long since disappeared, and only a few dying sparks were to be
distinguished. The room or hall was now involved in utter
darkness; the women were motionless and still; I shivered and began
to feel uneasy. "Will Antonio be here to-night?" at length I
demanded.

"No tenga usted cuidao, my London Caloro," said the Gypsy mother,
in an unearthly tone; "Pepindorio {2} has been here some time."

I was about to rise from my seat and attempt to escape from the
house, when I felt a hand laid upon my shoulder, and in a moment I
heard the voice of Antonio.

"Be not afraid, 'tis I, brother; we will have a light anon, and
then supper."

The supper was rude enough, consisting of bread, cheese, and
olives. Antonio, however, produced a leathern bottle of excellent
wine; we despatched these viands by the light of an earthen lamp
which was placed upon the floor.

"Now," said Antonio to the youngest female, "bring me the pajandi,
and I will sing a gachapla."

The girl brought the guitar, which, with some difficulty, the Gypsy
tuned, and then strumming it vigorously, he sang:


"I stole a plump and bonny fowl,
But ere I well had dined,