She turned her head away from his and looked at the Tartar, from
under her brows. How had he known?
"A bargain is a bargain only when two men agree on something, says the
Koran," the gipsy chief reminded the Tartar boatman. "I don't want to
sell her."
"So we will travel downstream for a while," answered Mehmet Ali and
crossed his arms.
After a while the gipsy chief who had reckoned that they must be fully
five miles away from his home across the water made a new offer.
"A woman, Mehmet Ali, is a woman. They are all alike after you have
known them. So I offer you thirty-five pieces of gold with which you can
buy for yourself any other woman you please whenever you want."
Fanutza looked at the Tartar. Though it was getting dark she could see
the play of every muscle of his face. Hardly had her father finished
making his offer, when Mehmet, after one look at the girl, said:
"I offer fifty gold pieces for the girl. Is it a bargain?"
Fanutza's eyes met the eyes of her father. She looked at him
entreatingly, "Don't give in to the Tartar," her eyes spoke clearly, and
Marcu refused the offer.
"I offer you fifty instead that you buy yourself another woman than my
daughter."
"No," answered the Tartar, "but I offer sixty for this one, here."
Quick as a flash Fanutza changed the encouraging glance she had thrown
to the passionate man to a pleading look towards her father.
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