"I should like plenty to travel away and see the other countries," said Marko, rolling us cigarettes after dinner. "This is a good country, but _ennuyant_. 'Ow the wolfs make plenty _brouhaha_ to-night, _hein_? Stefan, did you command the guard to conduct our frien's 'ome?" Stefan waggled his head from side to side in assent. "Yes," continued Marko, "to see Italie, Paris, Londres. Particulierly Londres." "I live in London," Arthur remarked. "You live?" said Marko with interest. "Tell me, 'ow great is Londres?" "How great?" repeated Arthur, doubtful what kind of greatness was indicated, moral or material. "_Oui_, 'ow great? From one side to the other side?" "Oh, I see," replied Arthur, and took thought. "About twenty-five kilometres, I suppose." "Twenty-five!" Marko's eyes rounded with astonishment. "_Écoute, Stefan; vingt-cinq kilomètres._" "But--but," demanded Stefan, "'ow many people is there?" "About six millions," replied Arthur, swelling with pleasure. At last he had found his incredulous audience. "But that is a nation! I do not know if there are so many in all Bulgarie," cried Marko. "'Ow do they travel? No droski could go so far--it is a day's march. But perhaps you 'ave tramway? In Sofia we 'ave tramway," he added, not without pride. "There are trams, but most of the people travel in buses----" "Bussesse?" interjected Stefan. "_Qu' est-ce que c'est_, bussesse?" "Lorries--_camions_. Big automobiles containing many people. And there are also underground railways, railways under the ground in a tunnel. You know tunnels?" "_Oui, galleria._ But a railway under a town--_mon Dieu!_" said Marko, appalled. "'Ow do the people descend to it?" "In lifts--_ascenseurs_. From the street." Stefan nodded assent. "I 'ave seen _ascenseurs_ at Sofia," he said. "In these tunnels," continued Arthur, visibly warming to his work, "trains go to all parts of the town every three minutes, and the cost is only twenty _statinki_. The streets above are paved with wood." "With _wood! Kolossal!_" said Marko, forgetting our prejudice against Bosch idiom in his wonder at this crowning marvel. To what lengths of veracity Arthur would have gone I never knew, for at that moment a trampling of feet and a hoarse command outside announced the arrival of our escort, and Marko, still in a sort of walking swoon of amazement, went out to give them their orders. Stefan regarded us with twinkling eyes. "Ah, _farceur!_" he remarked, shaking his finger waggishly at Arthur. "I know all the time you make the joke, but poor Marko, you 'ave deceived 'im _absolument_. Railway under the ground, streets of wood, 'e swallow it all. Oh, naughty _Baroutchik!_" The wolves did not come near us and our escort on our way home, but they could have had Arthur for the taking. At the moment he had nothing left to live for. * * * * *