cursed dust from my face and hands, I would show thee a skin that was
stained at birth with the olive and veins whose blood flows unmixed
through generations without end. These wrinkled feet have flattened the
face of the earth bit by bit. Bear witness those who left me here behind
to die! My eyes have looked upon things seen and unseen. I am old. To
youth is given folly; to the old, wisdom. To-night my wisdom shall
suckle thy folly, for the heavens have shown me a sign."

Lewis stared at the old woman with wondering eyes. He had never seen a
Gipsy. What was she? he asked himself. No native. The native's mind was
keen with knowledge of horses, cattle, and goats, but stolid, almost
stupid, when it came to words and thoughts. There was an exception--the
mad. The mad prattled and sometimes said extraordinary things. Perhaps
this woman was mad. He turned half toward her.

"Look up," she commanded. "Dost thou see no sign?"

Lewis lay on his back and gazed into the sky. "I see the moon and the
stars, Auntie--a young moon and very old stars--but no sign. Not even a
cloud to remind the world of rain."

The old woman leaned forward and touched his arm. He started.

"Look over there!" She pointed to the west and south. "See how the young
moon is held within the claws of Scorpion. His back is arched across the
quarter. His tail points to the south. The Cross that some call Holy
hangs like a pendent upon its tip. Look up. Upon his arched back he
bears the circlet--the seven worlds of women."

"I see the Scorpion, Auntie," said Lewis, humoring her. "I see the