was particularly eloquent, and called up a singular
expression in Sonnenkamp's face by always, although he was no Austrian,
addressing him as Herr von Sonnenkamp. A band of music, stationed in
the forest, played sweet and lively airs. A great point of interest was
the group of rocks above where the company were seated, which, the
story ran, had been the living figures of a marriage procession turned
into stone by spirits from the lower world.

"What can have been the origin of this tradition?" asked Bella, turning
to Eric.

All gave polite attention, as Eric explained that this was one of the
many variations of the Tannhauser tradition, and that nations in the
dawn of civilization gave themselves up to a belief in the old
traditions, which have their root in the ever haunting mystery of the
origin of the earth.

Suddenly a forester's horn was heard, and rocks and valley became
the theatre of a strange spectacle. A band of gipsy musicians,
fantastically dressed, came suddenly to view, playing wild
melodies,--one young fellow in particular, with raven hair, leaping and
dancing as he played upon his fiddle. Great praises were bestowed upon
Sonnenkamp for his ingenuity in always devising some new entertainment,
and his protestations that this was a surprise even to himself, were
taken by some for truth, and by others as modesty. A rapid glance,
exchanged between himself and Lootz, would have proved to any one who
had seen it his sincerity in disclaiming all knowledge of the
exhibition.

Bella encouraged the gipsies to wilder and wilder music, and, on
learning that their camp was pitched in the neighborhood, she went to
visit it, accompanied by Roland and some of the ladies. The absence of
Professor Einsiedel she greatly lamented; as he had told her that the
language of the gipsies bore some connection with the Sanscrit. Eric
was much surprised at being able to say a few words to these strange
people in their own tongue. Bella asked if there was no one in the
company who could draw, and insisted on the long lieutenant beginning a
sketch at once of the gipsy camp, the wretched horse eating a wisp of
hay, the wagon, and the old women sitting about an open fire. A wild,
impudent looking girl, who wore a large crinoline, and smoked a short
pipe in a free and easy fashion, soon became her especial favorite. One
old hag, pointing her skinny hand at Roland, cried out:--

"He shall be our king."

"Can you not tell fortunes?"