She
looked closely at his hand and the sediment of his wine-cup.
"Thou art madly and blindly in love!" said she, lispingly.
"Good! good!" was sent forth from those about; and Cedric struck his
fist upon the table,--
"'Madly'--yes; but by God not 'blindly'! haste on, wench."
"She loves admiration--"
"She would not be half a woman if she--"
"She is in love with one of Russian birth," went on the gipsy. Cedric
frowned and held quiet. "There is one who hast loved thee from early
childhood--a--a kinswoman--she would make thee a noble spouse and love
thee well with a warm nature to match thine own."
"Thou tellest false, for I know not such an one. I have loved many
kinswomen since childhood, and they have loved me, but not to
espousal!"
"'Tis here--her name--'tis--C-o-n-s--"
"Constance, by God! but there thy lisping tongue prattles ill, for she
loves me as a brother, and I love her as if she were my sister." Now
the gipsy drew back as if the man before her had stricken her, then
hastened to cover her emotion with a sudden look into the cup and an
exclamation of--
"Ah! ah!"
"What seest thou?" said Cedric.
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