggle. He under-stood this confusedly but profoundly at the veryfirst words pronounced by Javert, when the lat-ter entered his study. At the moment when thatname, which he had buried beneath so manylayers, was so strangely articulated, he was struckwith stupor, and as though intoxicated with thesinister eccentricity of his destiny; and throughthis stupor he felt that shudder which precedesgreat shocks. He bent like an oak at the ap-proach of a storm, like a soldier at the approachof an assault. He felt shadows filled with thun-ders and lightnings descending upon his head.As he listened to Javert, the first thought whichoccurred to him was to go, to run and denouncehimself, to take that Champmathieu out of prisonand place himself there; this was as painful andas poignant as an incision in the living flesh.Then it passed away, and he said to himself,“We will see! We will see!” He repressed thisfirst, generous instinct, and recoiled before hero-ism.It would be beautiful, no doubt, after the Bishop’sholy words, after so many years of repentanceand abnegation, in the midst of a penitence ad-mirably begun, if this man had not flinched foran instant, even in the presence of so terrible aconjecture, but had continued to walk with thesame step towards this yawning precipice, atthe bottom of which lay heaven; that would havebeen beautiful; but it was not thus. We must ren-

swarms of phantoms, as in Milton; visionarycircles, as in Dante. What a solemn thing is thisinfinity which every man bears within him, andwhich he measures with despair against the ca-prices of his brain and the actions of his life!Alighieri one day met with a sinister-lookingdoor, before which he hesitated. Here is onebefore us, upon whose threshold we hesitate.Let us enter, nevertheless.We have but little to add to what the reader al-ready knows of what had happened to JeanValjean after the adventure with Little Gervais.From that moment forth he was, as we haveseen, a totally different man. What the Bishophad wished to make of him, that he carried out.It was more than a transformation; it was a trans-figuration.He succeeded in disappearing, sold the Bishop’ssilver, reserving only the candlesticks as a sou-venir, crept from town to town, traversed France,came to M. sur M., conceived the idea whichwe have mentioned, accomplished what wehave related, succeeded in rendering himselfsafe from seizure and inaccessible, and, thence-forth, established at M. sur M., happy in feelinghis conscience saddened by the past and thefirst half of his existence belied by the last, helived in peace, reassured and hopeful, havinghenceforth only two thoughts,— to conceal hisname and to sanctify his life; to escape men andto return to God.These two thoughts were so closely intertwinedin his mind that they formed but a single onethere; both were equally absorbing and impera-tive and ruled his slightest actions. In general,they conspired to regulate the conduct of hislife; they turned him towards the gloom; theyrendered him kindly and simple; they counselledhim to the same things. Sometimes, however,they conflicted. In that case, as the reader willremember, the man whom all the country of M.sur M. called M. Madeleine did not hesitate tosacrifice the first to the second — his security tohis virtue. Thus, in spite of all his reserve and allhis prudence, he had preserved the Bishop’s

BOOK THE SEVENTH. CHAPTER II

THE PERSPICACITY OF MASTER

SCAUFFLAIRE

Continued on Page 20

●●●●● Victor Hugo

“What?”“It is five leagues from here to Hesdin, six fromHesdin to Saint–Pol, eight and a half from Saint–Pol to Arras. He is going to Arras.”Meanwhile, M. Madeleine had returned home.He had taken the longest way to return fromMaster Scaufflaire’s, as though the parsonagedoor had been a temptation for him, and he hadwished to avoid it. He ascended to his room,and there he shut himself up, which was a verysimple act, since he liked to go to bed early.Nevertheless, the portress of the factory, whowas, at the same time, M. Madeleine’s only ser-vant, noticed that the latter’s light was extin-guished at half-past eight, and she mentioned itto the cashier when he came home, adding:—“Is Monsieur le Maire ill? I thought he had arather singular air.”This cashier occupied a room situated directlyunder M. Madeleine’s chamber. He paid no heedto the portress’s words, but went to bed and tosleep. Towards midnight he woke up with a start;in his sleep he had heard a noise above his head.He listened; it was a footstep pacing back andforth, as though some one were walking in theroom above him. He listened more attentively,and recognized M. Madeleine’s step. This struckhim as strange; usually, there was no noise inM. Madeleine’s chamber until he rose in themorning. A moment later the cashier heard anoise which resembled that of a cupboard beingopened, and then shut again; then a piece offurniture was disarranged; then a pause ensued;then the step began again. The cashier sat up inbed, quite awake now, and staring; and throughhis window-panes he saw the reddish gleam ofa lighted window reflected on the opposite wall;from the direction of the rays, it could only comefrom the window of M. Madeleine’s chamber.The reflection wavered, as though it came ratherfrom a fire which had been lighted than from acandle. The shadow of the window-frame wasnot shown, which indicated that the window waswide open. The fact that this window was openin such cold weather was surprising. The cash-ier fell asleep again. An hour or two later hewaked again. The same step was still passingslowly and regularly back and forth overhead.The reflection was still visible on the wall, butnow it was pale and peaceful, like the reflectionof a lamp or of a candle. The window was stillopen.This is what had taken place in M. Madeleine’sroom.

