Immediately Milona, followed by the imprecations of her disconcerted lover, flew into the inn. The window of the Baroness was closed, and the gipsies, with vehement words and exaggerated gestures, tried to give Zambo to understand that girls were far less rare than ducats, and that, though his love remained to him on account, the till of the troupe would be filled for a whole year. Ever since this strange introduction, Milona had become attached, with a wild and savage affection, to her deliverer. She had served her indefatigably, and, with the exception of those terrible secrets which Sophia entrusted to no one, she knew the life-story of her mistress. Sophia exhaled a puff of blue smoke, and hesitated before the combination of her cards— “King of hearts, nine of spades, and knave of clubs,” said Milona, calmly, her finger pointing to the spotted cards. “And then, queen of clubs, knave of hearts, and seven of spades. Still the same reply. You will not succeed!” Sophia raised her bold though beautiful eyes up to her companion, and, in her ordinary accents, which were different from those in which she spoke Italian, said— “I must succeed, I tell you, I must, Milona: do you hear?” “Shall we try the water test?” “Yes, we have not tried it for some considerable time.” Milona took a crystal cup filled with flowers. She threw the bouquet on to the floor, and after extinguishing the wax candles in the chandelier, with one single exception, placed the cup on the table in such a way that the light might fall upon it from behind. Then, drawing out one of the long gold pins which fastened her hair, she crouched down on a stool, dipped the metal stem into the vase, and commenced a strange chant. In the water, through which the light penetrated, irisated eddies formed, and the two women attentively watched the broken fugitive lines, the tiny drops sparkling like diamonds, and the brilliant spirals of the water stirred to motion by the gold needle. Milona sang— “Water is nought but trouble and mystery, light is certainty and truth. Let the light penetrate the water, and cause its secrets to be revealed. Turn, needle; shine, ray; water, divide.” “Look, Milo, look!” exclaimed Sophia, excitedly. “The water is turning red, it seems to be turning into blood!” Milona continued her chant— “Blood is strength and life. The blood of the brain is victory. The blood of the heart is love. Turn, needle; redden, blood. Grant us victory and love!” Sophia, on her knees by the side of the table, was anxiously watching with ardent eyes the crystal vase in which the water was whirling round under the impulse given to it by the gold needle. “Look! Look again!” she exclaimed. “The water is turning green! It is shining like an emerald!” “The emerald is the colour of hope, and hope is the joy of life. Turn, needle; water, become glaucous, like the eyes of the sirens, whom a man follows to his death!”