SOPHY OF KRAVONIA
cules!" he cried. "I'm for to-night—the devil take tomorrow morning!"
"You're all drunk," said Markart, in despairing resignation.
"We'll be drunker before the night's out," snarled Mistitch. "And if I meet that fellow when I'm drunk, God help him!" He laughed loudly. "Then there might be a chance for young Alexis, after all!"
The words alarmed Markart. Young Count Alexis was the King's son by Countess Ellenburg. A chance for young Alexis!
"For Heaven's sake, go to bed!" he implored. Mistitch turned on him. "I don't want to quarrel with anybody in Slavna to-night, unless I meet one man. But you can't stop me, Markart, and you'll only do mischief by trying. Now, my boys!"
They were with him—Sterkoff with a gleam in his squinting eye, Rastatz with a forced, uneasy giggle and shaking knees. Mistitch clapped them on the back.
"Another bottle apiece and we'll all be heroes!" he cried. " Markart, you go home to your mamma!" Though given in no friendly way, this advice was wise beneath its metaphor. But Markart did not at once obey it. He had no more authority than power to interfere; Mistitch was his senior officer, and he had no special orders to act. But he followed the three in a fascinated interest, and with the hope that a very brief proof of his freedom would content the Captain. Out from the barracks the three marched. The sentry at the gate presented arms, but tried to bar their progress. With a guffaw and a mighty push Mistitch sent him sprawling. "The Commandant wants us, you fool!" he cried—and the three were in the square.
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