Eric descended the small bank that separated the wood from the river and hesitatingly approached the shabby tents. As he did so a whole swarm of nut-brown children came running towards him, from every corner, with outstretched, begging hands, their rags hanging in tatters around their thin little bodies. Some were quite naked and as dark as mahogany, with enormous black eyes and feathery lashes. They screamed and chattered, and many of them turned mad somersaults over the stony ground to attract the wanderer's attention. In a second the whole settlement was in a violent uproar of excitement, mixed with the barking of dogs. From each dwelling dark, curiously clad men and women trooped out. Many were beautiful, and all had marvellous eyes; the younger men wore their hair in thick black curls, hanging about their faces. There were frightful old hags amongst them draped in discoloured garments that almost fell from their withered limbs, held only together by broad scarlet girdles that were wound innumerable times around their waists. One or two young girls were startlingly handsome; they stood with heads thrown back, their hands on their hips, holding short white pipes between their flashing teeth. Their tresses were bound in gaudy rags, and each wore a flower of brightest hue stuck behind her ear. Round their necks they had hung strings of beads and shells, of all sorts and sizes, that shone in varying colours as they moved about. They were slim and upright, with narrow hips and beautiful feet and hands, but one and all were as dark as Indians, their faces having taken the tint of the long roads they were for ever pursuing. As Eric had immediately guessed, this was a troop of that mysterious race of gypsies that comes from no one knows whither, and wanders over the world with no destination in view. Everywhere they are dreaded by the quiet inhabitants of the villages, for they are ready to steal all that comes their way, and never respect what belongs to another. At the slightest provocation their knives are ready to spring from their belts; their tempers blaze like scorching flames; to them it seems but part of the day's work to leave a dagger within the heart of any who have awakened their resentment. Now they all clamoured and yelled as they dragged at his cloak, touched his clothes, fingered his sword, and nearly pulled the staff from his hand. But they were all laughing and excited, evidently enchanted to meet so fair a traveller who had so unexpectedly fallen in their midst. Eric felt quite confused by this turbulent greeting, and was wondering what was going to happen next, when one of the quite old women moved out of the mob, took hold of his cloak, and pulled him towards her tent.