“Is your memory so poor, M’sieu Nilan? What has your country done but fight since Erlik rested among your people? You fought in Samoa; in Hawaii; your warships went to Chile, to Brazil, to San Domingo; the blood of your soldiers and sailors was shed in Hayti, in Cuba, in the Philippines, in China––”
“Good Lord!” exclaimed Neeland. “That girl is dead right!”
Sengoun threw back his handsome head and laughed without restraint; and the gipsies laughed, too, their beautiful eyes and teeth flashing under their black cascades of unbound hair.
“Show me your palms,” said Nini, and drew Sengoun’s and Neeland’s hands across the table, holding them in both of hers.
“See,” she added, nudging Fifi with her shoulder, “both of them born under the Dark Star! It is war they shall live to see—war!”
“Under the Dark Star, Erlik,” repeated the other girl, looking closely into the two palms, “and there is war there!”
“And death?” inquired Sengoun gaily. “I don’t care, if I can lead a sotnia up Achi-Baba and twist the gullet of the Padisha before I say Fifi—Nini!”
The gipsies searched his palm with intent and brilliant gaze.
“Zut!” said Fifi. “Je ne vois rien que d’l’amour et la guerre aux dames!” 343
“T’en fais pas!” laughed Sengoun. “I ask no further favour of Fortune; I’ll manage my regiment myself. And, listen to me, Fifi,” he added with a frightful frown, “if the war you predict doesn’t arrive, I’ll come back and beat you as though you were married to a Turk!”