e; and when it laughed, the
rhythm quickened suddenly in a rush like an avalanche falling, and the
figure sprang out into the air, turning, twisting, pirouetting; every
movement graceful, intense, full of feeling and passion.

The crowd about the gypsies stood spell-bound; the official never
stirred. The bell rang again and again. Every time it rang, a new
impetus seemed to seize the dancer. Her feet in the heavy boots seemed
scarcely to touch the ground; the green of the velveteen was like the
colour of a kaleidoscope, and the gold of her curls glittered and
sparkled under the cap. The crowd swayed with the rhythm; they grew
drunk with it and their bodies quivered as they watched. The minutes
passed like a flash.

Suddenly there came a creak in the lock; the key turned and the great
doors opened, the doors towards Germany. Beyond was the long line of
paling; the flag with the eagle floating; the sentinels with their
muskets over their shoulders. A step and then--

The dancer made a little rush forward, gave a spring in the air and
then bowed, snatching off the cap.

"Messieurs--Mesdames!"

She held the cap in her two hands, eagerly, pleadingly, and the silver
fell into it. Copecks--ten--twenty--hundreds of them, and roubles,
round and heavy; they clinked as they fell.

"I thank you!" cried the gypsey, "Good-bye, Messieurs--Mesdames! Au
revoir!"

She bowed again, backing towards the door, the cap still held between
her hands, the Violinist following.

"Adieu! Au revoir!"

The crowd clapped noisily, cheering until the great, bare station of
the customs rang and re-echoed.

"Au revoir! Adieu!"

The gypsies backed together, smiling, bowing; they passed through the
door. They reached the paling--the sentinels; the flag with the eagle
floated over their heads; then a click, and the gate closed behind them.

They were on German soil. They were free--they were free.

"Kaya!" said Velasco.

The room at the inn was small and very still. The shades were down,
and over in the corner, beyond the couch, a single candle was burning.

"Are you awake, Kaya?" said Velasco softly, bending over the couch
until his curls brushed hers, and his lips were close to her rosy cheek.

"I have watched so long for your eyes to open, Kaya! My--wife."

The girl moved uneasily on the pillow.

"My wife--Kaya!"

He put his arms about her and she lay still for a moment, scarcely
breathing. Then she spoke:

"I