name?"

"Chaldea."

"Nonsense. That is the name of the country."

"I never denied that, my dear girl. But Chaldea was born in the country
whence she takes her name. Down Mesopotamia way, I believe. These
gypsies wander far and wide, you know. She's very pretty, and has the
temper of the foul fiend himself. Only Kara can keep her in order."

"Who is Kara?"

"A Servian gypsy who plays the fiddle like an angel. He's a
crooked-backed, black-faced, hairy ape of a dwarf, but highly popular on
account of his music. Also, he's crazy about Chaldea, and loves her to
distraction."

"Does she love him?" Miss Greeby asked in her direct fashion.

"No," replied Lambert, coloring under his tan, and closed his lips
firmly. He was a very presentable figure of a man, as he walked beside
the unusually tall woman. His face was undeniably handsome in a fair
Saxon fashion, and his eyes were as blue as those of Miss Greeby
herself, while his complexion was much more delicate. In fact, she
considered that it was much too good a complexion for one of the male
sex, but admitted inwardly that its possessor was anything but
effeminate, when he had such a heavy jaw, such a firm chin, and such set
lips. Lambert, indeed, at first sight did indeed look so amiable, as to
appear for the moment quite weak; but danger always stiffened him into a