The Dark Star Part 77

"I ought to know a gipsy, but they always astonish me, these Tziganes.

Tell us some more, Nini----" He beckoned a waiter and pointed indignantly at the empty goblets.

The girls, resting their elbows on the tables, framed their faces with slim and dusky hands, and gazed at Sengoun out of humorous, half-veiled eyes.

"What do you wish to know, Prince Erlik?" they asked mockingly.

"Well, for example, is my country really mobilising?"

"Since the twenty-fifth."

"_Tiens!_ And old Papa Kaiser and the Clown Prince Foot.i.t--what do they say to that?"

"It must be stopped."

"What! _Sang dieu!_ We must stop mobilising against the Austrians?

But we are not going to stop, you know, while Francis Joseph continues to pull faces at poor old Servian Peter!"

Neeland said:

"The evening paper has it that Austria is more reasonable and that the Servian affair can be arranged. There will be no war," he added confidently.

"There will be war," remarked Nini with a shrug of her bare, brown shoulders over which her hair and her gilded sequins fell in a bright ma.s.s.

"Why?" asked Neeland, smiling.

"Why? Because, for one thing, you have brought war into Europe!"

"Come, now! No mystery!" said Sengoun gaily. "Explain how my comrade has brought war into Europe, you little fraud!"

Nini looked at Neeland:

"What else except papers was in the box you lost?" she asked coolly.

Neeland, very red and uncomfortable, gazed back at the girl without replying; and she laughed at him, showing her white teeth.

"You brought the Yellow Devil into Europe, M'sieu Nilan! Erlik, the Yellow Demon. When he travels there is unrest. Where he rests there is war!"

"You're very clever," retorted Neeland, quite out of countenance.

"Yes, we are," said Fifi, with her quick smile. "And who but M'sieu Nilan should admit it?"

"Very clever," repeated Neeland, still amazed and profoundly uneasy.

"But this Yellow Devil you say I brought into Europe must have been resting in America, then. And, if so, why is there no war there?"

"There would have been--with Mexico. You brought the Yellow Demon here, but just in time!"

"All right. Grant that, then. But--perhaps he was a long time resting in America. What about that, pretty gipsy?"

The girl shrugged again:

"Is your memory so poor, M'sieu Nilan? What has your country done but fight since Erlik rested among your people? You fought in Samoa; in Hawaii; your warships went to Chile, to Brazil, to San Domingo; the blood of your soldiers and sailors was shed in Hayti, in Cuba, in the Philippines, in China----"

"Good Lord!" exclaimed Neeland. "That girl is dead right!"

Sengoun threw back his handsome head and laughed without restraint; and the gipsies laughed, too, their beautiful eyes and teeth flashing under their black cascades of unbound hair.

"Show me your palms," said Nini, and drew Sengoun's and Neeland's hands across the table, holding them in both of hers.

"See," she added, nudging Fifi with her shoulder, "both of them born under the Dark Star! It is war they shall live to see--war!"

"Under the Dark Star, Erlik," repeated the other girl, looking closely into the two palms, "and there is war there!"

"And death?" inquired Sengoun gaily. "I don't care, if I can lead a _sotnia_ up Achi-Baba and twist the gullet of the Padisha before I say Fifi--Nini!"

The gipsies searched his palm with intent and brilliant gaze.

"_Zut!_" said Fifi. "_Je ne vois rien que d'l'amour et la guerre aux dames!_"

"_T'en fais pas!_" laughed Sengoun. "I ask no further favour of Fortune; I'll manage my regiment myself. And, listen to me, Fifi," he added with a frightful frown, "if the war you predict doesn't arrive, I'll come back and beat you as though you were married to a Turk!"

While they still explored his palm, whispering together at intervals, Sengoun caught the chorus of the air which the orchestra was playing, and sang it l.u.s.tily and with intense pleasure to himself.

Neeland, unquiet to discover how much these casual strangers knew about his own and intimate affairs, had become silent and almost glum.

But the slight gloom which invaded him came from resentment toward those people who had followed him from Brookhollow to Paris, and who, in the very moment of victory, had s.n.a.t.c.hed that satisfaction from him.

He thought of Kestner and of Breslau--of Scheherazade, and the terrible episode in her stateroom.

Except that he had seized the box in the Brookhollow house, there was nothing in his subsequent conduct on which he could plume himself. He could not congratulate himself on his wisdom; sheer luck had carried him through as far as the rue Soleil d'Or--mere chance, and that capricious fortune which sometimes convoys the stupid, fatuous, and astigmatic.

Then he thought of Rue Carew. And, in his bosom, an intense desire to distinguish himself began to burn.

If there were any way on earth to trace that accursed box----

He turned abruptly and looked at the two gipsies, who had relinquished Sangoun's hand and who were still conversing together in low tones while Sangoun beat time on the jingling table top and sang joyously at the top of his baritone voice:

"Eh, zoum--zoum--zoum!

Boum--boum--boum!

Here's to the Artillery Gaily riding by!

Fetch me a distillery, Let me drink it dry-- Fill me full of sillery!

Here's to the artillery!

Zoum--zoum--zoum!

Boum--boum--boum!"

"Fifi!"

"_M'sieu?_"