CHAPTER III

A TEMPEST IN A SKULL

The reader has, no doubt, already divined thatM. Madeleine is no other than Jean Valjean.We have already gazed into the depths of thisconscience; the moment has now come whenwe must take another look into it. We do so notwithout emotion and trepidation. There is noth-ing more terrible in existence than this sort ofcontemplation. The eye of the spirit can nowherefind more dazzling brilliance and more shadowthan in man; it can fix itself on no other thingwhich is more formidable, more complicated,more mysterious, and more infinite. There is aspectacle more grand than the sea; it is heaven:there is a spectacle more grand than heaven; itis the inmost recesses of the soul.To make the poem of the human conscience,were it only with reference to a single man, wereit only in connection with the basest of men,would be to blend all epics into one superior anddefinitive epic. Conscience is the chaos of chi-meras, of lusts, and of temptations; the furnaceof dreams; the lair of ideas of which we areashamed; it is the pandemonium of sophisms; itis the battlefield of the passions. Penetrate, atcertain hours, past the livid face of a humanbeing who is engaged in reflection, and lookbehind, gaze into that soul, gaze into that obscu-rity. There, beneath that external silence, battlesof giants, like those recorded in Homer, are inprogress; skirmishes of dragons and hydras and


From Page 19

hole in which to bury his name. That which hehad always feared most of all in his hours ofself-communion, during his sleepless nights, wasto ever hear that name pronounced; he had saidto himself, that that would be the end of all thingsfor him; that on the day when that name madeits reappearance it would cause his new life tovanish from about him, and — who knows?—perhaps even his new soul within him, also. Heshuddered at the very thought that this was pos-sible. Assuredly, if any one had said to him atsuch moments that the hour would come whenthat name would ring in his ears, when the hid-eous words, Jean Valjean, would suddenlyemerge from the darkness and rise in front ofhim, when that formidable light, capable of dis-sipating the mystery in which he had envelopedhimself, would suddenly blaze forth above hishead, and that that name would not menace him,that that light would but produce an obscuritymore dense, that this rent veil would but increasethe mystery, that this earthquake would solidifyhis edifice, that this prodigious incident wouldhave no other result, so far as he was concerned,if so it seemed good to him, than that of render-ing his existence at once clearer and more im-penetrable, and that, out of his confrontation withthe phantom of Jean Valjean, the good and wor-thy citizen Monsieur Madeleine would emergemore honored, more peaceful, and more re-spected than ever — if any one had told himthat, he would have tossed his head and regardedthe words as those of a madman. Well, all thiswas precisely what had just come to pass; allthat accumulation of impossibilities was a fact,and God had permitted these wild fancies tobecome real things!His revery continued to grow clearer. He camemore and more to an understanding of his posi-tion.It seemed to him that he had but just waked upfrom some inexplicable dream, and that he foundhimself slipping down a declivity in the middleof the night, erect, shivering, holding back all invain, on the very brink of the abyss. He dis-tinctly perceived in the darkness a stranger, aman unknown to him, whom destiny had mis-taken for him, and whom she was thrusting intothe gulf in his stead; in order that the gulf mightclose once more, it was necessary that someone, himself or that other man, should fall into it:he had only let things take their course.The light became complete, and he acknowl-edged this to himself: That his place was emptyin the galleys; that do what he would, it was stillawaiting him; that the theft from little Gervaishad led him back to it; that this vacant placewould await him, and draw him on until he filledit; that this was inevitable and fatal; and then hesaid to himself, “that, at this moment, he had asubstitute; that it appeared that a certainChampmathieu had that ill luck, and that, as re-gards himself, being present in the galleys in theperson of that Champmathieu, present in soci-ety under the name of M. Madeleine, he hadnothing more to fear, provided that he did notprevent men from sealing over the head of thatChampmathieu this stone of infamy which, likethe stone of the sepulchre, falls once, never torise again.”All this was so strange and so violent, that theresuddenly took place in him that indescribablemovement, which no man feels more than twoor three times in the course of his life, a sort ofconvulsion of the conscience which stirs up allthat there is doubtful in the heart, which is com-posed of irony, of joy, and of despair, and whichmay be called an outburst of inward laughter.He hastily relighted his candle.“Well, what then?” he said to himself; “whatam I afraid of? What is there in all that for me tothink about? I am safe; all is over. I had but onepartly open door through which my past mightinvade my life, and behold that door is walledup forever! That Javert, who has been annoyingme so long; that terrible instinct which seemedto have divined me, which had divined me —good God! and which followed me everywhere;that frightful hunting-dog, always making a pointat me, is thrown off the scent, engaged else-where, absolutely turned from the trail: hence-forth he is satisfied; he will leave me in peace;he has his Jean Valjean. Who knows? it is evenprobable that he will wish to leave town! And allthis has been brought about without any aid fromme, and I count for nothing in it! Ah! but whereis the misfortune in this? Upon my honor, peoplewould think, to see me, that some catastrophehad happened to me! After all, if it does bring

