“But Mara would not let him finish.
“‘Enough!’ she cried. ‘I detest that song! You know how I detest it!’
“Gavrilo looked at me and shook his head. ‘Oh, these women!’ he exclaimed. ‘What they do to one!’
“Then, gazing reflectively at Mara, he added in the tone of one attempting to be philosophical: ‘Well, when a little female looks as angelic as my Mara, naturally we expect her to think like an angel too.’
“At this Mara’s anger departed as quickly as it had come. ‘There!’ she exclaimed, flinging her arms about his neck and kissing him upon both cheeks, ‘there spoke my own dear Gavrilo! Poor Gavrilo! What have I been saying? You know I love the Serbs no less than you do! You do know it, don’t you? Well, then, say so!’
“‘God forbid that I should believe otherwise!’ answered Gavrilo, kissing her in return.
“As I left them I thought to myself that with Mara’s temperament, to say nothing of the ‘hundreds of children’ she promised him, Gavrilo’s married life would not prove monotonous, whatever else it might be. When, in the course of the subsequent fall and winter, I saw them again, they seemed as happy as a pair of wild birds.
“Once, in the spring, when I was with them, the comitajia chanced in some way to be mentioned, whereupon Mara at once darkened, saying to me:
“‘That is my one sorrow.’
“‘But why should it be?’ Gavrilo asked her. ‘Have I not plighted you my word that I shall not take part in any—well, in any indiscretions that may be proposed?’