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Updated: May 1, 2025
"Can't make heads or tails of it, Your Grace; not that I have any right to, but one gets figuring on what is going on around him when he is idle. It must be very important, since Colonel Sutphen has been summoned from the frontier. Count Zulka has not arrived yet, but a courier was sent for him, too. His Majesty is also here, but it seems that Count Sobieska sent out all the orders.
"Mea Culpa!" said Zulka, suddenly remembering his grievous breach of decorum, turning now to bow deeply with a humility which seemed but half sincere. Of course Trusia forgave him for she seemed vastly pleased with the favorable outcome of the meeting. "Carter a spy!" Paul exploded, when the status of affairs was duly explained to him. "I would as soon suspect our loyal old Josef there."
Having fulfilled the demands of Court etiquette in yielding first place to her sovereign, Trusia was now free to indulge any other preference for partners for the ensuing figures. The American glanced covetously toward the place where Sobieska and Zulka stood, expectantly awaiting her invitation.
Their mutual friends in New York had included many women of gentle birth with whom Paul Zulka had always been more or less of a favorite. Concerning these, individually and collectively, Carter's replies to his friend's inquiries had been equally frank and responsive. "So you left no sweetheart behind, Cal?" "No, Paul. I'd not leave a sweetheart. I'd make her my wife." "In the face of a congé?"
She smiled indulgently. "Perhaps," she said, "when you have fully mastered our language, we might make you a lance corporal. You see we have only one Field Marshal, Colonel Sutphen, although fully a score of applicants for that rank." "Don't tease, Tru," said Zulka with the intimacy of a lifelong friendship, "I am a colonel. Cal Carter, here, is a better soldier.
Relaxing his handclasp, he arose and walked to the window, to gaze out upon darkness until his own night passed from him sufficiently to enable him to seize upon his soul in the elusive shadows and hold it firmly. From where he stood, after an interval of pregnant silence, he turned a high-held, stern, white face upon Zulka. "Paul," he said quietly, "we'll have to stand by her now to the end.
He knew it would be impossible for Zulka to have forgotten his existence completely after two years of almost daily social intercourse. A greater fear followed on the heels of this first misgiving. Carter's mouth set firm and hard as he considered the possibility of an intentional snub.
If Krovitch wins and I'm alive, I'll go back to New York. If she loses, our lives must purchase her safety, should that be the price. It will be Trusia first, then." "It will always be Trusia," said Zulka. Carter nodded his understanding. "Come, Carter!" Zulka said almost brusquely, "enough of sentiment. We must dress for the levee. I can fit you out in clothes."
Carrick was much depressed at learning he was to be left behind, but extracted some consolation from the fact that he was to be detailed to attend Count Zulka for whom he had always shown a preference. "The rendezvous is Paris, Boulevard St. Michel, second house on the left from St. Germain. The time, two days hence, at six o'clock in the evening.
Already the maidens of Krovitch have heard of you, sir. One at least, desires to make your acquaintance." "We are going to the inn," Zulka announced as he took Carter by the arm, so the latter made his adieux to the gentlemen of the Privy Council and turned prepared to follow him. "Castle's full," Paul explained to relieve the mystification apparent on his friend's countenance.
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