"All right, but I'd expect better bows than that from an Officer—nicer and deeper. When you bow, anybody would know right away that you were a stork once upon a time. Look! I'll show you."
She led him into the shade of a nut tree beside the road, and there, on the turf, gave him a little supplementary dancing lesson. After some time, when he had succeeded in making a pretty good bow, they shook hands, and promised each other solemnly to be partners at the Cadets' Ball. Then they proceeded on their journey, sworn friends and comrades, feeling cordial and intimate with each other. And their recent understanding gave them such a sense of harmony that they began to sing a duet, which they repeated again and again,—the joyful scene of victory in the "Daughter of the Regiment." The more they sang it, the more they loved it. As they sang, Gerold began to swing Gesima's arm, playfully pushing it away and catching it as it swung back, and her arm responded as light as a feather to the least touch of his fingers. And as he sang with his face turned upwards it seemed to him as if Gesima were no longer singing by his side, but as if her voice, rising in ever higher and sweeter notes, were filling the whole sky and falling about him in a shower of silvery music. Every one they met on the road took them both in at one glance and smiled kindly as they passed, and looked after them. A troop of small children whom they overtook stared at them in open-mouthed amazement, and the teacher who was with them said, pointing to Gerold and Gesima, "Try to follow their example." And one shrill little voice cried out impertinently, "Tobias with the Angel Gabriel!"
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