Deulin did not think it necessary to refer to the object of Cartoner's
ride. Neither did he mention the fact that he knew that this was not the
direct way to St. Petersburg.
"I hired a horse and rode out to meet you," he said, gayly--he was
singularly gay this morning, and there was a light in his eye--"to
intercept you. Kosmaroff is back in Warsaw. I saw him in the
streets--and he saw me. I think that man is the god in the machine.
He is not a nonentity. I wonder who he is. There is blood there, my
friend."
He turned his horse as he spoke, and rode back towards the city with
Cartoner.
"In the mean time," he said, "I have the hunger of a beggar's dog. What
are we to do? It is one o'clock--and I have the inside of a Frenchman.
We are a great people. We tear down monarchies, and build up a new
republic which is to last forever, and doesn't. We make history so
quickly that the world stands breathless--but we always breakfast before
mid-day."
He took out his watch, and showed its face to Cartoner, with a gesture
which could not have been more tragic had it marked the hour of the last
trump.
"And we dare not show our faces in the streets. At least, I dare not
show mine in the neighborhood of yours in Warsaw.
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