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Go at once, or I will wake him." "Will a wife betray her husband?" he asked in soft derision. Stung by his insolence, "I would not throw a rope to you, if you were drowning," she declared. "I am a Gorgio, and the thing that was done by the Starzke River is nothing to me. Now, go." "You have forgotten my news," he said: "It is bad news for the Gorgio daughter of the Romany Ry."
Go at once, or I will wake him." "Will a wife betray her husband?" he asked in soft derision. Stung by his insolence, "I would not throw a rope to you, if you were drowning," she declared. "I am a Gorgio, and the thing that was done by the Starzke River is nothing to me. Now, go." "You have forgotten my news," he said: "It is bad news for the Gorgio daughter of the Romany Ry."
That which had happened by the Starzke River was now of the Sagalac River. The passions and wild love and irresponsible deeds of the life he had lived in years gone by were here. It was impossible for Ingolby to resist the spell of the music. Such abandonment he had never seen in any musician, such riot of musical meaning he had never heard.
He was going to play to the masterful Gorgio, and he would play as he had never played before. He would pour the soul of his purpose into the music to win back or steal back, the lass sealed to him by the Starzke River. "Kismet!" he said aloud, and he rose from the chair to go to the violin, but as he did so the door opened and Ingolby entered.
In faith, you are a long way from the River Starzke!" he added. "But you are my mad wife, and I must wait till you've got sense again." He sat down on the plank couch, and began to roll a cigarette once more.
I will have naught to do with any Romany law. Not by Starzke shall the matter be dealt with, but here by the River Sagalac. This Romany has no claim upon me. My will is my own; I myself and no other shall choose my husband, and he will never be a Romany." The young man's eyes suddenly took on a dreaming, subtle look, submerging the sulkiness which had filled him.
"Nothing can change that. It was done by the River Starzke, and it was the word of the Ry of Rys. It stands for ever. There is no divorce except death for the Romany." "The patrins cease to mark the way," returned the old man with a swift gesture. "The divorce of death will come."
"Do you think you can impress me by saying things like that?" "Why not? It's true. Wherever you went in all these years the memory of you kept calling me, my little 'rinkne rakli' my pretty little girl, made mine by the River Starzke over in the Roumelian country." "You heard what my father said "
"The dear old fellow was right," he said presently aloud with uplifted head. "I struck camp, but I didn't put out the fires. There's a lot of that in life." That is what had happened also to Gabriel Druse and his daughter. They had struck camp, but had not put out the camp-fires. That which had been done by the River Starzke came again in its appointed time.
Her quiet scorn brought a quiver to his spirit; for he was of a people to whom anger and passion were part of every relationship of life, its stimulus and its recreation, its expression of the individual. His eyelids trembled, but he drew himself together. "Seventeen years ago by the River Starzke in the Roumelian country, it was so done," he replied stubbornly.
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