"It were a thousand pities," cried the guest, leaping from his bed, "that so pretty a face should look cross on my account, so I will not keep her waiting an instant." The gypsy smiled, as he answered, "I require no professional help from the devil, sir, to foretell your fortune." "No!--and what is it?" "Honour, reputation, success: all that are ever won by a soft tongue, if it be backed by a bold heart." Bright and keen was the flash which shot over the countenance of the one for whom this prediction was made, as he listened to it with a fondness for which his reason rebuked him. He turned aside with a sigh, which did not escape the gypsy, and bathed his face in the water which the provident hand of the good woman had set out for his lavations. "Well," said his host, when the youth had finished his brief toilet, "suppose we breathe the fresh air, while Lucy smooths your bed and prepares the breakfast?" "With all my heart," replied the youth, and they descended the steps which led into the wood. It was a beautiful, fresh morning; the air was like a draught from a Spirit's fountain, and filled the heart with new youth and the blood with a rapturous delight; the leaves--the green, green leaves of spring--were quivering on the trees, among which the happy birds fluttered and breathed the gladness of their souls in song. While the dewdrops that-- "strewed A baptism o'er the flowers"-- gave back in their million mirrors the reflected smiles of the cloudless and rejoicing sun. "Nature," said the gypsy, "has bestowed on her children a gorgeous present in such a morning." "True," said the youth; "and you, of us two, perhaps only deserve it; as for me, when I think of the long road of dust, heat, and toil, that lies before me, I could almost wish to stop here and ask an admission into the gypsy's tents." "You could not do a wiser thing!" said the gypsy, gravely. "But fate leaves me no choice," continued the youth, as seriously as if he were in earnest; "and I must quit you immediately after I have a second time tasted of your hospitable fare." "If it must be so," answered the gypsy, "I will see you, at least, a mile or two on your road." The youth thanked him for a promise which his curiosity made acceptable, and they turned once more to the caravan. The meal, however obtained, met with as much honour as it could possibly have received from the farmer from whom its materials were borrowed. It was not without complacency that the worthy pair beheld the notice their guest lavished upon a fair, curly-headed boy of about three years old, the sole child and idol of the gypsy potentates. But they did not perceive, when the youth rose to depart, that he slipped into the folds of the child's dress a ring of some value, the only one he possessed. "And now," said he, after having thanked his entertainers for their hospitality, "I must say good-by to your flock, and set out upon my day's journey."