However, the Prince was no longer listening to the old lady’s words, because, in his selfishness, he had disconnected himself from listening to anything but what he found `pleasant` and especially what he was telling to his own self.
Decadence. Jean-Andrei Munteanu used to be young, charming, wild and bratty, a ladies’ man, a gambler, a gentleman, a... prince. Now, his hair is white, his face is full of wrinkles, his inheritance is gone, his family is gone, his wild nights in Parisian casinos are now lonely and cold, spent in his family’s crumbling castle in a remote Romanian village. At least he still has a routine and manners to remind him of his title and blue blood. At least he still has some acquaintances in the village to join him for supper and a cigar just like in the old days. Right? No... No. Nothing is the same. Nothing will ever be the same. He spent his youth in decadence. Now the whole world is decadence.