and said in French:

"He is honest altogether, sir. He did not steal, and he was not there
when it happened."

"I know that, my girl. That is why I did it."

She looked at him keenly. Her eyes ran up and down his figure, then met
his curiously. Their looks swam for a moment. Something thrilled in
them both. The girl took a step nearer.

"You are as much a Romany here as I am," she said, touching her bosom
with a quick gesture. "You do not belong; you are too good for it. How
do I know? I do not know; I feel. I will tell your fortune," she
suddenly added, reaching for his hand. "I have only known three that I
could do it with honestly and truly, and you are one. It is no lie.
There is something in it. My mother had it; but it's all sham mostly."
Then, under a tree on the green, he indifferent to village gossip, she
took his hand and told him--not of his fortune alone. In half-coherent
fashion she told him of the past--of his life in the North. She then
spoke of his future. She told him of a woman, of another, and another
still; of an accident at sea, and of a quarrel; then, with a low, wild
laugh, she stopped, let go his hand, and would say no more. But her face
was all flushed, and her eyes like burning beads. Her father stood near,
listening. Now he took her by the arm.

"Here, Andree, that's enough," he said, with rough kindness; "it's no
good for you or him."

He turned to Gaston, and said in English: