But while arranging what she should do, if Lambert proved obstinate, Chaldea also arranged to fascinate him, if possible, into loving her.  She did not wish to use her power of knowledge until her power of fascination failed.  And this for two reasons.  In the first place, it was not her desire to drive the man into a corner lest he should defy her and fight, which would mean—­to her limited comprehension—­that everything being known to Pine, the couple would confess all and elope.  In the second place, Chaldea was piqued to think that Lambert should prove to be so indifferent to her undeniable beauty, as to love this pale shadow of a Gentile lady.  She would make certain, she told herself, if he really preferred the lily to the full-blown rose, and on his choice depended her next step.  Gliding back to the camp, she decided to attend to one thing at a time, and the immediate necessity was to charm the man into submission.  For this reason Chaldea sought out the Servian gypsy, who was her slave.

Her slave Kara certainly was, but not her rom.  If he had been her husband she would not have dared to propose to him what she did propose.  He was amiable enough as a slave, because he had no hold over her, but if she married him according to the gypsy law, he would then be her master, and should she indulge her fancy for a Gentile, he would assuredly use a very nasty-looking knife, which he wore under the green coat.  Even as it was, Kara would not be pleased to fiddle to her dancing, since he already was jealous of Lambert.  But Chaldea knew how to manage this part of the business, risky though it was.  The hairy little ape with the musician’s soul had no claim on her, unless she chose to give him that of a husband.  Then, indeed, things would be different, but the time had not come for marital slavery.

The schemer found Kara at the hour of sunset sitting at the door of the tent he occupied, drawing sweet tones from his violin.  This was the little man’s way of conversing, for he rarely talked to human beings.  He spoke to the fiddle and the fiddle spoke to him, probably about Chaldea, since the girl was almost incessantly in his thoughts.  She occupied them now, and when he raised his shaggy head at the touch on his hump-back, he murmured with joy at the sight of her flushed beauty.  Had he known that the flush came from jealousy of a rival, Kara might not have been so pleased.  The two conversed in Romany, since the Servian did not speak English.

“Brother?” questioned Chaldea, standing in the glory of the rosy sunset which slanted through the trees.  “What of Ishmael?”

“He is with Gentilla in her tent, sister.  Do you wish to see him?”

Chaldea shook her proud head.  “What have I to do with the half Romany?  Truly, brother, his heart is Gentile, though his skin be of Egypt.”

“Why should that be, sister, when his name signifies that he is of the gentle breed?” asked Kara, laying down his violin.