Carmichael sighed for the Princess Hildegarde, understanding.

It was sigh or curse, and the latter mode of expression wastes more vitality.

Oh, yes; they made over him, as the world goes; they dined and wined him and elected him honorary member to their clubs; they patted him on the back and called him captain; but it was all in a negligent toleration that turned every pleasure into rust.
Arthur Carmichael was Irish.

He was born in America, educated there and elsewhere, a little while in Paris, a little while at Bonn, and, like all Irishmen, he was baned with the wandering foot; for the man who is homeless by choice has a subtle poison in his blood.

He was at Bonn when the Civil War came.