"Dyal o pani repedishis,
M'ro pirano hegedishis."

"What does that mean, Chaldea?"

"It is an Hungarian song, and means that while the stream flows I hear
the violin of my love. Kara taught me the ditty."

"And Kara is your love?"

"No. Oh, no; oh, no," sang Chaldea, whirling round and round in quite a
magical manner. "No rom have I, but a mateless bird I wander. Still I
hear the violin of my true love, my new love, who knows my droms, and
that means my habits, rye," she ended, suddenly speaking in a natural
manner.

"I don't hear the violin, however," said Lambert lazily, and thinking
what a picturesque girl she was in her many-hued rag-tag garments, and
with the golden coins glittering in her black hair.

"You will, rye, you will," she said confidentially. "Come, my darling
gentleman, cross my hand with silver and I dance. I swear it. No hokkeny
baro will you behold when the wind pipes for me."

"Hokkeny baro."

"A great swindle, my wise sir. Hai, what a pity you cannot patter the
gentle Romany tongue. Kek! Kek! What does it matter, when you speak
Gentile gibberish like an angel. Sit, rye, and I dance for you."