“Durward started back; for, though he had heard of Saracens and idolaters, it had never entered into his ideas or belief, that any body of men could exist who practised no mode of worship whatsoever. He recovered from his astonishment, to ask where his guide usually dwelt. “‘Wherever I chance to be for the time,’ replied the Bohemian. ‘I have no home.’ “‘How do you guard your property?’ “‘Excepting the clothes which I wear, and the horse I ride on, I have no property.’ “‘Yet you dress gaily, and ride gallantly,’ said Durward. ‘What are your means of subsistence?’ “‘I eat when I am hungry, drink when I am thirsty, and have no other means of subsistence than chance throws in my way,’ replied the vagabond. “‘Under whose laws do you live?’ “‘I acknowledge obedience to none, but as it suits my pleasure,’ said the Bohemian. “‘Who is your leader, and commands you?’ “‘The father of our tribe—if I chuse to obey him,’ said the guide— ‘otherwise I have no commander.’ “‘You are then,’ said the wondering querist, ‘destitute of all that other men are combined by—you have no law, no leader, no settled means of subsistence, no house, or home. You have, may Heaven compassionate you, no country—and, may Heaven enlighten and forgive you, you have no God! What is it that remains to you, deprived of government, domestic happiness, and religion?’ “‘I have liberty,’ said the Bohemian—‘I crouch to no one—obey no one— respect no one.—I go where I will—live as I can—and die when my day comes.’ “‘But you are subject to instant execution, at the pleasure of the Judge.’ “‘Be it so,’ returned the Bohemian; ‘I can but die so much the sooner.’ “‘And to imprisonment also,’ said the Scot; ‘and where, then, is your boasted freedom?’ “‘In my thoughts,’ said the Bohemian, ‘which no chains can bind; while yours, even when your limbs are free, remain fettered by your laws and your superstitions, your dreams of local attachment, and your fantastic visions of civil policy. Such as I are free in spirit when our limbs are chained—You are imprisoned in mind, even when your limbs are most at freedom.’ “‘Yet the freedom of your thoughts,’ said the Scot, ‘relieves not the pressure of the gyves on your limbs.’ “‘For a brief time that may be endured; and if within that period I cannot extricate myself, and fail of relief from my comrades, I can always die, and death is the most perfect freedom of all.’ There was a deep pause of some duration, which Quentin at length broke, by resuming his queries. “‘Yours is a wandering race, unknown to the nations of Europe—Whence do they derive their origin?’ “‘I may not tell you,’ answered the Bohemian. “‘When will they relieve this kingdom from their presence, and return to the land from whence they came?’ said the Scot. “‘When the day of their pilgrimage shall be accomplished,’ replied his vagrant guide.