CHAPTER V
THE ZINGYNIES
The morning sun smiles upon a motley troop journeying towards theDanube. Two or three lithe, supple urchins, bounding and dancing alongwith half-naked bodies, and bright black eyes shining through knottedelf-locks, form the advanced guard. Half-a-dozen donkeys seem to carrythe whole property of the tribe. The main body consists of sinewy,active-looking men, and strikingly handsome girls, all walking with thefree, graceful air and elastic gait peculiar to those whose lives arepassed entirely in active exercise, under no roof but that of heaven.Dark-browed women in the very meridian of beauty bring up the rear,dragging or carrying a race of swarthy progeny, all alike distinguishedfor the sparkling eyes and raven hair, which, with a cunning nothing canoverreach, and a nature nothing can tame, seem to be the peculiarinheritance of the gipsy. Their costume is striking, not to saygrotesque. Some of the girls, and all the matrons, bind their browswith various coloured handkerchiefs, which form a very picturesque andnot unbecoming head-gear; whilst in a few instances coins even of goldare strung amongst the jetty locks of the Zingynie beauties. The menare not so particular in their attire. One sinewy fellow wears only agoatskin shirt and a string of beads round his neck, but the generalityare clad in the coarse cloth of the country, much tattered, and bearingevident symptoms of weather and wear. The little mischievous urchinswho are clinging round their mothers' necks, or dragging back from theirmothers' hands, and holding on to their mothers' skirts, are almostnaked. Small heads and hands and feet, all the marks of what we areaccustomed to term high birth, are hereditary among the gipsies; and wedoubt if the Queen of the South herself was a more queenly-lookingpersonage than the dame now marching in the midst of the throng, andconversing earnestly with her companion, a resolute-looking man scarceentering upon the prime of life, with a gipsy complexion, but a bearingin which it is not difficult to recognise the soldier. He is talking tohis protectress--for such she is--with a military frankness andvivacity, which even to that royal personage, accustomed though she beto exact all the respect due to her rank, appear by no meansdispleasing. The lady is verging on the autumn of her charms (theirsummer must have been scorching indeed!) and though a masculine beauty,is a beauty nevertheless. Black-browed is she, and deep-coloured, witheyes of fire, and locks of jet, even now untinged with grey. Straightand regular are her features, and the wide mouth, with its strong, evendazzling teeth, betokens an energy and force of will which would docredit to the other sex. She has the face of a woman that would daremuch, labour much, everything but _love_ much. She ought to be a queen,and she is one, none the less despotic for ruling over a tribe ofgipsies instead of a civilised community.
"None dispute my word here," says she, "and my word is pledged to bringyou to the Danube. Let me see a soldier of them all lay a hand uponyou, and you shall see the gipsy brood show their teeth. A long knifeis no bad weapon at close quarters. When you have got to the top of thewheel you will remember me!"
The soldier laughed, and lightly replied, "Yours are the sort of eyesone does not easily forget, mother. I wish I were a prince of the bloodin your nation. As I am situated now I can only be dazzled by so muchbeauty, and go my ways."
The woman checked him sternly, almost savagely, though a few minutesbefore she had been listening, half amused, to his gay and not veryrespectful conversation.
"Hush!" she said, "trifler. Once more I say, when the wheel has turned,remember me. Give me your hand; I can read it plainer so."
"What, mother?" laughed out her companion. "Every gipsy can tellfortunes; mine has been told many a time, but it never came true."
She was studying the lines on his palm with earnest attention. Sheraised her dark eyes angrily to his face.
"Blind! blind!" she answered, in a low, eager tone. "The best of youcannot see a yard upon your way. Look at that white road, winding andwinding many a mile before us upon the plain. Because it is flat andsoft and smooth as far as we can see, will there be no hills on ourjourney, no rocks to cut our feet--no thorns to tear our limbs? Can yousee the Danube rolling on far, far before us? Can you see the river youwill have to cross some day, or can you tell me where it leads? I havethe map of our journey here in my brain; I have the map of your careerhere on your hand. Once more I say, when the chiefs are in council, andthe hosts are melting like snow before the sun, and the earth quakes,and the heavens are filled with thunder, and the shower that fallsscorches and crushes and blasts--remember me! I follow the line ofwealth: Man of gold! spoil on; here a horse, there a diamond; hundredsto uphold the right, thousands to spare the wrong; both hands full, andbroad lands near a city of palaces, and a king's favour, and a nation ofslaves beneath thy foot. I follow the line of pleasure: Costly amber;rich embroidery; dark eyes melting for the Croat; glances unveiled forthe shaven head, many and loving and beautiful; a garland of roses, allfor one--rose by rose plucked and withered and thrown away; one tenderbud remaining; cherish it till it blows, and wear it till it dies. Ifollow the line of blood: it leads towards the rising sun--chargingsquadrons with lances in rest, and a wild shout in a strange tongue; andthe dead wrapped in grey, with charm and amulet that were powerless tosave; and hosts of many nations gathered by the sea--pestilence, famine,despair, and victory. Rising on the whirlwind, chief among chiefs, thehonoured of leaders, the counsellor of princes--remember me! But ha!the line is crossed. Beware! trust not the sons of the adopted land;when the lily is on thy breast, beware of the dusky shadow on the wall;beware and remember me!"
The gipsy stopped, and clung to him exhausted. For a few paces she wasunable to support herself; the prophetic mood past, there was areaction, and all her powers seemed to fail her at once; but hercompanion walked on in silence. The eagerness of the Pythoness hadimpressed even his strong, practical nature, and he seemed himself tolook into futurity as he muttered, "If man can win it, I will."
