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.

In a moment the camp was transformed. From the woods around came
swarthy-faced men, with great gold rings in their ears and bright scarfs
around their necks or waists, some of them handsome, dirty and insolent;
others ugly, watchful, and quiet in manner and face; others still most
friendly and kind in face and manner. All showed instant respect for
Fleda. They raised their hands in a gesture of salutation as a Zulu
chief thrusts up a long arm and shouts "Inkoos!" to one whom he honours.
Some, however, made the sweeping Oriental gesture of the right hand, palm
upward, and almost touching the ground--a sign of obedience and infinite
respect. It had all been well arranged. Skilfully managed as it was,
however, there was something in it deeper than theatrical display or
dramatic purpose.

It was clear that many of them were deeply moved at being in the presence
of the daughter of the Ry of Rys, who had for so long exiled himself.
Racial, family, clan feeling spoke in voice and gesture, in look and
attitude; but yet there were small groups of younger men whose
salutations were perfunctory, not to say mocking. These were they who
resented deeply Fleda's defection, and truthfully felt that she had
passed out of their circle for ever; that she despised them, and looked