ack,
taking his violin in his hand.

"The train is slowing up now, Kaya, come! Follow me close, and look
neither to the right nor the left."

The two sprang from the train, and hurrying into the customs-room of
the station were soon lost in the crowd. The minutes dragged slowly.

"Do you see that paling, Kaya? The other side of it is Germany--is
freedom."

"I know, Velasco--I know!"

"Your heart is beating and throbbing, Kaya; your jacket tosses like a
ship in a storm. Fold your arms over its fluttering, little one, that
the guards may not see. They are coming now."

"Pray--Velasco!"

"To whom should I pray? The Tsar perhaps--or the Icon over yonder?"
The gypsey laughed, holding out the passports. He was swaggering with
his hands in his pockets, and when the official spoke to him, he
shrugged his shoulders and answered in dialect.

"Bohemian!" he said, "Yes--gypsies! We earn our living on the road, my
comrade and I--eh, Bradjaga?" With that, he clapped Kaya on the
shoulder, showing his white teeth and laughing: "No baggage, Barin,
no--no, only this--and that!"

He pointed to the knapsack swung from his shoulder and the violin in
his hand.

"What does this ragamuffin do?" demanded the official, looking narrowly
at Kaya, "He is fair for a gypsey."

The girl started back for a moment, her shoulder brushing the shoulder
of Velasco; then she lifted her blue eyes to the official, and her
heart seemed to leap and bound like a wild thing caged. She began to
stammer, shrinking back against her companion. A bell sounded suddenly
in the office behind them and the official started:

"A telegraph despatch!" he said, "Ha--I must go!"

The girl sprang forward and clutched his sleeve: "Don't go!" she said,
"You ask what I can do--I can dance! We will show you, my comrade and
I. In a moment the doors will be unlocked; wait until the doors are
unlocked! We will give you a performance now, a special performance
such as the Tsar himself has heard and seen--Play!"

She waved Her hand to Velasco, and in a moment the violin was out of
its wrappings and held to his cheek. He was playing a wild, strange
rhythm and Kaya was dancing. The crowd made a circle about them, and
the official stood in the centre transfixed, open-mouthed.

The violin was like a creature alive, it sobbed and laughed; and when
it sobbed, the little figure of the dancer swayed slowly, languidly,
like a flower blown to and fro by the breez