The Dark Star

Their adieux to Fifi and Nini were elaborate and complicated by bursts

of laughter. The Tziganes recommended Captain Sengoun to go home and

seek further adventures on his pillow; and had it not been for the gay

babble of the fountain and the persistent perfume of flowers, he might

have followed their advice.

It was after the two young men had left the Jardin Russe that Captain

Sengoun positively but affectionately refused to relinquish possession

of Neeland's arm.

"Dear friend," he explained, "I am just waking up and I do not wish to

go to bed for days and days."

"But I do," returned Neeland, laughing. "Where do you want to go now,

Prince Erlik?"

The champagne was singing loudly in the Cossack's handsome head; the

distant brilliancy beyond the Place de la Concorde riveted his roving

eyes.

"Over there," he said joyously. "Listen, old fellow, I'll teach you

the skating step as we cross the Place! Then, in the first Bal, you

shall try it on the fairest form since Helen fell and Troy burned--or

Troy fell and Helen burned--it's all the same, old fellow--what you

call fifty-fifty, eh?"

Neeland tried to free his arm--to excuse himself; two policemen

laughed; but Sengoun, linking his arm more firmly in Neeland's,

crossed the Place in a series of Dutch rolls and outer edges, in which

Neeland was compelled to join. The Russian was as light and graceful

on his feet as one of the dancers of his own country; Neeland's

knowledge of skating aided his own less agile steps. There was

sympathetic applause from passing taxis and fiacres; and they might,

apparently, have had any number of fair partners for the asking, along

the way, except for Sengoun's headlong dive toward the brightest of

the boulevard lights beyond.

In the rue Royal, however, Sengoun desisted with sudden access of

dignity, remarking that such gambols were not worthy of the best

traditions of his Embassy; and he attempted to bribe the drivers of a

couple of hansom cabs to permit him and his comrade to take the reins

and race to the Arc de Triomphe.

Failing in this, he became profusely autobiographical, informing

Neeland of his birth, education, aims, aspirations.

"When I was twelve," he said, "I had known already the happiness of

the battle-shock against Kurd, Mongol, and Tartar. At eighteen my

ambition was to slap the faces of three human monsters. I told

everybody that I was making arrangements to do this, and I started for

Brusa after my first monster--Fehim Effendi--but the Vali telegraphed

to the Grand Vizier, and the Grand Vizier ran to Abdul the Damned, and

Abdul yelled for Sir Nicholas O'Connor; and they caught me in the Pera

Palace and handed me over to my Embassy."

Neeland shouted with laughter: "Who were the other monsters?" he asked.