From every fairy lamp the lustrous2 capital signalled to youth her invitation, her challenge, and her menace. Like some jewelled sorceress—some dreaming Circe by the river bank, pondering new spells—so Paris lay in all her mystery and beauty under the July stars.
Sengoun, his arm through Neeland’s, had become affectionately confidential3. He explained that he really was a nocturnal creature; that now he had completely waked up; that his habits were due to a passion for astronomy, and that the stars he had discovered at odd hours of the early morning were more amazing than any celestial4 bodies ever before identified.
But Neeland, whose head and heart were already occupied, declined to study any constellations5; and they drifted through the bluish lustre6 of white arc-lights and the clustered yellow glare of incandescent7 lamps toward a splash of iridescent8 glory among the chestnut9 trees, where music sounded and tables stood amid flowers and grass and little slender fountains which balanced silver globes upon their jets.338
The waiters were in Russian peasant dress; the orchestra was Russian gipsy; the bill of fare was Russian; and there was only champagne10 to be had.
Balalaika orchestra and spectators were singing some evidently familiar song—one of those rushing, clattering11, clashing choruses of the Steppes; and Sengoun sang too, with all his might, when he and Neeland were seated, which was thirsty work.
Two fascinating Russian gipsy girls were dancing—slim, tawny12, supple13 creatures in their scarlet14 and their jingling15 bangles. After a deafening16 storm of applause, their flashing smiles swept the audience, and, linking arms, they sauntered off between the tables under the trees.
“I wish to dance,” remarked Sengoun. “My legs will kick over something if I don’t.”
They were playing an American dance—a sort of skating step; people rose; couple after couple took the floor; and Sengoun looked around for a partner. He discovered no eligible17 partner likely to favour him without a quarrel with her escort; and he was debating with Neeland whether a row would be worth while, when the gipsy girls sauntered by.
And the girls laughed and Sengoun led one of them out at a reckless pace.
The other smiled and looked at Neeland, and, seating herself, leaned on the table watching the whirl on the floor.
“Don’t you dance?” she asked, with a sidelong glance out of her splendid black eyes.
“Yes; but I’m likely to do most of my dancing on your pretty feet.”339
“Merci! In that case I prefer a cigarette.”
She selected one from his case, lighted it, folded her arms on the table, and continued to gaze at the dancers.
“I’m tired tonight,” she remarked.
“You dance beautifully.”
“Thank you.”
Sengoun, flushed and satisfied, came back with his gipsy partner when the music ceased.
“Now I hope we may have some more singing!” he exclaimed, as they seated themselves and a waiter filled their great, bubble-shaped glasses.
And he did sing at the top of his delightful19 voice when the balalaikas swept out into a ringing and familiar song, and the two gipsy girls sang, too—laughed and sang, holding the frosty goblets20 high in the sparkling light.
It was evident to Neeland that the song was a favourite one with Russians. Sengoun was quite overcome; they all touched goblets.
“Brava, my little Tziganes!” he said with happy emotion. “My little compatriots! My little tawny panthers of the Caucasus! What do you call yourselves in this bandbox of a country where two steps backward take you across any frontier?”
“They call us Fifi and Nini,” she replied. “Ask yourself why!”
“For example,” added the other girl, “we rise from this table and thank you. There is nothing further. C’est fini—c’est Fifi—Nini—comprenez-vous, Prince Erlik?”
“Hi! What?” exclaimed Sengoun. “I’m known, it appears, even to that devilish name of mine!”340
Everybody laughed.
“After all,” he said, more soberly, “it’s a gipsy’s trade to know everybody and everything. Tiens!” He slapped a goldpiece on the table. “A kiss apiece against a louis that you don’t know my comrade’s name and nation!”
The girl called Nini laughed:
“We’re quite willing to kiss you, Prince Erlik, but a louis d’or is not a copper22 penny. And your comrade is American and his name is Tchames.”
“James!” exclaimed Sengoun.
“I said so—Tchames.”
“What else?”
“Nilan.”
“Neeland?”
“I said so.”
Sengoun placed the goldpiece in Nini’s hand and looked at Neeland with an uncomfortable laugh.
“I ought to know a gipsy, but they always astonish me, these Tziganes. Tell us some more, Nini––” He beckoned23 a waiter and pointed24 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 Footit—what do they say to that?”
“It must be stopped.”
“What! Sang dieu! We must stop mobilising 341against 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 shrug25 of her bare, brown shoulders over which her hair and her gilded26 sequins fell in a bright mass.
“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 Demon27. When he travels there is unrest. Where he rests there is war!”
“You’re very clever,” retorted Neeland, quite out of countenance28.
“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?”342
“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?”
“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 warships30 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 cascades31 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.
“T’en fais pas!” laughed Sengoun. “I ask no further favour of Fortune; I’ll manage my regiment33 myself. And, listen to me, Fifi,” he added with a frightful34 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 intervals35, Sengoun caught the chorus of the air which the orchestra was playing, and sang it lustily 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 glum36.
