The Dark Star

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."

"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 delightful 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 goblets 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?"

His dancing partner laughed till her sequins jingled from throat to

ankle: "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!"

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 copper 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 beckoned a waiter and pointed

indignantly at the empty goblets.