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Updated: June 13, 2025
Keep close to me and hold your breath; in another moment they will be past." "Now Velasco! Now they are out of sight; the last tinkle of the bells sounds in the distance. Shall we lie here, or follow?" The gypsey took a long breath and rose to his feet, brushing the snow from his trousers and coat.
"You are a gypsey, you are not Velasco! The voice is his, Dieu! And the eyes they are his, and the brows! Let me go! Don't laugh let me go!" "No no, Kaya, come back! It is I. They told me you were chained with a gang; and were walking through the snow and the cold to the mines. How did you escape; how could you escape?" "Yes it is you," said the girl, "I see now.
But such a pair of lovers! Not a nightingale sang to soothe us: the very gypsies who were encamped there during the fair, made no offer to tell the fortunes of such an ill-omened couple, whose fortunes, I suppose, they thought too legibly written to need an interpreter; and the gypsey children crawled into their cabins and peeped out fearfully at us as we went by.
The gypsey took a step forward towards the other step, and all of a sudden two bodies came together, grappling, wrestling. Two cries went up, the one loud, the other faint like an echo. "Hush, it is I, Velasco! You are soft like a woman! Your hair It is you, Kaya! It is you! I know your voice your touch! Did you hear the lamp crash? Wait! Let me light a candle."
The mane of black hair was clipped close to his head; he wore a scarf about his waist, a shabby jacket of velveteen on his back; his trousers were short to the knees, old and spotted; his boots were worn at the heel and patched. It wasn't Velasco it was a gypsey, a tattered, beggarly ragamuffin, with dark, brooding eyes and a laugh on his lips, a laugh that was like a twist of the muscles.
But we could have borne all this, had not a fortune-telling gypsey come to raise us into perfect sublimity. The tawny sybil no sooner appeared, than my girls came running to me for a shilling a piece to cross her hand with silver. To say the truth, I was tired of being always wise, and could not help gratifying their request, because I loved to see them happy.
"I am a boy," she said softly, panting, "Remember I am a boy! Don't tease me!" "Just once, Kaya." "No Velasco." The older gypsey glanced again about the low raftered loft. The window in the rafters was hung with cob-webs; the light came through it dimly, a shaft of sun-beams dancing on the floor; they fell on her hair beneath the cap and the curls glistened like gold. Her eyes were watching him.
In short, nature had intended the spot for picnics. There was fine water, and an interesting tradition; and as the parties always bring, or always should bring, a trained punster, champagne, and cold pasties, what more ought Nature to have provided? "Come, Mrs. Lorraine, I will tie Gypsey to this ash, and then you and I will rest ourselves beneath these birch-trees, just where the fairies dance."
Oh! you know all about it, everybody knows that it is just as sure to rain on a May morning, as it is to thaw when your schoolmaster attempts to treat himself and you to a sleigh-ride on your hoarded ninepences! So take my advice and turn your back on May she is a fickle little gypsey. Ask the first Irishman you meet if June isn't the month to go a-Maying?
The blood is trickling a stream on the floor! I hear the shot I " "Be still, Kaya, hush! Don't speak of it; forget it! Hush!" She began to laugh again: "See, I am your comrade, light-hearted and gay as a gypsey should be. Already I have forgotten! What a couple of tramps we are, you and I! Just look at your boots!" "And your faded old jacket!" "And your scarf, Velasco!" "And your velveteen cap!"
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