

“Well, Antonia!” said the Aunt, as soon as She had quitted the Church;
“What think you of our Gallants? Don Lorenzo really seems a very
obliging good sort of young Man: He paid you some attention, and nobody
knows what may come of it. But as to Don Christoval, I protest to you,
He is the very Phoenix of politeness. So gallant! so well-bred! So
sensible, and so pathetic! Well! If ever Man can prevail upon me to
break my vow never to marry, it will be that Don Christoval. You see,
Niece, that every thing turns out exactly as I told you: The very
moment that I produced myself in Madrid, I knew that I should be
surrounded by Admirers. When I took off my veil, did you see, Antonia,
what an effect the action had upon the Condé? And when I presented him
my hand, did you observe the air of passion with which He kissed it? If
ever I witnessed real love, I then saw it impressed upon Don
Christoval’s countenance!”

Now Antonia had observed the air, with which Don Christoval had kissed
this same hand; But as She drew conclusions from it somewhat different
from her Aunt’s, She was wise enough to hold her tongue. As this is the
only instance known of a Woman’s ever having done so, it was judged
worthy to be recorded here.

The old Lady continued her discourse to Antonia in the same strain,
till they gained the Street in which was their Lodging. Here a Crowd
collected before their door permitted them not to approach it; and
placing themselves on the opposite side of the Street, they endeavoured
to make out what had drawn all these people together. After some
minutes the Crowd formed itself into a Circle; And now Antonia
perceived in the midst of it a Woman of extraordinary height, who
whirled herself repeatedly round and round, using all sorts of
extravagant gestures. Her dress was composed of shreds of
various-coloured silks and Linens fantastically arranged, yet not
entirely without taste. Her head was covered with a kind of Turban,
ornamented with vine leaves and wild flowers. She seemed much
sun-burnt, and her complexion was of a deep olive: Her eyes looked
fiery and strange; and in her hand She bore a long black Rod, with
which She at intervals traced a variety of singular figures upon the
ground, round about which She danced in all the eccentric attitudes of
folly and delirium. Suddenly She broke off her dance, whirled herself
round thrice with rapidity, and after a moment’s pause She sang the
following Ballad.

THE GYPSY’S SONG


Come, cross my hand! My art surpasses
    All that did ever Mortal know;
Come, Maidens, come! My magic glasses
    Your future Husband’s form can show:

For ’tis to me the power is given
    Unclosed the book of Fate to see;
To read the fixed resolves of heaven,
    And dive into futurity.

I guide the pale Moon’s silver waggon;
    The winds in magic bonds I hold;
I charm to sleep the crimson Dragon,
    Who loves to watch o’er buried gold:

Fenced round with spells, unhurt I venture
    Their sabbath strange where Witches keep;
Fearless the Sorcerer’s circle enter,
    And woundless tread on snakes asleep.

Lo! Here are charms of mighty power!
    This makes secure an Husband’s truth
And this composed at midnight hour
    Will force to love the coldest Youth:

If any Maid too much has granted,
    Her loss this Philtre will repair;
This blooms a cheek where red is wanted,
    And this will make a brown girl fair!

Then silent hear, while I discover
    What I in Fortune’s mirror view;
And each, when many a year is over,
    Shall own the Gypsy’s sayings true.


“Dear Aunt!” said Antonia when the Stranger had finished, “Is She not
mad?”

“Mad? Not She, Child; She is only wicked. She is a Gypsy, a sort of
Vagabond, whose sole occupation is to run about the country telling
lyes, and pilfering from those who come by their money honestly. Out
upon such Vermin! If I were King of Spain, every one of them should be
burnt alive who was found in my dominions after the next three weeks.”

These words were pronounced