harm to some one, that is not my fault in theleast: it is Providence which has done it all; it isbecause it wishes it so to be, evidently. Have Ithe right to disarrange what it has arranged?What do I ask now? Why should I meddle? Itdoes not concern me; what! I am not satisfied:but what more do I want? The goal to which Ihave aspired for so many years, the dream ofmy nights, the object of my prayers to Heaven,—security,— I have now attained; it is God whowills it; I can do nothing against the will of God,and why does God will it? In order that I maycontinue what I have begun, that I may do good,that I may one day be a grand and encouragingexample, that it may be said at last, that a littlehappiness has been attached to the penancewhich I have undergone, and to that virtue towhich I have returned. Really, I do not under-stand why I was afraid, a little while ago, toenter the house of that good cure, and to ask hisadvice; this is evidently what he would havesaid to me: It is settled; let things take their course;let the good God do as he likes!”Thus did he address himself in the depths of hisown conscience, bending over what may becalled his own abyss; he rose from his chair,and began to pace the room: “Come,” said he,“let us think no more about it; my resolve istaken!” but he felt no joy.Quite the reverse.One can no more prevent thought from recur-ring to an idea than one can the sea from return-ing to the shore: the sailor calls it the tide; theguilty man calls it remorse; God upheaves thesoul as he does the ocean.After the expiration of a few moments, do whathe would, he resumed the gloomy dialogue inwhich it was he who spoke and he who listened,saying that which he would have preferred toignore, and listened to that which he would havepreferred not to hear, yielding to that mysteriouspower which said to him: “Think!” as it said toanother condemned man, two thousand yearsago, “March on!”Before proceeding further, and in order to makeourselves fully understood, let us insist upon onenecessary observation.It is certain that people do talk to themselves;there is no living being who has not done it. Itmay even be said that the word is never a moremagnificent mystery than when it goes fromthought to conscience within a man, and when itreturns from conscience to thought; it is in thissense only that the words so often employed inthis chapter, he said, he exclaimed, must beunderstood; one speaks to one’s self, talks toone’s self, exclaims to one’s self without break-ing the external silence; there is a great tumult;everything about us talks except the mouth. Therealities of the soul are none the less realitiesbecause they are not visible and palpable.So he asked himself where he stood. He inter-rogated himself upon that “settled resolve.” Heconfessed to himself that all that he had justarranged in his mind was monstrous, that “to letthings take their course, to let the good God doas he liked,” was simply horrible; to allow thiserror of fate and of men to be carried out, not tohinder it, to lend himself to it through his silence,to do nothing, in short, was to do everything! thatthis was hypocritical baseness in the last de-gree! that it was a base, cowardly, sneaking,abject, hideous crime!For the first time in eight years, the wretchedman had just tasted the bitter savor of an evilthought and of an evil action.He spit it out with disgust.He continued to question himself. He asked him-self severely what he had meant by this, “Myobject is attained!” He declared to himself thathis life really had an object; but what object? Toconceal his name? To deceive the police? Wasit for so petty a thing that he had done all that hehad done? Had he not another and a grand ob-ject, which was the true one — to save, not hisperson, but his soul; to become honest and goodonce more; to be a just man? Was it not thatabove all, that alone, which he had always de-sired, which the Bishop had enjoined upon him— to shut the door on his past? But he was notshutting it! great God! he was re-opening it bycommitting an infamous action! He was becom-ing a thief once more, and the most odious ofthieves! He was robbing another of his exist-ence, his life, his peace, his place in the sun-shine. He was becoming an assassin. He wasmurdering, morally murdering, a wretched man.He was inflicting on him that frightful livingdeath, that death beneath the open sky, which iscalled the galleys. On the other hand, to surren-

der himself to save that man, struck down withso melancholy an error, to resume his own name,to become once more, out of duty, the convictJean Valjean, that was, in truth, to achieve hisresurrection, and to close forever that hellwhence he had just emerged; to fall back therein appearance was to escape from it in reality.This must be done! He had done nothing if hedid not do all this; his whole life was useless; allhis penitence was wasted. There was no longerany need of saying, “What is the use?” He feltthat the Bishop was there, that the Bishop waspresent all the more because he was dead, thatthe Bishop was gazing fixedly at him, that hence-forth Mayor Madeleine, with all his virtues,would be abominable to him, and that the con-vict Jean Valjean would be pure and admirablein his sight; that men beheld his mask, but thatthe Bishop saw his face; that men saw his life,but that the Bishop beheld his conscience. So hemust go to Arras, deliver the false Jean Valjean,and denounce the real one. Alas! that was thegreatest of sacrifices, the most poignant of vic-tories, the last step to take; but it must be done.Sad fate! he would enter into sanctity only in theeyes of God when he returned to infamy in theeyes of men.“Well,” said he, “let us decide upon this; let usdo our duty; let us save this man.” He utteredthese words aloud, without perceiving that hewas speaking aloud.He took his books, verified them, and put themin order. He flung in the fire a bundle of billswhich he had against petty and embarrassedtradesmen. He wrote and sealed a letter, and onthe envelope it might have been read, had therebeen any one in his chamber at the moment, ToMonsieur Laffitte, Banker, Rue d’Artois, Paris.He drew from his secretary a pocket-book whichcontained several bank-notes and the passportof which he had made use that same year whenhe went to the elections.Any one who had seen him during the executionof these various acts, into which there enteredsuch grave thought, would have had no suspi-cion of what was going on within him. Only oc-casionally did his lips move; at other times heraised his head and fixed his gaze upon somepoint of the wall, as though there existed at thatpoint something which he wished to elucidate orinterrogate.When he had finished the letter to M. Laffitte,he put it into his pocket, together with the pocket-book, and began his walk once more.His revery had not swerved from its course. Hecontinued to see his duty clearly, written in lu-minous letters, which flamed before his eyesand changed its place as he altered the directionof his glance:—“Go! Tell your name! Denounce yourself!”In the same way he beheld, as though they hadpassed before him in visible forms, the two ideaswhich had, up to that time, formed the doublerule of his soul,— the concealment of his name,the sanctification of his life. For the first timethey appeared to him as absolutely distinct, andhe perceived the distance which separated them.He recognized the fact that one of these ideaswas, necessarily, good, while the other mightbecome bad; that the first was self-devotion, andthat the other was personality; that the one said,my neighbor, and that the other said, myself;that one emanated from the light, and the otherfrom darkness.They were antagonistic. He saw them in con-flict. In proportion as he meditated, they grewbefore the eyes of his spirit. They had now at-tained colossal statures, and it seemed to himthat he beheld within himself, in that infinity ofwhich we were recently speaking, in the midstof the darkness and the lights, a goddess and agiant contending.He was filled with terror; but it seemed to himthat the good thought was getting the upper hand.He felt that he was on the brink of the seconddecisive crisis of his conscience and of his des-tiny; that the Bishop had marked the first phaseof his new life, and that Champmathieu markedthe second. After the grand crisis, the grand test.But the fever, allayed for an instant, graduallyresumed possession of him. A thousand thoughtstraversed his mind, but they continued to fortifyhim in his resolution.One moment he said to himself that he was,perhaps, taking the matter too keenly; that, afterall, this Champmathieu was not interesting, andthat he had actually been guilty of theft.He answered himself: “If this man has, indeed,stolen a few apples, that means a month in prison.It is a long way from that to the galleys. And

