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Updated: June 12, 2025
Count Larinski, I regret to inform you, is armed with all needful weapons; he carries with him his certificate of birth, and certificate of the registry of death of both his parents. The sole point upon which we must henceforth direct our attention is the contract. We scarcely can take too many precautions; we must see that this Pole's hands are absolutely tied.
I have won her for you, dear Larinski, by the means Othello used to charm the imagination and capture the heart of Desdemona. Do you not remember, my dear Count, the tales you used to tell us, when we were living together in a garret in Bucharest? How you fought in the streets of Warsaw against the Cossacks?
These words uttered, he assured himself anew that her eyes were humid, and then he left, charmed to have proved the extent of the empire he held over her. When she rejoined M. Langis, the young man asked: "Does it chance to be I who put Count Larinski to flight? If so, I should be quite heart-broken." "Reassure yourself," said she, "he came expressly to inform me that his evening was not free."
"But, my dear Count," continued Samuel Brohl, "how could I let a man of your heroic worth and romantic character be forgotten by the world? No, it was Samuel Brohl who died and was buried in an unknown grave. I have the certificate of his death. Count Abel Larinski still lives. It is true that he is so changed by all his sufferings that his oldest friends would never recognise him.
He never had foreseen that such a catastrophe could occur, nor had the least suspicion that anything had passed between his daughter and M. Larinski. Of all the ideas that had suggested themselves to him, this seemed the least admissible, the most improbable and ridiculous. After a long silence, he said to Antoinette, "You want to frighten me this is not serious."
I pity you, my dear Joan," added Antoinette, laughingly. "You are dying with longing to hear one of those romances without words, which M. Larinski plays so divinely; and if M. Larinski be the man of the letter, his own avowal prohibits him from appearing before me again. How can you extricate yourself from this dilemma? The case is embarrassing."
Before dinner he made the tour of all the hotels in Saint Moritz without discovering where M. Larinski lodged. He learned it in the evening from a peasant who came over from Cellarina for the overcoat. The good Mlle. Moiseney was quite taken with Count Abel; first, because he was handsome, and then because he played the piano bewitchingly.
"And what is that, princess?" "They dream with open eyes, and the awakening is sometimes disagreeable. Ah, my dear Count Larinski, this, that, and the other, et cetera. Thus endeth the adventure."
Tracing figures in the gravel with a stick he had picked up, M. Langis said, in a wholly unconstrained voice: "I do not wish M. Larinski any harm, and yet you must admit that I would have the right to detest him cordially, for I had the honour two years ago, if I mistake not, of asking your hand in marriage. Do you remember it?"
In crossing the salon she perceived that M. Larinski had forgotten a book he had left on the piano when he came in. She opened the volume; he had written his name on the top of the first page, and Antoinette recognised the handwriting of the note. Shut up in her own room, while taking down and combing her hair, her imagination long wandered through California and Poland.
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