When the time is fulfilled, I will return. Until then, my daughter and I
are as those who have no people. Begone! Nothing that is here belongs to
you. Begone, and come no more!"
"I have come for my own--for my Romany 'chi', and I will not go without
her. I am blood of the Blood, and she is mine."
"You have not seen her," said the old man craftily, and fighting hard
against the wrath consuming him, though he liked the young man's spirit.
"She has changed. She is no longer Romany."
"I have seen her, and her beauty is like the rose and the palm."
"When have you seen her since the day before the tent of Lemuel Fawe now
seventeen years ago?" There was an uneasy note in the commanding tone.
"I have seen her three times of late, and the last time I saw her was an
hour or so since, when she rode the Rapids of Carillon."
The old man started, his lips parted, but for a moment he did not speak.
At last words came. "The Rapids--speak. What have you heard, Jethro, son
of Lemuel?"
"I did not hear, I saw her shoot the Rapids. I ran to follow. At Carillon
I saw her arrive. She was in the arms of a Gorgio of Lebanon--Ingolby is
his name."
A malediction burst from Gabriel Druse's lips, words sharp and terrible
in their intensity.
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