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Updated: July 14, 2025
The Tzigana's Danish hounds went with them, bounding about Andras, and licking his hands as he caressed them. "They already know the master," laughed Vogotzine. "I have rarely seen such gentle animals," remarked the Prince. "Gentle? That depends!" said Marsa. After separating from the Prince, she returned, silent and abstracted, with Vogotzine.
Aren't you going to thank me? Ah! you ingrate!" She ran and embraced Marsa, pressing her cherry lips to the Tzigana's pale face, and then rapidly disappeared in a mock flight, with a gay little laugh and a tremendous rustle of petticoats. Of all his friends, Varhely was the one of whom Andras was fondest; but they had not been able to exchange a single word since the morning.
Menko remained but a few moments, evidently embarrassed at his reception; and after his departure, Zilah, who had noticed the Tzigana's coldness, asked her if she knew his friend. "Very well," she said, in a peculiar tone. "It would be difficult to imagine so from the way in which you received him," said Andras, laughing. "Poor Michel! Have you any reason to be angry with him?" "None."
The door of Andras's carriage was open; Marsa entered it, and Andras, with a smile of deep, profound content, seated himself beside her, whispering tenderly in the Tzigana's ear as the carriage drove off: "Ah! how I love you! my beloved, my adored Marsa! How I love you, and how happy I am!"
Prince Andras had noticed this same change in the Tzigana's face, when he was speaking to her at Baroness Dinati's. The Prince had forgotten no detail of that first fascinating interview, at which his love for the Tzigana was born. This man, who had hardly any other desire than to end in peace a life long saddened by defeat and exile, suddenly awoke to a happy hope of a home and family joys.
Aren't you going to thank me? Ah! you ingrate!" She ran and embraced Marsa, pressing her cherry lips to the Tzigana's pale face, and then rapidly disappeared in a mock flight, with a gay little laugh and a tremendous rustle of petticoats. Of all his friends, Varhely was the one of whom Andras was fondest; but they had not been able to exchange a single word since the morning.
There was in her look fright, sudden, instinctive fright, a fright which turned her very lips to ashes; and she recoiled, her eyes returning fascinated to the package, while Andras, surprised at the unexpected expression of the Tzigana's convulsed features, exclaimed, in alarm: "What is it, Marsa? What is the matter?" She tried to smile. "Nothing I do not know!
She died in that Russian house, every stone of which she hated, even to the Muscovite crucifix over the door, which her faith, however, forbade her to have removed; she died making her daughter swear that the last slumber which was coming to her, gently lulling her to rest after so much suffering, should be slept in Hungarian soil; and, after the Tzigana's death, this young girl of twenty, alone with Vogotzine, who accompanied her on the gloomy journey with evident displeasure, crossed France, went to Vienna, sought in the Hungarian plain the place where one or two miserable huts and some crumbling walls alone marked the site of the village burned long ago by Tchereteff's soldiers; and there, in Hungarian soil, close to the spot where the men of her tribe had been shot down, she buried the Tzigana, whose daughter she so thoroughly felt herself to be, that, in breathing the air of the puszta, she seemed to find again in that beloved land something already seen, like a vivid memory of a previous existence.
Prince Andras had noticed this same change in the Tzigana's face, when he was speaking to her at Baroness Dinati's. The Prince had forgotten no detail of that first fascinating interview, at which his love for the Tzigana was born. This man, who had hardly any other desire than to end in peace a life long saddened by defeat and exile, suddenly awoke to a happy hope of a home and family joys.
The Tzigana's Danish hounds went with them, bounding about Andras, and licking his hands as he caressed them. "They already know the master," laughed Vogotzine. "I have rarely seen such gentle animals," remarked the Prince. "Gentle? That depends!" said Marsa. After separating from the Prince, she returned, silent and abstracted, with Vogotzine.
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