Julius had jumped out of the carriage; old Baumann also had climbed down from the box. Melitta hastened up to Czika, embraced the child, and kissed and caressed her over and over again. The others spoke to Xenobia, who paid no attention to them, but looked with anxious eyes at Melitta, who now came back to her, holding Czika by the hand. "Isabel!" said Melitta, "you must, really you must, give me the little one. I dare not, I cannot, continue my journey without her." "Why will you not leave us as we are?" said the gypsy. "You are a great lady, fit for the house; the gypsy is fit only for the forest. You would die in the forest; the gypsy would die in the house. I cannot go with you." "Then give me the Czika?" "Will you give me your boy?" Melitta did not know what to answer. She felt too deeply that the gypsy woman could not act differently, and that she, in her place, would have done the same. And yet could she let the two go out again into the wide world? To see Oldenburg's little daughter, whom he yearned after, whom he was searching for everywhere, disappear once more, after an accident such as might never happen again in all her life, had brought her right in her path--she could not bear the thought, and like a child that feels how helpless and friendless it is, she broke into tears. The gypsy woman seemed to be touched. She took Melitta's hand and kissed it. "You are very kind, I know," she said; "I know it well. I would rather give you the Czika than anybody else." She reflected deeply. Suddenly she took Melitta's hand once more and led her aside. "Do you know," she asked, "who Czika's father is?" "Yes." "And are you doing what you do for the father's sake, or for your own?" Melitta's cheeks reddened. "For the sake of both," she replied, after some hesitation. "Where are you going to now?" "Home--to Berkow." "And are you going to stay there?" "Yes; at least during the winter." "Then listen to me. I swear to you by the Great Spirit, I will bring you the Czika as soon as I feel that I am to be gathered to my fathers. That may be very soon. More I cannot promise; more I dare not say." Melitta felt that she must be satisfied with this promise. She knew the character of the Brown Countess too well not to be aware that if she had once formed a resolution, all persuasion was in vain. She re-entered her carriage, therefore, sadly, after having embraced Xenobia and the child once more, and soon was out of sight. The rattling of the wheels and the trot of the horses were no longer heard. The gypsies were still sitting by the wayside. Another carriage came up in the direction of Fichtenau. One could hear from afar off the cries of the driver, and the clanking of chains which formed part of the harness.