And as for himself, he
had many things to arrange before starting on this hunting-expedition,
which was to serve as a cloak for another enterprise. He would have to
write at once, for example, to his sister--an invalid widow, who passed
her life alternately on the Riviera and in Switzerland--informing her of
his intended travels. He would have to see that a sufficient sum was
left for Natalie's mother, and put into discreet hands. The money for
the man Kirski would have to be properly tied up, lest it should prove a
temptation. Why, those two pieces of Italian embroidery lying there, he
had bought them months ago, intending to present them to Natalie, but
from time to time the opportunity had been missed. And so forth, and so
forth.
But despite all this fortitude, and these commonplace and practical
considerations, his eyes would wander to that little handful of flowers
lying on the table, and his thoughts would wander farther still. As he
pictured to himself his going to the young Hungarian girl, and taking
her hand, and telling her that now it was no longer a parting for a
couple of years, but a parting forever, his heart grew cold and sick.
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