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Updated: June 9, 2025
Deulin, during fifty-odd years of his life, had moved through a maze of men, remembering faces as a ship-captain must recollect those who have sailed with him, without attaching a name or being able to allot one saving quality to lift an individual out of the ruck. For it is a lamentable fact that all men and all women are painfully like each other; it is only their faces that differ.
She gave a little shiver as she looked round the room. After a short silence Deulin rose suddenly and held out his hand. "Good-bye," he said. "You are too discerning. Good-bye." "You are going ?" "Away," he answered, with a wave of the hand descriptive of space. "I must go and pack my trunks." Lady Orlay had not moved when Mr. Mangles came up to say good-night.
She followed his glance round the room, wondering, perhaps, if the rest of her life was to be weighed down by the sense of loneliness which had come over her that day for the first time. Deulin, like the majority of Frenchmen, had certain mental gifts, usually considered to be the special privilege of women.
"Ulrich is the name. And you are fond of violets?" "I love them." Deulin was making a silent, mental note of the harmless taste, when dinner was announced. "It was I who recommended Netty to investigate the Senatorska," said Mr. Mangles, when they were seated. But Netty did not wish to be made the subject of the conversation any longer.
Wanda made no answer. She was still waiting for the news that he had to tell her. The logs on the fire fell about with a crackle, and Deulin rose to put them in order. While thus engaged he continued his monologue. "I suppose that is why I feel lonely this afternoon. In a sense, I am alone. Cartoner has gone, you know. He has left Warsaw."
Deulin accompanied them along the corridor, which is a long one, for the Hotel de l'Europe is a huge quadrangle. "You startled me by your sudden appearance, you know," she said, turning again to the Frenchman, which was probably intended for an explanation of her heightened color. She was one of those fortunate persons who blush easily at the right time.
And he bowed over Netty's head with an empressement which would have conveyed to any one more versed in the ways of men the reason why he had come. "Do you bet, Mr. Deulin?" inquired Jooly. "Never, unless I am quite sure," he answered. "There is," observed Miss Mangles, who was inclined to be gracious "there is perhaps less harm in that." "And less risk," explained Deulin gravely.
He sat looking at the design, thinking, perhaps, with wonder of the man who in this notoriety-loving age was still content to be known only by a mark. "Up to the present I have not attached much importance to those rumors which, happily, have never reached the newspaper," said Deulin, after a pause. "One has supposed that, as usual, Poland is ready for an upheaval. But the upheaval does not come.
He could not work for his living, and I may not either; so I am a prince without a halfpenny to call his own." "I am so sorry!" she said, in a soft voice, and, indeed, she looked it. Then she caught sight of Paul Deulin a long way off, despite her short sight, which was perhaps spasmodic, as short sight often is. She stopped, and half turned, as if to dismiss Martin.
"Generally keep your coat in the hall?" he inquired, casually, as they descended the steps. "Sometimes," replied Deulin, glancing at the questioner sideways beneath the brim of his hat. It was, as he had said, a beautiful night. The moon was almost full and almost overhead, so that the streets were in most instances without shadow at all; for they nearly all run north and south, as does the river.
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