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Updated: May 1, 2025
"Trusia" of the ensnaring hair. "Trusia" the beloved, the desirable. "So you haven't forgotten your Latin, after all," Zulka was saying, leisurely dismounting from his horse. "But I have," answered Carter. "What does it all mean?" "Your commission, man. Major of the Royal Hussars. For the present attached to Her Grace, as Aide. I congratulate you." "Don't, Paul; not yet.
He was interrupted by Her Grace of Schallberg who raised her hand for silence. It was Paul Zulka who bowed low over the Duchess's hand. He was totally oblivious to all other claims upon his attention for the nonce. "Do you know that gentleman, Paul?" As Trusia questioned him, he turned about in mystification.
When she makes us girls forget, is it any wonder the youths of Krovitch are oblivious of our poor existence?" "She has had many suitors, then?" Carter to save him could not refrain from the question. "A legion," she answered; "but all have withdrawn nobly in favor of the King. Even Paul Zulka and Major Sobieska. They are transferring to him their lives and their swords to please her."
Not yet enlightened, Zulka now approached Delmotte, before whom he knelt. "Your Majesty absolves me for leaving my post?" he besought. "I am not your king, Count," said the Parisian, honestly chagrined at his false position. "He lies dead over there," and he indicated the temporary bier. "I have unhappily been the victim of an imposture."
Good-bye, Highness," he said, turning to Her Grace. "God bring you safe through." His voice was hoarse with repression. "Good luck, Carter," said Zulka, and turned away as he spoke. Bustling good-naturedly in the very jaws of danger, Muhlen-Sarkey made his adieux with no ruffle disturbing his customary urbanity.
Whirled along in the auto, the inn was soon reached, where, arm in arm with Count Zulka, Carter entered, much to the unenlightened bewilderment of the landlord, who, nevertheless, at the Krovitzer's request, had no difficulty in finding them a private room for their dinner.
"What is there about that little spot to set me guessing?" His finger kept tapping the indicated locality perplexedly. His man studied a moment as if some old memory were awakened. "Can't sye, sir; but wasn't Count Zulka, of the Racquet Club, from there, sir?" he hesitatingly suggested. "Seems as if I remember 'is man saying as much." "Now we are getting at it, Carrick. Certainly.
The world beyond, the world of fields and woods and flowers, looked fair; the sun had not yet dried the dew, and jaded as he was, Carter thanked God for all things sweet and pure. Something choked in his throat. He welcomed the galloping approach of Zulka, who, shortly, drew up beneath his window.
"How then did he hear or know of Count Zulka?" sneeringly suggested Josef. Carter noticed that again the momentarily favorable impression had been destroyed. Josef for some strange reason was aggressively opposed to a vindication of the two strangers in Krovitch. "Your Grace, there was a club in New York City," Carter explained to Trusia, "of which Paul Zulka and myself were members.
Nothing but continued obstinacy on his part hinders him from wearing shoulder straps." "Carrick seems in high favor about here," Carter remarked as a more pronounced hint for enlightenment. Sutphen grunted. "Let him tell you, then," he said. "Excuse me. Her Grace is looking this way." He straightway departed to escape explanations and Zulka followed him.
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