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Updated: May 3, 2025
"Oh Dula!" exclaimed Minnie; and she uttered a few words in the Malay tongue that sent the woman rustling past the cut boughs beneath the attap awning, to return directly and gladden the eyes of Peter with a basket containing a heap of bananas and a couple of native-made cakes. "Ah!" sighed Peter. "Don't they look lovely in the moonlight! Tlat!" he added, with a hearty smack of his lips.
Benedict would be glad to put you on, I'm sure." Dula suspected that Eugene might be out of funds, and this would be an easy way for him to slip into something which would lead back to studio work. He liked Eugene. He was anxious to see him get along. It flattered him to think he had been the first to publish his work in color. "That isn't a bad idea," said Eugene.
The pictures he had published for him had brought him the favor of M. Charles. Dula had secured him the position that he now had. Would he be the cause of his getting this one? On the way down town on the car he encountered a cross-eyed boy. He had understood from someone recently that cross-eyed boys were good luck cross-eyed women bad luck. A thrill of hopeful prognostication passed over him.
It was some months before he could actually say that he was intimate with them, but he began to visit them regularly and after a time they called on him. It was during this year that he came to know several models passingly well, to visit the various art exhibitions, to be taken up by Hudson Dula, the Art Director of Truth and invited to two or three small dinners given to artists and girls.
He parted reluctantly with all the lovely things he had seen, believing that this collection of Parisian views would be as impressive to Americans as had been his New York views. M. Arkquin for one, and many others, including the friends of Deesa and Dula were delighted with them. The former expressed the belief that some of them might be sold in France.
"Look, uncle, what Dula has brought us!" cried Minnie; and she took from the veranda table a great bunch of the beautiful white creeper which the native women were fond of wearing in their black hair. "Aha!" said the Doctor. "Thank you. My fee, Archie." "Not all," said Mrs Morley.
They offered the mother her choice of three names, Mokiya, Sossiya, or that the child should be called after the martyr Khozdazat. "No," said the good woman, "all those names are poor." In order to please her, they opened the calendar at another place; three more names appeared, Triphily, Dula, and Varakhasy. "This is awful," said the old woman. "What names! I truly never heard the like.
The woman's dark eyes flashed, and she made a movement as if to cover her face, but snatched away her hand directly and stood up proudly for a moment, before bowing low and not ungracefully to the Doctor as he gave her a quick nod. "Here is Dula," said Mrs Morley. "She has brought up her sick child." "Yes, I see," said the Doctor, rather gruffly, as he frowned at the swarthy little patient.
He was going to be an artist or a business man or something. Look at Hudson Dula. Owning a lithographic business and living in Gramercy Place. Could any artist he knew do that? Scarcely. He would see about this. He would think this art business over. Maybe he could be an art director or a lithographer or something.
The one country seemed young, hopeful, American, even foolishly gay, the other serious, speculative, dour. Eugene had taken a number of letters from M. Charles, Hudson Dula, Louis Deesa, Leonard Baker and others, who, on hearing that he was going, had volunteered to send him to friends in Paris who might help him.
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