has
neither friends nor foes anywhere. They supposed that he spent part of
the year in Bosnia, perhaps the winter, visiting, one after the other,
the Servian monasteries. Now, in midsummer, when he was least to be
expected, they suddenly hear his fife and drum.

Ibrahim, the big old bear, roused the whole village in less than a
quarter of an hour with his far-reaching growls. The dogs crouched
horror-struck, their hair standing on end, barking at him in fear and
trembling.

When Joco stopped at some street corner, or in the market-place, and
began to beat his rattling drum, the bear lifted himself with heavy
groans on his hind legs, and then the great play began, the cruel
amusement, the uncanny, fearful embracings which one could never be
sure would not end fatally. For Joco is not satisfied to let Ibrahim
jump and dance, but, whistling and singing, grasps the wild beast's
skin, and squeezes his paws; and so the two dance together, the one
roaring and groaning, the other singing with monotonous voice a
melancholy song.

The company of soldiers stationed in the village was just returning
from drill, and Captain Winter, Ritter von Wallishausen, turned in
curiosity his horse's head towards the crowd, and made a sign to
Lieutenant Vig to lead the men on. His fiery half-blood Graditz horse
snuffed the disgusting odor of the wild beast, and would go no nearer.

The Captain called a hussar from the last line that passed him, and
confided the stubborn horse to his charge. Then he bent his steps
towards the swaying crowd. The villagers opened out a way for him, and
soon the Captain stood close behind the bear-leader. But before he
could fix his eyes on Ibrahim they were taken captive by something
else.

A few steps away from Joco a young girl sat upon the ground, gently
stroking a light-colored little bear. They were both so huddled up
together that the villagers scarcely noticed them, and the Captain was
therefore all the better able to observe the young woman, who appeared
to be withdrawing herself as much as possible from public gaze. And
really she seemed to be an admirable young creature. She was slight of
build, perhaps not yet fully developed, with the early ripeness of the
Eastern beauty expressed in face and figure--a black cherry, at sight
of which the mouth of such a gourmand as the Ritter von Wallishausen
would naturally water! Her fine face seemed meant only to be the
setting of her two black eyes. She wore