who knows? Did he steal? Has it been proved?The name of Jean Valjean overwhelms him,and seems to dispense with proofs. Do not theattorneys for the Crown always proceed in thismanner? He is supposed to be a thief becausehe is known to be a convict.”In another instant the thought had occurred tohim that, when he denounced himself, the hero-ism of his deed might, perhaps, be taken intoconsideration, and his honest life for the lastseven years, and what he had done for the dis-trict, and that they would have mercy on him.But this supposition vanished very quickly, andhe smiled bitterly as he remembered that thetheft of the forty sous from little Gervais put himin the position of a man guilty of a second of-fence after conviction, that this affair wouldcertainly come up, and, according to the pre-cise terms of the law, would render him liable topenal servitude for life.He turned aside from all illusions, detached him-self more and more from earth, and soughtstrength and consolation elsewhere. He told him-self that he must do his duty; that perhaps heshould not be more unhappy after doing his dutythan after having avoided it; that if he allowedthings to take their own course, if he remainedat M. sur M., his consideration, his good name,his good works, the deference and venerationpaid to him, his charity, his wealth, his popular-ity, his virtue, would be seasoned with a crime.And what would be the taste of all these holythings when bound up with this hideous thing?while, if he accomplished his sacrifice, a celes-tial idea would be mingled with the galleys, thepost, the iron necklet, the green cap, unceasingtoil, and pitiless shame.At length he told himself that it must be so, thathis destiny was thus allotted, that he had notauthority to alter the arrangements made onhigh, that, in any case, he must make his choice:virtue without and abomination within, or holi-ness within and infamy without.The stirring up of these lugubrious ideas did notcause his courage to fail, but his brain growweary. He began to think of other things, of in-different matters, in spite of himself.The veins in his temples throbbed violently; hestill paced to and fro; midnight sounded first fromthe parish church, then from the town-hall; hecounted the twelve strokes of the two clocks,and compared the sounds of the two bells; herecalled in this connection the fact that, a fewdays previously, he had seen in an ironmonger’sshop an ancient clock for sale, upon which waswritten the name, Antoine–Albin de Romainville.He was cold; he lighted a small fire; it did notoccur to him to close the window.In the meantime he had relapsed into his stupor;he was obliged to make a tolerably vigorouseffort to recall what had been the subject of histhoughts before midnight had struck; he finallysucceeded in doing this.“Ah! yes,” he said to himself, “I had resolved toinform against myself.”And then, all of a sudden, he thought of Fantine.“Hold!” said he, “and what about that poorwoman?”Here a fresh crisis declared itself.Fantine, by appearing thus abruptly in his rev-ery, produced the effect of an unexpected ray oflight; it seemed to him as though everythingabout him were undergoing a change of aspect:he exclaimed:—“Ah! but I have hitherto considered no one butmyself; it is proper for me to hold my tongue orto denounce myself, to conceal my person or tosave my soul, to be a despicable and respectedmagistrate, or an infamous and venerable con-vict; it is I, it is always I and nothing but I: but,good God! all this is egotism; these are diverseforms of egotism, but it is egotism all the same.What if I were to think a little about others? Thehighest holiness is to think of others; come, letus examine the matter. The I excepted, the Ieffaced, the I forgotten, what would be the re-sult of all this? What if I denounce myself? I amarrested; this Champmathieu is released; I amput back in the galleys; that is well — and whatthen? What is going on here? Ah! here is a coun-try, a town, here are factories, an industry, work-ers, both men and women, aged grandsires, chil-dren, poor people! All this I have created; allthese I provide with their living; everywherewhere there is a smoking chimney, it is I whohave placed the brand on the hearth and meat inthe pot; I have created ease, circulation, credit;before me there was nothing; I have elevated,vivified, informed with life, fecundated, stimu

- Continued on Page 29

Page 20 - Melbourne Observer - Wednesday, September 12, 2012



Victoria Pictorial Historic Photo CollectionEssendon Aerodrome

●●●●● ‘Loila’, a Holyman’s Airways plan on the tarmac at Essendon. Kate 1930s●●●●● Interior of Essendon Aerodrome. 1963.

●●●●● Essendon Airport. 1963.

●●●●● Crowds farewell Hungarian athletes from Olympic Games, 1956. ●●●●● Ground crew working a plane at Essendon.

●●●●● Motor bus, aircraft, Australian National Airways, at Essendon. 1937. ●●●●● Her Majesty stepping from aircraft at Essendon. 1954.

●●●●● Interior of Australian National Airways hangar. 1949.


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Owner Bill Hall bought the old andsomewhat rundown vineyard aroundthree years ago and has achievedwonders in his program of rejuvena-tion.

The 2011 growing season was coolthroughout and with record high rain-fall that resulted in vigorous canopygrowth and subsequent slow-ripeningof fruit that developed those intenseflavours.

With typically Sauvignon Blancpassionfruit and tropical fruits to thefore, its one to enjoy with Thai foods,or if you are not into spiciness, with awide range of seafoods.

Value buying at $28 from the cel-lar door, or $308 a case – order on0408 228 724 or www.banjosrun.com.au

Delivery charges apply to someareas.

●●●●● Historic picture captures Houghton Winery in its earliest days.

doctor immediately makingHoughton’s first-ever commercialsale – 114 litres to several Perth ho-tels.

And while it was to be another 21years before Houghton Wines wereto receive any kind of official recog-nition (an Order of Merit at the 1880Great Melbourne Exhibition), theirhaul of wins from Australian and in-ternational wine shows since then nowtops 200-plus trophies and over 3700medals.

Go back to 1922 and 16-year-oldJack Mann gets an apprenticeship atthe Houghton Winery to learnwinemaking under his dad, Georgewho is Chief Winemaker.

Young Jack has no formal trainingin chemistry, but his uncanny abilityto understand the chemistry ofwinemaking, and hands-on skills helearns about handling the grape underhis dad, quickly sees him go beyondthe norm in winemaking techniques.

Such a sponge of knowledge is hethat at just age 24 he takes over fromGeorge as Houghton’s ChiefWinemaker, and sets about creatingwines that many consider ahead oftheir time – and remains at thecompany’s winemaking helm for 51vintages.