But the slight gloom which invaded him came from resentment37 toward those people who had followed him from Brookhollow to Paris, and who, in the very moment of victory, had snatched 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 plume38 himself. He could not congratulate himself on his wisdom; sheer luck had carried him through as far as the rue39 Soleil d’Or—mere chance, and that capricious fortune which sometimes convoys40 the stupid, fatuous41, and astigmatic42.
Then he thought of Rue Carew. And, in his bosom43, an intense desire to distinguish himself began to burn.
If there were any way on earth to trace that accursed box––
He turned abruptly44 and looked at the two gipsies, who had relinquished45 Sangoun’s hand and who were still conversing46 together in low tones while Sangoun 344beat time on the jingling table top and sang joyously47 at the top of his baritone voice:
“Eh, zoum—zoum—zoum!
Boum—boum—boum!
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?”
“You’re so clever! Where is that Yellow Devil now?”
“That’s easy to say. Tell me something else more expensive.”
Nini said, surprised:
“What we know is free to Prince Erlik’s friend. Did you think we sell to Russians?”
“I don’t know anything about you or where you get your information,” said Neeland. “I suppose you’re in the Secret Service of the Russian Government.”
“Mon ami, Nilan,” said Fifi, smiling, “we should feel lonely outside the Secret Service. Few in Europe are outside—few in the world, fewer in the half-world. As for us Tziganes, who belong to neither, the business of everybody becomes our secret to sell for a silver piece—but not to Russians in the moment of peril50!... Nor to their comrades.... What do you desire to know, comrade?”
“And what do you suppose!” exclaimed Fifi, opening her magnificent black eyes very wide. “Did you imagine that nobody was paying any attention to what happened in the rue Soleil d’Or this noon?”
Nini laughed.
“The word flew as fast as the robber’s taxicab. How many thousand secret friends to the Triple Entente52 do you suppose knew of it half an hour after it happened? From the Trocadero to Montparnasse, from the Point du Jour to Charenton, from the Bois to the Bièvre, the word flew. Every taxicab, omnibus, sapin, every bateau-mouche, every train that left any terminal was watched.
“Five embassies and legations were instantly under redoubled surveillance; hundreds of cafés, bars, restaurants, hôtels; all the theatres, gardens, cabarets, brasseries.
“Your pigs of Apaches are not neglected, va! But, to my idea, they got out of Paris before we watchers knew of the affair at all—in an automobile53, perhaps—perhaps by rail. God knows,” said the girl, looking absently at the dancing which had begun again. “But if we ever lay our eyes on Minna Minti, we wear toys in our garters which will certainly persuade her to take a little stroll with us.”
After a silence, Neeland said:
“Is Minna Minti then so well known?”
“Not at the Opéra Comique,” replied Fifi with a shrug, “but since then.”
“An artiste, that woman!” added Nini. “Why deny it? It appears that she has twisted more than one red button out of a broadcloth coat.”
“She’ll get the Seraglio medal for this day’s work,” said Fifi.346
“Or the croix-de-fer,” added Nini. “Ah, zut! She annoys me.”
“Did you ever hear of a place called the Café des Bulgars?” asked Neeland, carelessly.
“Yes.”
“What sort of place is it?”
“Like any other.”
“Quite respectable?”
“Perfectly,” said Nini, smiling. “One drinks good beer there.”
“Munich beer,” added Fifi.
“Then it is watched?” asked Neeland.
“All German cafés are watched. Otherwise, it is not suspected.”
Sengoun, who had been listening, shook his head. “There’s nothing to interest us at the Café des Bulgars,” he said. Then he summoned a waiter and pointed tragically54 at the empty goblets.
347
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1
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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constellations
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| n.星座( constellation的名词复数 )；一群杰出人物；一系列（相关的想法、事物）；一群（相关的人） | |
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lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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incandescent
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| adj.遇热发光的， 白炽的，感情强烈的 | |
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iridescent
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| adj.彩虹色的，闪色的 | |
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chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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12
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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13
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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14
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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15
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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16
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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17
eligible
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| adj.有条件被选中的；(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
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18
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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19
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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goblets
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| n.高脚酒杯( goblet的名词复数 ) | |
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jingled
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| 喝醉的 | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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27
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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28
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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29
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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30
warships
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| 军舰，战舰( warship的名词复数 )； 舰只 | |
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31
cascades
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| 倾泻( cascade的名词复数 )； 小瀑布（尤指一连串瀑布中的一支）； 瀑布状物； 倾泻（或涌出）的东西 | |
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32
dames
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| n.（在英国）夫人（一种封号），夫人（爵士妻子的称号）( dame的名词复数 )；女人 | |
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33
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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34
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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35
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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36
glum
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| adj.闷闷不乐的，阴郁的 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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38
plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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40
convoys
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| n.（有护航的）船队( convoy的名词复数 )；车队；护航（队）；护送队 | |
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41
fatuous
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| adj.愚昧的；昏庸的 | |
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42
astigmatic
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| a.散光的，乱视的 | |
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43
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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44
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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45
relinquished
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| 交出，让给( relinquish的过去式和过去分词 )； 放弃 | |
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46
conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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47
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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48
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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49
giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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51
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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52
entente
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| n.协定；有协定关系的各国 | |
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53
automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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54
tragically
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| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
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