orn since
the day he first declared himself at Gabriel Druse's home, and, compared
with his friends around him, he showed to advantage. There was
command in his bearing, and experience of life had given him primitive
distinction.

For a moment he stood looking at Fleda in undisguised admiration, for
she made a remarkable picture. Animal beauty was hers, too. There was
a delicate, athletic charm in her body and bearing; but it added to,
rather than took away from, the authority of her presence, so differing
from Jethro. She had never compared herself with others, and her
passionate intelligence would have rebelled against the supremacy of the
body. She had no physical vanity, but she had some mental vanity, and
it placed mind so far above matter that her beauty played no part in
her calculations. At sight of him, Fleda's blood quickened, but in
indignation and in no other sense. As he came towards her, however,
despising his vanity as she did, she felt how much he was above all
those by whom he was surrounded. She realized his talent, and it almost
made her forget his cunning and his loathsomeness. As he came near to
her he made a slight gesture to someone in the crowd, and a chorus of
salutations rose.

Composed and still she waited for him to come quite close to her, and
the look in her face was like that of one who was scarcely conscious of
what was passing around her, whose eyes saw distant things of infinite
moment.

A few feet away from her he spoke.

"Daughter of the Ry of Rys, you are among your own people once again,"
he said. "From everywhere in the world they have come to show their love
for you. You would not have come to them of your own free will, because
a madness 'got hold of you, and so they came to you. You cut yourself
off from them and told yourself you had become a Gorgio. But that was
only your madness; and madness can be cured. We are the Fawes, the
ancient Fawes, who ruled the Romany people before the Druses came to
power. We are of the ancient blood, yet we are faithful to the Druse
that rules over us. His word prevails, although his daughter is mad.
Daughter of the Ry of Rys, you have seen us once again. We have sung to
you; we have spoken to you; we have told you what is in our hearts; we
have shown you how good is the end of those who are faithful, and how
terrible is the end of the traitor. Do not forget it. Speak to us."

Fleda had a fierce desire to spring to her feet and declare to t