One of his wines, based largely onthe Chenin Blanc grape, is so differ-ent to others when entered in the “DryWhite Table Wine” category of the1937 Royal Melbourne Wine Show,that judges are taken aback by its bold-ness in flavour and character.

And when one likens it to the greatWhite Burgundies of France,Houghton seizes upon the opportu-nity to label the wine Houghton WhiteBurgundy.

Jack Mann meanwhile is strivingto convince Australians to drink morewine, rather than beer which they hadlargely done back at home in En-gland.

“It is quite pardonable to drink beerwhere the grape doesn’t grow to ad-vantage,” he once comments. “Butwhere the wine grape does grow toadvantage, wine should be the nationaldrink.”

Houghton White Burgundy is sub-sequently credited with seeing moreAustralians turn to the enjoyment ofwine than any other, although in 2006it had to be renamed as HoughtonWhite Classic after European Unionrules prevented other countries usingsuch European regional names asBurgundy on their labels.

It proved only a minor hiccup forHoughton, and today its White Clas-sic, still made basically to JackMann’s 1937 style the biggest sellingdry white table wine in Australia. Andinterestingly the company’s ChiefWinemaker, Ross Pamment some-what followed Jack Mann up thewinemaking ladder, having begun hiswine industry career as a cellar handwith Houghton.

Certainly his and Jack Mann’s ca-reers were more fortuitous than thatof gaol escapee and bushranger, Jo-seph ‘Moondyne Joe’ Johns whobroke into Houghton’s cellars in 1869to help himself to a midnight drinkwhile on the run.

But then-owner, Charles Ferguson(Dr John’s son) had been helping po-lice recover the body of a drowningvictim nearby, and invited them to thewinery for a 1am rewarding drink.

Hearing footsteps, Moondyne Joebolted from the cellar – to his surprisestraight into a policeman’s waitingarms, and back to jail.

■ Value buying to enjoy withbarbecued mint-marinated lambsteaks.

■ Star stand-out with Thaidishes or a range of seafoods

■ Three British Army officers serv-ing together in India seem an unlikelygenesis for what would become oneof the great success stories of theAustralian wine industry.

Much the same as a young 16 yearold simply under the guidance of hisdad would go on to become one of thegreatest winemakers this country hasever known.

And a wine he created in 1937would make history just last month asthe only Australian white wine everto be made unchanged from its origi-nal style for an extraordinary 75 con-secutive vintages.

Chuck in a bushranger for contrast,and you’ve a great yarn in Aussie cor-porate history.

It was in 1836, just a few yearsafter the official founding of WesternAustralia, that those Army officersbought a block of land to grow winegrapes in the fledgling Swan Valley,after one retired in Perth. They namedtheir property Houghton after the se-nior of their trio, Lieutenant-ColonelRichmond Houghton.

Strangely, however, neitherHoughton nor another partner, NinianLowis ever ventured to their invest-ment block, leaving it to the third ofthe trio, Thomas Newte Yule to runthe place for 23 years and dabble inmaking wines for his own enjoyment.In 1859 the trio sold up to a Dr JohnFerguson for 350 British pounds, the

■ Take Old World wines fromsome of the best vineyards inFrance’s Languedoc region,apply New World methods andphilosophies in the winery andyou can expect a top drop –and a top price.

But quirky-named Arro-gant Frog has achieved theOld World/New World combi-nation with its 2011 CroakRotie Shiraz, and put it onthe shelves here for just$10.99. Smooth and quite lus-cious in flavour, it’s a great andaffordable drop with barbecuedmint-marinated lamb steaks.

Available only through DanMurphy’s , BWS andWoolworth’s Liquor.

Wine of

the Week


Travel Extra

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landscaped gardens features waterfalls and

a brook.


www.MelbourneObserver.com.au

From Page 33

lated, enriched the whole country-side; lackingme, the soul is lacking; I take myself off, every-thing dies: and this woman, who has suffered somuch, who possesses so many merits in spite ofher fall; the cause of all whose misery I haveunwittingly been! And that child whom I meantto go in search of, whom I have promised to hermother; do I not also owe something to thiswoman, in reparation for the evil which I havedone her? If I disappear, what happens? Themother dies; the child becomes what it can; thatis what will take place, if I denounce myself. IfI do not denounce myself? come, let us see howit will be if I do not denounce myself.”After putting this question to himself, he paused;he seemed to undergo a momentary hesitationand trepidation; but it did not last long, and heanswered himself calmly:—“Well, this man is going to the galleys; it is true,but what the deuce! he has stolen! There is nouse in my saying that he has not been guilty oftheft, for he has! I remain here; I go on: in tenyears I shall have made ten millions; I scatterthem over the country; I have nothing of myown; what is that to me? It is not for myself thatI am doing it; the prosperity of all goes on aug-menting; industries are aroused and animated;factories and shops are multiplied; families, ahundred families, a thousand families, are happy;the district becomes populated; villages springup where there were only farms before; farmsrise where there was nothing; wretchedness dis-appears, and with wretchedness debauchery,prostitution, theft, murder; all vices disappear,all crimes: and this poor mother rears her child;and behold a whole country rich and honest!Ah! I was a fool! I was absurd! what was that Iwas saying about denouncing myself? I reallymust pay attention and not be precipitate aboutanything. What! because it would have pleasedme to play the grand and generous; this is melo-drama, after all; because I should have thoughtof no one but myself, the idea! for the sake ofsaving from a punishment, a trifle exaggerated,perhaps, but just at bottom, no one knows whom,a thief, a good-for-nothing, evidently, a wholecountry-side must perish! a poor woman mustdie in the hospital! a poor little girl must die inthe street! like dogs; ah, this is abominable! Andwithout the mother even having seen her child

