“Gentile but not gentle,” said Chaldea punning, then checked herself lest she should say too much.  She had sworn to keep Pine’s secret, and intended to do so, until she could make capital out of it.  At present she could not, so behaved honorably.  “But he’s Romany enough to split words with the old witch by the hour, so let him stay where he is.  Brother, would you make money?” Kara nodded and looked up with diamond eyes, which glittered and gloated on the beauty of her dark face.  “Then, brother,” continued the girl, “the Gorgio who paints gives me gold to dance for him.”

The Servian’s face—­what could be seen of it for hair—­grew sombre, and he spat excessively.  “Curses on the Gentile!” he growled low in his throat.

“On him, but not on the money, brother,” coaxed the girl, stooping to pat his face.  “It’s fine work, cheating the rye.  But jealous you must not be, if the gold is to chink in our pockets.”

Kara still frowned.  “Were you my romi, sister—­”

“Aye, if I were.  Then indeed.  But your romi I am not yet.”

“Some day you will be.  It would be a good fortune, sister.  I am as ugly as you are lovely, and we two together, you dancing to my playing, would make pockets of red gold.  White shows best when placed on black.”

“What a mine of wisdom you are,” jeered Chaldea, nodding.  “Yes.  It is so, and my rom you may be, if you obey.”

“But if you let the Gorgio make love to you—­”

“Hey!  Am I not a free Roman, brother?  You have not yet caught the bird.  It still sings on the bough.  If I kiss him I suck gold from his lips.  If I put fond arms around his neck I but gather wealth for us both.  Can you snare a mouse without cheese, brother?”

Kara looked at her steadily, and then lifted his green coat to show the gleam of a butcher knife.  “Should you go too far,” he said significantly; and touched the blade.

Chaldea bent swiftly, and snatching the weapon from his belt, flung it into the coarse grass under the trees.  “So I fling you away,” said she, and stamped with rage.  “Truly, brother, speaking Romanly, you are a fool of fools, and take cheating for honesty.  I lure the Gorgio at my will, and says you whimpering-like, ‘She’s my romi,’ the which is a lie.  Bless your wisdom for a hairy toad, and good-bye, for I go to my own people near Lundra, and never will he who doubted my honesty see me more.”

She turned away, and Kara limped after her to implore forgiveness.  He assured her that he trusted her fully, and that whatever tricks she played the Gentile would not be taken seriously by himself.  “Poison him I would,” grumbled the little gnome in his beard.  “For his golden talk makes you smile sweetly upon him.  But for the gold—­”