Melchior would not state who and what he was previous to his having joined the fraternity of gipsies; that he was not of humble birth, and that he had, when young, quitted his friends out of love for Nattee, or from some other causes not to be revealed, he led me to surmise.  He had been many years in company with the tribe, and although, as one received into it, he did not stand so high in rank and estimation as his wife, still, from his marriage with Nattee, and his own peculiar qualifications and dexterity, he was almost as absolute as she was.

Melchior and Nattee were supposed to be the most wealthy of all the gipsies, and, at the same time, they were the most liberal of their wealth.  Melchior, it appeared, gained money in three different characters; as a quack doctor, the character in which we first saw him; secondly, as a juggler, in which art he was most expert; and thirdly, as a fortune-teller, and wise man.

Nattee, as I before mentioned, was of very high rank, or caste, in her tribe.  At her first espousal of Melchior she lost much of her influence, as it was considered a degradation; but she was then very young, and must have been most beautiful.  The talents of Melchior, and her own spirit, however, soon enabled her to regain, and even add still more to, her power and consideration among the tribe, and it was incredible to what extent, with the means which she possessed, this power was augmented.

Melchior had no children by his marriage, and, as far as I could judge from the few words which would escape from the lips of Nattee, she did not wish for any, as the race would not be considered pure.  The subdivision of the tribe which followed Nattee, consisted of about forty, men, women, and children.  These were ruled by her during the absence of her husband, who alternately assumed different characters, as suited his purpose; but in whatever town Melchior might happen to be, Nattee and her tribe were never far off, and always encamped within communication.

I ventured to question Melchior about the little Fleta; and he stated that she was the child of a soldier’s wife, who had been brought to bed, and died a few hours afterwards; that, at the time, she was on her way to join her husband, and had been taken ill on the road—­had been assisted by Nattee and her companions, as far as they were able—­had been buried by them, and that the child had been reared in the camp.

In time, the little girl became very intimate, and very partial to me.  I questioned her as to her birth, telling her what Melchior had stated; for a long while she would not answer; the poor child had learned caution even at that early age; but after we were more intimate, she said, that which Melchior had stated was not true.  She could recollect very well living in a great house, with everything very fine about her; but still it appeared as if it were a dream.  She recollected two white ponies—­and