“Yes; but I’m likely to do most of my dancing on your pretty feet.” 339
“Merci! In that case I prefer a cigarette.”
She selected one from his case, lighted it, folded her arms on the table, and continued to gaze at the dancers.
“I’m tired tonight,” she remarked.
“You dance beautifully.”
“Thank you.”
Sengoun, flushed and satisfied, came back with his gipsy partner when the music ceased.
“Now I hope we may have some more singing!” he exclaimed, as they seated themselves and a waiter filled their great, bubble-shaped glasses.
And he did sing at the top of his delightful voice when the balalaikas swept out into a ringing and familiar song, and the two gipsy girls sang, too—laughed and sang, holding the frosty goblets high in the sparkling light.
It was evident to Neeland that the song was a favourite one with Russians. Sengoun was quite overcome; they all touched goblets.