The gipsies travelled but slowly; and although the sun was already high,they had not yet placed many miles between the fugitive and the castle.This, however, was of no great importance. His disguise was socomplete, that few would have recognised in the tattered, swarthyvagrant, the smart, soldier-like traveller who had arrived the previousevening at Edeldorf. From the conversation I had overheard in theGhost's Gallery, I was alone in the secret, which, strange to say, Iforbore to confide even to my friend Victor. But I could not forget thesteward and his son; it was my first glimpse into the romance of reallife, and I could not help feeling a painful interest in his fortunes,and an eager desire to see him at least safe off with his motleycompany. I was rejoiced, therefore, at Victor's early proposal, madethe very instant we had swallowed our breakfasts, that we should take aride; and notwithstanding my misgivings about a strange pony, for I wasalways timid on horseback, I willingly accepted his offer of a mount,and jumped into the saddle almost as readily as my little companion, atrue Hungarian, with whom,
Like Mad Tom, the chiefest care Was horse to ride and weapon wear.
Of course, Victor had a complete establishment of ponies belonging tohimself; and equally of course, he had detailed to me at great lengththeir several merits and peculiarities, with an authentic biography ofhis favourite--a stiff little chestnut, rejoicing in the name of"Gold-kind," which, signifying as it does "the golden-child," ordarling, he seemed to think an exceedingly happy allusion to thechestnut skin and endearing qualities of his treasure.
Fortunately, my pony was very quiet; and although, when mounted, myplayfellow went off at score, we were soon some miles from Edeldorf,without any event occurring to upset my own equilibrium or the sobrietyof my steed. Equally fortunately, we took the road by which the gipsieshad travelled. Ere long, we overtook the cavalcade as it wound slowlyalong the plain. Heads were bared to Victor, and blessings called downupon the family of De Rohan; for the old Count was at all times a friendto the friendless, and a refuge to the poor.
"Good luck to you, young Cou
nt! shall I tell your fortune?" said one.
"Little, honourable cavalier, give me your hand, and cross it with a'zwantziger,'" said another.
"Be silent, children, and let me speak to the young De Rohan," said thegipsy queen; and she laid her hand upon his bridle, and fairly broughtGold-kind to a halt.
Victor looked half afraid, although he began to laugh.
"Let me go," said he, tugging vigorously at his reins; "papa desired menot to have my fortune told."
"Not by a common Zingynie," urged the queen, archly; "but I am themother of all these. My pretty boy, I was at your christening, and haveheld you in my arms many a time. Let me tell your happy fortune."
Victor began to relent. "If Vere will have his told first, I will,"said he, turning half bashfully, half eagerly to me.
I proffered my hand readily to the gipsy, and crossed it with one of thetwo pieces of silver which constituted the whole of my worldly wealth.The gipsy laughed, and began to prophesy in German. There are someevents a child never forgets; and I remember every word she said as wellas if it had been spoken yesterday.
"Over the sea, and again over the sea; thou shalt know grief andhardship and losses, and the dove shall be driven from its nest. Andthe dove's heart shall become like the eagle's, that flies alone, andfleshes her beak in the slain. Beat on, though the poor wings be bruisedby the tempest, and the breast be sore, and the heart sink; beat onagainst the wind, and seek no shelter till thou find thy resting-placeat last. The time will come--only beat on."
The woman laughed as she spoke; but there was a kindly tone in her voiceand a pitying look in her bright eyes that went straight to my heart.Many a time since, in life, when the storm has indeed been boisterousand the wings so weary, have I thought of those words of encouragement,"The time will come--beat on."
It was now Victor's turn, and he crossed his palm with a golden ducatere he presented it to the sibyl. This was of itself sufficient toinsure him a magnificent future; and as the queen perused the lines onhis soft little hand, with its pink fingers, she indulged inanticipations of magnificence proportioned to the handsome donation ofthe child.
"Thou shalt be a 'De Rohan,' my darling, and I can promise thee nobrighter lot,--broad acres, and blessings from the poor, and horses, andwealth, and honours. And the sword shall spare thee, and the battleturn aside to let thee pass. And thou shalt wed a fair bride with darkeyes and a queenly brow; but beware of St. Hubert's Day. Birth andburial, birth and burial--beware of St. Hubert's Day."
"But I want to be a soldier," exclaimed Victor, who seemed muchdisappointed at the future which was prognosticated for him; "the DeRohans were always soldiers. Mother, can't you make out I shall be asoldier?" still holding the little hand open.
"Farewell, my children," was the only answer vouchsafed by theprophetess. "I can only read, I cannot write: farewell." And settingthe troop in order, she motioned to them to continue their march withoutfurther delay.
I took advantage of the movement to press near my acquaintance of theday before, whom I had not failed to recognise in his gipsy garb. Poorfellow, my childish heart bled for him, and, in a happy moment, Ibethought me of my remaining bit of silver. I stooped from my pony andkissed his forehead, while I squeezed the coin into his hand without aword. The tears came into the deserter's eyes. "God bless you, littleman! I shall never forget you," was all he said; but I observed that hebit the coin with his large, strong teeth till it was nearly double, andthen placed it carefully in his bosom. We turned our ponies, and weresoon out of sight; but I never breathed a syllable to Victor about thefugitive, or the steward, or the Ghost's Gallery, for two whole days.Human nature could keep the secret no longer.