This watchman was not Jethro
Fawe, but she knew well that Jethro was not far off.
Through the open door of the tent, for some minutes, her eyes studied the
segment of the circle within her vision, and she realized that here was
an organized attempt to force her back into the Romany world. If she
repudiated the Gorgio life and acknowledged herself a Romany once again,
she knew her safety would be secured; but in truth she had no fear for
her life, for no one would dare to defy the Ry of Rys so far as to kill
his daughter. But she was in danger of another kind--in deep and terrible
danger; and she knew it well. As the thought of it took possession of
her, her heart seemed almost to burst. Not fear, but anger and emotion
possessed her. All the Romany in her stormed back again from the past. It
sent her to her feet with a scarcely smothered cry. She was not quicker,
however, than was the figure at the tent door, which, with a half-dozen
others, sprang up as she appeared. A hand was raised, and, as if by
magic, groups of Gipsies, some sitting, some standing, some with the
Gipsy fiddle, one or two with flutes, began a Romany chant in a high,
victorious key, and women threw upon the fire powders from which flamed
up many coloured lights.
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