obey) the gypsy stretched himself at full length by the youth's side,
and began reminding him, with some jocularity and at some length, of
his promise to drink to their better acquaintance.

Something there was in the scene, the fire, the caldron, the intent
figure and withered countenance of the old woman, the grouping of the
other forms, the rude but not unpicturesque tent, the dark still woods
on either side, with the deep and cloudless skies above, as the stars
broke forth one by one upon the silent air, which (to use the orthodox
phrase of the novelist) would not have been wholly unworthy the bold
pencil of Salvator himself.

The youth eyed, with that involuntary respect which personal
advantages always command, the large yet symmetrical proportions of
his wild companion; nor was the face which belonged to that frame much
less deserving of attention. Though not handsome, it was both shrewd
and prepossessing in its expression; the forehead was prominent, the
brows overhung the eyes, which were large, dark, and, unlike those of
the tribe in general, rather calm than brilliant; the complexion,
though sun-burnt, was not swarthy, and the face was carefully and
cleanly shaved, so as to give all due advantage of contrast to the
brown luxuriant locks which fell rather in flakes than curls, on
either side of the healthful and manly cheeks. In age, he was about
thirty-five, and, though his air and mien were assuredly not lofty nor
aristocratic, yet they were strikingly above the bearing of his
vagabond companions: those companions were in all respects of the
ordinary race of gypsies; the cunning and flashing eye, the raven
locks, the dazzling teeth, the bronzed colour, and the low, slight,
active form, were as strongly their distinguishing characteristics as
the tokens of all their tribe.