elasco? It looks like a stable!"

"It is a stable."

Kaya looked at him again and began to laugh softly: "I forgot about being
a gypsey," she said, "Your clothes are ragged and torn, Velasco; they are
worse than they were that night in your Studio. And I--tell me--how do I
look?"

"Like a little Bradjaga, sweet, and disreputable, and boyish!"

Kaya drew herself slowly to her knees and then to her feet, brushing the
straw from her velveteen trousers and the sleeves of her jacket. "They
wouldn't let us in the inn because we were gypsies, was that it? They
were afraid we would steal?"

The dimples came back in her face and she picked up her cap from the
floor, dusting it with her elbow and cramming it down on the back of her
curls. "Steal me a little bread, Velasco, I am hungry."

"Come back to your nest in the straw, Kaya; put your fingers in my pocket
and steal for yourself. I bought a loaf with a couple of copecks, and
some honey-cake. At sun-down, when the peasants come for their vodka,
there will be a dance. They have never danced to a Stradivarius before;
but they won't know the difference, Kaya, not they! We will pay for the
straw with a rollicking waltz--Ha ha!"

The gypsey musician caught his comrade by the arm and pulled her down on
the straw beside him.

"Which pocket, Velasco? Oh, I feel the honey-cake bulging! Give it to
me."

"No--take it yourself!"

"Your pocket is so deep; it is like diving into a pool."

"Not so deep as your eyes, Kaya. You thief! Ah, take your fingers away
and pay for your bread."

"Are you fooling, Velasco? You look at me so strangely! Sometimes your
eyes are slits and disappear under your brows, and now--Velasco, turn
your head away--I am hungry. You make my heart beat!--Velasco--give me
the bread."

"Pay first and then you shall have it."

She stared at him a moment, drawing back into the straw. "I am a boy,"
she said softly, panting, "Remember I am a boy! Don't--tease me!"

"Just once, Kaya."

"No--Velasco."

The older gypsey glanced again about the low raftered loft. The window
in the rafters was hung with cob-webs; the light came through it dimly, a
shaft of sun-beams dancing on the floor; they fell on her hair beneath
the cap and the curls glistened like gold. Her eyes were watching him.

"No--no--Velasco!"

He came nearer to her, and the straw crackled as he moved, stretching out
his arms: "When you were weary, Kaya, I carried you. Whe