Sophy threw out her arms as though to embrace the gracious world. "I thought it beautiful; I think everything beautiful to-day. I think you beautiful, Baron von Hollbrandt—and Peter is beautiful—and so is your mother, and so is your father, Peter. And I half believe that, just this morning—this one splendid morning—I'm beautiful myself. Yes, in spite of this horrible mark on my cheek!"
"I hear something," said Peter Vassip.
"Just this morning—this one splendid morning—I agree with you," laughed Max. "Not even the mark shall change my mind! Come, you love the mark—the Red Star—don't you?"
"Well, yes," said Sophy, with a little, confidential nod and smile.
"I hear something," said Peter Vassip, with his hand to his ear.
Sophy turned to him, smiling. "What do you hear, Peter?"
He gave a sudden start of recollection. "Ah, has that anything to do with Monsieur Zerkovitch?"
"Monsieur Zerkovitch?" broke from them both.
"He's been here; he's ridden at a gallop on to Volseni—to find the Prince." He added briefly all there was to add—his hand at his ear all the time.
"Hum! That looks like news," said Max. "What can it be?"