very much like gipsies;
an incongruous element in these solemn solitudes, yet a very human
scene. They were scattered about in groups, and the bright handkerchiefs
of the women formed a strikingly picturesque bit of colouring. Baskets
of rough provisions were abundant. A kettle hung on a tripod and a fire
burnt beneath it, from which the blue smoke curled into the air and lost
itself in the branches of the trees. The people were enjoying themselves
to their hearts' content. Here and there a couple had hoisted a red or
green umbrella, which afforded friendly opportunities for tender love
passages. Some were drinking curiously out of jars with long spouts
shaped like a tea-kettle. These they held up at arm's length and
cleverly let the beverage pour into their mouths. Practice made perfect
and nothing was wasted. Chatter and laughter never ceased. They were of
humble rank, which ignores ceremony, and when H. C. approached rather
nearly, he was at once invited to join their festive board and make one
of themselves.

One handsome, dark-eyed maiden looked at him reproachfully as he
declined the honour--the astral body of Lady Maria in her severest
aspect having luckily presented itself to his startled vision. The siren
had a wonderfully impressive language of the eyes, and it was evident
that her hand and heart were at the disposal of this preux chevalier.

"Senor," she said, "I am a teller of fortunes. Show me your hand and I
will prophecy yours."

H. C. obligingly held it out. She studied it intently for about half a
minute, then raised her eyes--large languishing eyes--and seemed to
search into the very depths of his.

"Senor, you are a great poet. Your line of imagination is strongly
influenced by the line of music, so that your thoughts flow in rhyme.
But the line of the head communicates with the line of the heart, and
this runs up strongly into the mount of Venus. You have made many love
vows and broken many hearts. You will do so again. You cannot help it.
You are sincere for the moment, but your affections are like champagne.
They fizz and froth and blaze up like a rocket, then pass away. You will
not marry for many years. Then it will be a lady with a large fortune.
She will not be beautiful. She will squint, and be a little lame, and
have a slight hump--you cannot have everything--but she will be amiable
and intellectual. I see here a rich relative, who is inclined in your
favour. It is in her power to leave y