“‘It is all I desire to know,’ I said. ‘Tell me, what of Mara?’
“‘All is well between us,’ he returned, ‘so long as one mentions not the bird.’
“Later I found them together in the garden. Mara was, as usual, sewing. While I sat and talked with her, Gavrilo started picking fresh leaves to put into the bird cage. Mara, who had been telling me how, upon the morrow, the Serbs were to leave their shutters closed all day, so that they should not see the Austrians, ceased to speak as Gavrilo began gathering the leaves, and watched him narrowly for a moment.
“‘Gavrilo,’ she said, ‘please put no more leaves into the cage.’
“‘Why not?’
“‘Because it is not well for him. He has been pecking at the leaves and I think they poison him.’
“‘No,’ said Gavrilo.
“‘Yes,’ she insisted. ‘He appears miserable to-day.’
“‘But naturally!’ returned the youth. ‘That is not new. He is dying. See how he is huddled with closed eyes in the corner of the cage.’ As he spoke he plucked another leaf.
“Mara’s expression became ominous.