SOPHY OF KRAVONIA
with a dashing air, and caressed a delicate, upturned mustache as he glanced round, choosing his seat. The next moment he advanced towards Sophy; giving her a polite salute, he indicated the little table next to hers.
"Mademoiselle permits?" he asked. "She has, I fear, forgotten, but I have the honor to be an acquaintance of hers."
"I remember," smiled Sophy. "Captain Markart? We met at Madame Zerkovitch's."
"Oh, that's pleasant of you!" he cried. "I hate being clean forgotten. But I fear you remember me only because I sang so badly!"
"I remember best that you said you wanted to go and help France, but your General wouldn't let you."
"Ah, I know why you remember that—you especially! Forgive me—our friend Marie Zerkovitch told me." He turned away for a moment to give an order to the waiter.
"What's going on to-day?" asked Sophy. "Where's everybody going?"
"Why, you are a stranger, mademoiselle!" he laughed. "It's the King's name-day, and we all go and congratulate him."
"Is that it? Are you going?"
"Certainly; in attendance on my General—General Stenovics. My lodgings are near here, his house at the other end of the boulevard, so he gave me leave to meet him here. I thought I would come early and fortify myself a little for the ordeal. To mademoiselle's good health!" He looked at her with openly admiring eyes, to which tribute Sophy accorded a lazy, unembarrassed smile. She leaned her chin on her hand, turning her right cheek towards him.
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