“‘Dear friend, I am glad to perceive that your knowledge of our beloved Serbian tongue becomes daily more accurate.’
“‘But, Gavrilo,’ I protested, refusing to be put off with a jest, ‘to be concerned in a revolution would be the worst thing that could happen to you.’
“‘No, not the worst thing. Worse than being a Serb and joining in a revolution would be to be a Serb and fail to lift a hand in the struggle for freedom.’
“‘Revolutions,’ I said, sententiously, ‘do not pay, Gavrilo.’
“‘But since when has that been so?’ he countered quickly. ‘There was, for instance, the French Revolution. Did not that pay? And there was the American Revolution. Surely that paid! And there was the revolution of Serbia against the Turks. That is paying too.’ His luminous black eyes, so like those of a wild deer, snapped as he spoke. Then his expression changed quickly to one of amusement over my discomfiture, and he added with a little laugh: ‘I have an American friend—a gentleman who manages the business of a large oil company over here. He can tell you, as he has me, of the benefits of the American Revolution and of American freedom. I promise you that some day you shall meet him face to face—let us say to-morrow morning when he is shaving.’
“It seemed to me that I had taken an unfortunate line with him there, so I tried another.
“‘Well, then, let us put it on selfish grounds. There is no great reason why you, personally, should be dissatisfied. You have good prospects in your father’s business. The thing for you to do, in the natural course, is to marry and settle down. And certainly a man who has a sweetheart such as yours hasn’t any business in a comitajia; for such things lead to prisons and executions, not to domesticity.’
“‘What makes you think I have a sweetheart?’ he demanded, flushing.
“‘Haven’t I seen Mara?’
“‘Well, what of it?’