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Observer Crossword Solution No 4

the middle of the chamber.As the knapsack was consumed, together withthe hideous rags which it contained, it revealedsomething which sparkled in the ashes. By bend-ing over, one could have readily recognized acoin,— no doubt the forty-sou piece stolen fromthe little Savoyard.He did not look at the fire, but paced back andforth with the same step.All at once his eye fell on the two silver candle-sticks, which shone vaguely on the chimney-piece, through the glow.“Hold!” he thought; “the whole of Jean Valjeanis still in them. They must be destroyed also.”He seized the two candlesticks.There was still fire enough to allow of their be-ing put out of shape, and converted into a sort ofunrecognizable bar of metal.He bent over the hearth and warmed himself fora moment. He felt a sense of real comfort. “Howgood warmth is!” said he.He stirred the live coals with one of the candle-sticks.A minute more, and they were both in the fire.At that moment it seemed to him that he heard avoice within him shouting: “Jean Valjean! JeanValjean!”His hair rose upright: he became like a manwho is listening to some terrible thing.“Yes, that’s it! finish!” said the voice. “Com-plete what you are about! Destroy these candle-sticks! Annihilate this souvenir! Forget theBishop! Forget everything! Destroy thisChampmathieu, do! That is right! Applaud your-self! So it is settled, resolved, fixed, agreed: hereis an old man who does not know what is wantedof him, who has, perhaps, done nothing, an in-nocent man, whose whole misfortune lies in yourname, upon whom your name weighs like acrime, who is about to be taken for you, whowill be condemned, who will finish his days inabjectness and horror. That is good! Be an hon-est man yourself; remain Monsieur le Maire;remain honorable and honored; enrich the town;nourish the indigent; rear the orphan; live happy,virtuous, and admired; and, during this time,while you are here in the midst of joy and light,there will be a man who will wear your redblouse, who will bear your name in ignominy,and who will drag your chain in the galleys. Yes,it is well arranged thus. Ah, wretch!”

To Be Continued Next Issue

once more, almost without the child’s havingknown her mother; and all that for the sake of anold wretch of an apple-thief who, most assur-edly, has deserved the galleys for something else,if not for that; fine scruples, indeed, which savea guilty man and sacrifice the innocent, whichsave an old vagabond who has only a few yearsto live at most, and who will not be more un-happy in the galleys than in his hovel, and whichsacrifice a whole population, mothers, wives,children. This poor little Cosette who has no onein the world but me, and who is, no doubt, bluewith cold at this moment in the den of thoseThenardiers; those peoples are rascals; and Iwas going to neglect my duty towards all thesepoor creatures; and I was going off to denouncemyself; and I was about to commit that unspeak-able folly! Let us put it at the worst: suppose thatthere is a wrong action on my part in this, andthat my conscience will reproach me for it someday, to accept, for the good of others, these re-proaches which weigh only on myself; this evilaction which compromises my soul alone; inthat lies self-sacrifice; in that alone there is vir-tue.”He rose and resumed his march; this time, heseemed to be content.Diamonds are found only in the dark places ofthe earth; truths are found only in the depths ofthought. It seemed to him, that, after having de-scended into these depths, after having longgroped among the darkest of these shadows, hehad at last found one of these diamonds, one ofthese truths, and that he now held it in his hand,and he was dazzled as he gazed upon it.“Yes,” he thought, “this is right; I am on theright road; I have the solution; I must end byholding fast to something; my resolve is taken;let things take their course; let us no longer vac-illate; let us no longer hang back; this is for theinterest of all, not for my own; I am Madeleine,and Madeleine I remain. Woe to the man who isJean Valjean! I am no longer he; I do not knowthat man; I no longer know anything; it turns outthat some one is Jean Valjean at the presentmoment; let him look out for himself; that doesnot concern me; it is a fatal name which wasfloating abroad in the night; if it halts and de-scends on a head, so much the worse for thathead.”He looked into the little mirror which hung above

his chimney-piece, and said:—“Hold! it has relieved me to come to a decision;I am quite another man now.”He proceeded a few paces further, then hestopped short.“Come!” he said, “I must not flinch before anyof the consequences of the resolution which Ihave once adopted; there are still threads whichattach me to that Jean Valjean; they must bebroken; in this very room there are objects whichwould betray me, dumb things which would bearwitness against me; it is settled; all these thingsmust disappear.”He fumbled in his pocket, drew out his purse,opened it, and took out a small key; he insertedthe key in a lock whose aperture could hardlybe seen, so hidden was it in the most sombretones of the design which covered the wall-pa-per; a secret receptacle opened, a sort of falsecupboard constructed in the angle between thewall and the chimney-piece; in this hiding-placethere were some rags — a blue linen blouse, anold pair of trousers, an old knapsack, and a hugethorn cudgel shod with iron at both ends. Thosewho had seen Jean Valjean at the epoch whenhe passed through D—— in October, 1815, couldeasily have recognized all the pieces of thismiserable outfit.He had preserved them as he had preserved thesilver candlesticks, in order to remind himselfcontinually of his starting-point, but he had con-cealed all that came from the galleys, and hehad allowed the candlesticks which came fromthe Bishop to be seen.He cast a furtive glance towards the door, asthough he feared that it would open in spite ofthe bolt which fastened it; then, with a quick andabrupt movement, he took the whole in his armsat once, without bestowing so much as a glanceon the things which he had so religiously and soperilously preserved for so many years, and flungthem all, rags, cudgel, knapsack, into the fire.He closed the false cupboard again, and withredoubled precautions, henceforth unnecessary,since it was now empty, he concealed the doorbehind a heavy piece of furniture, which hepushed in front of it.After the lapse of a few seconds, the room andthe opposite wall were lighted up with a fierce,red, tremulous glow. Everything was on fire; thethorn cudgel snapped and threw out sparks to

Melbourne Observer - Wednesday, September 12, 2012 - Page 29

T O P P L I N G P E R T U R B S H E R E D I T Y M O O N B E A MO A E C E O O N R A K E D L N T U B U J IP A S S E S O N P R O V I S O S R I P E N E S S S E E D L E S SU T K S E M I S C W H A R F M R P R E Y G C EP R A I S E V P U T D O W N L I C E D T E A U N E C T A R

