Nattee, as I before mentioned, was of very high rank, or caste, in her tribe. At her first espousal of Melchior she lost much of her influence, as it was considered a degradation; but she was then very young, and must have been most beautiful. The talents of Melchior, and her own spirit, however, soon enabled her to regain, and even add still more to, her power and consideration among the tribe; and it was incredible to what extent, with the means which she possessed, this power was augmented. Melchior had no children by his marriage, and, as far as I could judge from the few words which would escape from the lips of Nattee, she did not wish for any, as the race would not be considered pure. The subdivision of the tribe which followed Nattee consisted of about forty men, women, and children. These were ruled by her during the absence of her husband, who alternately assumed different characters, as suited his purpose; but in whatever town Melchior might happen to be, Nattee and her tribe were never far off, and always encamped within communication. I ventured to question Melchior about the little Fleta; and he stated that she was the child of a soldier's wife, who had been brought to bed, and died a few hours afterwards; that, at the time, she was on her way to join her husband, and had been taken ill on the road--had been assisted by Nattee and her companions, as far as they were able--had been buried by them, and that the child had been reared in the camp. In time, the little girl became very intimate, and very partial to me. I questioned her as to her birth, telling her what Melchior had stated: for a long while she would not answer; the poor child had learned caution even at that early age; but after we were more intimate, she said, that which Melchior had stated was _not true_. She could recollect very well living in a great house, with everything very fine about her; but still it appeared as if it were a dream. She recollected two white ponies--and a lady who was her mamma--and a mulberry-tree, where she stained her frock; sometimes other things came to her memory, and then she forgot them again. From this it was evident that she had been stolen, and was probably of good parentage; certainly, if elegance and symmetry of person and form could prove blood, it never was more marked than in this interesting child. Her abode with the gipsies, and their peculiar mode of life and manners, had rendered her astonishingly precocious in intellect; but of education she had none, except what was instilled into her by Melchior whom she always accompanied when he assumed his character as a juggler. She then danced on the slack wire, at the same time performing several feats in balancing, throwing of oranges, etcetera. When Melchior was under other disguises, she remained in the camp with Nattee.