very attractive, and more than one of the great Russian nobles,
who try to vie with the English in eccentricity, has not
hesitated to choose his wife from among these gypsy girls.
One of them was humming a song of strange rhythm, which might
be thus rendered:

"Glitters brightly the gold
In my raven locks streaming
Rich coral around
My graceful neck gleaming;
Like a bird of the air,
Through the wide world I roam."

The laughing girl continued her song, but Michael Strogoff ceased
to listen. It struck him just then that the Tsigane, Sangarre,
was regarding him with a peculiar gaze, as if to fix his features
indelibly in her memory.

It was but for a few moments, when Sangarre herself followed
the old man and his troop, who had already left the vessel.
"That's a bold gypsy," said Michael to himself.
"Could she have recognized me as the man whom she saw at
Nijni-Novgorod? These confounded Tsiganes have the eyes of a cat!
They can see in the dark; and that woman there might well know--"

Michael Strogoff was on the point of following Sangarre
and the gypsy band, but he stopped. "No," thought he,
"no unguarded proceedings. If I were to stop that old
fortune teller and his companions my incognito would run
a risk of being discovered. Besides, now they have landed,