Towards the light blue cloud which curled upwards, Markham directed his steps; but when he reached the brow of the hill, from the opposite side of which the smoke at first met his eye, he perceived, instead of a cottage as he expected, an encampment of gipsies. A covered van stood near the spot where two men, two women, and a boy were partaking of a meal, the steam of which impregnated the air with a powerful odour of onions. The caldron, whence the mess was served up in earthenware vessels, was suspended by means of stakes over a cheerful wood-fire. We need attempt no description of the persons of those who were partaking of the repast: it will be sufficient to inform the reader that they consisted of King Zingary, Queen Aischa, Morcar, Eva, and this latter couple's son. They were, however, totally unknown to Richard: but the moment he saw they were of the gipsy tribe, he determined to glean from them any thing which they might know and might choose to reveal concerning the Resurrection Man. He therefore accosted them in a civil manner, and, stating that he had lost his way, inquired which was the nearest path to Hounslow. "It would be difficult to direct you, young gentleman, by mere explanation," answered Zingary, stroking his long white beard in order to impress Richard with a sense of veneration; "but my grandson here shall show you the way with pleasure." "That I will, sir," exclaimed the boy, starting from the ground, and preparing to set off. "But perhaps the gentleman will rest himself, and partake of some refreshment," observed Morcar. "If you will permit me," said Markham, whose purpose this invitation just suited, "I will warm myself for a short space by your cheerful fire; for the evening is chilly. But you must not consider me rude if I decline your kind hospitality in respect to food." "The gentleman is cold, Morcar," said Zingary: "produce the rum, and hand a snicker." The King's son hastened to the van to fetch the bottle of spirits; and Markham could not help observing his fine, tall, well-knit frame, to which his dark Roman countenance gave an additional air of manliness—even of heroism. Richard partook of the spirits, in order to ingratiate himself with the gipsies; and King Zingary then called for his "broseley." "You appear to lead a happy life," observed Richard, by way of encouraging a conversation. "We are our own masters, young gentleman," answered Zingary; "and where there is freedom, there is happiness." "Is it true that your race is governed by a King?" asked Markham. "I am the King of the united races of Bohemians and Egyptians," said Zingary, in a stately manner. "This is my beloved Queen, Aischa: that is my son, Morcar; here is my daughter-in-law, Eva; and that lad is my grandson."