Titlecase books

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@@ -59,7 +59,7 @@
 			<p>“To make you two costumes between now and tomorrow? I ask your excellencies’ pardon, but this is quite a French demand; for the next week you will not find a single tailor who would consent to sew six buttons on a waistcoat if you paid him a crown a piece for each button.”</p>
 			<p>“Then I must give up the idea?”</p>
 			<p>“No; we have them ready-made. Leave all to me; and tomorrow, when you awake, you shall find a collection of costumes with which you will be satisfied.”</p>
-			<p>“My dear Albert,” said Franz, “leave all to our host; he has already proved himself full of resources; let us dine quietly, and afterwards go and see <i epub:type="se:name.music.opera">l’Italienne à Alger</i>!</p>
+			<p>“My dear Albert,” said Franz, “leave all to our host; he has already proved himself full of resources; let us dine quietly, and afterwards go and see <i epub:type="se:name.music.opera" xml:lang="it">l’Italienne à Alger</i>!</p>
 			<p>“Agreed,” returned Albert; “but remember, Signor Pastrini, that both my friend and myself attach the greatest importance to having tomorrow the costumes we have asked for.”</p>
 			<p>The host again assured them they might rely on him, and that their wishes should be attended to; upon which Franz and Albert mounted to their apartments, and proceeded to disencumber themselves of their costumes. Albert, as he took off his dress, carefully preserved the bunch of violets; it was his token reserved for the morrow.</p>
 			<p>The two friends sat down to table; but they could not refrain from remarking the difference between the Count of Monte Cristo’s table and that of Signor Pastrini. Truth compelled Franz, in spite of the dislike he seemed to have taken to the count, to confess that the advantage was not on Pastrini’s side. During dessert, the servant inquired at what time they wished for the carriage. Albert and Franz looked at each other, fearing really to abuse the count’s kindness. The servant understood them.</p>

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 			<p>Cocles opened the gate, and Baptistin, springing from the box, inquired whether Monsieur and Madame Herbault and Monsieur Maximilian Morrel would see his excellency the Count of Monte Cristo.</p>
 			<p>“The Count of Monte Cristo?” cried Morrel, throwing away his cigar and hastening to the carriage; “I should think we would see him. Ah, a thousand thanks, count, for not having forgotten your promise.”</p>
 			<p>And the young officer shook the count’s hand so warmly, that Monte Cristo could not be mistaken as to the sincerity of his joy, and he saw that he had been expected with impatience, and was received with pleasure.</p>
-			<p>“Come, come,” said Maximilian, “I will serve as your guide; such a man as you are ought not to be introduced by a servant. My sister is in the garden plucking the dead roses; my brother is reading his two papers, <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">la Presse</i> and <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">les Débats</i>, within six steps of her; for wherever you see Madame Herbault, you have only to look within a circle of four yards and you will find <abbr>M.</abbr> Emmanuel, and ‘reciprocally,’ as they say at the Polytechnic School.”</p>
+			<p>“Come, come,” said Maximilian, “I will serve as your guide; such a man as you are ought not to be introduced by a servant. My sister is in the garden plucking the dead roses; my brother is reading his two papers, <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">La Presse</i> and <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Les Débats</i>, within six steps of her; for wherever you see Madame Herbault, you have only to look within a circle of four yards and you will find <abbr>M.</abbr> Emmanuel, and ‘reciprocally,’ as they say at the Polytechnic School.”</p>
 			<p>At the sound of their steps a young woman of twenty to five-and-twenty, dressed in a silk morning gown, and busily engaged in plucking the dead leaves off a noisette rose-tree, raised her head. This was Julie, who had become, as the clerk of the house of Thomson &amp; French had predicted, Madame Emmanuel Herbault. She uttered a cry of surprise at the sight of a stranger, and Maximilian began to laugh.</p>
 			<p>“Don’t disturb yourself, Julie,” said he. “The count has only been two or three days in Paris, but he already knows what a fashionable woman of the Marais is, and if he does not, you will show him.”</p>
 			<p>“Ah, monsieur,” returned Julie, “it is treason in my brother to bring you thus, but he never has any regard for his poor sister. Penelon, Penelon!”</p>

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 			<p>And she left the room.</p>
 			<p>A minute afterwards the blinds were thrown open, and through the jessamine and clematis that overhung the window one could see the garden ornamented with lanterns, and the supper laid under the tent. Dancers, players, talkers, all uttered an exclamation of joy⁠—everyone inhaled with delight the breeze that floated in. At the same time Mercédès reappeared, paler than before, but with that imperturbable expression of countenance which she sometimes wore. She went straight to the group of which her husband formed the centre.</p>
 			<p>“Do not detain those gentlemen here, count,” she said; “they would prefer, I should think, to breathe in the garden rather than suffocate here, since they are not playing.”</p>
-			<p>“Ah,” said a gallant old general, who, in 1809, had sung “<span epub:type="se:name.music.song">Partant pour la Syrie</span>”⁠—“we will not go alone to the garden.”</p>
+			<p>“Ah,” said a gallant old general, who, in 1809, had sung “<span epub:type="se:name.music.song" xml:lang="fr">Partant pour la Syrie</span>”⁠—“we will not go alone to the garden.”</p>
 			<p>“Then,” said Mercédès, “I will lead the way.”</p>
 			<p>Turning towards Monte Cristo, she added, “count, will you oblige me with your arm?”</p>
 			<p>The count almost staggered at these simple words; then he fixed his eyes on Mercédès. It was only a momentary glance, but it seemed to the countess to have lasted for a century, so much was expressed in that one look. He offered his arm to the countess; she took it, or rather just touched it with her little hand, and they together descended the steps, lined with rhododendrons and camellias. Behind them, by another outlet, a group of about twenty persons rushed into the garden with loud exclamations of delight.</p>

