SOPHY OF KRAVONIA
sulky and kept arguing to his neighbor, wagging a fat forefinger at him repeatedly; the neighbor shrugged bored shoulders; after all, he had not made the war—it was the Emperor and those gentlemen at St. Cloud! As she watched, the stir grew greater, the bands of marching students more frequent and noisy, "A Berlin!" they cried now, amid the same mixture of applause and tolerant amusement. A party of girls paraded down the middle of the street, singing "J'aime Us militaires!" The applause grew to thunder as they went by, and the laughter broke into one great crackle when the heroines had passed.
She turned away with a start, conscious of a presence in the room. Casimir came quickly across to her, throwing his helmet on the table as he passed. He took her hands. "I know. Lady Meg wrote to me," he said. "And you are here!"
"I have no other home now," she said.
With a light of joy in his eyes he kissed her lips.
"I come to you only when I'm in trouble!" she said, softly.
"It is well," he answered, and drew her with him back to the window. Together they stood looking down.
"It is war, then?" she asked.
"Without doubt it's war—without doubt," he answered, gravely. "And beyond that no man knows anything."
"And you?" she asked.
He took her hands again, both of hers in his. " My lady of the Red Star!" he murmured, softly.
"And you?"
"You wouldn't have it otherwise?"
"Heaven forbid! God go with you as my heart goes! When do you go?"
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