The Dark Star

And he took all, forgetting that the Greeks bore gifts; or, perhaps,

remembering, rejoicing, happy in his servitude, he took into his heart

and soul the tribute this young girl offered, a grateful, thankful

captive.

The terrible cataclysm impending, menacing the world, they seemed

powerless, yet, to grasp and comprehend and understand.

Outside, the street rippled and roared with the interminable clatter

of passing cavalry: the girl looked into the eyes of the boy across

the tea-table, and her young eyes, half fearful yet enchanted, scarce

dared divine what his eyes were telling her while his hurrying tongue

chattered irrelevancies.

Three empires, two kingdoms, and a great republic resounded with the

hellish din of arming twenty million men. Her soft lips were touched

with the smile of youth that learns for the first time it is beloved;

her eyes of a child, exquisite, brooding, rested with a little more

courage now on his--were learning, little by little, to sustain his

gaze, endure the ardour that no careless, laughing speech of his could

hide or dim or quench.

In the twilight of the streets there was silence, save for the rush of

motors and the recurrent trample of armed men. But the heart of Rue

Carew was afire with song--and every delicate vein in her ran singing

to her heart.

There was war in the Eastern world; and palace and chancellery were

ablaze. But they spoke of the West--of humble places and lowly homes;

of still woodlands where mosses edged the brooks; of peaceful

villages they both had known, where long, tree-shaded streets slept in

the dappled shadow under the sun of noon.

* * * * *

Marotte came, silent, self-respecting, very grey and tranquil in his

hour of trial.

There were two letters for Neeland, left by hand. And, when the old

man had gone away bearing his silver tray among his heavier burdens:

"Read them," nodded Rue Carew.

He read them both aloud to her: the first amused them a little--not

without troubling them a little, too:

* * * * *

Monsieur Neeland: It is the Tzigane, Fifi, who permits herself the honour of addressing

you.

Breslau escaped. With him went the plans, it seems. You behaved

admirably in the Café des Bulgars. A Russian comrade has you and

Prince Erlik to remember in her prayers.

You have done well, monsieur. Now, your task is ended. Go back to the

Western World and leave us to end this battle between ourselves.

It is written and confirmed by the stars that what the Eastern World

has sown it shall now reap all alone.

We Tziganes know. You should not mock at our knowledge. For there is a

dark star, Erlik, named from the Prince of Hell. And last night it was

in conjunction with the red star, Mars. None saw it; none has ever

beheld the dark star, Erlik.