A N M O A T S E R I S A A C N I M A M B O H BK N O C K O N U P R I N C E M E N T R A P N R I V A L R Y

I I T U M B L E N E S P O U S E E H O A X E S R IO N A S S I S U N I C E R L N P O L K A R W I Z A R D S

T E O L A U T R A N S I T I N C E D GB O S S A N O V A L A R V A C U U N C U T H E A R T E N E DA P N B R A T S I T A L I A N P O S Y R E I EV A L I D I T Y P Y T H O N T T E N I G M A J M B A R R I EA I S U O E U F E T E D A R L C M V PR A N S O M S S U R E T I E S D I S T R A C T H O S T A G EI T O E X I T O S R L S U D I O T A U N SA R S E N A L L E I G H M A I M S R H I N E I M P L A N T

I N K Y L I E D I C E S O U I N S C A R Y E IA G A S S I A S U S A N N O B E L S I G H T L R E A R E D

I U M O B Y P M E L T O V A T S O O M I T R CA D V E R B O U P T O A S U N D E R R O C K O L A N C E DD O H O C U S E U B L I T A H K N E E L L IM A C H O R P R I N T O U T E P I D E M I C D P L A I DI A N A P P Y M T U R G S L M O P R A H N NT A L K E R A G O B I R E A D O U T I R I S A M A G G O T

N N N A I L S N E S T O N E X T N A S I A A NI N D I G O N S T A G S H I C K S M E T H S T Z A M B I A

I T L A S E R D C H I K W E A E P I E C E M OB E D S I D E I N D I A O M E G A S C A L A E D D Y I N GO A N R E E L R L P T Y T M N A Z I E T HM O R O C C O A V E M A R I A F E R R Y M A N L E A K A G EB K L B N S T A C R I D E A I I D L TA P E R I T I F K I S S E D C L B E A T E N U N S P O I L TR N N C P A N E R E E N T E R E R G O G A C OD I S P E N S E R M E L B A S H A B A S E A R S O N I S T S

M O O E A A P A S T I E S V C T K N UI M P A I R S P T W I C E E L H E A R T M M A H A T M A

E C M A D A M E T R E S T Y L E I L E E W A Y P OE N T H R A L I S H Y E S T U O R A L L Y A L I F T S U P

S E N E E D S A L H I L L Y V O O L D E N L RM E T R E S X M U N D A N E I A W A R D E D R G A Y E S TU A I M O N O D P R E P E L R G D R A B W T OM A L I G N E D G L O S S I E R W I R I N E S S M A R A T H O NP O E N U B F E A I R E S C R F A B S E NS U N D R E S S B E F U D D L E S T R E S S E D S E A H O R S E

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●●●●● Vanilla scented sweet potato puree

Reader Recipes

Did You Know?

Word Of The Week

Life’s Lessons

●●●●● Familiar Australian scenes from the past: the original Pascoe Vale Post Office,

and adjoining milk bar. Two ‘PMG’ telephone booths line the footpath.

Trivia ChallengeAnswer: C

■ The ladies conneoted with the Coburg schoolcommitee have taken a wise step in deciding torun the school bazaar by themselves. Last year,they had all the work and organising and at thelast moment were put into the background, andthe affair practi cally taken out of their hands.Wo men are always the best and most capablemanagers of these sort of affairs, and it is notoencouraging to them to find the kudos taken bymale members of the committee who have sim-ply looked wise and talked volumes.■ Charles O'Grady was charged be fore theBruunswick court on Wednes day, with makinguse of obscene language. It appeared fromevidenee of Constables Sleddon a nd McIn-tosh and other witnesses, the accused enteredthe "Strand" restaurant, Sydney road, at half anhour after midnight on Friday. He was under theinfluence of liquor, and in entering knockeddown a screen. He then made use of obscenelanguage, and when he saw the police approcching made a bolt down a right-of-way. Accusedsaid he did hot remember making use of theliinguage used. The bench imposed a fine of £5,with the alternative of one month's im-prisonment.■ At the last meeting of the Star of Brunswick,junior section, Sons of Temperance, Bro. Vine,Past Worthy Archer, presiding, the syllabus itemwas a gift night. Each member brought a gift.Bro Gregory, Supt. of Juniors, and Bro. Crokerpaid a visit to the section. Both visitors wereheartily welcomed. Bro. Greg ory presented.the bannerette which had.been won bythe Starof Brunswick section for securing the greatestnumber of new members. He hoped they wouldwin again, and thus retain the trophy and he prom-ised a prize to every member who introduced anew member at the next meeting. It was de-cided to place an entrance fee to the credit ofeach member joining in the ensuing quarter.

100 Years Ago. The Coburg LeaderFriday, September 13, 1912

■ Being an adult can be fun when you are act-ing like a child.

■ Comb. A flat device with narrow pointedteeth on one edge

■ In what state/territory was the highest re-corded temperature, of 53°C, recorded?

Ingredients1 pound sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into largedice2 teaspoons salt1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper1/2 stick (4 ounces) unsalted butter, cubed1/2 vanilla bean, scrapedDirectionsPlace the potatoes, 2 cups water, salt and pep-per into a medium saucepan with a lid. Bring toa boil and return to a simmer, cover and cookuntil very tender, about 20 minutes. Add the po-tatoes, but not the liquid, to a food processor,and puree until smooth. Add the butter and thevanilla bean seeds to the puree, and pulse againuntil all ingredients are incorporated and smooth.Hold until ready to plate.

■ Spotted in Pascoe Vale South: “This is notan abandoned vehicle.”

■ A rat can last longer without water than acamel.■ Your stomach has to produce a new layer ofmucus every two weeks, otherwise it will digestitself.■ The dot over the letter 'i' is called a tittle.■ A raisin dropped in a fresh glass of soda willbounce up and down continually from the bot-tom of the glass to the top.