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 			<p>“Enough, sir,” said Morcerf, “we will speak no more on the subject.”</p>
 			<p>And clutching his gloves in anger, he left the apartment. Danglars observed that during the whole conversation Morcerf had never once dared to ask if it was on his own account that Danglars recalled his word.</p>
 			<p>That evening he had a long conference with several friends; and <abbr>M.</abbr> Cavalcanti, who had remained in the drawing-room with the ladies, was the last to leave the banker’s house.</p>
-			<p>The next morning, as soon as he awoke, Danglars asked for the newspapers; they were brought to him; he laid aside three or four, and at last fixed on <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">l’Impartial</i>, the paper of which Beauchamp was the chief editor. He hastily tore off the cover, opened the journal with nervous precipitation, passed contemptuously over the Paris jottings, and arriving at the miscellaneous intelligence, stopped with a malicious smile, at a paragraph headed</p>
+			<p>The next morning, as soon as he awoke, Danglars asked for the newspapers; they were brought to him; he laid aside three or four, and at last fixed on <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">L’Impartial</i>, the paper of which Beauchamp was the chief editor. He hastily tore off the cover, opened the journal with nervous precipitation, passed contemptuously over the Paris jottings, and arriving at the miscellaneous intelligence, stopped with a malicious smile, at a paragraph headed</p>
 			<blockquote>
 				<p>We hear from Yanina.</p>
 			</blockquote>

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 			<p>Albert hesitated a moment. “You may think my departure strange and foolish,” said the young man; “you do not know how a paragraph in a newspaper may exasperate one. Read that,” said he, “when I am gone, that you may not be witness of my anger.”</p>
 			<p>While the count picked up the paper he put spurs to his horse, which leaped in astonishment at such an unusual stimulus, and shot away with the rapidity of an arrow. The count watched him with a feeling of compassion, and when he had completely disappeared, read as follows:</p>
 			<blockquote>
-				<p>“The French officer in the service of Ali Pasha of Yanina alluded to three weeks since in <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">l’Impartial</i>, who not only surrendered the castle of Yanina, but sold his benefactor to the Turks, styled himself truly at that time Fernand, as our esteemed contemporary states; but he has since added to his Christian name a title of nobility and a family name. He now calls himself the Count of Morcerf, and ranks among the peers.”</p>
+				<p>“The French officer in the service of Ali Pasha of Yanina alluded to three weeks since in <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">L’Impartial</i>, who not only surrendered the castle of Yanina, but sold his benefactor to the Turks, styled himself truly at that time Fernand, as our esteemed contemporary states; but he has since added to his Christian name a title of nobility and a family name. He now calls himself the Count of Morcerf, and ranks among the peers.”</p>
 			</blockquote>
 			<p>Thus the terrible secret, which Beauchamp had so generously destroyed, appeared again like an armed phantom; and another paper, deriving its information from some malicious source, had published two days after Albert’s departure for Normandy the few lines which had rendered the unfortunate young man almost crazy.</p>
 		</section>

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 			<p>“I need not say I think you are too faithful and too kind to have spoken of that painful circumstance. Your having sent for me is another proof of your affection. So, without losing time, tell me, have you the slightest idea whence this terrible blow proceeds?”</p>
 			<p>“I think I have some clue.”</p>
 			<p>“But first tell me all the particulars of this shameful plot.”</p>
-			<p>Beauchamp proceeded to relate to the young man, who was overwhelmed with shame and grief, the following facts. Two days previously, the article had appeared in another paper besides <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">l’Impartial</i>, and, what was more serious, one that was well known as a government paper. Beauchamp was breakfasting when he read the paragraph. He sent immediately for a cabriolet, and hastened to the publisher’s office. Although professing diametrically opposite principles from those of the editor of the other paper, Beauchamp⁠—as it sometimes, we may say often, happens⁠—was his intimate friend. The editor was reading, with apparent delight, a leading article in the same paper on beet-sugar, probably a composition of his own.</p>
+			<p>Beauchamp proceeded to relate to the young man, who was overwhelmed with shame and grief, the following facts. Two days previously, the article had appeared in another paper besides <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">L’Impartial</i>, and, what was more serious, one that was well known as a government paper. Beauchamp was breakfasting when he read the paragraph. He sent immediately for a cabriolet, and hastened to the publisher’s office. Although professing diametrically opposite principles from those of the editor of the other paper, Beauchamp⁠—as it sometimes, we may say often, happens⁠—was his intimate friend. The editor was reading, with apparent delight, a leading article in the same paper on beet-sugar, probably a composition of his own.</p>
 			<p>“Ah, <i xml:lang="fr">pardieu!</i>” said Beauchamp, “with the paper in your hand, my friend, I need not tell you the cause of my visit.”</p>
 			<p>“Are you interested in the sugar question?” asked the editor of the ministerial paper.</p>
 			<p>“No,” replied Beauchamp, “I have not considered the question; a totally different subject interests me.”</p>