The World For Sale, Volume 1.

aid between herself and Ingolby, the colour came and went in her face. To no man had she eve

her had jealously guarded her until the time when she fell under the spell and influence of Lady Barrowdale. Here, by the Sagalac, she had moved among this

t was not a question of opportunity or temptation-these always attend the footsteps of those who would adventure; but for long she had fenced herself rou

handful of days-indeed since the day when Jethro Fawe and Max Ingolby had come into her life, each in his own way, for good or for ev

n the distance. He might have shouted for relief in the hope of attracting the attention of some passer-by, and so found release and brought confusion and perhaps punishment to Gabriel Druse; but that was not possible to him. First and last he was a Romany, good or bad; and it was his duty to obey his Ry of Rys, the only rule which the Romany a

nd then but to say that his fate had not yet been determined. Jethro's reply had been that he was in no haste, that he could wait for what he ca

s held in high regard, because of the help his own father had given to the Montenegrin people, fighting for their independ

the son

soul for a

as his in

e on the nec

his Rom

soul for a

o walk, in he

burn, but her

rt of his R

two lines into a risi

t burn, but he

rt of his R

n the last words of the refrain, and, without hesitati

rising from the plank couch where he had been sitting. He showed his teeth

wered composedly, "but I do no

lkans; there was trouble-Servia, Montenegro, and Austria were rattling the fire-irons a

ly. "My calling of you is as silent as the singing of the

ake in the heart, if it's not singing? You don't hear with the ears only. The heart hears. It's only a manner of speaking, this talk about the senses. One sense can do the same

r, bound by ties of clan and blood apart from his monstrous claim of marriage. He was indeed such a man as a brainless or sensual woman could yield to with ease. He had an insinuating animal grace, that physical handsomeness which marks so many of the Tziganies who fill the red coats of a Gipsy musical sext

e between the two? It was the world in a man-personality, knowledge of life, the culture of the thousand thi

nd to one place, settled in one city, held subservient to one flag. But, no, she was wrong: Tekewani had been the servant and child of a system which was as fixed and historical as that of Russia

then went seeking another day to bleed; for ever fleeing from yesterday, and using to-day only as a camping-ground. Suddenly, however, she came to a stop in her reflections. Her father, Gabriel Druse, was of the same race as this

o was not a builder, but a wayfarer. She had seen the look often of late, and had never read it until now, when Jethr

sition, the unregulated passions of her forebears, the mating of the fields, the generated dominance of the body, which was not to be commanded into obscurity, but must taunt and tempt her while her soul sickened. She put a hand on hers

replied coolly. "Your soul calls and those that understand come.

disdainfully. "Do you think you can i

y of you kept calling me, my little 'rinkne rakli'-my pretty little

what my f

'Mi Duvel', I heard enough what he s

cigarette mechanically, keepin

aid, and you will learn that it is true, if

. If I live long enough, I'll turn you, my mad wife

ean," she urged. "I sha

I shall n

laces-at your second wedding with Jethro Fawe," he rejoined insolent

ome of your race, I was what you are, a child of the hedge and the wood and the

re bornwell, well, but here's a Ro

people, always looking behind lest they be followed, and always looking in front to find refuge, drop the patrin in

ncestor King Panuel, Duke of Little Egypt, who had Sigismund, and Charles the Great, and all the kings for friends. By long and by last, but this is a tale to tell to the Romanys of the world!" For reply she went to the door and opened it wide. "Then go and tell it, Jethro

ld; a whippoorwill called in the ashtrees; and the sweet smell of the thick woodland, of the bracken and fern, crept into the room. The balm of a perfect evening of Summer wa

to overpower any check to his exit, how devilishly easy to put the girl at a disadvantage; but he drove the thought from him. In the first place, he was by no means sure that escape was what he wan

and he had swung more than one Gorgio woman in the wild dance of sentiment, dazzling them by the splendour of his passion. The fire gleaming in his dark eyes lighted a face which would have made memorable a picture by Guido. He had fared far and wide, but h

had seen her-Fleda Fawe, not Fleda Druse-laying the cloth and bringing out the silver cups, or stretching the Turkey rugs upon the ground to make a couch for two bright-eyed lovers to whom the night was as the day, radiant and full of joy. He had shut his eyes and beheld

lording it over all, rich, dominant and admired. In his visions he had even seen a Romany babe carried in his arms to a Christian church and there baptized in grandeur as became the child of the head of the people. His imagination had also seen his own tombstone in some Christian churchyard near to the ch

anys, such as the high-born Lord Panuel at Steinbrock, and Peter of Kleinschild at Mantua-all of whom had great emblazoned monuments in Chris

e's strong arm brought him low; and, waking to life and consciousness again, he was aware that another force also had levelled him to the earth. That force was this woman's spirit which now gave him his freedom so scornfully;

h he could not refuse his freedom. As a b

any people-that you leave them for ever. I will not do it. You are a Romany, and a Romany you must stay. You belong nowhe

il-soup, and the dirty blanket under the hedge, and the constabl

sleep. In faith, you are a long way from the River Starzke!" he added.

couch, and began to rol

when it's pricked. Underneath is the Romany. It's there, and it will show red and angry when we've stripped off the Gorgio. It's the way with a woman, always acting, always ima

d that she loved, and she would not change. Whatever happened, she had finished with Romany life, and to go back would only mean black tragedy in the end. A month ago it was a vow and an

say what you think will hurt and shame me. You have a cruel soul. You would torture any woman till she died. You shall not torture me. You are as far from me as the River Starzke. I could have let you stay here for my father to deal

almost black. A torrent of mad words gathered in his throat, but they choked

not ten feet away from you, behind a juniper-bush. I looked at you, and I wished that I had never seen a woman before and could look at the world as you did then-it was like water from a spring, that look. You are right in what you say. By long and by last I had a hard hand, and when I left what I'd struck down I never looked back. But I saw you, and I wis

our C

, and you were mine by Romany law. It was for me here to cla

he replied, and his voice had a curious, rough note, as though with difficulty he quelled the te

, but looked him s

ered, "but that did not keep me from coming.

me a wolf a

et if such shame could be, I still would have had no fear, for I s

f his eyes narrowed to a pin-point. "You woul

t has armed herself agai

u not

e now with a thousand

s by whom she was surrounded. A fatuous belief in himself and in his personal powers had deluded him. He had told the truth when he said that no woman had ever appealed to him as she did; that she had blotted out all other women from the book of his adventurous and dissolute life; and he had dreamed a dream of conquest of her when Fortune should hand out to him the key of the situation. Did not the beautifu

r husband, but you would have killed me if I had taken a kiss from yo

an of my own choosing, and he will not be a Romany," she replied with a loo

elf free for his wife's sake"-his voice rose in fierce irony-"and so I will now go free. But I will not take the word to the Romany people that you are no more of them. I am a true Romany. I disobeyed my 'Ry' in coming here beca

im. "If I do not take you to my 'tan', it will be becaus

You had better go,"

e doorway. A look of pas

nd persuasive. "I would

girl," he said. "I shal

Gabriel dies. We are s

o my troth. Come, belov

he was, there was a moment's truth in his words. "G

muttered oath, sprang out into the brack

lt a cloud of trouble closing in upon her. At last there was the sound of footsteps, and a mom

et him free

s madness keeping

he will! I might have known-women are chicken-hearted. I ought to have put him o

ITOR'S B

ile was muc

e your camp, p