■ Yesterday (Tues., Sept. 11): Melbourne ra-dio man Rod Boyd of Stereo 974 turned 62.■ Wednesday, September 12. Happy birthdayLibby Nutbean. Football identity David Parkinis 70. Sportsman Max Walker is 64. ActressKerry Armstrong is 54. TV presenter GrantDenyer is 35.■ Thursday, September 13. Observer readerJennifer McMahon is 57. TV station ownerKerry Stokes is 72. Football identity Garry Lyonis 45. Cricketer Shane Warne is 43; he wasborn in Ferntree Gully.■ Friday, September 14. Fr Bob Maguire cel-ebrates another birthday today. Actress ZoeCaldwell was born in Balwyn, 79 years ago.■ Saturday, September 15. Observer readerLisa Moore of Carrum is 44. Craig Murchie ison our birthday honours list. Newsreader BrianHenderson is 81. Actress Paula Duncan is 60.■ Sunday, September 16. Radio man IanNicholls blows out the candles today. Happybirthday to Maurice Golden. Neighbours ac-tress Janet Andrewartha is 60. Actress MaryCoustas was born in Melbourne, 48 years ago.Singer Shannon Noll is 37. Former 774 ABCpersonality Lynne Haultain celebrates.■ Monday, September 17. Rena Ross is 55.Film director Baz Luhrmann is 50.Radio manPeter ‘Grubby’ Stubbs is 59.■ Tuesday, September 18. Happy birthday toPat Shelton. Many happy returns to MatthewSigley. ABC 774 presenter Jon Faine celebratestoday.

■ A special cheerio to John Gilmour ofGilmour’s Comfort Shoes at Glen Huntly, WestHeidelberg and Ringwood.■ Welcome home Muriel of Southbank.■ Congratulations to Danielle Grindlay and theHamilton Spectator, Rural Press Club awardee.■ Fond thoughts for John Finlayson.

■ Love has nothing to do with looks, but every-thing to do with time, trust, and interest.

www.MelbourneObserver.com.au

ARIES (MAR 21 - APR 20)It's clear from your chart that you've had to go through a lot of stress recently and thatpressure has been upon you. Take a chance on what you want today. Your cheekynature can move mountains.TAURUS (APR 21 - MAY 21)This is the perfect day to make up with a close one you've fallen out with. Not only arethey willing to listen when you speak but they're also finally willing to give in to youTaurus.GEMINI (MAY 22 - JUNE 21)You've seen a side to someone that you neither like, nor respect. What should you doabout this Gemini? Step away, is the advice of the stars. They'll soon reveal to otherswhat they've shown to you.CANCER (JUNE 22 - JULY 23)You may think your friends approve of your wild behaviour but you are about to haveto decide where to draw a line. If you don't Cancer, then you could end up losingsupport and respect.LEO (JULY 24 - AUG 23)It is time to make relationships with older faces or anyone of an official nature more ofa priority. By dealing with what you've been ignoring you can get life back on an evenkeel.VIRGO (AUG 24 - SEPT 23)Something that you have been putting off dealing with comes to a head but also placesyou in somewhat of a nervous disposition. Simply tell the truth Virgo. It's the key toyour success.LIBRA (SEPT 24 - OCT 23)Tension is making it hard for you to put on that happy face you wear most of the time.A real reason to smile comes with a heart to heart which can be had if you take theinitiative.SCORPIO (OCT 24 - NOV 22)News of a major change in a close one's life gives you reason to reassess your ownlife. Where you are, where you've been and where you're going. Even you could besurprised by your decisions.SAGITTARIUS (NOV 23 - DEC 21)Try not to tell other peoples' secrets or it will come back on you. It wasn't long ago youwere asking others to keep yours for you, was it? Peace talks in the family go well.CAPRICORN (DEC 22 - JAN 20)The stars are making it hard for you to play fair in love. You'll feel like telling some outand out lies to those you care for to get what you want how you want it. Caution.AQUARIUS (JAN 21 - FEB 19)Love is making it difficult for you to balance your personal and professional life. Youcan have harmony. All you have to do is explain to close ones everything you want, notjust some of it.PISCES (FEB 20 - MARCH 20)Something you've put more than your fair share of time and effort into does not seemto have developed in the way you wanted it to. Is this a problem? Not with your quickthinking today.

Your Stars with Christina La Cross

Page 30 - Melbourne Observer - Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Observer Mailbag

■ The price of the Melbourne Observer re-turns to $2.95 in the first week of October, afterthree months at the promotional price of $1.95.You can secure the next year’s copy at a cheaperprice by takingthe 45-weeks of $99 subscriptionoffer, with copies delivered to your mailbox byAustralia Post. That works out at $2.20 eachissue, delivered. Phone 1-800 231 311, pay byCredit Card (Visa, Mastercard, American Ex-press), and we can start your mail subscriptionimmediately. Or post a $99 cheque/money or-der to PO Box 1278, Research, Vic 3095.■ Deb Alexander has been e-mailing excitedlyabout the 35 boats and 1500 years of river his-tory assembled last Sunday at Mildura for thePS Melbourne Centenary River Festival. Itsounds as though it was a mighty event.■ Ken, an Observer subscriber living in theBayside area, talks of a new book called WhereYou Live by Michelle Doyle and published by theSandringham and District Hysterical Societyfor $35.. This is A4 sized book, with card cover,and more than 200 pages.


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1, 2 or 3 BEDROOM

SELF-CONTAINED APARTMENTS

Beat the heat in north QLDOCTOBER Special - Stay 7 or 5 nights and get 1 night FREE.Not available with any other offer. Subject to availability.

All room types – 1, 2 or 3 bedroom self-contained apartments.

Date post:	16-Mar-2016
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Melbourne Observer. 120912B. September 12, 2012. Part B. Pages 17-32

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